#that was his huntin buddy

[the-dalseum-duet]

does the heaviness of the entirety of The Lore hit you out of nowhere entirely sometimes or is it. is it just me

like. just thinking about crow’s childhood. you’re THE princess! but you can’t leave the palace. no one needs to see you. but WE all need to see you at all times to make sure you’re okay. we know you don’t like it when Sara has to touch you for hours on end but you’ll die if she doesn’t. you don’t understand why you have to take those pills yet. you don’t understand why Sara broke down sobbing on your first birthday. your mother is rotting away mere feet below where you first learned to walk. she was so mistreated that she could see the outline of your body in hers when she held her breath. you never got to meet the man who is the reason why you’re alive. he sewed you clothes. he embroidered your name on a blanket. he knows who you are. he watches you grow up from miles away. his couch is stained with your blood. he can’t afford a new one.

and all you have is your sister. she’s well-behaved. she has nothing wrong with her. suddenly YOU’RE not the princess anymore. sometimes she speaks in a language you can’t understand. you are not the child of the person who married your father. you are a pet— a pretty little toy worth little more than the woman they poisoned years ago. you have her nose.

she paints you things. she decorates your bandages and gives you stickers for your cane. her hair is shiny and smooth. it’s good for braiding. your father washes yours for you, and he puts some sort of cream in it. he’s gentle then. you see scars on his face when he kisses your forehead. he puts out a cigarette in the bath water when you’re done. you don’t know what “magwi” means yet. your sister taught you “kaek.” that’s your name in the language the tall pink-haired phantom speaks with her.

your father has pictures on his arms. you like the butterfly— “it’s a death’s head hawkmoth” he tells you. your love for bugs started then. he’s nice to you when he’s alone. you knew the smell of alcohol before you even knew what it was. you knew those were nights you would be staying with Sara.

Sara is kind when she isn’t hurting you. she says she’s trying to help you. her pills taste bad. she calls you her friend. sometimes she calls you blaire, then catches herself. you think she’s silly. she likes to listen to you talk about your favorite bugs. she has a picture of a snake where he has his moth. she likes to do your makeup for you. you always think Marie looks much prettier.

[wingxdfxry]

[ Where will your heart run to? No places left to hide No cities left to leave No tears left to cry I gave you all of my attention Whereas I say goodbye 'Cause you mean nothing to me now You mean nothing to me now So fuck you. ]

Gigan isn’t persay the best at singing, but after meeting Godzilla, and hearing the shit the other him’s been dealt, they spend their time as rain hits his armor, his abdominal blades easing back into their deactivation sequence. Gigan isn’t here to fight, not anymore. There’s nothing left to fight, nothing left to kill, nothing left to do. He needs out of this vicious cycle of his species. He doesn’t want to be this brutal, intimidating and fierce adversary willing to commit genocide for a quick buck. It’s tiring.

It’s.. why he came to Earth. It’s seemingly the most peaceful place he could’ve gone, a place for solace, a place of quiet, pure silence. Between him meeting the king and his residence on a nearby island, sitting upon a mountainous range, Gigan wishes to go back home. But his home has been razed to the ground, along with the only soul in this whole fucked up galaxy that they had a mutual respect and kindness to.

Despite being a cyborg. He can still bleed. Still shed tears. Being alone shouldn’t be the only way he could allow himself to show weakness, but who could he even show this weakness? Gigan burrows a hole deep into the mountain, sitting under it to stop his cloak and his body from getting cold. As his singing, his coarse, muttering solemn tone towards the end of it.

There truly isn’t any more tears coming from his sobs.

[steviewashere]

My Boy

Rating: GeneralCW: Minor mention of homophobia/slur (not said)Pairings: Eddie Munson & Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (minor)Tags: Pre-Canon, Relationship Study, Gay Eddie Munson, Coming Out, Supportive Wayne Munson, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Ally Wayne Munson, Southern (adjacent) Wayne Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Wayne Munson is a Sweetheart, Mentions of Eddie's Shitty Dad, Post Canon

Quick little thing here: crawdads are crayfish (I call 'em crawdaddies), jambalaya is a Louisiana dish containing rice meat and other fixings, skeeter is a mosquito, maw-maw is a grandmother, and lightning bugs are fireflies.

🏳️‍🌈—————🏳️‍🌈 Eddie has always been a whirlwind of movement and words and voices. Even in his most dire, most embarrassing, or even most depressing moments—he’s never been one to be unlike himself. He’s like an early morning Saturday cartoon come to life. Not a single moment in Wayne’s new life with this kid has been drought dry, silent, and still.

Tonight it is. Which is odd.

He made a damn good jambalaya tonight. Went out of his way to go a little bit outside of Hawkins. Picked up the juiciest looking pack of sausage he could find. Even bought a batch of fresh crawdads, none of that frozen crap. Spiced it with devil’s intuition and his maw-maw's guiding hands. And served it up all nice in his favorite deep bowls. Usually, the reaction to a part of Wayne’s soul, bared mixed up and spiced to the nine hells, is an excited little wiggle at the table, maybe some comment about how Eddie’s been having dreams about the dish for weeks, maybe even a good natured moan.

However, when Wayne sits his bottom down on one of the rickety dining chairs, Eddie’s stoic in his spot. Spoon fisted in hand, yes, like it always is. But he’s taking pathetic bites. The damned utensil’s not even full. Isn’t spilling over.

Wayne looks to him, then. Pinched eyebrows. Squinted eyes. A purse to his bottom lip. “What’s wrong with you, boy?” He eloquently asks. “Did a skeeter bite you on the bottom or somethin’? Eat up.”

Eddie’s eyes rocket up from his bowl. Big and brown, almost too big for his little face. He’s frowning down to Satan’s feet. Eyebrows, that are still growing in and too dark for his pale skin, bunched. He’s wearing an ill fitting Johnny Cash t-shirt that Wayne knows was stolen straight from his dresser drawers. It’s stretched around the collar, revealing Eddie’s scrawny shoulders and all the freckles he got from being kissed by the Tennessee sun as a little boy. There’s something about him, though. Sure, he’s a little boy—sort of. Fourteen years old and a hell of a lot taller than Wayne has seen for a boy his age. But his face reads maturity. Like he’s been drowned in it. Aged beyond his years. If the fear in his eyes has anything to say about it.

“Bubba,” Wayne sighs. “You been in my home for a little over a year now, what’s got you lookin’ at me like I’m huntin’ you down for sport? Like a damn deer, boy.”

“It’s nothing, Uncle Wayne.”

“It’s something if you ain’t eating you’re favorite dish I make.” Wayne sets his own spoon back down on the table. Leaning a bit on the surface, arms crossed and lax in front of him. He lowers his head to be eye-to-eye with Eddie. Murmurs, “You don’t gotta fear me, kiddo. What’s going on, Ed?”

He’s never seen a little boy take a grievance gulp. A swallow the size of a tennis ball. Out of his beer drinking buddies, sure. And the men he served alongside back in the seventies before he was honorably discharged. But a kid? No way.

“I—“ Eddie’s eyes prematurely fill with tears. And Wayne’s never been privy to something like this either. He’s a happy kid. A kid with a terrible upbringing, but that’s never stopped him from having fun and laughing loud and being a little bit too obnoxious. Wayne misses his kid. His stomach churns. “I kissed a boy today,” Eddie weakly mumbles. His throat is thick with tears and his tongue is three sizes too big for his mouth, but Wayne hears him clearly despite it all.

Wayne nods carefully. Small, but there. “Okay, Ed. You kissed a boy. That’s alright, Bubba. I ain’t mad. It ain’t my business to be mad,” he murmurs.

“Really?” Eddie’s voice squeaks. “You ain’t mad at me? Even though I—Daddy told me it was sinful. Told me that I—That I was going to—“

“Your daddy had his head up his own ass. And he hasn’t been inside a church since he was an awful little boy. God knows he needs to go,” Wayne is quick to reassure. “He ain’t got two words in your business, kid. Besides, you ain’t with your daddy anymore.”

Eddie nods. His eyes point down to his cooling jambalaya. He scoots his spoon around in the few straggler pieces of rice that fell from his utensil. “The boy called me a bad word. I won’t say it, but it felt bad when it left his mouth. Will it always…Will people always think of me like that?” His voice is small, unlike himself, too serious. It’s nearly lost in the wood of the table.

Wayne shrugs in response. Because he truly isn’t sure. “You think you’ll always kiss boys? It’s alright if you do, but is that…”

He nods again. Fast and so sure of himself. A part of Wayne is shining like a diamond at the confidence in this kid. “I liked it before he ran away. I want to do it again.”

“Okay, Ed. Then, you’ll do it again. And maybe it’ll be bad and maybe people will be mean. But you’ll always be Eddie. You ain’t got nothing on the other kids in the world, y’know that?” Eddie just shrugs. Wayne leans back in his chair and briefly looks out of the window above the table. At the warm lights filling the trailer park. The setting sun playing hide-and-seek beyond the homes here. He sighs carefully through his nose. “When you came ‘ere seekin’ a bed, I wasn’t too sure about this little arrangement. I knew you’d be a little rowdy. A lot of a stubborn ass, because you’re like your mama. And may she rest in peace, but she was always playing my temper like a damn fiddle.”

Eddie laughs warmly. Giggling enough to jolt his body into movement. Wayne smiles, still peering out the window.

He continues, “So I wasn’t too sure about you, at first. Knew that I loved you, that’s damn sure. Knew it the moment your daddy showed you to me. Cooing about your mama’s eyes and your curly hair and your ruddy little cheeks. When I got to hold ya for the first time, you latched onto my thumb and refused to let go. Thought I’d have to take ya home right then and there.” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shakes his head in false disappointment. “Shame I couldn’t, tell you that. But look at cha now. Sitting here in my home, wearing my shirt—even though I told ya to quit that and ask me first—“

“Sorry, Wayne,” Eddie mutters.

“It’s alright, kiddo. I was just playin’ witcha. But you’re here now, that’s all that matters. You got warm food on the table. And you got your dragon game and your funny talkin’ books about elves and whatnot. You got enough energy to light every house in the world. How I ain’t worn out and completely bald yet, I ain’t sure, but I like what you got, kid. Moxie, I think that’s what it’s called.” He chuckles. Glows with pride as Eddie finally smiles, sticking it to his face and not letting it peel off. “But I love you, Ed. You’re my boy. I know damn and true that every part of you is good. You do as you please, but you be safe about it. There are risks. A conversation when we ain’t eating. But, you be Ed and I’ll be here.”

He leans back over the table, reaches out a hand and ruffles Eddie’s short tufts of curly hair. Eddie squawks. He tries to shimmy away, but gives up on it when he looks up to Wayne. Eyes alight with pride and giddiness. Something like contentment and comfort. There’s a flush to his cheeks from the laughter that spills out of him. Warm like the soft glow of lightning bugs. Wayne scoots his palm down the side of Eddie’s face and cups his palm. Cherishes the way Eddie leans into it.

“You promise me that, Ed? Promise you never change.”

“Promise, Wayne,” Eddie murmurs. “Now leave me alone with your sap, I’m hungry.” And he promptly scoops up too much to fit in his mouth. Shown in the way his shirt is stained with the droppings.

Wayne chuckles again and goes back to his food. The damn gall on this kid, he thinks.

——— And sure, over the years, Eddie makes some damn poor choices when it comes to messing around with boys. Forgets to check-in about when Wayne will be home from work, always loud and proud about who he is when Wayne wants to sleep for the next century. Sticks his tongue down throats for long enough that Wayne always worries that the other boy swallowed him up. But he’s still Eddie.

He’s still Eddie when he introduces Steve Harrington. Who’s on par with Wayne in a lot of ways. Loves to cook. Loves to watch football. Likes to take care of his car and the people around him. Is a little bitchy. Likes gossiping about the neighbors and getting on Eddie’s nerves. He’s perceptive about “his boy”—words straight from Steve’s mouth—and knows just how to take care of him.

A part of Wayne wonders what great force brought them together. Something to do with the age in their eyes and the scars on their sides and the jumps at flickering lights. But he won’t question it.

Because they got their boy.

And Eddie Munson is one hell of a spirit.

🏳️‍🌈—————🏳️‍🌈 Hope y'all enjoyed. I had an idea really late and just needed to write this really quick. Also, I'm so rusty on my Southern bullshit. I haven't been back in Louisiana in over a decade. But I did grow up with somebody Southern in my home, and admittedly have picked up the smallest twinge in my voice as well as the weirdest wordage, but whatever.

[kittenofdoomage]

Happy Little Rabbit

Summary: Following a call from Bobby, the boys tackle a case involving a swingers club.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 3277

Warnings: mentions of swinging, sex toys, flirting, Dean being his usual immature self, canonesque fic set in S6ish, smut (oral sex, protected sex) - shoutout to Saxxxology for the suggestion for the shop name. This fic is written in both second and third person.

Ao3 Link

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“Here it is. 1320 Gordon Street.” The Impala rolled to a stop and Dean threw it in park, peering out of the windshield at the small store as Sam checked the address again. Across the window of the store, black curtains highlighted the delicate golden script that spelled out the shop name; The Honeypot. “Why do I feel like this has nothing to do with bees?” Dean mumbled.

They both climbed out, doors slamming in almost-perfect synchronization. Sam approached the door, comparing the address above the door with the one on the paper.

“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Dean asked, eyes landing on the “over 18’s only” displayed above the opening times on the glass.

“Yep.”

The older man shrugged, placing one hand against the door to push it open. Above him, a little bell jingled as he stepped through, though no one appeared to be inside. Sam followed, letting the door thud shut behind him, and they lingered on the welcome mat, assessing their surroundings.

It was a long store, artificially lit where the window curtains blocked out all the natural light. The first few shelves were set up in two wide aisles, displaying mostly books, though they were very clearly of an adult nature. At the left, there was a register, beside several racks of racy clothing ranging from lingerie to naughty nurse outfits that had Dean tilting his head. On the right, past the books, the store was sectioned off with another curtain, the entrance marked with a neon sign that said “adult toys”.

Of course, Dean went right for it as they moved through, unnoticed by Sam who was too busy being distracted by the books. The curtain parted easily and inside the space that occupied the rest of the length of the store, was a literal candy store of sexual toys and aids.

He stepped inside, smirking at his own immaturity as he read the names of a few, noticing a display case where a selection of toys were posed with little placards that described each one and a polite notice not to do anything untoward with the display models. The largest toy, right at the top in the middle, was a black triple-pronged vibrating dildo, and he read the tag under his breath. “Happy Rabbit Triple Curve Vibrator,” he chuckled, picking it up. The base was flared, and the power buttons were at the bottom; he couldn’t resist turning it on.

The thing sprung to life, vibrating in his hand. He smirked again, too focused on the toy to realize he wasn’t alone.

“Do you need some help there, sugar?”

The sudden interruption made him jump, and the toy flew out of his hand, caught in the next instant by his quick reflexes. It vibrated away, and he held it tightly, cheeks reddening as the woman approached. She reached out, taking the toy and turning it off, placing it back in its spot.

“Those are for display only.”

Dean grinned sheepishly, ready to make a further fool of himself, saved by Sam’s appearance behind him. He didn’t seem to notice the silicone dicks around him, looking straight at the woman with that puppy dog expression he seemed to wield as a weapon.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, darting between the two of them before she relaxed, folding her arms across her chest as she settled her weight on one side. “The Winchesters? Damn. My lucky day.”

“No offense,” Dean smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets, “but you don’t look old enough to be an old huntin’ buddy of Bobby’s.”

“My dad was the hunting buddy,” she explained. “And I’m no hunter. I just know enough to save my own ass.” She jerked her chin up. “What did Bobby tell you?”

“That you might have a case,” Sam replied.

“Maybe. Lemme lock up and we can talk without anyone butting in.”

Dean snorted at the slight joke, and Y/N slipped past him, briefly meeting his gaze with a sly smile. He swallowed when she disappeared through the curtain, and when he looked at his brother, the younger man grinned before following her.

She locked up quickly, turning the “open” sign to “closed”, then she turned to them, gesturing to the back of the shop behind them. They shuffled toward the door there, waiting for her to open it, then following her in. This room was filled with boxes on one side, and the other had a sort of office set up, with a desk and several large lockable storage wall units.

“I got two victims. It might be your run-of-the-mill serial killer but there’s been a few omens lately that seem too much of a coincidence. Lightning storms, a few dead cattle.”

“Okay,” Sam nodded, folding his arms as she opened one of the storage lockers. “Who are the victims?”

The doors swung open, and both men stared in surprise; it was filled with weapons, along with trinkets and charms, all organized neatly. Y/N bent down, grabbing a file from a pile on a shelf, turning to her desk. “This is what I got from a friend over at the precinct. First victim was recently divorced Lee Cranter, found dead in his bedroom. Second victim was killed at home while his wife was asleep, found in his study.”

She dropped the file onto the desk. Sam reached for it, glancing up at her as he opened it. “Cause of death?”

“See for yourself.”

He looked down, and Dean peered over, both of them grimacing at the pictures of the deceased. Both men were mummified beyond recognition, like they’d been dead for hundreds of years.

“That’s disturbing,” Dean muttered. “Any leads?”

Y/N smirked. “All I got is a connection between the deceased.”

Sam looked up at her. “Which is?”

“Me. They were both clients of mine.”

Dean’s eyebrows raised, his gaze landing on her with a grin he couldn’t restrain. “Clients?”

Barking out a laugh, she shook her head, lowering herself into her seat. “My day job isn’t just selling plastic penises,” she drawled. “I’m a specialist. My usual clients are swingers, middle class people who wanna spice up their marriages. Both men, and their wives, were part of a swingers club here in town.”

“Like the car keys in a bowl type of swingers?” Dean asked.

“Something like that.”

Sam’s focus was on the case file, reading each report thoroughly. “I don’t know of anything that could cause this,” he muttered. “It’s almost like someone sucked the life out of them.” He looked up, meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Have you checked out the crime scenes?”

“Like I said,” she replied, “I’m no hunter. I’m happy to help you out with supplies, ammo, charms, etcetera, but I don’t do the dirty work. You got what I know.” She got to her feet, leaning her hands on the desk. “Just let me know how you get on.”

“Sure thing,” Sam nodded, glancing at Dean who was too busy staring at Y/N to realize the cue. “Dean?”

Dean shook his head, smiling bashfully. “Yeah, yep, let’s go.”

They’d been in town for nearly two days, and you couldn’t get Dean out of your head. Since you’d laid eyes on him, he had burrowed into your thoughts, occupying a good chunk of your brain that should have been focused elsewhere, like work. You knew that it was a little ridiculous but you had caught yourself daydreaming about him on more than one occasion since he’d rolled into town.

The case wasn’t a quick one. Another victim died not three hours after they arrived, and it was another of your clients, which put the focus uncomfortably on you. The Winchesters returned, going through everything you knew again, and though you knew it wasn’t you, they didn’t, leaving them with an air of caution when they were around you.

It didn’t take long for the creature to make itself known. Unfortunately, it decided to make itself known by waiting in your store for you to close up, and you’d come way too close to looking like the rest of the victims before Dean and Sam busted in and saved the day. The creature, it turned out, was a succubus, and it was mimicking the form of the second victim’s wife, who had been “sleeping” when he was murdered. A quick tip off to the cops led them to her body, and they ruled the entire thing a mystery.

You didn’t expect to see the Winchesters again.

Monday morning rolled around. Your priority was cleaning up the mess the succubus had left behind, the various destroyed displays and blood-covered stock that you would need to burn. It was easier to keep the store closed while you dealt with it, to avoid any need for explanations.

A knock at the door just after midday led you to it, and when you opened it, expecting a customer, you were surprised to see Dean.

“Hey,” he greeted, when you smiled at him.

“Dean. What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, giving you a boyish grin. “I, uh, I -” A nervous glance around and his smile grew. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” you replied, standing back to give him enough room to enter, closing the door quickly behind him and locking it. “Was there something you needed? Something to do with the case?”

“Not exactly,” he mumbled, scratching a hand on the back of his head, avoiding your gaze. “I just - uh.” His hands dropped to his sides, and he grinned, shrugging lightly. “Not to sound like a lifetime movie, but I can’t get you outta my head.”

Your posture lapsed for a split second in shock before you recovered and smiled, tilting your head. “Must be something in the air,” you drawled, “because I’ve been thinking about you an awful lot for a guy I just met.”

His smile got a little brighter. “Oh?”

“Hmm,” you stepped closer, reaching up to run your fingers under the lapel of his jacket, “it’s not often it happens.”

He tensed as you pressed against him, lowering his head slightly, so close to kissing you that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “And you don’t have a rule or anything… hunters, one night stands…”

“Honey, I’m not looking for commitment,” you giggled. “And hunters don’t bother me. They’re not usually so well -” You dropped one hand, cupping him through his jeans. “Packaged.”

A low moan left his lips in the second before he kissed you, one big hand cradling the back of your head to pull you in closer, the other slipping down to cup your ass. The force of his touch made you take a slight step back, though you were held captive in his hold, and you shuddered as the kiss ended, looking up into his lust-filled eyes.

“My apartment’s upstairs,” you whispered, nipping at his full lower lip. “Unless you wanna sample my other wares.”

“I don’t need anything but what I got,” he growled, squeezing your ass. “Lead the way.”

The entrance to the apartment was tucked away at the very back, a door off of the office that was so well blended into the wall that he hadn’t seen it. You practically dragged him up the short staircase and into your modest little home, bypassing any courtesy tour with a route straight to the bedroom. Clothes came off until you were both down to your underwear, and Dean tackled you onto the bed, kissing a path over your breasts.

His fingers crept up, tugging the cups down to expose your hardening nipples; he sucked one between his lips, relishing the sound you made as you stretched your arms up, arching into his touch.

“Get these off,” he growled when he released your nipple, plucking at your panties with his fingers. You giggled, squirming out of the offending material, giving Dean enough room to pinch the clasp of your bra open. The bra joined your panties on the floor, and he flashed you a grin before sliding down, forcing your legs apart before you could protest.

The sudden warmth of his tongue on your cunt made you gasp. His thick shoulders pinned your thighs apart, leaving you very happily at his mercy as he licked and sucked, teasing your clit with the pointed tip. You whimpered and whined for him, unable to resist reaching down with one hand to tug on his hair. He looked up, smirking, then returned his tongue to your slick pussy, sliding his hands underneath your ass to tilt your pelvis, allowing him better access.

“Oh, fuck -” Your whole body tensed, and Dean sucked your clit into his mouth again, keeping the pressure going until you started to tremble and mewl needily. It was almost embarrassing how easily he made you cum, but you didn’t get a chance to dwell on it when he pulled back and crawled up the length of your body to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips, and when his covered erection rubbed against you, you grabbed for his shoulders, grinding right back.

He broke the kiss but kept close, sliding one hand back down, pressing his fingers against your wet sex. You bit your lip, humming as he penetrated you with one, then two, opening you up for what was coming next. It was like he knew exactly how to play you, and you were suddenly very sure he knew what to do with what he had.

“Condom?” he growled, lips against your jaw. You nodded, blindly groping with one hand for the nightstand, finding it just within reach. A few more fumbling seconds and you pulled out a foil packet from the box inside, briefly checking the date before handing it to him. He withdrew his fingers from your body to grab it, tearing it open with his teeth to get at the latex, taking no more than a few seconds to get it on. You tensed as he pressed the blunt tip to your entrance, meeting his gaze with your teeth in your bottom lip.

He penetrated you slowly, watching your face as your expression crumbled. The pressure inside you grew with each inch, and when it began to get intense, you pressed a hand to his chest, gasping at the thick stretch of his cock against your walls. “Oh -”

“Just a little more,” he promised, withdrawing a little to allow you to adjust, sliding back in when your pussy clenched around him. “Fuck, baby, taking me so well.”

You groaned in response, arching when his hands slid underneath you to cup your ass. He sat back a little, looking down to watch the slow in-and-out of his cock, and you could feel how wet you were. His fingers dug into your skin, and with one last hard thrust he was inside you to the root, thick and long, turning your breaths to harsh pants.

Holding steady for a few moments, he moved one hand, groping at your tits as he watched you shudder on his dick. You whimpered, shifting slightly to let him know it was okay to move, canting your hips into his. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned again, tossing your head back.

“You want me to move?” he taunted.

“Yes,” you hissed back, nodding desperately.

“Okay.”

He pulled back, sinking back into you so you could feel the thickness all over again. Your voice came in a thin whine, hands grabbing for any part of him you could reach, which was only his forearms. The noises only encouraged him to fuck you harder, reigniting the embers of the orgasm you’d had on his tongue, and you cried out, helpless to resist.

“That’s it,” he praised. “Cum on my cock.”

You jerked in his hold, keening loudly as he kept going, forcing you to feel every single drop of pleasure. It felt like time slowed, and you could hear the pounding of your blood in your ears, and when you finally went lax, swimming in happy hormones, Dean chuckled and slowed.

“Good girl.” The praise made you smile. He slowed further, pulling out of you entirely and patting your thigh. “My turn.”

“Uh-uh,” you muttered, shaking your head. “You got to ride me, I get to ride you.”

He paused, then smiled, practically throwing himself onto the bed as you pulled yourself up on shaking arms. “Yes, ma’am.”

You tossed him a grin, straddling him as he settled on his back, cock jutting proudly up. Wrapping a hand around him drew a delicious moan from his lips, and you quickly lifted yourself, eager to have him back inside you.

In this position, you felt every inch. When your ass came flush with his thighs, you were already trembling, almost unable to cope with the pleasurable pressure where he was buried deep inside you. His hands grasped your thighs, his eyes dark as he looked up at you.

“Make me cum, baby,” he purred.

You smiled, leaning over to kiss him softly, distracting him for only a second before your hips began to lift. Keeping your thrusts short and sharp, you held yourself over him, allowing your own body to adjust to the deep penetration, building yourself up to taking him even harder. Dean moaned and grunted, watching your tits bounce as you rode him, hands making claws against your thighs.

When you sat up straight, you could have sworn his eyes crossed before they closed, and his head tilted backwards. You held yourself up, rocking on top of him, letting the tip of his cock strike deep on every stroke. “Oh, shit, right there,” he groaned, and you nodded, feeling the sweat build on your brow as you neared your third climax.

It hit as Dean’s entire body went rigid, and you froze too, gasping down air as you came, and then he began to shudder, gripping your thighs tight as he came. You hummed at the fresh burst of endorphins, feeling every throb of his orgasm, waiting for him to be done.

He relaxed, exhaling a long breath, and you pulled off of him, dropping down a little heavily at his side. You grinned, looking at him with his dopey smile, reddened cheeks, and messy hair, laughing when he moaned a little.

“Look at you, all fucked out and adorable,” you teased.

He grinned and stretched out, sliding one arm behind his head as he rolled it towards you. “Oh, I’m one happy little rabbit. Just gimme a minute to recharge my batteries and I’ll show you how happy.”

It was almost a shame to watch him dress a few hours later, remaining curled in the sheets as he hunted for the pieces of clothing he’d arrived with. When he was done, you slipped from the bed, grabbing for your robe where it was hanging across the dresser.

“Well,” he murmured, patting his jacket down, checking he had everything, “I had a great time. Really. Really great time.”

Wrapping your robe around yourself, you moved to the hallway desk, grabbing a business card from the slightly dusty pile wedged into the letter holder. Scribbling your personal number on it, you turned to look at Dean with a smile. “Maybe next time you’re in town, we can expand your horizons,” you teased, reaching out to tuck the card into his pocket. “Ever used a sex swing?”

His eyes widened, lips curling up into a filthy smirk. “Oh baby,” he crooned, catching your hand before you could pull away. “You’ll be seeing me again.”

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[brighttears]

Dusk III

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: You and Joel start getting closer, and it scares Joel. He tries to stop before you get too close, but it only ends up drawing you farther into each other. 

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: drinking, mentions of death, violence, death of an animal

A/n: Okay this is one gets pretty juicy like halfway through ... is also def better than the last two. also, the song used in there is Lilac Wine by Jeff Buckley

— 

“Ravens and wolves are both creatures that represent dusk, the mixture of light and dark”

—

“Come on, I wanna see what he’s got.” you lean towards Maria, hanging from the pole on her front porch. “Tommy talks him up every chance he gets.”

Maria snorts, “You got that right.” She shakes her head and starts for the stairs, “Alright fine, I’ll let him know.” 

“Wait, don’t tell him what it is. Just tell him to be at the stables at noon.”

Maria gives you a look and chuckles again. “Alright, fine, Miss.Mysterious. Just bring back a buck, please.”

“Psh, don’t worry about it babe,” you swing around to walk down with her, “you know me, straightest shooter on this goddamn commune, and now my partner’s a macho fucking cowboy.” 

— 

You’re there waiting for him, leaning against the wall dividing two stalls, legs crossed straight out and arms folded. Once Joel is in view coming down the hallway, you can’t help a grin and bite over your bottom lip. Before he can ask, you bounce off of the wall to stand and tell him, “We’re goin’ huntin’.”

— 

Outside of Jackson, there’s a comfortable silence as you lead Joel towards the river. “This morning someone on patrol said they saw a buck out here.” you inform him.

“Why didn’t they shoot it?”

“They did, they just fuckin’ missed. Alright. Our best bet is out here by the water.” You adjust the thick rope slung over your shoulder. “You ever hunt deer before?” 

“The fact that you have to ask that is kind of offensive.”

“Well then I think I think we have a good shot. HA. Pun.” Joel can’t help but smile, thinking of Ellie. “Well, you’ve never hunted with me, so I’m gonna introduce you to my very special method. It’s not hard, you just stand next to me, we aim together, shoot together. Double our chances, you know?” you glance back at him, “My old hunting buddy and I did it all the time and it really does help.”

“Well alright then.”

It doesn't take long for you to find a male Mule Deer drinking at the edge of the river. You put a hand up to stop Joel, walking behind you, nod your head towards it, then to your side. As you line up side by side, you whisper, barely audible, “Ready cowboy?” 

Two shots ring out and then your whooping. Joel laughs; it does feel pretty damn good to know he’s the one putting food on the table tonight. “Holy shit, he’s huge!” you cry as you make your way down to it, unhooking the rope from yourself which you’ll use to drag it back to Jackson. Joel follows you down to the water, trying not to feel old as he hides a grunt getting down to sit on his haunches. You’re brushing your fingers down the deer’s fluffy white snout. As you drag them along the course of his antlers, you say quietly, “So beautiful.”

Your words spark Joel, remembering the Cordycep, and he watches you look at this dead deer the same way you did the rotting corpse of what is responsible for the end of the world. You examining death with such tenderness, he wants to understand, but he can’t. You are such a contrast. Joel bets you look pretty when you cry, hot when you’re covered in blood, and have the scream of a siren.

“I love being able to see them up close like. Wouldn't ever be able to otherwise.” you tilt your head and hum, brushing your hand down over its neck, traveling down to its side to a dark maroon hole. “One shot, almost straight to the heart.” You turn your head to Joel with a smile, “See? One shot outta two. Doubled our chances.” You’re really rocking him and he can only respond with a half hearted chuckle, his eyes glued to your lips until you turn back to the deer. “Alright. Help me hook ‘im up.” 

It’s a big buck, but not so big that you’re incapable of dragging it back to Jackson, each pulling one end of the rope wrapped around its neck. You’re both huffing and puffing as you go, leaning forward into your steps, but Joel finds time between pants to ask you, “You met Ellie yet?”

“The girl? No, not yet.”

“Well, I think you’d like each other.” “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You pant for another minute before he comes to his point, “You wanna come eat with us tonight?”

“At dinner?”

“Yeah I mean, I really think you and Ellie’d like each other,” suddenly embarrassed, “and I jus’ always see you sittin’ alone, so…” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, “that’d be nice.”

“Alright then.”

— 

That night, you make your way over shyly, standing with your plate in your hands, looking at Joel wordlessly until he invites you to sit. Ellie stares shamelessly. You glance up from your food, noticing it, but act unbothered. Ellie apparently approves of this reaction, then introducing herself, and starts to grill you. The stray cat method prevails.

“Why were you sitting alone before?”

“I guess people don’t like to eat with me.”

“Why not?”

“Hm, well I was kind of overprotective of my food when I first got here.”

“Yeah, you did look kinda creepy.”

“Ellie.” Joel gives her a look, eyebrows raised, and then to you, “I’m sorry, she’s—”

“Feisty.” you finish for him, smiling, and Ellie grins back, shifting to sit a little taller in her seat. 

“Yeah Joel, I’m feisty.” she tells him, who shakes his head at his plate with a restrained chuckle. “So how long have you been here?”

“Couple months longer than you have.”

Ellie nods, chewing, as soon as she swallows, she asks, “How did you get here? Where’d you come from?” Joel tenses at her nosiness but your response is prompt. 

“I wasn’t really trying to get here, I didn’t even know this place existed, actually.” your eyes are on the food you pick at as you speak, “Then a crew of these guys on horsebacks found me, and Maria—”

“Oh, we met those guys. They’re kinda assholes.” Joel hits Ellie’s knee with his under the table.

“Well I was unconscious so I didn’t have the pleasure, but Maria convinced them to bring me back with them. Before that though,” you pause for a small bite and keep your head down. “I was with a group for a long time. It was just me and my friend at first, that was since… yeah. A long time. Anyway, it grew, the number of people kinda ebbed and flowed, you know. There were only a few that lasted that whole time. One of them was looking for her sister so that’s what we were aiming for. We traveled a good distance together. But… it was a rough fucking winter here, and we… you know, shit happens. I was the only one that” you clear your throat and pause. “I’m the only one left. And I didn’t know what to do or where I was so I just kind of… kept walking. And then I couldn’t anymore and, yeah, passed out, they found me, Maria saved my ass, and here we are.”

The three of you eat quietly for an awkward minute before Ellie speaks. “I’m sorry, about your friends.”

“Thanks.” you shove a fork full of food into your mouth. 

There are a few more minutes of awkward silence until Ellie pipes back up and then starts relentlessly jabbering into your fresh ears. Joel tries to get her to restrain herself, mind her manners, but you converse fluidly with her. The way you interact with Ellie impresses him—it’s smooth, casual, and you don’t treat her like a child, but as an equal. Ellie is practically drooling over it.

—

Many nights, Joel and Tommy will stay behind after dinner to talk and have a drink at the empty bar. Maria will take Ellie home, but tonight, Ellie literally begs you to walk home with them, and you readily comply, giving Joel a wave and a smile over your shoulder on your way out. 

“Okay, Joel, you’re killin’ me here.”

Joel looks at his brother quizzically, spinning his glass of whisky on the rocks, condensation wetting the smooth, dark wood of the bar.

“You got a girlfriend and didn’t tell me?”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Joel chuckles, not expecting the assumption. 

“Is this a friends with benefits kinda thing?”

“No,” Joel laughs. 

“What, she’s just your new best friend?”Joel takes a sip of his whiskey instead of answering. “Come on, you gotta give me something’. I promise I won’t say a word to Maria.”

“It’s nothin’ like that. I don’t know… but… shit, it’s somethin’, y’know?” he smiles at his brother, “I mean she’s great. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. She’s funny, Ellie already loves her. She’s great with her, I mean, she talks to her with respect, like an equal. She’s real good with a gun,” Joel throws some whisky back, the rock of ice clinking. “n’ it’s like she sees what I don’t. She knows more than me. She doesn’t make me feel stupid, just like I’m better when she’s there.” he shakes his head, “I feel like such a fuckin’ fool sayin’ this but, it just feels right when I'm with her. It’s like she’s this piece I didn’t know I was missin’.” he takes another sip, “You know, I ignored her for two weeks.” Joel nods to himself, “Longest fuckin’ two weeks of my life, I swear.” he bursts out a chuckle. “I don’t know what it is, Tommy, it’s crazy, but I just couldn’t stay away from her, I mean I couldn’t. There’s just somethin’ ‘bout her.” he pauses, watching the last of the amber at the bottom of his glass blend around the ice. “It fuckin’ scares me. How much I need her. Shit. I just don’t wanna hurt’er.” Joel adds quietly.

“Ah, Joel…” Tommy shakes his head lightly at his last words. “Don’t do that.”

Joel looks up at him, “Do what?”

“You just got through every reason that she’s a great girl, how much you like her, and then you go and shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Whad’you mean shoot myself in the foot?”

“You get scared! Too scared!” he chuckles lightly, “Just go! Be with her!”

“But Tommy—” 

“I don’t wanna hear it. Don’t let her slip through your fingers, now. Hey, Ellie’ll never forgive you for that.” Tommy means it as a joke, but it pricks Joel. “Just be fuckin’ happy. Appreciate it. Findin’ love during the apocalypse is a beautiful thing.” he smiles brightly. 

“Sure, ok,” he gives him a fake glare and smirk, “it’s gettin’ late. I’m fuckin tired ‘n we’ve both got someone waitin’ up on us.”

That night, once again, Joel finds himself losing sleep over you. He chews on Tommy’s words. He hadn’t thought about it like that and he isn’t sure where you lie. You haven’t even touched, you are not his girlfriend, that doesn’t sound right even if it was like that, and you are friends, but it has to be more than that—friendship doesn’t smolder like this. While he walks around in the idea, opening different doors, one of them is to the thought of kissing you, and even though he’s alone, Joel blushes. He sits up on his bed, swears, and rubs the heels of his hands in his eyes. 

“…and then you go and shoot yourself in the foot.” 

Another thing Joel had never thought about. Tommy said he got scared, and he’s right, why wouldn’t he be scared? When has loving someone ever worked out? He’s not shooting himself in the foot because it isn’t about him. He should be scared for you. If no one else knows to protect you from men like him, he’ll do it himself. He groans and swears again when he feels that pull, his heart trying to tear through the line tying it to his brain. It hurts to even think about having you gone now that he knows the way it feels when you’re here. What hurts more though is the thought of you dead. Joel sighs and runs his hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp. Fuck this, I’m tired, I’ll deal with it tomorrow. He thinks, pulling his boots off and getting under the covers.

— 

That next day, Joel is taking an afternoon nap, one of his absolute favorite activities, when Ellie’s feet bounding down the steps wakes him. He almost falls down the stairs, chasing after her and hollering her name, eyes still blurry with sleep. When his eyes focus, you’re at the bottom with Ellie grinning wildly next to you.

“Hi, Joel.” you wave.

“She’s gonna teach me how to ride a horse.”

“Ellie you already know how to ride a horse—”

“I know how to sit on a horse, not how to ride one.”

“I’ll have her home before dark, we’re just going to be at the stables.” You tell him, then look down at Ellie, only half seriously stern, “I thought she told you already.” 

“Soorryy. Okay come on let’s go.” Ellie grabs your hand and pulls you outside. 

“We’ll be safe I promise!” you call out over your shoulder before the door shuts behind you.

Joel sighs and presses the knuckle of his thumb into his forehead, “Christ.”

—

Joel waited up. Several times, he got up from the chair he waited in and grabbed his coat, but made it at most a few feet down the road before stopping himself. He needs to learn how to trust Ellie a little, let her have some freedom. He trusts you, too. It doesn’t eliminate his stress, though.

His foot taps on the floor, watching the sky fade into sunset through the front window. When he hears two steps from the front, rushes to the door, swinging it open before you and Ellie are even actually in front of it.

“Hey,” he says, breathlessly, quickly scanning Ellie to make sure she’s ok.

“Hi,” she says back, raising her eyebrows at him and smiling, “don’t tell me you’ve been sitting in a chair waiting for me all day.”

“No, I w—well I—how was it?”

“Sooooo fun!”

“She’s great at it.” Ellie beams at your side, soaking up your praise. “Alright well, goodnight then,” you start to turn but Joel interrupts you. 

“Uh—you w—wanna come in? Warm up just for a second? If you want.”

“Sure.”

Ellie gives Joel a mischievous grin, raising her eyebrows up and down at him as she passes through the doorway and calls out as she bounds up the creaky stairs, “I’ll just be in my room!” 

You take a few steps in and look around. “It’s really not much,” Joel says, watching you turn around to take in your surroundings. He had never tried to clean, or furnish anymore than Maria had made him, because he never considered that he’d have guests over. 

A smile spreads over your face when your eyes land on the guitar leaning against a corner of the front bay window. You point and look back at him, “Who plays?” 

“Uhh… I do. I’m tryna teach Ellie but I haven’t gotten her to sit down so that I can.” he chuckles sheepishly and rubs a nervous hand on the back of his neck.

“Okay you have to play me something.”

“Aaah, nnaah, I haven’t played in years, I’m outta practice. It’ll sound like shit.”

“Come one, it’s been forever since I’ve heard someone play. You gotta, Joel. Please!”

As soon as you say ‘please’ Joel goes for the guitar. “Alright, fine. I warned you, though.”

You beam, immediately going to plop on the couch facing the front windows. Joel picks up their guitar by its neck and sits in the wooden chair facing you from the other corner of the bay windows. The chair creaks under his weight and the strings softly squeak as he runs a hand up and down the neck. You move to the corner of the couch, tucking one leg underneath you and supporting the side of your head on your hand with an elbow on the arm of the couch. 

He stares at the strings under his fingers while he racks his brain for a song that he even remembers how to play, trying to focus on this instead of his nerves. It takes him a long time. When he does start, his strums are graceful and his voice, gentle and low. Goosebumps prickle your skin.  

I lost myself on a cool, damp night

I gave myself in that misty light

Was hypnotized by a strange delight

Under a lilac tree

The quiet vibrato he ends the first verse with dazes you. 

I made wine from the lilac tree

Put my heart in its recipe

Makes me see what I want to see

And be what I want to be

He keeps his tone low, quiet and all so gentle.

When I think more than I wanna think

I do things I never should do

I drink much more that I oughta drink

Because it brings me back you

Another drawn out vibrato literally makes you dizzy and everything else falls away. 

​​Lilac wine is sweet and heady, like my love

Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, like my love

Listen to me, I cannot see clearly

Isn't that she coming to me? Nearly here

As he’s progressed through the song, his confidence is rising; he must be lost in it. You find yourself misty eyed.

Lilac wine is sweet and heady, where's my love?

Lilac wine, I feel unsteady, where's my love?

Listen to me, why is everything so hazy?

Isn't that she, or am I just going crazy, dear?

You tighten your throat to keep tears down. You knew he’d be good—he’s too modest—but you weren’t expecting him to hit you with this. 

Lilac wine, I feel unready for my love

Feel unready for my love

After his last strum, it stays silent for a few long moments. You’re still trying to reel back tears. Your heartbeat is steady but you feel it bumping out of your chest and warmth blooms from it out to your shoulders. You slip your hand from supporting your temple to your cheek, holding your fingers over your mouth as a wild grin overwhelms it. 

Joel can’t take his eyes off the floor. Now that the music has fallen away, thoughts and fears buzz in his head, and all he wants is for you not to be laughing. His cheeks are red. When he finally gets himself to tentatively raise his head, he does only the least he can to see you.

Eyes glistening, you tell him softly, almost through your hand, “That was beautiful, Joel.” a wide smile plastered on your face. 

Looking up farther at you, his lungs release and his head calms, making him almost sleepy in relief, and warmth spreads through his entire body. He can’t help but smile and looks back to the floor. “Thank you.”

You hum and it’s quiet for a little longer. Joel is the one to break it, standing with a restrained groan and setting the guitar back in the corner. “It’s gettin’ late, lemme walk you home.” he says without looking at you, making his way towards the door with a stiff knee.

“Oh, you don’t have to…” you want him to.

“Nah, it’s alright. Wouldn’t feel right havin’ you walk all alone in the dark. I could use some air anyway.” he says, back still to you as he slides on his coat.

The sound of packed snow under your feet is surrounded by a comfortable silence on the way to your house. It’s not a long walk in reality, but sort of is in Jackson, and by the time you’re there you can see clearly on Joel’s face how cold he is.

“Okay, your turn, come in for a sec. Just to warm up. You’re all rosy.”

“Oh I don’t wanna intrude—”

“I’m the only one that lives here and I’m inviting you in.” you smile lightly at him, opening the door. He happily follows. 

“Not much more than yours,” you tell him as he does just what you did at his house. “All my stuff’s upstairs.”

“You have stuff?”

You laugh, “I mean not really, I have a few things. I just—I don’t know, I still like having things.” 

Joel thinks of the photograph you’d slipped into your pocket on your first patrol together. “Can—can I see?” 

You hesitate, only for a moment and only because of your own nervousness, but it kills Joel. “Yeah, sure,” you lead him upstairs. It’s weird living alone in such a big house, but there aren’t any small houses in Jackson. It can get lonely sometimes, you still aren’t used to not being in a group of friends. 

Your bedroom is the first, right by the stairs, and the gold metal knob squeaks when you turn it. Walking in, Joel is confused, the room being just as barren as downstairs with only a few sad pieces of furniture. But then you click on a light, bringing his attention to his right, where your bed is as well a small, dark wood dresser, ending around chest height so that you have to bend a little to see yourself in the rectangular mirror that rests right up against the wall. Dirt and dust thinly films it and the border and corners blemished yellow with age. 

“Well, this is it.” you say, taking your coat off to hang over your bedpost. Joel is immediately drawn to the dresser where you’ve artfully set up everything you own that isn’t survival gear. Having Joel there makes you suddenly remember the photograph of the woman you’d found, and you slip your hand into your coat pocket to retrieve it. You sit on the edge of your bed, next to Joel at your dresser, and slide your finger along the side of it. The border has turned yellow and the rest of the colors have faded so that it’s just that milk yellow contrasting brown-black. The woman’s light, curly, mussy hair partly obstructs her face, but she gleams a toothy smile thrown over her shoulder. Her back to the back camera, it looks candid. On the upper edge of the thick bottom border, characteristic of a polaroid, scratches, only barely still marked by pen, of very small, close together letters say ‘i love you’ with a tiny heart next to them. You rub your thumb over it to feel the grooves. After flipping it back to front a couple times, studying the details, you take it to the dresser to slip into a vignetted corner of the mirror. 

Soft yellow light sheds over the few other miscellaneous items you’d acquired along your journey, one of which is a sizable pearl necklace. It spills out of the fittingly shell shaped, old and worn silver ashtray which you never properly cleaned. 

“What’s all this for?”

“I just like collecting stuff.” You answer as he ghosts a line over the surfaces of the objects on the dresser, “All sorts of treasures out there. I pick things up, keep them with me until I run out of room, and then I just leave them behind somewhere. It’s like there’s a trail behind me made of other people’s lives.” coming up next to Joel, you continue, “We made a game out of it, so when I found something we’d all make up stories about who left it behind.” you watch his face as he examines the pearls and bite your lip. The light shows off the rich brown of his eyes and there's a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. “This is my favorite.” you use both hands to pick up the heavy pearls, holding them up for Joel to see, “They’re real. Look. See how they’re not really white?” you take a pearl to twirl between your fingers, showing off its silvery pink and blue with the white, watching Joel’s focused eyes.

“Never seen a real one.”

“Here.” you stand behind him, turning him to face the mirror, and slip the necklace around his neck.

“What’re you—” he chuckles. 

You hum, “Look at you.” you look at him smiling in the mirror. “So fancy.” laughing, you come around from behind him and he turns to face you. You pick the pearls up to hold just off of his chest so you can twirl one and watch it in the light. “This is one of the first things I ever picked up, and the only one I’ve kept all this time.” the pearl glints, “I got it from a rich person’s house and the whole room was full of stuff like this, diamonds, jewels… I always like to imagine the woman who lived there wearing them all at once and standing out in the sun.”

You and Joel are in a bubble. Watching these pearls in the light never gets old, and Joel warms you without you even touching. You can hear his breaths and smell his natural scent. He looks even more fucking solid this close up. Joel is the epitome of safe. 

He watches your eyes focus on your heavy pearls around his neck, your face tranquil, and you subliminally relax him. It takes everything in him to not press every part of his body against you, wrap you up tight and keep you there, safe in his arms. 

Scared, Joel breaks the silence, almost at a whisper, “I should be gettin’ back. It’s late, Ellie’s probably waitin’ up.” 

Popped, you nod, taking your hands off the pearls, stepping back and clasping them behind your back, pursing your lips. Joel stays frozen, looking at you. “Here, I’ll get those off for you.”

“Oh, yeah.” he turns around for you to unhook the necklace and it clatters melodically as you lower it back into its shell. 

“Let me lead you out.” Neither of you look at each other until he’s on your front porch steps. Then, he turns to you, says goodnight, and is on his way home. 

You watch him walk off from the doorway until a cold breeze brings you back in. Inside, you close the door and press your back against it, close your eyes, curse, and bump the back of your head on it. You weren’t trying to do anything, but anxiety suddenly falls like acid rain over you that he might think that you were by inviting him in. The whole time, you were barely thinking, you were just… there with him. You blame unlearned social skills and bump your head against the door again. Fuck, you might have just scared him away. Sighing deeply, you open your eyes and head back upstairs. 

In your room, you stop at the dresser, running a finger along the bumps of the necklace. Leaning in a little, you look at yourself in the mirror. Then you make a face to yourself, click the light off, and jump into bed. Joel’s quiet vibratos crawl in to lull you to sleep.

— 

Joel almost walks past his own house, head swimming. Once he’s back inside, Ellie calls from her room, “Joel?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Where’d you go? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I was just walkin’ her home.”

“Oh, okay.”

As he climbs the stairs, Joel tells Ellie’s closed door, “It’s late, you should be asleep.”

“Okay.” she replies. Light still emanates from the bottom crack of the door but Joel reminds himself that Ellie prefers to keep the light on while she sleeps. 

In his room, Joel blows a deep breath out as he slips off his coat and boots. All he seems to do in his bed is sleep and think about you. Added to his collection is the image of your soft eyes focused on shiny pearls you hold from his chest, and your face, poking out from the side of him, smiling at him in a mirror. 

Gentle, gentle, gentle, full of grace and love, and good with a gun. He feels blessed and cursed to have you, because you are you, but, he is him. Tonight only brought you closer and he wants only more, but the softness he witnessed made him want to run, because if you come any closer you’ll be walking into the sharp stake protruding from his heart.

Joel wants to cry as he comes to a decision. 

— 

You’re patrolling together the next day and Joel decides to take you back to the house you found on your first patrol. 

“C’mon.” His voice is gentle, nodding his head back towards the hill and already pulling his horse back. Despite his tone, the air around you is immediately dark and heavy. Joel looks completely calm. Your rapid heartbeat thrums in your ears. 

In the house, he steps into the living room on your right. The dark red carpet is filthy, the walls are thick wood panels, DIY 70’s style. The room is lit by clouded sunlight from three dirty front windows. A dirty old newspaper crinkles under your foot and Joel lightly kicks a pastel pink shard from the broken lamp. In front of him is a dark brown brick fireplace, sooty black logs spilling out over the ledge and onto the carpet. Joel’s hands are on his hips and his head is bowed as he leads you in. You breathe to calm your heart as you follow him in.

He takes a deep breath, facing the fireplace, and then turns to you. It takes him a moment to flick his eyes up to you, and when he does, he’s glaring. Your heart sinks and fear falls from a bucket over your head, running thick down your entire body. You’re not scared of him, but of whatever he’s about to say. You have no clue what to expect. 

He bites his lower lip, looking at you for a long moment before he speaks. “We can’t—we can’t do this.”

“…What?”

He breathes deeply out of his nose. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”

You are physically taken aback, “Are you serious?” 

“Do I look serious?” he replies, voice grim, fiercely glaring. 

You almost roll your eyes. “Okay, I know what this is.” You snap, “You know, you can be so self centered.” 

“The fuck I am—I’m doin’ this for you,” his shout bites, “to protect you.” 

“Joel I am not going to play this fucking game with you.”

“What fuckin’ game?” 

You raise your tone to match his, “This game where you come and you’re with me, you tell me you want me here, and then you decide you’re bad for me, whatever the fuck that means, and then you leave and I don’t know if you’re gonna come back, and then you do and then you’ll leave again and then come back and you can’t keep doing that because then I can’t fucking trust you and that WILL. Ruin. Everything. I’m not fucking doing that.”

“I’m not comin’ back,” he yells, his face severe, “that’s the damn point. An’ it’s for your own good. The world that I live in ain’t no life for you.”

You scoff, “Where the fuck do you think I’ve been living?” You march right into his face, almost nose to nose, glaring straight back into him, “I’ve been through hell, Joel. You have no fucking clue. I am not fucking weak, Joel. Fuck you. Fuck you for that.”

Joel barely lets himself blink, challenged by your gaze, “You’re right, you’re not weak. Fragile is what you are.” he brings a hand up, palm out, and points at it, without breaking, “You see this? You see these hands? I’ve beaten people to death. I’m dangerous.” he hisses, “You should be afraid of me. You’d be stupid not to be. I could kill you.” 

You take his hand and wrap it around your throat. “Do it then.” your eyes stay locked, your breathing even. “Kill me. I know you can. It’d be so easy, Joel.” you whisper, angling your mouth to bare your teeth at him. Joel's breaths are heavy and his eyes widen, brow still hanging dourly. He rips himself away from you and takes a few steps back. “‘Dangerous’.” you continue, “Like that’s special. Here, let me show you something.” you stride back up to him and raise a hand to point at your other, shoving it in his face, “See that knuckle? How it’s curved and flat? That’s called a boxer’s fracture. Someone killed my friend so I beat him to death and it broke my fucking knuckle.” Then you press your thumb into the center of his collarbone, just enough for him to feel his airway constrict until he swats your hand away. “You ever learn that trick? Makes choking someone to death go a lot faster. I know my fucking way around this shit. Scared of you,” you scoff, “Who can’t kill me? You’re not special.” 

Joel lets a solid five silent, tense seconds pass and then he grabs for his gun, making your heart flutter, but then it hits the floor, followed by the thump of his knife. He reaches for your gun and yanks it out of its holster to drop, then around you, without breaking eye contact, to remove both the gun and knife stuffed between your back and belt, hitting the carpet with thuds. 

Suddenly, the idea of you that he had created—someone innocent, clean, pure, someone unlike him, opposite, a good for his bad, yin for his yang—falls away. 

“Hit me.” Joel tells you stonily. 

You smack him and his head jerks with it. 

After that, he kisses you hard, crashing your mouths together so it almost hurts. You reciprocate instantaneously. His hands inch up the sides of your neck, thumbs almost meeting together as they slide up your throat—showing that if he squeezed, just a little, his hands could completely enclose your neck—but he only brings them up to hold your jaw to kiss you. When he pulls away, you’re both breathless.

Interrupting your fervent eye gaze is a bang at the glass window, which reminds you that all of your weapons are on the floor, but seeing the wing defining the mark on the dirty window, you both let out a breath of relief. You collect yourselves and follow it outside. Stepping over the weedy, dead flower beds, you find a still crow, blood seeping to puddle around it.

[gunslinginnhogtyin]

CON. // @deadmcnwalks

“A bother? Pfft,” Butch waves a dismissive hand, his imp tail swishing behind him leisurely. “Don’t be silly—yer one’f th’ nicest fellas I know!” He beams right back up at the taller of the two. “I could sure use a huntin’ buddy. ‘Sides, it’s nice havin’ someone watch yer back when yer on the move.”

Butch is oblivious to Blake’s curse and while he’s ran into Shadow a few times before, he doesn’t seem to realize Shadow is a curse that Blake bears. Even still, the little demon blooded cowboy had dealt with his fair share of the supernatural, the evil and uncanny—he had experience. He wouldn’t put any offer on the table he isn’t ready to take on himself.

“Wanna see where I usually stay? I move every now an’ again but I keep it as comfy as I can, fire an’ all! An’ if ya want, I can scrape t’gether some materials an’ make you yer own tent. C’mon!” Instead of waiting for an answer, Butch excitedly takes Blake’s wrist and begins leading him in that direction. He only lets go when he’s sure the other cowboy is following him.

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

it was always meant to be you.

- Lucian x Peter Vincent

❤️

I'm not sure how to make this work, but I'll try my best anyway.

Warning: for my au with vampire Peter since I tend to gravitate towards that one nowadays, Peter might have been with some people before he and Lucian became an official thing

On with the fic!

--

"I hate these sorts of places." Lucian said, voice slightly hard to hear over the loud noises of people and the dreadful music playing at this Las Vegas nightclub.

"Why's that?" Peter commented, drinking a Long Island Ice Tea. Alcohol didn't affect him like it used to when he was human, but damnit if he wasn't going to try his best to get hammered by ordering the really strong drinks here.

"Too loud, the smells, the people, it's a lot." Lucian frowned. "I don't know how you stand it, especially with your new senses."

"I'm used to it, had a life before actual vampire huntin', babe." Peter sniffed, then regretted it. "Not used to the senses thing though, lots of... lots of funk around here. For fuck's sake, shower before you decide to go clubbin'!" He shouted at someone who walked past them.

Lucian chuckled softly, shaking his head. "We didn't have to come here, you know? I know you want to include me in your interests, but if you're having trouble, we can go somewhere else."

"My other choice was this cool theater that plays classic horror movies, but they're closed for repairs this month." Peter grumbled, which Lucian was probably able to pick up because of his own enhanced hearing.

"I am sure that we will be able to attend a showing of something in due time. No werewolf films though."

"Boo! You're no fun!"

"They are tragic and make my brethren out to be mindless, blood thirsty beasts."

"Lucian." Peter gave him a look. "You told me that your brethren are like that."

He got a look in return, that quickly dissolved when someone shouted Peter's name. Peter whipped around, seeing a man in black, with long, dark hair, waving over at him. Wracking his brain for a moment to remember who this was, he winced and turned away quickly. "Fuck, fuck, let's go."

"Someone you do not wish to talk to?" Lucian asked.

"Somethin' like that, let's go!" He moved to get up from his seat, but felt a hand on his back. He groaned and turned to face the man. "Mark...! Hey!" He said, trying to smile.

"Dude, where've you been? Me and the boys were wonderin' if you'd ever come back! Not even answering our calls, what's up with that?"

"Been busy. Got a show and a life, can't always come to goth nightclubs and shit, ya know?"

"You're not busy right now, are you? Got some stuff you might be interested in, and-" Mark seemed to notice Lucian and raised an eyebrow. "Got a friend?"

Peter wanted the ground to swallow him whole. "He's... Lucian. He's my..."

"I'm his partner." Lucian spoke up, calm as anything, but his eyes showed a storm.

"Partner?" Mark snorted. "Like, for work? Cause Petey here don't do relationships! Not since his last girlfriend!"

"For fuck's sake, Mark..." Peter groaned.

"I assure you that Peter and I are in a relationship." Lucian replied, and Peter felt his shitty vampire heart skip a rare beat. It still caught him off-guard that he was actually in a relationship with this guy, even though it had started weeks ago.

"Soooo... is it, like, an open thing or...?" Peter shoved Mark away and gave him a tired look.

"Mark, dude, you and the boys were fun, but I'm not doin' the fuck buddy thing anymore. Got myself a mate, ya know? Come on, babe, let's get the hell outta here." Peter snatched Lucian's arm, pushing him towards the door, ignoring Mark's shouts that faded with the background noise of the club.

They stepped outside and Peter groaned, slapping his hands over his face. "Fuck you, past me, you absolute idiot."

"What was that all about?" Lucian asked.

"Me being an idiot who really, really needs to learn to cope with things better than with sex, drugs, and beer."

He looked at Lucian, who was looking at him curiously, as if asking for him to continue without voicing it. Peter sighed loudly and started to walk down the streets, heading for wherever the hell they parked his car.

"Met the guy a while back, him and his little group of gothy friends. I was... look, I kept lookin' at him and his friends and saw things I wanted and I was sad and tired and dealin' with all this vampire shit. And somethin' else. So, I took 'em up on their offer and went home with them and then did it a few more times afterwards until I realized I wasn't really gettin' anything from it."

"And what was it you wanted?" Lucian asked, walking alongside him.

Peter stopped under the light of a streetlight, looking at that forever young face, those impossible eyes. Fuck, Lucian was beautiful and scary and so much more. Peter was too sober for this. "I went with them because of how they dressed, all leather coats and gloves and combat boots. Two of the guys had beards like yours, one of them had hazel eyes, and Mark's got the same kinda hair."

"You slept with those men because you saw me in them?"

"Physically, yeah." Peter was looking at his shoes now. "But it wasn't what I wanted, who I wanted. It was always meant to be you, who I laid in bed with, chatted with, slept with. Fuck, Lucian, I really like you, a whole lot. Lot more than just wantin' a good lay and maybe someone to tell me I'm pretty.

I like you, Lucian. And I didn't want to tell you for the longest time cause I thought it was stupid to get my hopes up, cause I thought you would dip out and forget about me. Why bother with anything other than a casual friendship with a pathetic excuse for a vampire and an even bigger excuse of an actor?"

Lucian stepped closer, putting a hand on Peter's shoulder. "I was prepared to throw that Mark person across the room, if that makes you feel better."

Peter blinked, then snorted, laughed, and shook his head. "Holy shit, babe. It... yeah, it does, the mental image, but we'd get into a lot of trouble, so I'm glad you didn't."

"I'm sorry I made you wait."

"It's okay. I'm glad I was dumb enough to snog you in that parking garage."

"While we were covered in blood and gore."

"I told you, dumb enough."

Lucian smiled. "Yes, and I suppose that I Can't blame you for taking advantage of the moment. Come, let's return to the penthouse, I think we both need a night in."

"Can we get drunk?"

"We can try. Or you can, you still seem determined to."

--

Peter would sleep with guys that remind him of Lucian and still know it's not what he wants. He wants the real deal!

[charliedawn]

The sad bois (TM) are the main slashers and characters of this blog, because all of you are sad and all of you deserve pets

So here's my list sorry if it's a bit long

Freddy - Hairless Cat, they look like rotisserie chickens and are one of the most affectionate breeds (also sometimes they occasionally grow hair but in patches and I feel like that weirdness suits him)

Michael- Maine Coon they are fucking massive and they fit his vibe

Jason - Newfoundland, big aquatic and loyal, will save him if encounters water

Brahms - Border Collie Lab Mix, Loyalty of the Lab as well as the affection and clinginess of the border Collie, it will never leave him alone

Penny - Komodo Dragon I refuse to elaborate

Pennywise - Doberman, scary and defensive on the outside but cares about family and very docile if approached and trained correctly

The Horde - St Bernard, I feel like all of them would love it and they provide great emotional support

Bo - Bassett Hound, a good hunting dog and companion, when they lay down they look like they're melting

Vincent - Xolo dog, Also Hairless but excellent emotional support dogs, their skin retains warmth and they're very comforting to hug

Lester - Opossum, weird cat will never leave and sometimes bring trash

Hannibal Sr - Tarantula, I also refuse to elaborate

Hannibal Jr - Small Alligator, toothy and honestly a great gaurd dog

Morgan - Python or Venomous snake, He could teach it to attack on command and they'd make a great deadly duo

Kevin - He already has a pet but he is on the list because I feel bad excluding him

Peter - Sugar Glider, it fits him, it's cute and eats fruit, it's also incredibly soft and affectionate and will love him no matter what

And that ladies and gentlemen in the list of Sad Bois and possible pets

Freddy : "...What is that ? An ugly rat ? It looks deformed."

The cat *hisses at him*

Him : "Yeah. Back at ya, Garry." *he already named it**likes it but doesn't want to admit it*

Jason *staring at the cat*

The cat *staring back at him*

Michael *smiles**he likes it*

Jason *smiles* : "Thank you. But...I hope it won't eat my frogs."

Brahms *opens his arms wide and the dog literally tackles him to the ground*

Penny *stucks his tongue out and giggles when the komodo dragon does the same*: "I LIKE HIM !"

Pennywise : "Oh great...Another Penny. He's too active for me. I need my naps." *still wakes up every morning to take him on a walk*

Hedwig : "DOGGIE !" *hugs the St Bernard*

Jade : "WE'RE KEEPING IT !"

Patricia : "Now, wait a minute—!"

Jade : "IT WASN'T A QUESTION !"

Dennis *wearing a mask* : "THE GERMS !"

Bo : "...What am I supposed to do with that short-legged muppet exactly ? He is no huntin' dog. He couldn't catch sh*t." *still smiles when the dog starts sniffing his shoe* "...Cute though. Well, I guess I have no choice but to take ya home, huh buddy ?" *picks him up*

Vincent *stares at the dog and pets it*

(I'll do the Hannibals separately, If you don't mind sending your request again ?)

[tierra-paldeana]

what’s ur favorite pokemon? (After Clodsire and wooper ofc)

☠🌏– ''Oh, it's Whiscash, and of course Barboach! They're extremely territorial, but when I lived at the pond, papá was so good at keeping everything in check and was such a good leader that the leader of the Whiscash living adjacent to us was super impressed. Usually when they meet another big predator they try to kick each other out of the pond, but in my case, I was able to see the super rare occurrence of 'em teamin' up wit' papá and his army for huntin'! I referred to this guy as Señor Bigotes, nahahaha! Sometime after I left the pond he and his group migrated n' I haven't heard of 'em ever since...''

''...Sorry, good ol' Rika went on a tangent there. The point is, I had very good experiences wit' this Pokémon growin' up, so I caught a Barboach in another pond, y'know, the small one by the Leakin' Tower. They're smaller than the Clodsire line, but one thing I love about 'em is how equal their strength is when it comes to makin' the ground shake! N' of course just how damned cute they are, nahaha! Ain't that right, buddy?''

Whis~

[pleb-the-original]

Day 27: “We Don’t Go In the Swamp”

(This was a lot more open ended, so it took a bit for me to come up with an idea. I knew I had to go with a loup garou, that was the easy part. The real problem was figuring out what to do. After reading for a bit, I figured I might as well try something I haven't done before. I've done plenty of stories here from the monster's perspective. How about something from the humans its hunting down? With a bit of Southern flair of course) Nope. We don’t go in there no more. Why? The loup garou. They say there’s a loup garou in them woods. Course nobody ain’t seem ‘im. But he’s there. I know he’s there. When I was huntin’ out in the swamp just a few nights ago, I tracked a deer for just a bit too long. Night fell. That’s when I heard ‘im. That monster just didn’t sound right. It was like a scream, but it sure wasn’t a bobcat. It sounded like a dog being skinned alive. I had no clue where it was comin’ from, but I had my shotgun ready case it got any closer. It just kept howling like that for hours. I just sat there, listening for anythin’ to come out of the dark. Nothing did. I headed back home after that. That’s why your pop was so shaken up that night. Got worse when we found the footprint. Right there in the mud, just a little bit away from the river bank. It looked human, like some poor bloke who lost their boot to the reeds. But it had claws big enough to sink inta the dirt. We all saw it too, wasn’t just your pop’s imagination. That’s when we organized the hunting parties. Your pop and some of his hunting buddies went out late at night to see if they could find anythin’. We all heard the howling again, but this time Claude from some weird fur stuck to a tree. It was brown and all matted, and it stank. But it didn’t stink like animal stink, not fully. It was a mix of animal smell and sweat. Last night confirmed it for us. That’s when we found the shed. We decided to head off trail for a bit, Claude saw a boar and wanted to track it. We lost the boar but we found somethin’ bigger. A wooden shed, out in the middle of the bayou. Thing was rotting completely, the windows were caked in dirt so we couldn’t see inside. We scouted ‘round it, looking for any signs of life. There was a door. None of us wanted to open it. Horace was the one that found the bones. Right behind the shed, there were piles and piles of bones. Small bones, large bones, all kinds of bones. We were just about ready to get outta there just after seeing that. We saw that Claude was gone though. We searched all around that shed, didn’t get too close. I had to be the one to search through the bones of course, we figured maybe he fell in. I found somethin’ worse' however. After a couple bones, some looked a little bit too big to be an animal. That’s when I found the skull. A human one too. I called out to everyone and they came rushing back where we met at the front of the shed, and I showed them the skull. We decided to get the hell outta there right then and there. That’s when we heard the howl. It was coming from inside the shed. Everyone else ran off, but I tripped on a branch. I looked back, only to see the door open from the inside. A tiny bit of light got it, that’s how I saw its body. Human, but like they had been living in the woods for years. It was holding an arm, something in me knew that was Claude. The worst part however, was the head. I couldn’t see nothin’, nothin’ but those eyes. Eyes aren’t meant to glow like that. Not human eyes, that’s for sure. That piercing red gaze. I got up after that. Didn’t want to stick around no more. We ain’t going in there for a long time kid. Not until I’m sure that thing ain’t around to hunt us.

[aerospectrum]

Dean eye'd her cautiously, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips when he squinted at her reactions. He felt a bit like he towered over her when he came around the bar and found the phone shoved at him in a game of tag. "Oh..." he laughed seeing the endless string of missed calls and unanswered texts. "Well, there's always a first time for this kinda stuff I guess." he cocked a brow up at her, holding back a teasing laugh when she struggled to come up with an excuse.

"I'm all set here if you are." he smiled at Madison when she asked if he was off, "Hey this guy..." he began as he headed for the door, grabbing it and moving to the side for her to leave first. "This isn't gonna end with him huntin' you down is it?" he asked her, breathing in deep as the cool air hit his nose.

The phone vibrated in his hand almost immediately after the words left his mouth and he tossed his head back with a laugh that fogged up above him. "Alright... looks like it's showtime." he slid the answer screen open and answered with a smooth, slightly cocky "hey how's it goin'?" the bewildered voice on the other end launched into an angry slur of accusations before Dean had a chance to get his bearings. He listened for a bit and then spoke. "Buddy, next time, lower the volume- I think every guy in a 20 foot radius just heard your desperation to earn someone back through violence... I gotta admit, I might accidentally pity you if I didn't know what an abusive dick you were." it infuriated the guy on the other line and Dean held the phone away from his ear for a moment.

"No.. no I'm not really interested in that, I'm busy getting dessert with someone you'll have to ask me when I'm single." Dean laughed in response to whatever was threatened before just hanging up. "Your fiance's a real piece of work." Dean shoved his hands into his pocket. "Oh" he pulled the phone back out and held it over towards her. "You want this back.. I don't think he's outta fuel yet so... I don't mind holding onto it till the calls stop if you want me to." He glanced at Madison, softly observing her features and stature. "Are you going to be alright heading home tonight-- look, I'm not trying to pull one over on you or anything like that... but I've got a spare room at my place if you need somewhere safe to stay."

It took a second for her to register what he was saying.

She couldn’t wait to get out of here. Couldn’t wait to have dessert. Couldn’t wait to get away from this man.

Curiosity made her wonder what the messages were because knowing HIM, it couldn’t be anything good.

Dean’s voice was more…. Manly? Sounded tougher? It was different than what she was used to & definitely would be unexpected to hear. Madison looked up at Dean & nodded.!

“Then tag…. You’re it.”

She grabbed the phone & shoved it into deans hand.

“Tell him I’m not here… wait no. Tell him I’m with you. Wait… umm tell him…”. She couldn’t think fast enough. What would make HIM most upset?

“Are you off now?” Noticing his jacket now on.

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#9 The Ghost at Dawn’s House: Chapter 3

The BSC goes a-huntin’ for a secret passage!

The next morning, it's still rainy, and Dawn has a sitting job for the Barretts. Surprisingly, there's no reference to how drop dead gorgeous Stoneybrook’s resident MILF is. Though Dawn does slip on the grass as she's leaving and Buddy tells her, “Have a nice trip, Dawn! See ya next fall!” I blame the tv that family watches.

After she goes back home, Dawn decides what's the best thing to do to pass the time on a rainy afternoon? She calls up the rest of the BSC to look for a secret passage in the house! Mary Anne says Stacey's mom can drive them all over...nice on giving Charlie a break but bad for Maureen for having to drive all around Stoneybrook to pick up everybody!

After they arrive, Dawn tells them they need to be “scientific” about it all and gets an *eyeroll* from Kristy, who’s probably bitter that someone else is taking charge. Only Kristy can be the leader, that's rule #4 of the BSC Handbook! Dawn tells them they need to tap on the walls and Claudia adds in her input, since she's read more mysteries (it's the only other thing she's ever read). Claudia wants them to basically grope the walls to look for any springs or catches that'll pop out and shine a flashlight on them too. 

Dawn suggests they split up and Mary Anne immediately freaks out. Hey, she's got a reason to worry! Whenever someone says “split up” in a haunted house, either someone gets murdered or the monster appears! Dawn offers to take Mary Anne upstairs and before Kristy can rip her to shreds for claiming Mary Anne, Claudia interrupts and asks if they're searching the basement and attic. Dun dun dunnnnnn!

Dawn is wary because of another ghost story she read called “Things Unseen” and as she tells it, a gust of wind blows the curtains into Mary Anne's face, making her shriek. Before Dawn can finish, Miss Fraidy Pants doesn't want to hear the rest and also refuses to wait out in the hallway alone so Stacey goes with her. Dawn finishes the story and everyone screams. What could the ending have been that made everyone scream? Stoneybrook's tofu supply was found to be tainted with beef? All the boxes of Oreos in the grocery store are empty? A more reliable, older, prettier babysitting club was taking away all their clients? We never find out.

Kristy tells the two scaredy cats (Stacey and Mary Anne) to search downstairs where it's less scary, since Jeff is there watching tv while the three brave ones search upstairs. Kristy is still acting all surprised that Dawn is the one in charge. Um, it's Dawn’s house and her idea! Control freak. They start in Jeff's room and Kristy remarks that her brothers would kill her if she searched their rooms. Hey, it's never stopped Karen. That’s a preview for the next book I’m doing here!

They find nothing in Jeff's room except for some comic books under his bed, so they head into Dawn's room next. And, what do you know - Dawn hears a hollow noise behind one of the walls! But Claudia considers it a false alarm just because she happens to find no springs or anything that pops out. This bugged me so much when I first read the book - Dawn says to tap on the walls for hollow sounds and she finds a hollow sound. But because there’s nothing else there, it’s a false alarm? Dammit Claudia.

Anyway, after that, Kristy declares they should search the attic since she's got nerves of steel. Claudia and Dawn protest, but Kristy says that ghost stuff is dumb, and since she's the leader ALWAYS, they have to follow her. They head up to the attic, but wimp out and climb back down, where Mary Anne and Stacey scare them. D’OH!

Stacey and Mary Anne say they haven't found anything downstairs, and they split up again. What's the most logical thing to do? Get them back! This is WAR, dammit! Dawn remembers there's a heating vent in her mom's room that leads down to the den. So they move aside the water pipe and moan into it and say spooky things, and sure enough, you can hear shrieking downstairs. Do Stacey and Mary Anne seriously think it's a ghost, or are they too dense to think “Hey wait...we just scared them, they're probably getting us back!”

Anyway, this stops right away when a green hand touches Dawn and when all three girls spin around, “We were gazing into the green face of a deformed, one-eyed monster.”

We end the chapter with Jeff scaring the shit out of his sister. And that’s the end of any secret passage...or is it?

[theunboundwriter]

The Strawberry Killer

Chapter Five: Thomas Fancott

masterpost || next || previous

Otis departed to return home, Detective Jennings and Detective Gregory slowly making their way back to the station. It was late afternoon, nearly five o'clock. Dianne knew she was going to regret having a late lunch, but it was over with now. 

They walked in comfortable silence; something they did often. Brody was one of the few people she could tolerate being in the same room with, even when he was his most annoying self. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but it was nice whatever it was. 

"Do you mind?" He muttered to her, holding up an unlit cigarette. 

She shook her head. "Go ahead."

She could hear him fumbling with his lighter, and after a few clicks he had his hand cupped near his lips before taking a breath, smoke escaping from his mouth. 

About two or three minutes passed before a giant crow landed on the path in front of them. It waited a moment, staring at them with its soulless, beady black eyes, before cawing. The unholy noise seemed to echo down the street, bouncing off the houses and sneaking through open windows. The crow flapped its wings, once, twice, before a black feather fell to the concrete. It cawed once more, this time almost as if it was threatening them. When it finally took off, returning to the sky, a red strawberry was left where it once stood, a large, molded spot in the center. 

The two detectives stared at the black feather and strawberry. 

"Well, ain't that something?" Detective Gregory murmured, removing the cigarette from his lips and stomping on it. 

...

The first person Detective Jennings and Detective Gregory interviewed was a man by the name of Thomas Fancott. He got out of prison two years prior for assaulting a young woman and was now residing on the border of Beckton and the neighboring town. He fit what little profile they had made of the killer based on the lacking evidence they managed to pull together from Jane Doe: white male, five foot nine, early forties, lives alone, and to top it all off, he was convicted of a violent crime in the past.

Detective Gregory rapped on Thomas's door, putting his hands in his pockets as he waited for the man to shuffle through the house and open the door. 

It creaked open, a man with tired red eyes and a freshly lit cigarette stared them down with furrowed brows.

"Are you Thomas Fancott?" Detective Gregory asked him.

"Depends on who's askin'."

The two detectives flashed their badges at him. "I'm Detective Jennings, and this is Detective Gregory. We'd like to ask you a few questions, Mr. Fancott."

"Nuh uh," Thomas replied, removing the cigarette from his lips. "I ain't done nothin' to warrant the police to come to my house. I ain't violated my parole or nothin'."

"We're not here about that, Mr. Fancott. We just wanted to ask you a few questions, that's all."

"What kind of questions?"

Detective Gregory put his hand on the door, holding it open. "May we come in?"

Thomas hesitated for a moment, but then he grunted and led the way inside. They walked into a cramped living room, the floor littered in trash and empty take-out boxes, with cans lining nearly every surface. Thomas sat down in an armchair in the corner of the room, facing the television that sat haphazardly on the floor. Detective Jennings and Detective Gregory shared a look, before sighing and addressing Mr. Fancott.

"What were you doing five days ago, Mr. Fancott?"

The man chuckled. "You expect me to remember what I was doing five days ago? Hah. I can barely remember what I was doin' this mornin'."

"Did you go anywhere? See anybody?"

"Lemme think. When was this? Sunday?" Thomas leaned back in his chair as he tried to recall. "I reckon' I was out hunting with my buddy John. Yeah, that's right. I had the day off because it was Sunday and I figured John would be out huntin' anyway." 

"What's John's last name?"

"Neilson."

Detective Gregory quickly scribbled the name down on his notepad. 

"And where did the two of you go out hunting?" Detective Jennings asked.

"Out on the land near the lake. We usually have a lot of luck around there, but we didn't see a single critter."

Detective Jennings stiffened. "You were out by the lake?"

"Yeah, that's right."

She looked at Detective Gregory sideways.

"Why are y'all lookin' at each other like that? Last I checked it wasn't no crime to go huntin' on public land."

"It is when a body was dumped in that lake the same day."

Thomas seemed to freeze in his fit of rage, skin paling. "Huh, now?"

"Mr. Fancott, what did you do after you and Mr. Neilson—"

"Nuh uh! Nope! I want y'all out of my house. I've had enough of this."

Detective Gregory stepped in. "It's in your best interest to talk to us, Mr. Fancott. We're only here to help you."

"Yeah, right. That's what the last coppers I talked to said, and that landed me twenty years in prison. I didn't even touch that girl! I was set up! Just like y'all are doin' right now. I'm sure I fit your list of suspects or whatever, but I'm gonna tell y'all right now that I didn't do nothing."

Thomas stood from his chair, ushering the detectives out of his home. "Mr. Fancott, you're now a suspect for murder, you're going to have to come with us down to the station so we can ask you a few more questions."

"Nuh uh. You just take my word for it; I did not do it. You want a real suspect? Why don't you go talk to my buddy, good ol' John Neilson. Ask him about that girl he's been talkin' to. And he was with me at the lake, so if that's reason enough to suspect me, it's enough for him."

"Don't fret," Detective Jennings assured him, "we'll be speaking to him as well. But you're still going to have to come with us, Mr. Fancott. Now, you can either come calmly with Detective Gregory and I, or you can come kicking and screaming when we call for back up."

'"Don't fret' you say. Hah! I'll fret if I want'to. It's in my rights to fret."

Detective Gregory sighed, already pulling out his phone to call for some officers to meet them at Thomas's house.

"You'll have to drag my cold, dead, body outta this house before I come willingly to be interrogated. This is a set up, I tell you! You can ask me all you want about that dead girl but I don't know nothing!"

On the way out of Thomas Fancott's house, Detective Jennings risked one last glance inside at the messy scene. That's when she noticed the container of old, decaying strawberries sitting on the counter, fruit flies lazily hovering around it.

[myuni-moon]

👑 anon again

im so sorry to bother u bestie but like i had a random idea and i really wanted to share. is it oki if i told u cult reader shit whenever I think of it? dont wanna annoy u

anyway~, imagin the shorter characters simping over us if we were taller than them. cuz i'm like 5'8-9" and from what I can tell, mostly everyone in Teyvat is like 5'5" and below. so imagine Barbara doing this 😳👉👈 whenever we do anytjing w her bcuz we are Just So Tall and can Easily Pick Her Up w little to no effort. Bennett red as a tomato bcuz his God, the one being he reveres more than adventuring itself carrying him in their arms like a baby. Easily picking up Xiao and Scaramouche whenever they go at it for whatever reason, immediately dispersing the tension. Kazuha shyly asking to be carried as Xinyan and Amber debate who's next against Chongyun and Xingqui. Fischl frantically writing down ur height so she can exaggerate it when she writes her next Cult!Darling Fanfic Holy Manuscript for her one and only Dark Lord. Noelle blushing nd insisting you dont need to lift a finger as you help her carry things to the Knights building. razor thinkin ur the optimal version for a huntin buddy cuz of ur height. gorou and hu tao in the back wishin they were as tall as you

Just tall cult darlin' man. this whole AU is givin me brainrot, hahaha 😅

eventually, some of the tall characters such as kaeya and diluc do get jealous. they want to get carried by you too! zhongli gets a free pass because he can just turn shorter, and venti's already short.

xiao feels the most flustered because isn't he supposed to be the one carrying you??? please put him down before he overheats-

the kids love getting carried the most, in your arms or on your shoulders. they feel nice and strong when you carry them. klee thinks it's time for adventure when you carry her on your shoulders!

[queenxxxsupreme]

A Soft Heart, A Sweet Soul

A/N: Honestly couldn’t tell you where this came from. It started off as an idea of Kieran coming to Arthur and reader for advice on how to talk to Mary-Beth because I absolutely adore Kieran and Mary-Beth but then it ended up turning into some camp shenanigans and well.... this happened??? This takes place at Horseshoe Overlook.

Warnings: none, this is pure fluff and camp shenanigans

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Kieran comes to you and Arthur for dating advice. 

**gif isnt mine**

“What’re ya workin’ on?” 

You tore your eyes away from the article of clothing in your hands to watch Arthur. He pulled up a chair just across from you and took out a cigarette.

“Just patching up some clothes. A fella I know likes to go around gettin’ into bar fights and scraps with a whole bunch of wild animals. He’s too hard on his clothes.”

He grunted as he lit the cigarette and leaned back in his seat. 

“I ain’t that hard on clothes.”

“I have to patch somethin’ of yours every other day.” You teased, a grin coming to your lips. 

He swatted a hand playfully at you, shaking his head. 

“I don’t believe it.”

“What’s this from, Arthur?” You held the shirt you were currently working on up to show him the hole in the front of the shirt. 

“That one wasn’t even my fault.” Arthur paused for a moment to look around camp, searching for someone. His eyes landed on Charles, who was brushing down Taima at the hitching posts. “That man over there started a fight in Valentine! Didn’t ya, Charles?”

“Charles would do no such thing.” You looked over at Charles, who wore a faint grin but didn’t look in your direction. “You didn’t start that fight, did you?”

“I didn’t start it, but I did finish it.”

“See, Arthur? He’s too nice.”

“Nice my ass.” Arthur muttered with the cigarette between his lips. “Anyways, the fella I was fightin’ tried to stab me but he wasn’t too good with a knife. Only caught the shirt.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll let that one pass since you did a terrible job at blaming Charles for causing it.” You nodded softly, biting your bottom lip to try to hide a grin. 

“Them pants that you have over your lap have a busted out knee.”

“Yeah, I noticed when I was tryin’ to wash them. What did you do?”

“I, uh, I tripped.” Arthur tried to cough to hide what he was saying but just as he spoke Javier was passing by behind him. 

“You what?”

“Shut up, Javier. This don’t involve you.” Arthur waved Javier off but Javier wasn’t giving up so easily. 

“No, no, it does now.” He put one hand on the back of Arthur’s chair. “What happened, Arthur?”

Arthur grunted and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I tripped goin’ down a hill when I was out.” He shook his head, holding the cigarette between his index and middle finger. “The hills over there in the Grizzlies East are steep. Hosea had me out huntin’ and didn’t warn me that it was so steep. And the rocks were loose under my boots and it all happened so fast-,”

“Poor baby.” You frowned, trying your best to not laugh. Javier didn’t shy away from laughing at him though as he moved away from you, throwing his head back and holding his stomach. The other few people around you, including Charles, Karen, and Hosea, also laughed. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Arthur took a drag from the cigarette. “Laugh at me and my clumsiness.”

You reached over to pat his knee

A comfortable silence seemed to fall over camp. It was rare and peaceful. It was one of those evenings where little was happening. The sun was going down behind the trees and many of the lamps around camp were starting to be turned on. 

Arthur was home before dark for once, which you were thankful for. You rarely got to spend time with him before it was time for bed. It was nice to be able to sit with him, even if you had little chores to do while you sat there. 

“Thank you for doin’ that for me, pumpkin.” Arthur spoke, keeping his voice low so only you could hear him. He leaned forward in his chair, flicking his cigarette down onto the ground and then stepping on to it. Then he moved his chair a little closer to you so that if he wanted to, he could lean forward and kiss you.

“You’re very welcome, darlin’. You know it’s my pleasure.” You flashed him a smile. “I always love hearin’ all these stories about how you tear up your clothes on your adventures. It’s very amusing knowin’ you’re just like a giant clumsy toddler.”

“Are you gonna give me a hard time all night?” He raised a brow at you, a teasing glint flashing in his brilliant blue eyes.

“Oh, you know that’s my favorite thing to do.” You looked down at the shirt to watch where you were pushing the needle through. “If I didn’t give you a hard time, who else would?”

“There’s plenty of people to give me a hard time ‘round here.”

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Arthur’s attention. He turned his head to see Kieran making his way towards you two. Arthur let out a small sigh and leaned back in his chair, a little irritated that the peaceful moment between you and him had been interrupted. 

“M’sorry to-to bother you, Mr. Morgan, Ms. Y/L/N. I-I just wanna talk to you for-for a minute, Arthur.” Kieran stopped a few feet away from your chairs.

“Me?” Arthur raised his brows, eyes widening slightly. “Why? You got somethin’ planned, O’Driscoll?”

“Arthur!” You scolded him, reaching over and smacking his arm. 

“Ow!”

“I-I’m sorry to bother y’all.” Kieran turned to walk away, shaking his head.

“Kieran, don’t let Arthur’s bad manners scare you away.” You glared at Arthur before bringing your attention to Kieran. “Is it something I could help you with?” 

Arthur ran a hand over his face, knowing very well you’d get after him later for his behavior. 

Kieran didn’t say anything at first. He nervously messed with his hands and looked off to the side. 

You followed his gaze, eyes landing on Mary-Beth. 

“I-I just…. M’not too sure how to, uh, to talk to her, is all.” He spoke quietly. He looked back to you. “I thought maybe since y’all seem like such a nice couple that you might have some good advice you could give. I just don’t-don’t wanna mess nothin’ up.”

“Oh, that’s sweet of you, Kieran.” You smiled, then gestured to the empty chair sitting across the table from you. “Have a seat with us.”

Arthur opened his mouthed to object but decided at the last minute to not say anything about Kieran joining you both at the table. 

“Just ‘cause we seem like a nice couple, don’t mean we are.” Arthur shook his head, motioning to you with his thumb. “She’s meaner than hell.”

“I’m the one sewing the holes you leave behind in your clothes, Mr. Morgan.” You reminded him, a little smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Once they’re patched up, I’ll sell your clothes in Valentine. Make a decent penny, and buy myself something nice.” 

“That’s a damn good idea.” Arthur chuckled, rubbing his scruffy jaw.

“Now shut up and listen so we can help the kid out.” You put the clothes in your lap on to the table so you could give Kieran your full attention. “Have you tried talking to her at all yet, Kieran?”

Just as Kieran was about to answer, Sean came over to the table. 

“Why do you lot look so dead? Swear there’s more life in a cemetery.”

Your eyes met Arthur’s and he let out a sigh, knowing he’d have to be the one to make the sacrifice and draw Sean away.

“Hey, Sean?” He stood to his feet. “Come with me a second, buddy.” 

“Sure thing, Arthur!”

“Have you tried talking to her, Kieran?” You repeated your question.

“Yeah, a little.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But it seems…. It-It just don’t feel like it’s goin’ nowhere. It feels like I-Ikeep messin’ up. I just don’t know what to say and-and it’s hard talkin’ to pretty girls. I-I get all nervous and stumble all over my words.”

“Just remember that she’s a person too. It’s okay to be nervous and to mess up with your words. She’s a really sweet girl, Kieran. She won’t think anything of it as long as you’re nice.”

“You think so?”

You nodded your head.

“You should’ve seen Arthur when he and I first started talking.” Your eyes found Arthur. He’d taken Sean across camp and distracted him with something. “He’s not the big brute he likes to make everyone think he is. He’s a sweet man with a big heart. The first time he ever took me out somewhere, he spilt whiskey all over me.”

“Did he really?” Kieran chuckled. “And-And you still talked to him after that?”

“Of course I did. It was an accident. He’s never done anything to hurt me.” You brought your attention back to Kieran. “You’re a good kid, Kieran. All of us here can see that. I’m positive Mary-Beth can see it too.”

“I hope so.” Kieran turned his head to look in her direction. “She’s really nice, Y/N.”

“She is a sweet girl.” You agreed.

“Thank you for talkin’ with me, Y/N.”

“Anytime, Kieran.” You gave him a smile and watched him leave. 

You went back to working on Arthur’s clothes. A little while later, Arthur returned to his seat. 

“That kid needs an off button.” He muttered, glancing over to Sean. “How did talkin’ with Kieran go?”

“Good.” You looked up at Arthur through your lashes. “I told him about how you spilt whiskey on me that time you took me to that dusty old saloon in Montana.”

Arthur groaned.

“Now why would you do that?”

“Because it made him feel better about being so nervous around Mary-Beth.”

Arthur fell silent for a few moments, his eyes finding Kieran and Mary-Beth. The two were sitting near each other chatting quietly. You looked over your shoulder to see what he was looking at. 

“You think they’d be good together? You don’t think he’d….?”

“You’ve got to stop calling him an O’Driscoll, Arthur.” You looked at Arthur then back down to his clothes. “He’s one of us. He saved your life, you know.”

“I know.” Arthur let out a heavy breath. “Just…. Just don’t like it.”

“He’s not like them.” You finished the last stitch on the shirt and tied it off. “You can see it in his eyes, and in the way he interacts with everyone around here. He’s sweet. He just didn’t have the right start at life. Didn’t have the right people around him.”

“Sounds like you’re gettin’ soft on him.”

You rolled your eyes and threw the shirt at Arthur, hitting him in the face with it. 

“You can be such a horse’s ass sometimes, Arthur Morgan.” You stood up and started to move away from the table but Arthur’s hand caught your wrist. 

“I’m just teasin’ you, Y/N.” He put the shirt on the table and then tugged you over to stand between his knees. “Just don’t understand why you’re so keen on helpin’ him. You’re never this nice.”

“I am a very nice person.” You looked down at him, bringing your hands up to cup either side of his face. Your thumb brushed along his cheekbones. 

On his right cheek, there was a faint white line that cut just an inch or so beneath his eye. You focused on that for a few moments. 

“I know a fella that a lot of people think is hard and mean.” You whispered. “Many people wouldn’t think that he likes it when I brush my fingers through his hair at night. Or that when he can’t sleep, he likes to put his head in my lap and listen to me read.”

You were thankful that the sun had finally gone down all the way and that most of the gang was gathered around two of the fires on the other side of camp. They wouldn’t be able to interrupt or witness your moment with Arthur, who very rarely liked any sort of public displays of affection. The ones who did witness it were Mrs. Grimshaw, who had been doing her mother hen rounds to check and make sure everything was in line, and John, who was keeping patrol just outside of camp. Grimshaw pretended to not see anything as she kept walking, humming to herself with a cigarette between her fingers. John smiled a little. It made him happy that someone made Arthur so soft. 

“Who is this fella?” Arthur asked, his voice low and a little raspy. His eyes shut for a moment as you leaned forward to kiss his brow. He settled his hands around your hips, just holding you where you stood between his legs. “Might have to fight him.”

“Silly man.” You giggled softly, running your fingers back through his hair. “I’m a good judge of character, Arthur. Have a little faith in me.”

You started to step away from him. As your touch left him, his hand found yours and he stood up so he could pull you into his arms. 

“I have faith in you. It’s the O’Driscoll I don’t trust.” 

“I’m gonna start keeping count of every time you call him that and there’s gonna be consequences.” You squeezed Arthur’s fingers. 

“What kinda consequences?” A grin tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Ones you won’t like.” You pulled your hand from his and looked around camp. 

Mary-Beth was sitting on her bedroll reading by a lamp. Kieran was brushing down his horse just outside of camp. 

“I’m not saying you have to be friends with him, Arthur.” You turned your attention to him as he stood from his chair. “Just stop callin’ him an O’Driscoll.”

He let out a rather exaggerated sigh and ran a hand over his face.

“If it makes you happy-,”

“It would make me very happy.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes at you. You innocently smiled. 

“You drive me crazy, woman.” He put his arm around you and started to guide you towards your shared tent. 

“You know you wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Of course not.” He kissed your cheek. “I like the crazy.”

“Did Charles really start that fight in Valentine?”

Taglist: @winterwolf @doggone-cowgirl

If you’d like to be on my taglist, please go here! If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[askretainer]

interview .

Torchlight flickers, bouncing off of old stone walls and adding yet another layer of warmth to the already stifling scene before her. 

A particularly loud noise sounds from the far left of the room — the sound of a glass being slammed down upon rickety oak, followed by an eruption of raucous laughter. One white ear twitches, shoulders pulling inward in a full body flinch away from such chaos. 

This is terrible. 

Ash would have much preferred this task be done during the day, or perhaps anywhere else that may hold a fraction of this crowd. Unfortunately, the options with which she had been presented were few. It was this tavern that she had found leads to, and few ever occupied such places while the sun was up. 

Someone grumbles something behind her and the retainer’s head turns to find the speaker. “What was that? Apologies, it is quite loud in here and- ”

“I said move. You’re taking up the whole damn doorway.” Her company shoves past her, shoulder hitting shoulder with an impressive amount of force. They make for the bar and, after a moment to blink at their back, Ash stumbles behind. 

“Apologies! Please, could you perhaps spare me a moment? I- ”

“What do you want?” Accusatory as the other body whirls on her, left eye twitching and arms crossing over their chest. 

“I am searching for someone who I believe passed through here rather recently,” the annoyance in the other’s body language goes completely without acknowledgement as the retainer continues on. “I was hoping that you may be able to help me? He would stand out quite garishly among you mortals — about this tall and very pale, with crimson hair and quite the sadistic attitude.”

The other’s expression loses its harsh edge, and Ash watches as they blink a few times before furrowing their brows. Her own shoot up, eyes widening in excitement at the thought of her search coming to fruition. 

“We had a guy in here some weeks ago,” their hand comes to their chin, scratching at it as they think. “Meets that description, yeah. Said his name was Oak or somethin’ — like a tree? A buddy of mine was tryin’ to ask him what his situation was — wanted to know what brought a freak like that to a place like this — and he just yelled some shit before smashin’ a bottle right into the man’s face.”

Now it’s her turn to blink a few times, excitement faltering. Oh. “…yes, I do believe that is the one I am after.”

“What are you huntin’ him for?” Whatever distaste this person had held for her only moments prior is forgotten, it would seem, in favor of their interest in whatever her business with the situation is. “Some kinda cop?”

Now Ash’s face turns to one of confusion, metal jingling softly as her head shakes. “I am Ash, retainer to Lord Askr, and I have been sent by my summoner to prevent Elm from pursuing his malevolent ideals.”

That doesn’t really seem to satisfy the asker, however. Disinterest pulls their shoulders to shrug and begin to turn away. 

“Wait, please! I need to know whatever it is that he may have said — if there is some kind of plan, or anything that might have implied where he is now. You must understand, this is of the utmost importance to the safety of any mortals who reside here.”

“Listen, cow lady. What makes you think you can beat that kid, huh? Clearly he’s somethin’ else if you’re so worried about stopping him.”

A frown pulls at her lips. Quite the rude accusation from a stranger, but then mortals always did tend to ask silly questions like that. 

“He may be strong but as I have said — I am the retainer of the divine dragon Askr. I have served both my lord and kingdom for over a hundred centuries, and that requires no small deal of strength. Elm and I are equally matched, however my loyalty to my people imbues a strength within me that he himself could never achieve.”

There is a moment’s worry that perhaps the gaps in her confidence show — that the mortal before her may see through them and to the part of herself that mourns the strength she had once possessed. For all the power she can still use, there is a price. That familiar numbness and the fear that it will overtake her before her battles are won. 

Topaz eyes finally refocus upon the cause of her worry only to realize that they are looking off elsewhere, likely having stopped listening to their requested answer all of two words in. 

“I assure you, I will take care of him.”

“Tryna play the role of some kinda savior?” There is that irritation again as their gaze lingers on the bar that she has been withholding them from. Ash shakes her head. 

“No. I play no role but the one assigned to me.” She is an extension of her lord. His will always be the name to which her work is ultimately credited, and never once has that been a reason for concern on her part. Her role would always be the retainer. 

“Yeah, whatever. Your freak said something about an academy, and then the whole place turned to a fight. Not sure where he went after. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Their back is turned to her before she can even form a response. An academy… Then that shall be her next stop.