#AUTUMN IS EVIL ON THAT MATTER

[snowfea]

Local urbanist shocked to discover that her disability is in fact disabling

[lunarxcity]

Why Hide? (Part XII to Why Me?)

Azriel x rhys sister! reader!

angst/eventual comfort (This got really scary real fast! We love some good plot! Also sorry for the short chapter it's been a minute since I've written...)

Summary: When you walk in on Azriel and Elain the mating bond snaps leading you to flee to Autumn with Eris so you can be free of Azriel. Your absence causes Azriel to come to some drastic realisations, but is it already too late and has your time in Autumn led to you moving on?

Parts I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, and XI if you missed them!

-

Azriel was yanked out of sleep by a horrifying nightmare, the fourth one this week. They always ended the same, with a dark figure holding an onyx blade emanating an evil magic to your neck and no matter how hard he tries you're always either stabbed, poisoned, or some combination of the two.

For Azriel may have beaten death, but he may have paid the price with his soul. The Mother fought to save his life but the unknown darkness fought harder to claim his soul.

After Eris purged all the darkness from his chest with his fire and he had his outburst, Azriel passed out. You monitored him while he slept and he woke up nearly 2 days later screaming.

You guys have barely spoken, cordial small talk and tense silence filling the gap between you now that everything was out in the open. Azriel can't bear your rejection, so for now he will take your silence.

Footsteps in the hallway snap him out of his trance, everytime he wakes from a nightmare he can hear you hovering by his door. He had had gone from feeling a dull trickle of your feelings to now a roaring waterfall as the bond was formally acknowledged.

He knew he woke you up every night and he could feel your hesitation and desperation in his own chest, the same way you felt his fear.

The first night you had been pacing in your room and had ultimately gone to bed after he had lightly tugged on the bond to let you know he was okay.

The second night you had made it out of the hallway after hearing a crash and pretended to get water and do other mundane tasks until you couldn't hear any movement from his room anymore.

The night after that you slipped one of his shadows a sleeping potion so he could go back to bed without being plagued by nightmares.

This was the fourth night and you had made it to his door. The shadows were telling him that your hand was up, ready to knock, but you had been standing there for nearly 5 minutes and yet nothing.

He decided to put you out of your misery and he opened the door to your shocked figure.

"Can I help you? You're hovering like a vulture." Your expression shifted from surprise to embarrassment.

"I just- I didn't- " You stammered out.

Azriel raised a brow and you took a deep breath, steadying your voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright, I could uhm feel your terror." You mumbled the last part out.

You were tired of beating around the bush with him, he already knew that you knew and you had been dancing around each other for days. It didn't feel right, but again nothing did these days.

Azriel did not expect you to acknowledge the bond so openly. You said nothing about acceptance or rejection, just acknowledged it's existence. Maybe after everything is done with you guys would have that conversation, but for now there were more pressing matters at hand.

"I'm fine." An answer so short and unrevealing, how Azriel.

"You've been different since your return." You were trying to get him to talk about it, everyone else was blinded by the joy of having him back but you felt the scars that his soul now beared.

You felt the darkness emanating off of him when he was contaminated with that black magic.

"Yes that tends to happen when you come back from the dead." His response came out a bit harsher than intended, but Azriel's facade has been crumbling.

He has tried these past few days to put on a mask and put away his suffering from his family, but he hasn't slept in days he was exhausted.

You flinched slightly, but you just looked at him and waited patiently. The look in your eyes let him told that you were listening and his resolve was finally crumbling.

"I feel the scars of the darkness on my soul. It was slowly taking over me, eroding who I was until all I knew was pain and the only thing I yearned for was power and revenge."

He took a breath and you grabbed his hand and dragged him to sit down on his bed.

He reached for his chest, where the darkness used to be like he could still feel it eating away at himself and everything he knew the world to be.

"I almost lost myself and if I did, I knew that whatever dark master I would serve would use me and that twisted magic to defeat Prythian so I brought myself to the one person who could save me."

He looked at you with vulnerability and pain and as you looked into his eyes, the same hazel eyes that have plagued your mind for Mother's known how long, you started to feel a seed of fear being planted in your stomach.

The golden flecks in Azriel's eyes, the eyes you knew better than your own, were gone. They were replaced by a darker green, the warmth consumed by this unfamiliar darkness.

Something is wrong with Azriel.

"I swear to the Mother or whatever gods will listen to me, we will get answers and find a way to fix this, Azriel."

You hold both of his hands in your own and look him in the eyes, determination coating your features.

"It makes no difference if the gods turn their backs on us, for you are the only deity that I answer to. For I would forsake all of them and eternally damn myself just to be by your side, whatever you give me will be enough for me. "

Almost dying really changes your priorities, well in Azriel's case at least. He would rather leave knowing that he told you how he was feeling, instead of leaving without telling you once.

He has already died with regrets once and he would worse than a fool to do it again.

You dragged him to the library and started to research.

-

The dark figure was out again, the night freed him he could ebb and flow through the darkness as he pleased. The sun was a hideous thing that he abhorred, for light reveals all in its presence. There was no hiding in the light and no room for his sinister schemes in the light of day.

He had been trying to get through to the shadowsinger all week, but the most he could do was plague him with measly nightmares.

Pathetic.

He had once started plagues that took down civilisations, started wars that had broken apart nations, and now he was no more than the boogeyman.

He had corrupted a few others, watching as they gave into madness and took others down with them but it didn't give him the satisfaction he craved.

What he craved was power. He wanted to bring Prythian down to it's knees and mere fae could not do that.

He needed the shadowsinger or the high lord, but Rhysand was so heavily guarded he couldn't even make it within a hundred feet without being slaughtered.

He'd had the shadowsinger in his clutches and he lost him along with is plan to take down Prythian.

First it was Prythian, then Hybern, and finally the mainland until the entire world was consumed by terror and chaos and he would be standing on the ruins.

He hears a song over the horizon. It's a song of enchantment and one that beckons to him, which is strange since he cannot stand the screech of music.

He follows the sound and is met with a white strand of twisted magic that flows through the woods. A trap of some sort, a normal fae would be ensnared, but he is not fae and the magic of this world doesn't effect him the way it should.

He follows the magical strand to the source like it's a stray piece of yarn.

He weaves through the forest until he feels the world slip away from him temporarily. When he comes back he notices that the trees were much taller than they just were and the trunks a deep shade of red as if trying to warn him from coming any closer.

The yarn ball ends up being a lake. While it looks like it should be picturesque with towering trees along the shoreline, there was something eerie that could only be explained by a sinister type of magic.

It's pitch black, even though there was a full moon and the only light source is the unnatural blue glow of the lake.

Welcome follower

The lake whispers to him in a voice that sounds like tar.

He walks up to the lake to see the source of this voice.

"I am no follower of yours."

My how interesting and I was told you had left this world long ago

"You are a child compared to me. I am as old as the dust of this universe."

It appears that your age has caused you to grow weak

Anger roared in him. "I WILL-"

Calm down, I am not trying to insult you, but rather convince you to take a deal of sorts

"I do not make deals with those beneath me."

I have the power you need, and my price is low. I only ask for one simple thing.

The scowl that is normally plastered on his face shifts to intrigue.

When we have the world on it's knees, you give me Prythian once you are finished ravaging it.

That was a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things and while he did not work well with others from the power of this being alone he knew that he could deliver what he was promising.

All you have to do is free me from this lake and we can destroy everything together

He pluges his shadowed arm into the lake and pulls this being through whatever enchantments were holding him there until he breaches the lakes surface.

He now stands in front of him, an evil grin on his face, laughing to himself relishing in his freedom.

"My name is Koschei, it's lovely to meet you in person."

-

The winds cry and the shadows retreat back in fear.

It's the middle of the night and you and Azriel, are researching in the library when Azriel's shadows begin to scream.

He falls to the ground, clutching his head screaming out in pain.

You fall to the ground with him, trying to figure out whats wrong when Rhys and Feyre winnow in.

Rhys was in the same state as Azriel, clutching his head and on the floor.

Feyre was running through the stacks, urgently looking for a book.

This continued on for 10 minutes until they both snapped out of it. You looked out the window to see the first light of dawn.

Feyre was adamantly flipping through the large book she had and Rhys and Azriel were catching their breath.

You looked at both of them, "What happened?"

Rhys shuddered. Azriel replied, "I'm not sure it was almost as if Night itself was screaming, my shadows were terrified."

Cassian and Nesta burst through the door.

"He's out." That's all Nesta managed to say.

Rhys and Azriel froze and you saw a look in their eyes that you haven't seen since the first war. It was fear. Pure, icy fear.

"Who's out?"

Eris came running through the door followed by Lucien and Elain.

"Koschei! He's free, he's trying-" She started swaying on her feet.

"He's trying-" Elain immediately falls unconscious and Lucien catches her.

"She had a vision, she was screaming about Koschei and the lake." Lucien slowly says.

The room was silent,all the air sucked out. The threat to Prythian was greater than they could have imagined.

They say death always has a price and Azriel prayed to the Mother that Prythian was not about to pay it.

-

note: Hello my loves long time no see life got pretty chaotic and has prevented me from escaping back to my stories(i know i know). I hope everyone is well and the story has not slipped from anyones mind in the meantime, but personally I believe that suspense only makes the story that much impactful (that's what im using as an excuse for my lack of activity). This chapter is short and a bit darker than usual which I hope is not too out of the blue for anyone but it is pure plot which we have not really seen yet. I'm excited to dust off this story and get right back to it so enjoy and like always until next time my darlings!

note note: One day I will get a beta reader, but until then in the spirit of magic and make believe lets pretend like my grammatical errors and typos don't exist!

my lovely taglist: @alimarie1105 @chaosabroad @bbontenswhhore @tele86 @ashblooddragons @circe143 @i-am-infinite @princesssunderworld @thestartitaness @tiffany-xx @cpfantasybooks @lucia-valentinaa @jennigsonl @ivy-34 @firefly-forest @k-homosapien @coeurdeveea @cherryjain17 @bckynatt @becstersworld @rcarbo1 @gojospearlycim @atluky @juliebluehufflepuff @willowpains @abadfantasybook @neverendingstay @hellohauntedturnstudent @highladyofhogwarts @littowl @iluvyewman-blog @lunaticpotatoe @justlivinginadaydream @julesiebean @shylahstarzz @olive-main @lreadsstuff @noonenuts @sourapplex @aquellaspequenascosas @anuttellaa @honethatty12 @moonlwghts @kittymeyers @beabogsims @sillyfreakfanparty @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @florencemtrash @violetscar656 @ania-swissweet @jasmineee05 @fxckmiup @plants-w0rld @lou-diaries

[ghoularaki]

baby's breath | 23

↠  summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 1,991

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, emotional manipulation, dissociation, depression, you wet the bed :(, NSFW (noncon, cunnilingus, fingering, slight nipple play)

h grumbled. Outside, sunlight streamed in from the open curtains. It must have been a while as you watched the sun and moon rise over and over, chasing each other over the horizon. You lost all fight in you.

Biting Levi only exhausted you. Your skin was sticky with old sweat and oil built up from refusing to shower. Levi tried to force you up, when was it? Yesterday? It must have been at least, but you started sobbing when he tried to pry you from the sheets. Moving hurt. You didn’t want to wash away the grime, only sleep.

You didn’t even move from your prone position facing the bathroom. It was hard to choose who you were more upset with: Erwin for prostituting you out, or Levi for drugging you. Levi definitely hurt more. Picking at the loose thread on the duvet, you pushed it aside. Why does it matter? They both are awful, there’s no choose between two evils. Levi could stop Erwin if he wanted to, but he won’t. He wanted a pet all the same.

God, your stomach really hurt. Whether it was the hunger or not going to the bathroom in who knows how long, you pushed off the agony. Flipping over, you went back to staring at the sun. From out the window, the leaves had already decayed into beautiful oranges and reds. In piles, they laid under the trees. You never knew how much you took advantage being able to step on them and them crunch under your feet. If you closed your eyes, maybe you could feel the Autumn breeze.

Behind you, Levi stood at the foot of the bed, observing. He had left your leash off all day. You didn’t even notice.

Rounding the bed, he stood in front of your view. Can’t he at least give you this?

Crouching down, the man tilted his head to gain eye contact, “Have you really given up?”

You turned back over to face the bathroom, shutting out him and the warm sunlight.

Laying there in your own filth, Levi and Erwin left you be. The next day in your sleep you had wet the bed, your body unable to contain itself anymore. It was tired, you were tired. What scared you most was neither man was upset. Erwin had the audacity to look concerned as if he didn’t do this to you. He ruined you, tainted you beyond recognition.

And Levi, he washed you with such tender care you wanted to slaughter him. Striped down bare in front of both men, you tried not to vomit. Only bile would come up. Sitting in the tub while the shower head was clutched in Levi’s hand, he sat outside it. Erwin hovered in the background.

Only the rushing water filled the room. No one spoke as Levi dragged the head over your body. Curling up, you refused to let either of them see you. If they wanted you clean, then they should leave you be for once. None of this would have happened if they left you alone.

Erwin broke first. “Say something, Princess, anything.”

“That’s not going to work,” Levi muttered.

He pet up and down your arm like it would help you unfurl. Just wanting to be clothes again, you dropped your arms, but still avoided eye contact. Levi whispered a hushed praise. He hosed you down, taking extra care that no waste was left on your skin. Grabbing a cloth, he hovered over your crotch before handing you it.

“Wash yourself.”

You were going to spit on him. Oh so now bodily autonomy was granted. Staring at his outstretched hand, you glanced as him before going back to staring at the floor.

Levi’s nostrils flared, but he buried down the agitation. He clung onto your stubbornness no matter how tiny. Grabbing your knee, he parted your legs like petals and with no fanfare, washed you. He wanted this done as fast as you. He did not like having a doll, he wanted you. Something that breathed and fought back. From the chill of the bathroom, your skin was so cold. Erwin might like porcelain, he didn’t. It reminded him of a dead body, and he wasn’t ready to bury you quite yet.

Finished with your bath, you were scrubbed clean. All the dandruff and oil collected on your scalp was washed away. You hated it, but you were relieved to no longer be itchy. The film on your face gone and your skin felt brand new.

Erwin had bundled you up in pj's that were fluffy and plush. Little pumpkins danced over the puffy fabric. He was about to pick you up when he stopped mid-way. Levi must have said leave it, and surprisingly he did. Holding your hand instead, Erwin guided you out the bedroom and to the stairs. Down, down you went until you all strolled into the living room.

“Do you like it?” Erwin asked, his tone sickly soft.

The living room was decorated for Halloween. Some point Erwin went out and bought an assortment of candies, snacks and even those cookies with pumpkins imprinted on them. He also put on some fall themed cartoon.

Sitting you down in between them, Erwin sat on your left and Levi on your right. You all sat together like everything was okay. Your eyes flicked across the TV as Erwin chuckled at something silly one of the kids did. With your arms around your knees, you didn’t leave the cartoon. Tears bubbled up and silently spilled over your cheeks. So much time had passed and nothing has changed, besides you. You were still here, but you from June was not the you now.

“Come here, princess,” Erwin cooed, seeing your tears.

Stretching himself out to sit more with his back against the arm rest, he pulled you to his chest. He had your head lay against his clavicle to prop his chin against your crown. Those filthy hands run up and down your sides, dipping too far up and brushing against the under side of your breast.

“We can make it better, if you let us,” He whispered, tempting you like the snake did Eve.

Dropping one hand down to pinch at the hem of your pants, he rubbed into the skin. Going further, he slipped under your panties and cupped your warm pussy.

You didn’t move or look away from the TV.

His middle finger crooked upwards and caught on the rim of your hole. A tiny whine escaped to which he hushed. Pushing furthering in with two fingers, Erwin softly fucked you open. Heat flushed across your face, but besides your heaving chest, you didn’t show any sign of life.

Levi glanced at you two with a disapproving face, “Erwin, how is this helping-”

“We can show her that sex can be used for pleasure, not just punishment,” He explained before letting Levi continue. He rubbed his cheek against your hair before continuing, “She’s finally learned her lesson about disobedience, hasn’t she?”

Levi set his face into a scowl. His eyes didn’t leave Erwin’s thrusting hand under your pants. To entice the smaller man more, Erwin pulled his fingers from you with a squelch. Hooking his thumbs under the hem of your pants and panties, he dragged them down. Levi watched on as he revealed more of your pussy. Completely off, Erwin grabbed one of your legs and pulled it to your chest. Your face pinched at the stretch, but you stilled refused to look.

Your pussy glistened from the little wetness Erwin cajoled out of you. Your clit puffy and begging to be touched, just how Levi liked it.

“Come on, Levi, show her how good you are with your mouth.”

Despite Erwin’s command, he was not doing it because Erwin asked him to, Levi just wanted that dead fish eyed expression off your face. Scooting closer, Levi grabbed your jaw and shook you. “Don’t you dare look away from me.”

His warm breath brushed against your lips. Nowhere else to look, you locked gazes with him. Happy, he nodded and patted your cheek.

Adjusting himself so he half kneeled on the couch, half planting his foot on the floor, he replaced Erwin’s hold. Gripping into the meat of your thighs, he pulled you apart just for him. He wanted to eat you alive, feast upon you until there was nothing left.

Coming closer, he blew against your clit, his lips jumping up at your tiny flinch. Slow with it, he kissed over your inner thighs. Not quite touching where you need it. A hiccup of a moan broke out as he blew cool air again. Using his thumbs, he parted your labia to expose more of your clit. He suctioned his lips around the bud and sucked. You squirmed, overwhelmed.

He released your clit and went further down to lick from your hole back to the bundle of nerves. Repeating this a few times, he tongued against your hole, dipping inside. Surprisingly, Levi was sloppy. He didn’t leave any area untouched. Pulling back, he spit on your bud and went back down you make out with your cunt, deeply.

Your lids fluttered closed, but you keened at the nip to your bud. Levi glared up at you, reminding you to keep looking. As he kept his gaze from betwixt your legs, his eyes screamed, Fight me. Fight me and show me you’re still alive.

Erwin joined in. Tucking his hands from under your shirt, he pulled the fabric over your breasts. Your nipples puckered from the chill air. Grabbing your mounds with his large, hot palms, he kneaded them between his fingers. Tiny sparks of pleasure coursed through your body. You couldn’t focus on anything as Erwin pinched the pebbled flesh between his index and thumb.

Levi only slurped against you harder. Your hands frantically searched for something to hold. Grabbing the couch, you refused to give either of them anything more than this. Little gasping breaths swirled around you. Your back arched as your breasts bounced with each pant. Your toes curled as your eyes clenched. With a sharp inhale, you came silently.

Levi drank up every bit of slick that dribbled out of you. He only stopped when you whined in such a fussy way. Erwin dropped his hands to your stomach, petting over it to sooth you.

“So good, you did so well. Such a good girl,” He whispered.

Levi came back up and wiped the slick off his lower face with his sleeve, “Fuck, that’s going to stain.”

Erwin patted your pussy. Tiny, wet paps clapped from his fingers. “Don’t listen to him.”

The smaller man clicked his tongue and went into the kitchen. Cabinets and the sink flicking on for a moment could be heard. Levi came back with a clean face and washcloth in hand. Sitting on the couch, he shoved Erwin’s hand away. Gently, he wiped away any of your residue on your cunt and inner thighs.

“Don’t lick your fingers, wipe it off, you fucking mongrel,” Levi shot up and threw the cloth as Erwin with a glower.

Your head bounced with his chuckle, “Sorry, can’t help myself.”

Levi grabbed your pants—foregoing your underwear—and threading your legs back into the garment. The goosebumps stayed despite the warmth.

He tried to lock eyes with you again, but you turned your attention back to the TV. You missed a whole episode.

As the warm colors of the show danced across your face, for a moment you could pretend this was like old times. The you sitting here had just met Erwin again after so many years and you were all just having fun, bonding. In this millisecond of the universe, you could pretend. Because you knew, they knew, there’s no truly going back.

[thewulf]

I Choose You || Legolas

Summary: Request - Hii hope you're having a good day, is it okay if I request a Legolas x reader where reader is Gandalf's granddaughter and joined the fellowship on their quest to destroy the ring? They both slowly fell in love with each other along the way and when the incident in Moria happened where Gandalf dies, Legolas comforts her.

A/N: Thank you for the amazing request! Had a blast writing this as usual :) It's a lil long, so enjoy!

Pairing: Legolas x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.5k +

TW: Talks of war/death, war, death, orcs, general LOTR triggers

You stand silently amidst the gathered council fading into the background as best you could. The murmur of many voices echoing softly through the vaulted halls of Rivendell. The air is crisp, filled with the mingling scents of ancient scrolls and the distant freshness of autumnal leaves. Elves, men, dwarves, and even a few hobbits have come to discuss the fate of Middle-earth, their faces marked by concern and resolve.

Your grandfather, Gandalf the Grey, stands at the center of it all. His presence both commanding and comforting. You’ve always admired his wisdom and strength and today, more than ever, you feel the weight of your lineage. You are his granddaughter, gifted with a touch of his magical prowess and a deep love for the mysteries of this world.

As the debate swirls around you, Elrond, the lord of Rivendell calls for silence. His gaze settles on the small golden ring laid upon the pedestal. It’s simple form belying its terrible power. The task is clear though the path is fraught with peril: the ring must be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom. "We must form a fellowship," Elrond declares. His voice resonant and clear. "Those who will take this burden upon themselves and walk into the shadow to see this evil undone."

A hush falls over the council. Eyes turn, some in fear, others in anticipation, seeking those who might step forward. This is the moment you’ve prepared for, not just since you arrived in Rivendell but throughout your life under Gandalf’s tutelage. With a breath that steadies your resolve you step forward. The rustle of your cloak is like a whisper against the stone floor and several members of the council turn in surprise as you move into the circle of light cast by the morning sun through the high windows.

"I will go," you say, your voice firm and clear. "For the love of my grandfather and for the safety of middle earth. I will see this quest through to its end."

Murmurs of approval ripple through the room and Gandalf meets your eyes across the circle. There’s pride in his gaze and a touch of sorrow, knowing well the dangers that lie ahead. But in this moment you see also the unspoken bond between the two of you. An acknowledgment of the shared commitment to what is right, no matter the cost.

Legolas, a prince of the Woodland Realm, nods to you with respect clear in his bright eyes. Beside him, a stout figure grumbles under his breath, yet Gimli the Dwarf gives a curt nod of assent, recognizing your courage. Beside them a young hobbit named Frodo, who is to be the Ringbearer, looks on with wide, earnest eyes. It is for him, and for all who call this land home, that you pledge your strength. As the council disperses to prepare for the journey you stand beside Gandalf feeling the ancient power of Rivendell around you and the even older strength that lies within your own heart. This is just the beginning you know but you are ready. For the Fellowship, for middle earth, for Gandalf.

You will face whatever comes, together.

As the Fellowship journeys south from Rivendell the path grows increasingly treacherous, winding through craggy mountain passes and shadowed forests. The air is crisp and the first frost of winter sparkles on the leaves. Your companions walk close together. Each step a testament to the weight of the task ahead.

Aragorn leads with a steady hand, his ranger skills essential as the terrain becomes more challenging. Beside him, Boromir of Gondor often lends his strength. His booming voice echoing off the stone trying to keep spirits high among the group, especially the hobbits—Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin—who find amusement in the smallest wonders along the way. Like the frost patterns on the leaves or a particularly stubborn squirrel.

Legolas glides effortlessly beside you. His elven grace a stark contrast to Gimli who stumps along with a determined scowl, his axe ever at the ready. Despite the solemnity of your mission the elf and the dwarf have already begun what seems to be an endless competition, each trying to outdo the other in tracking skills, strength, and the telling of tall tales.

One balmy afternoon as the path narrows along the edges of a steep ravine the rivalry comes to a head between the two of them. Gimli insists he can clear a particularly large fallen tree with a single vault much to Legolas’s skepticism.

“Watch and learn, Master Elf,” Gimli grunts as he began to back up for a running start. Legolas watches with an arched eyebrow, clearly very amused by the red headed dwarf travelling beside him.

Just as Gimli begins to charge forward you step in placing a calming hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps, Gimli, it would be wiser to assist each other over the obstacle rather than compete with others. After all, the road ahead promises ample challenge for both of your strengths.” You smile warmly down at the ambitious dwarf set out to prove himself.

Gimli stops mid-stride puffing out his chest a bit as he turns to you, then to Legolas. “Hmm, perhaps you are right, lass. What say you, Legolas? Shall we make this journey a test of our cooperation rather than our competition?”

Legolas’s lips curve into a smile. His eyes sparkling with a newfound respect. “I believe our companion speaks wisely. Let us proceed together.” He offers his hand to Gimli who looks at it for a moment before shaking it heartily.

As the journey continues you find yourself often mediating and bringing lightness to tense moments. One evening as the Fellowship gathered around the campfire you recount a humorous anecdote from your days studying under your grandfather. Making sure to mimic Gandalf’s stern voice and dramatic gestures. The group erupts into laughter, the sound carrying through the trees and lifting the spirits of all including the hobbits who clap delightedly and ask for more stories.

Aragorn, sitting across from you nods appreciatively. His eyes meeting yours with a silent thank-you for the lightness you bring. Boromir chuckles, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes clearly more at ease. “You have the gift of your grandfather. Not only in magic but in spirit.” Aragorn comments, his voice warm in the chill air.

Legolas who was sitting beside you leans closer and speaks softly, “Your wisdom brings much-needed peace. And your humor is a light in dark times. It is a rare gift.”

You meet his gaze. The firelight cast dancing shadows across his features. All elves were beautiful but there was something about the Price of Mirkwood that drew you in. “We all carry our gifts, Legolas. Yours is your unerring optimism and sharp eye. Gimli’s his steadfastness and heart. Boromir’s his valor. Aragorn’s his leadership. And the hobbits’ their enduring cheer. Together we are stronger than each individual.”

As the nights grow longer and the path more daunting the bonds within the Fellowship deepen, fortified by shared challenges and your quiet efforts to understand, and support each other. In the quiet moments Legolas teaches you Elvish songs of old. And Gimli shares tales of the great Dwarven halls, their voices blending into the night creating a tapestry of friendship and hope.

As the Fellowship delves into the ancient depths of Moria the air grows thick with the mustiness of ages and the weight of stone. The walls echo with the memory of Dwarven voices, now silent. The path is lit only by the faint glow of Gandalf’s staff. Gimli moves with a mix of reverence and sorrow. His eyes reflecting a deep familial connection to the lost realm of his kin. The narrow passages twist and turn leading you deeper into the mountain’s heart. The quiet is oppressive, only broken by the occasional drip of water or the scuffle of a boot on stone. Tension mounts with each step and even the normally unflappable Legolas seems taut, his eyes scanning the shadows.

All too suddenly, the dark stillness erupts into chaos. A low growl escalates into a deafening roar as the Balrog, a creature of fire and shadow, reveals itself. The ground trembles beneath its weight and the air sears with heat. Gandalf steps forward his face set with grim determination. “Lead them on, Aragorn,” he commands. “The bridge is near. Do as I say! Swords are no more use here!” Your grandfather cries as he gives you a sharp look. Obey. You must listen to him now.

The Fellowship rushes forward driven by fear and the urgent need to escape, but you hesitate, your heart torn as Gandalf faces the monster alone. As the others cross the bridge of Khazad-dûm you watch, helpless, as Gandalf confronts the Balrog. His staff was raised, a brilliant light flaring to meet the darkness.

“You cannot pass,” Gandalf declares. His voice echoing powerfully. It sends a shutter down even your spine.

The Balrog advances and with a defiant cry Gandalf strikes the bridge with his staff. It crumbles sending the creature plummeting into the abyss. But the Balrog’s fiery whip lashes out, catching Gandalf’s leg, pulling him towards the edge. With a calm but utterly sad glance back at you, he murmurs, “Fly, you fools,” before falling into the darkness below.

Shock paralyzes you momentarily, tears blurring your vision. The others tug at you, pulling you away from the crumbling edge. As you flee Moria the loss of your beloved grandfather hits you. A deep ache that seems to echo through the empty halls. Outside, under the grey, mourning sky, the Fellowship collapses in a clearing. Each member grappling with grief. Your knees give out and you sink to the ground, overwhelmed by sorrow. Legolas is at your side in an instant, his presence a silent solace. He does not speak, but his hand finds yours, squeezing gently. A clear reminder that you are not alone.

Gimli joins you. His own eyes rimmed red. “He was the greatest of us all,” he says gruffly with his voice thick with emotion. “I am honored to have walked beside him and I vow to you, we will see this quest through. For him and for all our sakes.”

The words are a balm to your spirit even as you could not reply. Words were too hard for you now. You lean into Legolas, his strength supporting you. You mourn the loss of the only thing you knew. Legolas and Gimli by your side reminding you that even in the depths of loss, the bonds of friendship and love hold firm.

You manage to whisper a weak "Thank you," before the sorrow overwhelms you once more. Tears flood your cheeks, each one a memory, a moment shared with Gandalf that you'll never experience again. Overcome, you turn into Legolas's side, seeking the comfort that only close, physical presence can provide.  Though he was not typically fond of physical touch he does not hesitate to comfort you. He wraps his arms around you, his embrace firm and unwavering. In this moment your need transcends his usual reservations, and he holds you close. A silent sentinel in your hour of vulnerability.

His hands are steady on your back, one arm around your shoulders, the other at your waist, grounding you as your grief spills forth unchecked. Legolas's heart aches for your loss and though he may not express his emotions openly his actions speak a clear language of care and adoration. As you cry into his side, Legolas rests his chin atop your head. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon where the last light of day gives way to twilight. He feels the weight of your sorrow as if it were his own, yet he knows he must stand strong for you.

Legolas knows that the road ahead will be fraught with further trials but for now, he offers you all that he can—protection, comfort, and an unspoken promise that no matter what lies ahead, you will not face it alone. In the stillness that wraps around you and Legolas there's a respectful pause from the rest of the Fellowship. They were giving you a moment to collect yourself under the cloak of Legolas's support. Aragorn, ever attentive to the needs of his comrades, notices the depth of your grief and the comfort Legolas provides. He understands the significance of this moment, the necessity of mourning and the importance of support in such times.

Standing a short distance away Aragorn speaks quietly with the hobbits making sure everyone is ready to continue but delaying their departure ever so slightly for your sake. His leadership is subtle. His decisions shaped by a deep understanding of his people's emotional and physical stamina.

After a brief moment, Aragorn looks over, his eyes meeting Legolas’s over your bowed head. There’s a silent communication between them. A leader’s acknowledgement and a friend’s gratitude for the support given to one of their own. Aragorn’s face softens, his respect for whatever was forming between you two clear in his gentle nod.

With a deep breath, signaling both readiness and respect, Aragorn approaches. His voice is soft yet carries a necessary urgency as he speaks. His words meant to soothe but also to remind of the path ahead. “We must move on for night will not wait for us and neither will our enemies,” he spoke with his tone conveying both compassion and resolve. “Take the time you need but remember we must not linger long.”

Legolas gently helps you stand straighter his arms still offering support. As you wipe away the last of your tears, strengthened by the comfort you’ve received, you nod in understanding. Legolas gives you a reassuring look. His eyes promising continued support and then he gently releases you. He was ready to stand by your side as you all prepare to resume the journey. With a final glance at Gandalf’s last stand you and the Fellowship gather your gear and set off once more into the fading light. The memory of Gandalf a guiding light that pushes you forward through the darkness.

Emerging into the sunlight of the world again does little to lift the sorrow of the Fellowship which soon deepens with Boromir’s tragic fall at Amon Hen. His valiant defense of Merry and Pippin against the Uruk-hai, though ultimately costing him his life, marked him forever a hero in the annals of your journey. The loss of such a stalwart companion leaves a void in your heart and within the group, casting a pall over your spirits.

Driven by a fierce determination to honor Boromir’s sacrifice, you, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli give chase across the plains of Rohan to rescue Merry and Pippin from their captors. The pursuit is grueling. Pushing each of you to your very limits. The landscape of Rohan is vast and relentless, but the tracks are clear, guiding you unerringly toward the thick fringes of Fangorn Forest. The hope of rescuing the hobbits fuels your weary bodies onward even as your hearts ache with the memory of Gandalf's fall and Boromir’s courageous end.

As you follow the trail into the shadowy depths of Fangorn a sense of ancient watchfulness grows. The forest feels alive, old beyond reckoning, and filled with secrets. It is here among the whispering trees that the unexpected happens. A figure steps out from the shadows garbed in white, his presence bright against the dark underbrush. The shock of seeing what you believe might be Saruman stops you in your tracks. But as the figure approaches the energy changes—the air around him shimmers with a familiar warmth and power. Not the cold malice of Saruman.

"Gandalf?" Legolas breathes. A note of awe mingling with disbelief.

You squint, hardly daring to believe it to be true. As he draws closer, clarity dawns, and recognition floods your senses. Overcome with emotion you shout, "Grandfather!" and sprint toward him. Your heart swelling with joy and relief.

Gandalf opens his arms wide, and you crash into his embrace. The impact strong yet comforting. "My dear child," he murmurs. His voice warm and welcoming as he wraps his arms around you. His cloak envelops you with a familiar scent of pipe-weed and the road clinging to the fabric grounding you in the reality of his return.

"Yes, it is I," Gandalf responds gently, now looking down at you with sparkling eyes, "but as Gandalf the White. I come back to you at the turn of the tide. Stronger and renewed. Just as our hope must now be."

The grief at Boromir’s death and the shock of Gandalf's return blend into a complex tapestry of emotions. The initial shock gives way to a festive air as relief and joy wash over Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. They join in, their earlier despair replaced by laughter and words of amazement, forming a tight circle around you and Gandalf.

As Gandalf explains his battle with the Balrog and his subsequent rebirth his words filling the gaps in your understanding and rekindling hope in your hearts. His return not only signifies a miraculous second chance but also invigorates the Fellowship with renewed purpose and determination. With Gandalf's guidance now as Gandalf the White you all feel a renewed sense of purpose. The path forward is still fraught with danger but with Gandalf returned, and in memory of Boromir’s bravery, you are reminded that even in the darkest times there can be resurrection and hope. Together you prepare to resume the quest, stronger and more determined than ever.

"Your guidance has been sorely missed, Gandalf," Aragorn says. His voice steady but thick with emotion as he joins you. He captures the mood of the moment, channeling the Fellowship’s relief into focus. "What should we do? Frodo and Sam are gone to Mordor. Merry and Pippin are captives of the enemy." Gandalf releases you from the embrace but keeps one hand on your shoulder, grounding, and comforting. He surveys the small group with a decisive gaze and the air around you seems to thrum with renewed energy and urgency.

"We will split our efforts," he declares. "Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and you," he nods at you, "will pursue the orcs who took Merry and Pippin. Every second counts and your skills will be crucial in navigating this perilous chase."

You try and protest, but he shakes his head continuing along. "Meanwhile, I shall seek aid from the Ents of Fangorn," Gandalf continues, turning to look at the dense woods behind him. "Their strength will be necessary in the wars to come. We must rally all allies for the shadow from the East grows ever bolder."

As plans are made Legolas stands close by your side, his presence a silent vow of protection and partnership. You feel his hand briefly squeeze yours. A gesture of support that sends a surge of warmth through your heart that he had done so many times before.

"You have grown much, under shadow and trial," Gandalf remarks. Looking at you with a blend of pride and affection With the reunion drawing to a close and the path forward set you all prepare to leave. Gandalf’s return has not only brought back a beloved mentor and friend but has reignited the flame of hope within your heart. Together you feel ready to face the challenges that await knowing that the bonds of friendship and duty will guide you through the darkest of times.

As you traverse the expansive lands towards Rohan the camaraderie within the group deepens, each member adjusting to the rhythms of travel and the complexities of intertwined destinies. Amidst these dynamics your relationship with Legolas finds new ground. The elven prince, always serene and composed, begins to show a more attentive and tender side in his interactions with you. His glances linger longer and his conversations, once filled with tales of ancient elven lore, now often drift towards thoughts and dreams of the future, your future.

It’s during one of the long nights while camped under the vast, starlit sky near the borders of Fangorn Forest, that Gimli noticed the growing tension between you and Legolas. He decided to give you both some space. With a knowing wink and a gruff voice Gimli volunteers for the first watch, his tone unusually gentle. "I reckon the night is best shared with stars and heartfelt words, not an old dwarf's snoring."

Grateful, you share a smile with Legolas as Gimli settles a little distance away, his back to you, affording you a semblance of privacy. Legolas turns to you with his blue eyes reflecting the starlight, and for a moment he simply looks at you as if contemplating a thought long held in silence. "I have seen many wonders in my long life," he starts, his voice soft and mesmerizing under the night sky. "But none compared to the courage and kindness I've seen in you. In these trying times you have become a light guiding me."

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a warmth spread through you. "And you, Legolas, have been my solace. In you I find peace amidst turmoil. A joy that even the darkest shadows cannot diminish." He smiles. His gaze intensifying with affection and something more, something unspoken yet palpable between you. Then, in a move that surprises you both for its boldness and its intimacy, Legolas shifts closer and gently pulls you into his side. It's a daring gesture for an elf, particularly one as reserved as Legolas. But it feels right as if many paths had converged to bring this moment into being.

The warmth of his body against yours, the protective embrace of his arm—these are things you never expected to find so far from home. "It seems we have found comfort in one another's presence," he says softly. "Would that we might find a way to keep this light alive… no matter what lies ahead?"

"I would like that very much," you whisper as you leaned into the strength of his embrace.

The two of you sit under the blanket of night talking softly of dreams for a peaceful future and the immediate plans for the days to come. The reality of the quest remains but for now, under the stars, you both allow yourselves the luxury of imagining a life beyond the war. Both of you bound by a newfound affection that promises to grow with each passing day.

At Helm's Deep the air is thick with the tension of impending battle. The great fortress, built into the deep folds of the mountain, stands as the last bastion of hope against the relentless march of Saruman's forces. As the sky darkens and the torches flicker against the night you stand on the ramparts beside Legolas watching the sea of enemies gathering in the distance.

Legolas turns to you, his expression clouded with concern. “You should not be here,” he says softly. His voice barely above the howl of the wind. “This battle... it is not like the ones before. I fear—”

“I know,” you interrupt, understanding his fear but meeting his gaze with a resolve that mirrors the steel of the swords of your comrades below. “I know what this battle could mean for all of us. But I must stand with you, with all of you. There is no other place for me now, Legolas.”

Seeing the determination in your eyes, Legolas's expression softens and he pulls you gently against his side. It was a bold move for him, especially in such a public setting. “Then we will face it together,” he says squeezing your hand tightly as a silent promise passes between you.

The night deepens and the enemy’s drums beat a terrifying rhythm that seems to match the racing of your heart. Legolas pulls you closer. His eyes searching yours in the dim light. “No matter what happens tonight, know this,” he whispers, his voice steady despite the chaos swelling around you. “I love you. I have loved you amidst the shadows of our journey, and I will love you beyond the reaches of time.”

Your breath catches at his words. The simplicity and depth of his confession anchoring you amidst your fears. “And I love you,” you repl. Your voice strong even though you felt so weak. “Whatever may come, whatever we face… we face it together.”

As the battle commences the air fills with the clash of steel and the cries of warriors. You fight back-to-back, Legolas’s arrows finding their marks with deadly precision while you fend off attackers with sword and spell.

Gimli joins two of you, his axe a blur as he protects your flank. “Ha! I’d like to see them try to break this line!” he bellows. His voice a rumble of thunder over the din of battle.

The hours stretch. Each moment a lifetime but you fight with a clarity borne of love and the will to protect not just middle earth but the futures you hope to share. Legolas’s presence is a constant reassurance. His quick glances amidst the fray a reminder of everything worth fighting for.

As dawn breaks the tide of battle shifts. With Gandalf’s timely arrival and the charge of the Rohirrim, a new hope is rekindled. The enemy falters and breaks. Exhausted but alive, you, Legolas, and Gimli regroup, your bodies weary but spirits lifted by the victory, however costly it may have been.

Standing amidst the ruins of the battle you all share a look of relief and unspoken understanding. The war is far from over, but the strength of your bonds, the depth of your love, and the courage of your friends give you the fortitude to press on, to fight another day. With Legolas watch the sunrise, the light washing over Helm’s Deep painting the world in hues of gold and red. A daily rebirth, a reminder that after darkness there always comes a new dawn.

After the long shadow of war finally lifts with the destruction of the One Ring the world begins to breathe again. Minas Tirith stands gleaming under the bright sun, its banners waving in a joyous breeze. The streets are filled with music and laughter as people from all corners of middle earth gather to celebrate the victory. The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers brought forth by a spring that signifies not just the changing of seasons but the dawn of a new era.

You, Legolas, and Gimli stand on a balcony overlooking the jubilant city with a cup of fine wine in hand. The Fellowship has been honored by kings and lords, sung by minstrels, and cheered by crowds. But in this moment, the three of you share a quiet moment that speaks of deeper bonds forged in the fires of your shared trials.

Legolas looks out over the city, his eyes reflecting the green of the fields below. “The world is changed,” he says thoughtfully. “I feel it in the earth, I smell it in the air. The darkness that once threatened to swallow us whole is now but a shadow of the past.”

Gimli nods. His eyes twinkling under his bushy brows. “Aye, and it’s time for more pleasant journeys,” he chuckles. “I promised you both a tour of the Glittering Caves, did I not? And I intend to keep that promise. You’ll find no finer sight beneath the mountains, mark my words!”

“And I,” Legolas adds turning to you with a gentle smile, “would have you both come to Mirkwood. The forests have suffered in the darkness. But they recover, much like us. There are places of such beauty and tranquility that they deserve to be witnessed with friends.”

You sip your wine, letting the rich flavors linger on your tongue as you consider the future. “And what of you?” Gimli asks, looking at you with an expectant raise of his eyebrow.

“I think,” you say slowly, smiling at the possibilities that stretch before you, “that I would like to see more of this world that we have fought so hard to save. From the forests of Mirkwood to the caves of the mountains and perhaps even beyond. There’s so much to explore, so much to learn.”

“And so much to rebuild,” Legolas adds. “Wherever we go we carry with us the legacy of those who fought beside us. Those who fell, and those who lived to see this day. Gandalf’s wisdom, Aragorn’s courage, and even Frodo’s quiet determination—they remain with us, guiding us forward.”

Gimli raises his cup, and you and Legolas do the same. “To the future,” Gimli declares heartily.

“To peace,” Legolas adds, his voice warm.

“To friendship,” you conclude. The three of you clink your cups together, the sound crisp and clear.

As the celebration continues below you lean against the stone railing admiring the city sprawling at your feet. Around you the laughter and music rise to the starlit sky, and you feel a profound sense of contentment. The road ahead is uncharted, but you face it not as a lone wanderer but as part of a fellowship that has endured the darkest of times to see the brightest of days.

With Legolas and Gimli by your side you know that whatever adventures lie ahead, they will be filled with joy, discovery, and the unbreakable bonds of friendship. This is not the end of your story but the beginning of a new chapter, one that you will write together.

As the celebrations in Minas Tirith begin to quiet down into a gentle hum of merriment and the evening deepens, Gimli, with a knowing grin and a subtle nod towards Legolas excuses himself to “inspect the integrity of the ale supply,” leaving you two alone on the quieter side of the terrace that overlooks the city’s sprawling, illuminated gardens.

Legolas watches Gimli depart and then turns to you with a serene expression. His eyes reflecting the myriad lights of the city. He reaches into the folds of his tunic and pulls out a small, exquisitely carved wooden box. “I have something for you,” he says. His voice low and filled with a tender emotion that sends a thrill through your heart.

You watch, curious and expectant, as he opens the box to reveal a pendant. It’s a delicate piece, shaped like a leaf but crafted with such intricacy that each vein in the leaf is visible. It shimmered with a light that seems to emanate from within the silver itself.

“This is a leaf from the Mallorn trees of Lothlórien,” Legolas explains as he carefully lifts the pendant from the box. “Galadriel herself gave this to me before we departed and though I cherish it... I believe it was always meant for you.”

He steps closer. His presence so familiar and yet so heart-stirringly profound at this intimate moment. “In the elven tradition,” he continues, his eyes locked onto yours, “to give such a gift is to choose a companion. To offer a token of one’s heart and soul. I give this to you not out of obligation but from a free and willing heart. I choose you and it’s you I wish to be with through all the ages of this world.”

He pauses while holding the pendant up between you. His eyes searching yours for an answer, a confirmation of your feelings. You nod gently, overwhelmed by the emotion in his gaze and the significance of his gift.

Legolas smiles, a soft, joyous curve of his lips, and delicately clasps the pendant around your neck. His fingers brush lightly against your skin as he secures the clasp sending shivers down your spine. The metal feels warm as if charged with his affection and presence.

“I cannot promise that the road ahead will be free from hardship,” Legolas says softly while drawing you close so that your foreheads touch lightly, “but I can promise that you will never walk it alone. Where you go I will follow. And where I go I hope you will be by my side.”

“Legolas,” you whisper. Your voice thick with emotion. “There is no one else I would rather have by my side. No one else I would want to share my path with. I choose you, too, today, and always.”

Without hesitation Legolas leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s gentle at first. A tender meeting that speaks of mutual respect and deep affection. But as you respond the kiss deepens, becoming a profound expression of your shared love and commitment.

The world around you—the city of Minas Tirith, the sounds of celebration—fades into a blissful quiet. In this moment wrapped in Legolas’s embrace, you realize that while the war might have brought you together it is love that will lead you into your future. Beneath the stars and above the glowing city you share a promise of a thousand sunrises to come. Each one a new day to explore and cherish the world together.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[ghcstao3]

Johnny grows up listening to stories about the Ghost of the forest that surrounds his village.

A myth, a man, an otherworldly creature, no one quite knew what Ghost was. But as far as the tales went, Ghost was an evil entity, no matter of what genre, that haunted the woods and had nothing but bad intentions. A supposedly horrifying being, a powerful being, that did not take kindly to intruders. By magic, or something far, far worse, it is said that many who have attempted to seek Ghost out seldom returned, or if they did, they were never the same. If one went with offerings for Ghost, then the creature might be inclined to enact a singular kindness, one favour of goodwill, but like the tides Ghost's mood could change in an instant, and all his rare generosity would be instantaneously revoked.

It takes being one of the fools that attempts to find Ghost for Johnny to learn these stories are filled with nothing but falsities.

When Johnny's mother falls ill one autumn and not one of the village doctors is able to help her, Johnny decides to do the unadvisable thing of trekking into the forest to search for Ghost, and pray that he should be one of the lucky ones to be afforded Ghost’s good fortune. If human remedies and medicine are not of use, then perhaps magic could serve as a cure. So Johnny thinks, anyway.

He nearly gets lost several times over before he eventually comes across a homely-looking cottage that is far from the expectations he'd had set by the various stories meant to keep village children out of the forest. Smoke curls lazily out of a chimney, ivy creeps over stone and mortar, moss eats up the worn path leading to the front door. It doesn't... appear particularly menacing, so Johnny isn't at all dissuaded from making his approach and knocking on the old wooden door.

It would be at this cottage that he would, in fact, find Ghost.

But it would also be at this cottage that Johnny would learn that Ghost is merely a man only a few years older than him, a man named Simon, who is not at all evil and not at all magic and not at all the grotesque creature he was said to be.

Over tea Simon would explain to Johnny that when he was a boy he’d been cast out of the village, painted as a monster by all the townsfolk after his home had caught fire and, unfortunately, killed his family—save for him. They’d accused him of witchcraft, magic-use, demonic possession, and sent him out into the forest to die. But Simon is resilient, and Simon is smart, and yes, he does have something that will help Johnny’s mother. He’s far more advanced than those village doctors ever would be.

Johnny wants to ask more questions, wants to get to better know Simon, wants to know how all those legends came about—but soon enough the sun is due to set, and Simon is sending him away with an elixir and some herbs, and Johnny has to say goodbye.

He’d return one day, though, he promises himself. Because Simon seems lonely, and Johnny just simply cannot have that.

[sinisternymphette]

sheep!reader - a concept

✦ sheep!reader loves the outdoors, and is usually found basking under the sun as they daydream or running around the grassy plains as they chase butterflies. However, they value the company and prefer to spend their time with others, thriving in groups rather than in their solitude.

✦ sheep!reader is kind in their nature, and would do anything for their loved ones. They also like to show their affection physically, always ready to give a warm hug to someone who needs it, or shower their significant other with pretty little kisses all over their face.

✦ sheep!reader is, however, oblivious to the evil in others. They trust those they love, and want to fit in so desperately that they're easy to mold- easy to manipulate. They like to see the good in others, but often forget that evil also exists.

✦ sheep!reader, who is easily spooked or surprised. They feel squeamish at the sight of a single drop of blood and shiver in fear when they hear a strange sound. Though they'll often try to mask it underneath an awkward close-mouthed smile or giggle. If you ask them to watch a true-crime show with you, they'll still accept even if they don't want to deep inside.

✦ sheep!reader, who likes to do arts and crafts in their free time. They're dreamers and like to put their creativity into something of their own, such as their own plushies, clothing, diy home decorations and many more.

✦ sheep!reader, who likes collecting vintage items like precious moments figurines, vinyl, and even fabrics. Their song library is also full of old songs and classical music, not having a liking for rap, rock and metal music. They listen to their music either on their iPod or record player. Their musical muses are mazzy star, kate bush, the cranberries, phil collins, autumn's grey solace and the smiths.

✦ sheep!reader, who loves wearing soft and lighter colors, no matter the season. They nail the southern belle, farmer's daughter and cottagecore aesthetics, giving them an angelic appearance; radiating joy and innocence and beauty that surely catches many eyes, though they never seem to notice as they're in their own little world.

✦ sheep!reader, who tries their best at everything, but often feel like they're doing everything wrong. They often find themselves cringing about something they said in a conversation from days ago, tripping and falling in front of everyone at the worst moment possible, or not being able to concentrate on their studies and understanding the subjects they're taught. They're emotionally fragile, easily overwhelmed and stressed.

✦ sheep!reader, who loves animals and is 100% a future cat lady. They find almost every animal cute and adorable- from spiders to sharks. Despite their skittishness to most things, animals are the only thing they aren't scared of. They love watching animal documentaries for hours- and they never get bored.

✦ sheep!reader, who likes to draw people they find pretty. Honestly, they find everyone beautiful, but those who are kind-hearted and have beauty inside and outside are ought to get at least one drawing from them.

ib: @princessbrunette !!

a/n: everyone is free to send me an ask with sheep!reader in any of the universes mentioned in my rules and I'll do my best to make them fit in the story/au! if it's an anime, modern!au is preferred. I based them a little off myself, so I hope you all like them!

@sinisternymphette 2024

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Diety! Soap HCs

A/N: Mostly, my ramblings about Soap are right after he and Fawn depart from the temple, along with some other HCs.

CW: (18+) Mentions of arson and sex. A Dyslexic wrote this. Not proofread.

The evening birdsong carried the lingering stench of burning through the trees. Even as you prepared your home for nightfall, the morning arson on Graves’ home lingered in the air. A blessing from your summer god, Johnny, as it allowed you to escape home from the temple and spend the day securing your window and door locks.

You trusted very few in the village. It was only a matter of time before the council would turn on you, ousting you to the woods or worse. The woods hosted your beloved gods who would find you. The evils of humanity haunted your dreams, twisting and taunting at your demise.

“Fawn?” A familiar voice called from the next room over.

Exiting your small dining area, you broke into a grin at the sight of Johnny, eagerly waiting to cross your threshold. He danced on his toes, leaning his shoulders over the door frame that his hand was reached high upon. His blue eyes sparkled and crinkled as if you suddenly became the sun in the sky and hit the earth rotating around you. It was cute, considering you hadn’t been separated for more than thirteen hours.

“Twice in one day? Risky when you committed arson on my neighbor’s home, Johnny,” You teased, taking his shirt in your hand to pull him in for a kiss.

“Ach, missed you already, my love,” Johnny grinned against your lips as he shut the door behind him. “My heart was bleedin’ out for you.”

You giggled, shaking your head at his dramatics, “You’re foolish. Seeing me as they clean up the ash. You didn’t have to do that, Johnny,” You pressed Johnny against the door and snuck your hands under his shirt, gently dragging your nails along his back to feel him shudder. He tilted his head back as you kissed down his neck, his lips parting in a beautiful sigh. “I do appreciate it, though.”

“They’re stupider than rocks. ‘Sides forgot somethin’ important,” He grunted as you reached your hands in his trousers to grope his pert ass, hips bucking. He took your hands from his body and guided them to rest on his stomach.

“Before or after someone gave you this hickey?” You inquired, kissing over the bruise that you had not done the previous night. You claimed the crescent indents on his shoulders and the bruises on his thighs. But that dark, freshly marred patch of skin was not your work.

“John, he, he wanted to know how you were doing. Why I burnt that fucker’s house to the ground after he harmed our Fawn,” Soap hissed as your hands wandered to the front of his pants. “Ach, no. I said I had things to do,” He grinned, tugging your hands up.

“Which is?” You trailed off with a smirk, removing your hands from his body. You locked the door behind him and went back to your dining room to secure your window for the night, but Johnny grabbed your arm and pulled your back into his chest, wrapping your arms in his so you were still. You giggled again, feeling his grin against your neck.

“I forgot something,” He muttered in your ear, trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder. You laughed between sighs, grinning.

“So, you have noted. You kissed me plenty last night. They managed to burn Phillip’s home to the ground. My gown is fixed for the Autumn equinox. What else could there possibly be?” You giggled as his hair tickled your ear.

Johnny’s hands squeezed over the forearms of Gaz’s beautiful trellis of vines before sliding over John’s icy marks on your stomach. He gripped the fat of your stomach before soothing the skin.

“I forgot to mark my pretty Fawn,” He muttered. Slipping his hands beneath your shirt, he covered the span of skin beneath your breasts, where warmth kissed your skin, blossoming into etched lines of pattern. Closing your eyes, you leaned against him, sinking in the heat.

In his arms, Johnny etched some picture of himself as close to your bones as he could get. Where the breath in your lungs filled, he marked you as loved and cherished above the cage of your ribs. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as the wounds of old that lay between your ribs were laid with the balming love of the god of summer.

“Johnny,” You breathed, tilting your head to capture his lips in yours. You cupped his hand to the spot, pressing as if to encourage the mark to seep into your caged soul.

“Only thing as beautiful as ye, my love,” He muttered, rubbing his fingers against the now-raised skin. “The sun and the stars.”

Twisting in his arms, you embraced him tightly, gripping the back of his shirt in your hands. While he may have thought you held the sun and the stars captive by your beauty, you thought him to be the sun itself, which you eagerly rotated around. Kissing your forehead once, Johnny pulled away, taking your hand in his.

“It’s late. Let’s get you into bed. After last night, I could use some sleep,” Johnny winked, that mischievous smirk blooming on his face.

“You seemed to enjoy it as much as I did, darling,” You giggled, leading him to your bed.

“That I did,” He laughed.

Soap is mischief personified. If anyone is a trickster god, it would be him. This means villagers who see him always think it's traders or a random villager doing business with that woman.

He gets Fawn laughing the fastest with his antics and the most annoyed with the quickest out of the four men. He is a ball of concentrated energy that sometimes implodes (ADHD? Me too, friend).

He mostly visits at night to help protect Fawn from increased hate in the village. Ironically, the number of homes burnt to the ground due to the odd number of lightning strikes has increased this summer...

[cherri3berri3s]

When Today Comes ┃Ticci toby x Reader

Warning: possible relationship codependency, mentioned cannibalism + descriptive homicide

An officially unofficial part ii to "I Got Law" that could be read + interpreted separately. The synopsis is same as follows ↓

Synopsis: You're awakened one morning to see your boyfriend shaken with doubt. What's on his mind? (Toby's Perspective)

Word Count: 1.4k + words

Part I → "I Got Law"

And the morning was evil,

Doing all it could to steal her from me.

Killing the clock with much suppression as I'd felt when I looked at her face. The only thing between me and godliness was the sound of love dripping from her sorrowed voice. Not making me feel as clean as I'd hoped for the events to come.

How do you do this type of thing anyway? Turning yourself in;

Do you announce, 'Yeah, I murdered someone' with pride before ultimately waiting to get picked up by the speedy fuckers in robust cop cars.

Should I walk there myself? Take the long route?

It's not like I could hold back the inevitable any longer, it's already decided that I should go.

"Vogel," I prepared, "Can I get one more kiss before I go?"

"If I do, will you come back." She said dryly, accepting all that's become of the situation.

"Vogelchen," I uttered, softness meeting my voice and eyes, "Of course I'm not coming back. I'll probably be dead by tomorrow."

And for every part of me to think that felt so true. I'd been at this too long that death came to be second nature. Enjoyed by none but me each time, and all stares pointed back to me. 

I see them as they see me; the ones I've killed. Difference is, I'm the one with the audience.

I like the feeling as much as I hate it. It's almost as if I'm being judged for something I enjoy. Yet, I had the power to defy all the looks that wanted me as dead as them. I'd relish in that power all year if I could. And now I'm prepared to turn myself in, but between me and them, it's far from experiencing feelings of remorse.

For each time a victim cried I felt bolder. And each time they fought back, I fought back harder till their blood spilled. It was a job that I liked, and an unsubstantiated urge I'd love to fill. Undoubtedly, I guess I loved it as long as it meant it didn't reach her. Now I see I'd failed all too embarrassingly at preventing it. 

Easing into that car seat, I felt her presence. Feeding into my drive to speed off as I know I should've. All before my body told me not to, and before he tells me not to. 

Before I choose not to do it.

I’d remembered instead, when we first met. As our relationship had begun.

 I was a sleazy pawn to the operator. I would do all that he asked of me. And all that he asked of me was fine, even if it wasn’t as righteous as it felt.

“Y’know, I’ve definitely seen you somewhere.”

 “Where?“ 

“Some magazine or something at the store.“ She grinned. Laying on my lap tenderly as the breeze wafted past us, less gentle than the autumn sun.

Never mind my matter-of-fact tone when I answered, unfazed and sounding nonchalant in each reply. She looked up at me all the same. Those eyes killing sores rested within mine.

“I don’t model,”

“And if you did, that’s exactly where I’d find you.” The damp grass lazed beneath us. Little bugs crawling past my shoe in a fit of determination, racing to beat the setting sky.

“Here, lemme see-“ she said, grabbing my jaw to redirect her gaze into mine. Her eyes squinted and refocused as my hair had fallen past my shoulders. Relaxed as I looked down at her ever so closely. 

“Yeah… that’s a cover boy if I ever seen one”

“W-What about me screams cover boy?“

“You smile with your eyes,“

“Ew, I got crow's feet?”

“No,” she detest shockingly. Holding back a laugh as she props up just a bit “You never watched Tyra Banks? The ‘smize’ doesn’t ring any bells?”

“I barely had cable,” I said begrudgingly, shaking my head as I’d become amused with her peaked interest. “I watched p-public service Christian shows at best.”

“And never watched Tyra?!“

“I barely know who she is,” I smiled confusedly, lighthearted as I attempted to maintain seriousness. “My dad w-w-would force me to watch WWE if he thought I wasn’t being m-manly enough.”

“Boo,” she disagreed abruptly, holding out the ‘oo’ sound as she plopped back down on my lap.“You know more about Hulk Hogan and public service than the real important shit”

“Modeling’s important?”

“If I was blessed with your features, it most definitely would be.“ She claims. A chuckle escapes my throat and kisses the air, protest meeting my face as a result. Her eyes holding onto mine as I just couldn’t stop myself from laughing.

“I’m being serious,” she smiles, eyes widening to convince me otherwise. “I think you’re the hottest guy I know.” her hands raised in defense, standing by the words spewed from her lips.

“I think you’re crazy,” I say, my hands resting on her hips in content. Stroking lovingly as our eyes lay amongst one another the way they’ve always have.

“And you’re a train wreck,“ a stray hand reaches out to caress the edge of my face where my scar lies. Treating me far more delicately than I knew I deserved. Far more delicately than I knew I’d ever been. The open field we were in overcrowded my judgment, producing a warmth that embodied all I had been experiencing in the cool of that day.

 “Do you think that’d make me stop loving you?“ Her eyes wandered, searching for even a hint of how I felt given the secluded embrace of the moment.

“You should.”

– And now, foot pressed against the peddle, gripping the steering wheel as roughly as I was, I couldn’t find it in me to disagree.

I never told her about the reluctance I had felt when wanting to hold her, even though it resulted in a tight everlasting grip on her flesh. The pads of each of my fingers suckling into her skin. Nor did I admit to the readiness I felt for wanting to end her life; suspecting that she had found out about my beyond most dangerous endeavors.

For so long, I’d wanted to. I accepted coming to terms with what had to be done. What the whispers said was a job most notably left for me alone. What I suppose was his plan all along. 

I'd do anything the operator asked of me. The only moral code I’d bothered to stand by after life for me changed. I saw all I was willing to give up, making the fullest assumption that my mind was no longer my own. That I had to sacrifice to live.

It didn’t bother her witnessing that sacrifice firsthand. Blood trickling along the wooden slickness of the floor. Producing such a pretty sloshing sound, tickling the inside of my ears. My hands feverishly clasping on the meatiness of the person‘s neck below me. 

Each slam cascaded with a distinguished crack, the moment their head collided with the floor. Their face bloated, black and blue in contrast to the deep red seeping underneath.

I wasn’t ready to tell her it felt so damn good. Too good as I licked my fingers devilishly of the steaming hot liquid messily staining my hands. Eyes rolling with a moan indistinguishable from one of immense pleasure. 

Had I not blacked out into an ill-fitted rage, I would’ve remembered her being there.

She didn’t mind the object sight of cannibalism displayed before her. In fact, she was no fearful accomplice, helping me cover it all up until not even a blotch was left to see.

I wanted desperately for her to be next. To be the one I was indulging in; just as she would let me.

I sat awake understanding all it had meant for us. What I’ve done to a perfectly sane relationship as I wanted to keep it. I wanted her to ignore the signs, remaining blissfully ignorant to the extremities expressed by my sickness.

To want normalcy, and not me.

I drove closer to the precinct, hungering for a chance to go back. Pleading that, as once before, I’d misunderstood my own place. He needed me to rid myself of all distractions. That’s what she was- That’s what she is. 

She is.

I hadn’t seen it then, but I was back at her place shedding my skin, as today was finally here.

I've realized that I love writing for toby so goddamn much because I get to experiment with all his complexities. I just hate when it feels like there's a thousand times more shit I could add (or as if I'm not doing him enough justice).

You're free to reblog all you like!

© CHERRI3BERRI3S - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE OR CLAIM MY WORK AS YOUR OWN

[itsalwaysteatimeinwonderland]

A Vampire's Heart Pt. 1: Running Away (Spike x reader)

Summary: A runaway priestess hides from her coven in Sunnydale. She seeks refuge in the care of Buffy and her gang. Choosing to stay on her own, Spike takes an interest in her. His head is swirling with feelings, and he can't stop making a fool of himself. How will his feelings be received?

TW: None

Requested: Nope. Just my new multi chapter fic.

Word count: 1.2k

Masterlist | Chapt 2

----------------------------------------------------

Fall weather took ahold of the environment. The small town rejoiced in the cooler weather. The time was right for spooky happenings and autumn joy. The sun set with much glee to welcome the moon into the sky.

You find yourself running, fast paced, down the street. You were no longer who you were a couple of days ago. You had built a new life in Sunnydale but it always felt like someone was around the corner waiting for you. You see The Magic Shop in the distance. You’re quick to take shelter.

As you enter several heads turn to take you in

 You’re self-conscious. You scan the small group for your friend. 

“Y/n! You made it!” A voice nearby chimes in.

Your attention is redirected to the red head that stands up and reaches for a hug. You’re quick to reciprocate. 

“Willow! It’s been so long.”

“I’m glad you could make it. Let me introduce you to the gang.”

She proceeds to name each person sitting around the table. You notice that a blonde man emerges from the back of the room. Vampire. You instantly knew. You waited to see the others’ reaction. No one moved. You were shocked and on edge. Willow doesn’t introduce the blonde man. 

“So, who’s that?” You ask about him.

Willow turns to acknowledge him. “Oh, that’s just Spike. He’s not important.”

You grimace at their nonchalant demeanor towards the vampire.

Spike nearly misses the hint of apprehension towards him as he is engulfed in your presence. Everything from the lush of your hair to the shine in your eyes. You were a beauty to behold, and he be damned if he didn’t get a chance to hold you. .

“Anyway, guys, this is y/n, she’s a witch.” Willow announces. 

You turn to her in surprise. How could she be so cavalier in announcing you like that? You turn to the crowd in fear of their reaction. No one makes a move. No one reacts. 

“Another one, eh?” Spike speaks.

The rest of the gang simply shrugs at the admission of your skills. You’re confused and on edge. You decide to turn the attention away from you.  

You embolden yourself, “Why is there a vampire here?”

Everyone turns to look at Spike and then back at you.

“He’s harmless.” Buffy says. 

“Yeah, you know, neutered.” Xander explains. 

You’re still confused. A harmless vampire? 

“He has a chip in his head that stops him from acting in evil ways. No more of the teeth and blood.” Willow chimes in.

You turn back to perceive the blonde. A vampire that can’t be a vampire. What an odd thing to encounter. 

“So, are you here to help Willow with her magic?” Giles asks. 

“Um, more like seeking refuge. I was a high priestess of a coven and somethings went awry and I had to leave.” You answer.

“You’re a wanted criminal.” Anya says matter of fact. 

“Not quite. Some of the coven members are quite disgruntled with me for leaving. I wouldn’t put it past them to seek me out.”

Everyone nods in understanding. 

“We don’t play babysitter. If you stay you have to pull your weight.” Buffy says.

“What does that mean?” You look confused.

“Oh! Buffy is the slayer. We help out. I guess that means you too. If you wanted to, that is.” Willow adds on.

You ponder on it for a bit. “I’m not looking to be taken care of. I just need to lay low until things cool of. I’m not interested in being part of your groupies.” You bite back.

Buffy makes up her mind about you and decides she’s not a fan. Spike smiles at your sass. 

“So… what now?” Willow awkwardly asks. 

“I’m thankful for the introduction to the group. I’ll just stick to myself for now. You know where I live, Willow. If you need anything come find me.” You wave to everyone and exit the Magic Shop. 

You were dismayed at the group’s energy. You were actually looking for some asylum but you knew you wouldn’t it find it with them. Being a full-time vampire and demon hunter did not seem like your thing. Your goal was to use as less magic as possible to avoid detection. You were back to the drawing board on this one. 

As you walk down the street you feel someone following you. You wonder if it’s the members of your coven. How could’ve they have found you this quickly? You turn around to face whoever was on your trail. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair and black clothing dipping into an alleyway. 

“Spike?” You call to him. 

He reluctantly comes out, a smile on his face. 

“Hello, pet” 

“Don’t call me that. What do you want, vampire?”

“Vampire? How informal.

Spike slinks by closer to you. He walks around you, taking you in, taunting you. You feel irritated by his presence and closeness. He smells of cigarettes and dirt. 

“What a pretty thing you are” he stops right in front of you making eye contact. 

You make a face, turn around and start walking away from him. He follows you and keeps up the pace with you. You halt suddenly and turn to him. 

“Is this the plan? To stalk me?” You asked irritated. 

He smiles, “maybe.” 

“Vampire, leave me alone before I stake you.”

“Do you have the guts to do so?” He leans close. 

As you lean away from him, he steps close to you. You decide to stand your ground. You lift your head up to him in defiance. He drinks you in. What a sight to see, he thinks.

“Well?” You egg him on.

At that point in time Spike becomes shy. He didn’t have a plan on how he was going to ask you out. He went with his gut and now he is face to face with you and nothing to say. He didn’t know how he was going to get a date with you let alone a kiss. He stammers. Clears his throat. He searches for the right words. Why was he being such an idiot?

“Thought so.” You snark back and turn to walk away from him.

Spike stands there bereft and stupid. What just happened? He has never had a problem professing his interest or love to women. Why did he fail this time? He keeps pondering what he could’ve done differently. Maybe be less impulsive? No, that was his style. Fast and brash. He continued to think of what went wrong until he looks up to see you are gone. He panics. He needs to know where you live, maybe even try to redeem himself. He jogs down the street until he sees you take a turn. He decides that, for tonight, he will give you space. He bombed once, he doesn’t want to do it again. He is more careful as he follows you to your house.

You can tell that Spike is still tailing you. You already made a fool of him. Why doesn’t he leave you alone? You hurry to get into your house. You’re upset that he now knows where you live, but you take solace in knowing he can’t come in without an invitation.

Spike sees you enter your home. He memorizes the house number. He identifies places where he can hide and observe you from a  distance. He feels like a fool in love but he can’t help himself. There was something alluring about you. Something that beckoned him to know more. To want more. And by god, he was going to have it even if it killed him.

[madwomansapologist]

AUTUMN THUNDERSTORM | CHAPTER 12 — MORTALS AND FOOL

check it on ao3! ★ check the pinterest board! ★ check the playlist!

thranduil thought the recent attack of spiders on a periphery village was the only thing deserving of his attention. if he could've imagined what he would found there, who he would found there, the elvenking would wait a millenia in front of that river so he could see you sooner. or: how gandalf managed to keep a secret for 14 months.

Heavy steps echoed down the hall, making the emptiness of the gallery more obvious. Good, you needed to be alone. Wandering again among ancient tapestries and paintings, for once your eyes ignored the beauty and technique behind each thread. Not their tales of adventure and grief: you admired that all of them survived this far.

When things last for a long time, it can be safe to assume they are resistant. That they are responsible for their survival. That is not true with art. No painting or song, tapestry or dance, ever lasted because of their own innate strength. What force could a melody about Gil-Galad ever have to defend itself? Is there a fabric that would not burn to ashes near a flame?

Lifetimes ago someone touched the very same painting you admire now. Lifetimes after you, someone will be brave enough to touch it again instead of just watching. When art survives, it is out of the stubbornness of those who hold it dear enough to shield it from time.

And for now, those ancient pieces are stubbornly protected by the ancient beings living within the Elvenking’s Halls. A place that often makes you wonder about time, and how the smallest of things can make you travel in it. A palace that keeps the rot of mankind far away, and the brightness of immortality always near.

Absentmindedly, your fingers lingered over the gems weighing down your collarbone.

Do you reek of mortality? A youth doomed to end; a thing made to age and perish. Your life was very short. What you can recall of it, that is. A blink in their experienced eyes. There is so much you never saw and never will.

How can you be certain that someone is righteous when you never saw evil? What is peace to you, someone that never saw war? A messenger from Lothlórien told you the world became darker since he last travelled far from his land. As for you, the world looks bright enough to blind you as it is now.

One day you shall be gone and the ellons shall continue to shine as the land rots and darkens until they sail away one last time. You never thought much about death before. Why waste your time worrying about what you cannot stop? It was unreasonable until an ancient being confessed his love to you. Now, it is all you can think about.

That night, lulled by his soft caresses, death embedded your tired mind. The next morning, you woke up to a slightly comforting conclusion: Thranduil is stubborn. When he makes a decision there is no turning back. He calls it endurance; you argued it was a matter of semantics.

Thranduil is stubborn, and that is why his domains endure. Why did all the art in this gallery survived longer than royal bloodlines and rock castles. Why his enemies are buried and his friends stand still.

You trust Thranduil to protect what will remain of you once you are gone. His stubbornness will preserve his memories and you, a small thing in this very large world, will survive along with him.

So why now you feel so lonely? If your future with him is so certain, why does the present feel so unsure? There is something you cannot share with Thranduil. That you do not know how to express. A feeling that something does not fit anymore. Much more than a feeling, what you have is a doubt. And the amount of damage a single, genuine doubt can provoke is still unknow to you.

You were in Mordor too.

Those were the words that awakened Thranduil. Words that you could not possibly know to be true at the time. Thranduil never told you that. Maybe you could have assumed his burns had something to do with the fires of that wretched place, but at the moment you simply did not knew he was burned to begin with.

And those are the same words that keep you from sleeping at night. Words that imply that you had been there too. Words that escaped from your mouth after you felt watched and burned by His ever-hungry eye. Words that maybe could mean nothing at all, but that awakened Thranduil, nonetheless.

You wanted to share this with him, but how could you? It does not make sense. You cannot even put it into words. A fool. That is what you are.

“Idril?”

A squeal escaped your throat. You jumped in place, back colliding with Thranduil’s chest. Tilting your head, eyes wide open, you stared at him. He was so close, and still you did not hear him until he spoke. It was almost as if Thranduil crawled out of your mind.

Thranduil smiled, and his eyes had a different glow in them. “Lost in thought?”

You sighed, a dry laugh finding a way out of you. “You sneaky viper!”

“What are you talking about, idril? I am worried about you”, Thranduil pretended to be offended, but he was laughing too. Holding you by your shoulders, his long fingers caressed your skin. “It became one of my favorites too, but there is no reason to hold your breath.”

A heartbeat later, you understood. Thranduil assumed you got distracted admiring the painting in front of you. Following his gaze, you took a deep breath. You intertwined your fingers with his, and in silence you both took in the painting.

Moonshine marked the silhouette of a man. His head was turned to face the top of a hill, where an elve danced on top of flowers and leaves. Her long hair moved like water around her body, almost as if it was dancing on its own too. Her smile, wide and pure.

“The leaves were long, the grass was green”, Thranduil hummed. “The hemlock-umbels tall and fair. And in the glade a light was seen, of stars in shadow shimmering.”

It was a song. And one you heard before. Enlightened, the painting gained a new meaning to you. Raising your eyes, you observed Thranduil. His own were closed, face relaxed. Feeling his chest moving up and down, you hesitated. Thranduil looked so young now.

“Is this Lúthien and Beren?”

A smile grew on his face. Such a small thing, but genuine. It made your heart ache. “Have you heard of them before?”

A frog in a well knows nothing of the sea. You are a fool wondering about ancient art as if you are smart enough to understand what stood right in front of you. For how long you stayed there, staring a Lúthien, without realizing she was the elven from the stories? How can you think so much about the past and not learn from it?

This is not the first time an elve and a mortal fell in love. You are not the first to wonder about death when you were supposed to rejoice how lucky you were to find someone to love. You are not the first fool in the world.

“A love story”, you said. A bittersweet taste invaded your mouth. “The best of them.”

Thranduil gave you his heart, knowing that when you eventually break it will never heal again. He trusts you to take care of it until then and accepted that after your life comes to an end, he will be alone. Thranduil deems it worth it. He made peace with the nature of your love.

 “Yes”, Thranduil opened his eyes. “For now.”

It is your turn to do the same. To trust your heart to Thranduil. To accept tomorrow.

“Thranduil,” you whispered. Taking a step forward, his touch freed you. It took you a moment to prepare yourself. Facing him, you hid your hands behind your back. You intertwined your finger to keep them from shaking. “Do you want me to be your secret?”

Thranduil blinked. “I am not sure of what you mean, idril.”

It took so much of you to keep looking into his blue eyes. “You are a king, and I am… Lossëistar. I will never stop being someone that did not deserved a name. Lady Aerin thought you pitied me. She even… I know others will think the same. What I want to know from that night is if I will be your secret. If I embarrass you.”

At that, you looked away. Part of you feared he would agree, part of you hoped he would deny. None were brave enough to watch him chose between the option you presented him.

Thranduil took a step closer. His hands cupped your cheeks, and for once his touch did not feel gentle. It was demanding. Where you expected warmth, you found certainty. He made you look at him, and the coldness in his eyes made shiver run down your spine.

“Pity you?” Thranduil growled. Was he… angry at you? You never saw him like that before. Brows furrowed, words sharp, hands rough. Have you crossed a line? Maybe you offended him. “You shall be my queen.”

You gasped. “But… Thranduil, I…”

He gave no time for your surprised words. Staring into your eyes, you felt as if he could see your bare soul. Lurking over you, Thranduil showed you he was deserving of your trust. “Do you know what the gems in your necklace are? Do you know what they are called?”

“White gems?” You looked down, trying to run away from his gaze. Their glow almost blinded you. It was different from any other jewel you ever saw. Somehow, deep inside you knew only elves and dwarves together could craft something as enchanting.

Thranduil made you look up again. As you heard his words, the right answer, all doubts were expelled from your head. Covering your mouth with trembling hands, you were once more a fool. Or maybe, this time, Thranduil was simply insane.

“They are called Silmarils.”

next chapter!

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all rights reserved to © madwomansapologist

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter 9

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Season 2 Summary: One Year after the strange disappearance of Will & Stephanie, all their hard work to contain their sanity starts to unravel when something from the Upside Down comes looking for them. Not sure what to do, they turn to their loved ones, hoping that they can put a stop to the evil that's spreading and destroying their town once again. Because in the Fall of 1984... everything changes once again.

🎲Chapter Summary: As the town preps for Halloween, a high-scoring rival shakes things up in the arcade. Meanwhile, Will starts seeing things that aren’t there, Steph starts going downhill when she finally starts to feel better, and a skeptical Hopper inspects a field of rotting pumpkins.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 10,074

🎲Date: 6/5/25

🎲Warnings: Angst; Heavy Language & Dialogue; Implied Bullying; Heavy Guilt; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implied Mental Health Issues; Mentioning of Dying/Being Killed; Smoking; Mention of Life Threatening Injuries; Scars; Blood; Nightmares; Implied Child Abuse; Slight Stalking. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Hello, everyone! Welcome to Season 2! I'm so excited to be back and ready to give you guys more. This chapter, I'll admit, is a little all over the place since it's introducing a lot of storylines right off the bat. But I promise you that the next chapter won't be as messy. There's also a few things I'm going to point out for S2.

1) Dr. Owens isn't showing up just yet. Because Will & Steph were taken to a regular hospital last chapter rather than the Lab's one, he won't be in this for a while.

2) The "Lost Sister" episode is going to be MIA. Since that's an El-Centric episode, it won't matter to this plot. Instead, and with good news, that episode will reveal Steve & Steph's pasts (Yay!). I'm super excited to write that one.

And finally, 3) This whole season will be dealing with some heavy topics with certain characters. Obviously I'll warn you beforehand, but just be prepared when reading forward. Alrighty! Enough of my rambling. Enjoy the chapter!

On a cool Autumn night, Dustin Henderson nearly collided with his older sister in the hallway. The youngster hit the brakes, mere inches away from slamming into her shoulder as she rushed out her bedroom with a hand over her mouth. 

“‘Scuse me–” She mutters, as she slips past him for another room.

“Sorry!” He replies, heading into the living room and overturning every couch cushion for some quarters. “Son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!” He takes the coin into his hands and throws it harshly. “Another stupid penny!”

His mother flinches as the coin nearly hits her and her companion. “Dusty, watch it! You almost hit Mews.”

Dustin sighs, before bringing out the pleading eyes. “Can I please check under your cushions?” He asks, which sounded like a whine.

“Dusty…”

“Mom, please? It’s an emergency!” And who couldn’t say no to that face? He wastes no time to flip over the cushions, soon finding a few quarters that put a smile on his face. “Love you, Mom.” He says, and rushes towards the bathroom. “Phanie! You ready?” His face falls slightly as he sees his sister sitting on the floor near the toilet. “Whoa, you okay?”

Steph nods her head. “Y-Yeah… yeah. I’m fine.” She says, forcing herself to look hopeful. “I think dinner didn’t sit well with me.”

“You okay to drive still?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Go call your friends to see if they’re ready.”

“Okay.” He says, and starts to leave, but notices something.

She sends him a look. “What?”

“You’re still wearing that t-shirt?” Dustin asks, slight annoyance, as he points to the article of clothing. Ever since she made a friend at the beginning of the year, she’s been constantly wearing his custom made shirt for their club. He’s starting to wonder if she’s prioritizing that over her band tees (And those were the pride and joy of her existence).

“Yeah.” She sits up straighter with a smirk. “I am.” 

“For someone who wasn’t that into D&D, you sure love wearing that.”

Steph scoffs playfully. “You’re just jealous because my high school has a D&D club… and you’re not invited.” Her and Dustin stick their tongues out at each other, before he departs. “If you’re nice to me, I’ll give you some of my quarters!”

“I’ll be nice!” He shouts back, and runs into his room, hands already reaching for his walkie. “Lucas, you copy? I’ve got four quarters. What’s your haul?”

[ ‘Take your puny haul and multiply it by five.’ ]

Dustin’s eyes widened in shock. “How?”

[ ‘While you were scrounging around like a homeless bum, I mowed Old Man Humphrey’s lawn.’ ]

“Old Man Humphrey’s got that kinda cash?” Shit, maybe he needs to start mowing people’s lawns. “Just call Mike already.”

[ ‘You call Mike. I have to go take a shower from doing real work, like a man. Over and out.’ ]

He groans as their connection disconnects. Why do I always have to do all the work?

He changes the station a few times until he gets a signal. “Mike, do you copy? ---- Mike, do you copy?”

[ ‘Yeah– Yeah, I copy.’ ]

“What are you doing on this channel?” Dustin asks, curiously. 

[ ‘N-Nothing.’ ]

Nothing, he says? He wants to pry, but they have bigger things to worry about right now. “Lucas and I have six bucks total. What’s your haul?”

There was a long pause, until…

[ ‘Shit!!! I don’t know yet.’ ]

“What do you mean you don’t know yet?”

[ ‘Hold on. Call Will.’ ]

Now, I gotta call Will now, too? Come on, guys! He inhales in frustration, changing the channel again just as his sister comes into his room.

“Did you call them?” She asks, sitting on his bed beside him.

“I got one more call.” He tells her, turning the dial until it chirps. “Got it. Will, do you copy? ---- Will–”

[ ‘I’m here! I copy.’ ]

“Mike’s still counting his cash, but between me and Lucas, we have six bucks.”

[ ‘Six?! How?’ ]

“Lucas has apparently been mowing Old Man Humphrey’s lawns.”

[ ‘That’s awesome.’ ]

“Yeah. It is.” He smiles. “So, like I said, we got six.”

“Eleven.” Steph butts in, getting another look.

“What?”

“I got five bucks. So you have eleven dollars in total.”

His expression grows as he replies to his friend with, “Phanie said she has five, so we have eleven dollars total now.” 

[ ‘Well, I got about three dollars. So that’s… fourteen now.’ ]

“That’s perfect!” Dustin pumps his fist. “Tonight's going to be sick.”

Stephanie taps his shoulder. “Hey, ask him if he needs a ride.”

“Oh, yeah. Hey, Phanie’s asking if you need a ride?”

[ ‘Oh, I’m good. My mom’s taking me already.’ ]

“Okay. See you soon. Over and out.” 

“So?”

“He says he’s good. His mom’s taking him.” 

“Alrighty, then.” Steph says, sliding off the bed. “Let’s get going.” She follows her boisterous brother practically skip the whole way to the front door with his haul, and hers, inside a little baggie. 

“Bye, Mom!” Dustin yells, as he slips on his coat while he is already one step out the door.

“Dusty, slow down.” She warns, grabbing her purse -- but her action must have been too slow because her little brother grabbed a hold of her arm and tugs her down the path. “Hey!”

“Oh, you kids be careful, okay? Call me if something happens.” Claudia urges from the doorway. 

“We will.” 

“So what are you going to do while we’re there?” Dustin asks, as he slips inside her car.

“Hmm, I might play some games myself. I want to see if anyone’s beaten my Centipede record yet.” She replies, looking over her shoulder as she slowly backs out. “Or, I might try to read the last few chapters of the Hobbit. I haven’t decided yet.”

“I can’t believe all it took was your friend Eddie to convince you to start reading that. I’ve been trying to get you to read that for years.”

“People change, you know?”

“That’s bullshit.” He says, shifting in his seat to look at her better. “Are you sure he’s not trying to get into your pants?”

“Ew. No.” Steph says, nose scrunching up in disgust. “He doesn’t see me that way, and I don’t see him that way. We both established that early on.”

“What about the others?” He asks, his tone fully dousing in overprotectiveness. 

“Two of them have girlfriends. Or at least Gareth claims he has a girlfriend. None of us have actually seen her…” She whispers that last part like it was a joke he was supposed to understand, but it went way over her brother’s head (For obvious reasons of course).

“And the other one?”

“Grant doesn’t lean that way.”

He blinks. “What does that mean?”

“It’s…” She shakes her head, deciding against it. “Never mind. You’ll understand eventually.”

He let his confused gaze linger on her for a hot moment to see if she’ll slip up about what that meant, but he was met with her long, hardcore silence. He soon shrugs, and decides to move the conversation forward. “But what about the one that gave you that hunting knife? Jeff?”

“Jeff’s father owns the general store in town, and gets free shit all the time. He gave it to me out of the goodness of his heart, and a reassurance that his female friend is protected.” Steph explains with a smile on her face, as she pulls the car in front of Lucas’ house. 

“That’s too much information.”

“Well, you ask too many questions, Dusty. Besides…” She pauses briefly to honk the horn a few times, before smirking at her brother. “You have to admit, it’s a pretty badass knife.”

Dustin chuckles. “It is.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Joyce pulled the car right at the front of the entrance, her son was anxiously waiting to get out. “Okay, so, I’ll pick you up in two hours. That’s nine o���clock on the dot, okay?”

“Okay.” Will replies, nodding along and opening the door.

“If anything happens, if you need to come home, just ask them to use their phone and call home. Okay? Don’t... Don’t walk home.”

“I know.” 

“Okay. But, sweetie–”

“Mom, I have to go.” He whines, and twitches in the seat like it’s made of lava. 

“Okay, okay.” She waves for him to go. “Have fun.”

“Thanks.” He says, getting out. His happiness spikes up when he’s met with his group of friends. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, Will.” Steph says, ruffling his hair as she passes him for his car door. She peeks inside. “Hi, Ms. Byers. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Thank you.” Joyce says, respectfully. “Take care.”

“You, too.” She closes the car door, ushering the group of boys inside. “So, Byers, what are you playing first?”

“Hmm… I think…” He grins. “I think I’ll try to beat your Centipede record.”

She gasps. “Oh, no you’re not! The student will not become the master in this situation!”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“No. No. No! No! No! No!” Dustin smacks the side of the machine as the game flashes that he failed the quest. “I hate this overpriced bullshit!” He groans. “Son of a bitch! Piece of shit!”

Lucas touches his shoulder, and smirks. “You’re not nimble enough. But you’ll get there one day. But until then, Princess Daphne is still mine.”

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I’m still top place on Dig Dug.”

“You sure about that?” One of the coworkers, named Keith, says as he comes to stand next them. He watches the kids become confused while he gnaws on some Cheetos. 

“Sure about what?” It wasn’t a second later until he realized what he was implying. “You’re kidding me.” His face drops as he takes off for the Dig Dug machine. “No, no, no. Move! Move! No, no, no, no, no.” He pushes past the last kid, hands tapping the button to bring up the high score that no longer was his. “No! NO!!!”

“751,300 points!” Will said, in shock. 

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“Who is ‘Mad Max’?” Dustin asks, in a demanding tone.

Keith snickers as he shoves more cheese puffs into his mouth. “Better than you.” He bites back, earning the middle finger.

“Is it you?” Will asks, as the older teenager shakes his head.

“You know I despise Dig Dug.”

“Then who is it?” Lucas asks, also demanding.

“Yeah, spill it, Keith.” Dustin pushes, as a mischievous grin blossoms on Keith’s face.

“You want information, then I need something in return.” His reply made everyone’s attention turn towards Mike who immediately picks up what’s happening.

“No, no, no.” Mike said, waving them off. “No way. You’re not getting a date with her.”

“Mike, come on. Just get him the date.” Lucas pleads, with the other party members agreeing.

“I’m not prostituting my sister!”

“But it’s for a good cause.”

“No way!”

“Fine!” Lucas dramatically says, and shifts his attention to someone else. “What about Dustin’s sister?”

Dustin’s eyes widened. “Hey!”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Keith says, making a face. “She looked pretty sick when I saw her come in.”

The Henderson gasps, and gets defensive. “Hey, just because my sister’s sick doesn’t mean she’s not pretty, Dickhead!”

“Hey–”

“And, no, you don’t get the date with Nancy. Know why? ‘Cause he’s gonna spread his nasty-ass rash to your whole family.”

Keith’s jaw tightens. “Acne isn’t a rash and it isn’t contagious, you prepubescent wastoid.”

“Oh, I’m a wastoid? She wouldn’t go on a date with you. You make, like, what? Two-fifty an hour?”

“Nice perm.”

“Oh, now you’re gonna make fun of my hair?”

“You insult me, I’ll insult you.”

“Keith, I swear, I’m gonna–”

.

Then the lights went out.

Will suddenly looks around in uncertainty, just as everything slowly powers back on… in a completely different way.

Will soon found himself some place he didn’t want to be back, a place where all his friends were gone, and everything looked horrifying….

He found himself back in the Upside Down.

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Steph comes out of the bathroom stall, reliving what just happened back at home.

I am never eating Enzo’s again. She tells herself as uses the open sink to wash her hands. But it’s strange though, I don’t feel bad.

So what could her problem be?

She cups her hands under the water, bringing it to her lips to swirl around to get the bad taste out. She nearly choked on the liquid when someone spoke to her unexpectedly.

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She jerks her head next to her, noticing that the other occupant inside the bathroom had already left. She spits the water out, looking around fully. “Hello? … Anyone?”

Who the heck is talking to–

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She whips around again. “Find who? Who is this?”

And that’s when the lights went out, and she found herself alone in the other world.

Her blue eyes widened with fear. “Will…”

She takes off in a sprint, the video game machines flickered on and off as she rushes by, thunder roaring around the building, as a strong gust of wind hits her in the face. She calls out his name as she fights against the wind to get outside, shutter in the freezing temperatures as she makes her way to the park lot. She quickly finds Will staring off at something in the distance, a dark cloud that flashed colors of fire, with something ominous swirling inside.

It sends chills down her spine, and memories of last year hitting her like a truck. But there was no point in freezing up when they’re in this together.

“Will!” She shouts, running over and engulfing him in an embrace. She feels him shake in her hold as she closes her eyes. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t look. It’s not real. We’re not there anymore. We’re okay. We’re okay. Shhhh…”

The thunder roared again, the storm coming closer and closer, aching to take a hold of them and…

.

.

.

“Will! Steph!”

The two of them jolted, eyes snapping open to find everything had returned normal and Mike coming over to check on them.

 “Are you guys okay?” He asks, worriedly. 

“Um…” Steph looks at Will who came to the same conclusion. “Y-yeah. We’re okay.”

“We just... needed some air.” Will adds, and she nods.

“Right.”

“Well, okay, then.” Mike waves them inside. “Come back in. You’re up on Dig Dug, Will. Let’s take that top score back.”

Will looks at her one last time as she gestures for him to go before her. He does, and she hopes that this was the only ‘episode’ they have tonight.

Weird. I wonder what triggered this. She thought, just as her nose began to bleed. She wipes it quickly with her hand, looking at the ooze before staring at where the storm cloud was. She frowns. Oh, not this again.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

On the morning of October 30th, Chief Jim Hopper was met with an unpleasant surprise. He wasn’t even out of his police truck yet when someone came rushing towards him. He pretends to not even notice as he tries to get inside, but the very persistent Private Investigator Murray Bauman stays right on his tail.

“Good morning, Jim.” He attempts once he manages to get neck and neck with him; But the police chief was quicker. “Jim. Hold on a second. We need to talk.”

“Get away from me.” Hopper says, with just the right amount of bite as they enter the station.

“Okay, no... I think you really wanna hear this.”

“Get away from me.”

“Trust me. I only want five minutes!”

“Yeah, I want a date with Bo Derek.” Hopper says, smirking as Flo comes over and takes the cigarette out of his mouth. “We all want things.”

Murray frowns. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Jim. This is serious, okay? I really got something here. I’m telling you!”

Hopper hides his eye roll as he shifts around him for the coffee station. “Hey, everyone.”

“Mornin’, Chief. Mornin’, Murray.” Powell said, from his spot at his desk.

“Got any proof on your butt-probin’ aliens yet, Murray?” Callahan teases, making his partner laugh. Hopper laughs too while grabbing a donut that was quickly taken away by Flo again and replaced with a granny smith apple (He sends her a small look of betrayal).

“I believe there was, and may still be, a Russian spy presence in Hawkins.” Murray fights back, earning another laugh.

“Russian spies!” Hopper chuckles.

“Are the spies in cahoots with the aliens? Or how do they fit in here? I’m confused.” Callahan asks, getting a glare from the PI.

“I’m talking multiple reports now. Multiple reports, okay? Of a Russian child in Hawkins.” Murray stated.

“A child?” Hopper’s heart sank for a sec, and tries to hide his worries. “What are you talking about?”

“A girl who may have psionic abilities.”

“‘Psionic’?”

“Psychic.”

“What about that girl that made that kid pee himself last year?” Powell points out. 

“A prank.” Hopper clarifies forcibly, but Murray was already latching onto this tiny piece of info.

“What girl?” He asks, as the other officers start to tell the story but their boss cuts in before they unravel everything he’s tried to keep buried.

“Nah, nah, nah.” Hopper guides Murray to his office. “You got five minutes. Not a second more.”

Once they both sat down, Murray started his claim. “I talked to a Big Buy ex-employee who said some little girl shattered the door with her mind.”

“I heard that story.” Hopper replies, taking a bite of the apple, which he soon tossed away because of the bitterness. “Did you hear the one about the fat man with the beard who climbs down chimneys?”

Murray ignores him, and continues, “Then last month, a co-worker of Ted Wheeler’s claims some Russian girl with a shaved head was hiding in his basement. Ted now denies this.”

“Oh, wow. That’s a surprise.” 

“But it connects.”

“Enlighten me.”

“This girl, she’s some kind of a Russian weapon, right? Barbara sees this girl, tries to help her, perhaps. But before she can, the Russians find them, take them–”

“Wait.” Hopper sits up straighter to light another cigarette. “You’re telling me Barbara Holland was kidnapped by Russian spies?”

Murray shrugs. “Kidnapped. Killed.”

“Killed?” Hopper says, blowing smoke and then proceeds to drum his fingers on his desk -- the more he can annoy this guy, the better. 

“Don’t you get it, Jim?” Murray snaps, his tone becoming frustrating (His plan was working).

“No.”

“This has potentially international implications. I’m talking a full-on Russian invasion right here in Hawkins.”

Hopper drums his fingers louder. “Do you have any proof of this girl? I mean, has anybody seen her recently?”

“No! Because these are separate–” He was cut off by the phone ringing, a wave of relief crashed over Hopper (Thank god for Flo helping him out!)

“Excuse me. Sorry.” He takes the phone off the receiver before Murray could protest before Murray could protest. “Hello?”

[ ‘Merrill called, wants you to check out his pumpkins. Says they’ve been contaminated by his vengeful neighbor, Eugene. You’re welcome.’ ]

He hangs up the phone, and puts on his most apologetic looking face he could muster. “I’m really sorry. I really hate to do this, but I gotta run. It’s an emergency.”

“You gave me five minutes.” Murray replies, irritated. 

“Yeah, listen, you know what? I liked your alien theory a lot better.” Hopper says, sliding his coat and hat back on. “And you want my advice? Why don’t you stop bleeding those people dry and go home? Alright?”

“I am not bleeding anyone…” His face falls. “Dry.”

Well that’s bullshit. Hopper shakes his head. “Listen to me. Go home, and stop pestering me.” And he takes his leave.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“It’s crap, I know.” Steve says to his girlfriend, whom both are sitting in his car in the school’s parking lot. They both had some time to kill before class began, and Steve desperately needed some help with his homework.

Nancy shakes her head, as she carefully reads it over. “No, it’s not crap.” She reassures him, but he wasn’t buying it.

“It’s not good.”

“It’s going to be. Just... It needs some reorganizing. Can I mark on it?”

He nods. “Yeah, I guess.”

“So, in the first paragraph, you used the basketball game versus Northern as a metaphor for your life, which is great. But then, around here–” She circles a part on his paper. “You start talking about your Granddad’s experiences in the war. And I... I don’t see how they’re connected.”

“It connects because... because, you know, we both won.” He replies, and her face once again tells him everything. “Do you think I should start from scratch?”

“No. I mean... When’s the deadline?”

“It’s tomorrow for early application.” Steve sighs, and rubs his eyes. “I know it doesn’t look good. I’ve just been so tired lately–”

“You’ve been tired a lot lately. I’d say off and on these last few months.” Nancy points out, concern flooding in. “What’s going on?”

The subtle shift in his emotion didn’t go unnoticed as he says, “It’s… nothing.”

“You keep saying that, Steve.”

“I know, I know, I just…” He waves his hand like he’s sending that part of the conversation away, and steers it back to, “Can we meet up so you can help me tonight?”

“We have our dinner tonight, remember?”

“Oh, shit!”

“We already canceled last week.” She says, frowning. “You don’t have to go. Just work on this. 

“No, no, no. What’s the point?” He says, taking his papers back and tossing it behind him in frustration. 

“Hey–” She touches his shoulder. “Calm down.”

“I’m calm. I am calm. I’m just being honest.” He replies, running a hand through his hair like a nervous tick. “You know, I mean... I don’t know what I’m going to do after I graduate. I literally have no freaking goals when it comes to the job field.”

“You haven’t been thinking about it lately?”

“Nah. Not really my priority nowadays.”

She bites her lip a thought, and starts shredding the metaphorical waters carefully. “Is it… is it your parents? Are they putting pressure on you for something?”

“No, it’s just I–” He holds his tongue as soon as something almost slips out, and quickly diverts the conversation once again. “Maybe I can just get an internship somewhere in town. You know, so I could be around for your senior year. Maybe we can think of something together.”

“Steve…” 

“Just to look after you a little bit. Make sure you don’t forget about this pretty face.” He says, making her laugh. “Nance, I’m serious.” And he leans in for a quick kiss, and words that didn’t feel completely whole just yet. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She says, without missing a beat. And speaking of not missing, no one on campus was safe from the sound of a Camaro’s revving engine that shook the whole place. “What the heck was that?!”

.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, not too far away, Stephanie had slipped out of Eddie’s van and joined him on the sidewalk, as she tried not to laugh at how depressed he was looking. -- Of course it was just him being overly dramatic. She’s not that much of a monster.

“Quit your whining. You’ll be fine.” She says, trying to get his hopes up that had been quickly shot this morning. “This is your chance to graduate with this extra credit. ‘84, baby. You got this.”

He groans, trying to keep his head up in a metaphorical sense and a literal sense. “I’m glad you can stay so positive.”

She chuckles. “Someone has to.”

“Yeah.” Eddie mumbles, flashing a smile that quickly fades. “Hang on.”

“What?” She said, as he pulled her to a stop. 

“You’re bleeding again.” He replies, as starts digging around his pockets.

“Am I?”

“Yeah. Hang on.” He eventually hangs her a clean cloth, and thanks him. He waits a couple seconds to ask, “Are you sure you’re not anemic?”

She shakes her head. “The doctor already checked me for that, and I was in the clear.”

“Any other reason why?”

“Not sure.” Steph says, half-truthfully. After last night it seems her episodes might be connected to her nose bleeds. Or it could just be a coincidence. She’s not a hundred percent sure yet. “You don’t have to keep looking at me like that, Eddie. I’m fine.”

Eddie adverts his distressful eyes. “You say that, and I believe you, but… you know, my mom said that a lot, and she, uh… yeah.” He says, kicking a small rock away. “So, I’m sorry for worrying. You know?”

“Eddie.” She begins, softly. “Thanks for worrying, but I’m fine. Really. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I promise. Besides–” She smiles and nudges him. “My gut’s telling me this is going to be over soon.”

“If you say so. ‘Cause if not…” He shows off his signature goofy grin. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“I’m sure you will, Eds– AH!!”

The two of them nearly jumped out of their shoes when a muffler backfires, followed by a loud engine purring as it bolts into the school’s parking lot. The duo watches as a ‘79 deep blue Camaro whips around and into a parking space. A little red headed girl gets out with her skateboard, wasting no time to use it to get to her middle school on the other side of the lot. Soon afterwards a tall, Caucasian, blond and blue eyed teenager gets out, sliding off his shades with a cigarette between his teeth. He surveyed the area for a few minutes, before heading down the pathway for the high school.

“Who’s the bad boy?” Eddie says, breaking the ice first.

“I don’t know. But he’s kind of cute.” Steph replies, getting a look. “Oh, come on. I can say that. Besides, I saw you checking out one of the cheerleader’s asses yesterday.”

He gasps dramatically. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe buy the girl dinner first, Munson.” Steph says, as she starts walking away.

Eddie shakes his head with a scoff. “I could say the same thing about you to Mr. Mullet over there.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Will was not having a good start to school today. He could hardly listen to Mr. Clarke speaking about all the wonders of the human brain without thinking about what happened earlier (And Mr. Clarke’s classes were his favorite!). As soon as he opened his locker this morning he found yet another article of him with his eyes scratched and words painted on to spell out ‘Zombie Boy’. He’s lost count how many newspaper clippings he’s thrown away this school semester alone that repeated those two-words. And each time they cut a little bit deeper into his skin. 

When will this ever stop? He wonders, almost completely zoning out if it wasn’t for the door opening aggressively. 

Mr. Clarke’s face lights up. “Ah, this must be our new student.”

“Indeed.” The principal says, with a smile. “All yours.”

“Alright.” Mr. Clarke stops the student from slipping by. “Hold up. You don’t get away that easy. Come on up. Don’t be shy. Dustin, drum roll.” His student complies, and he begins, “Class, please welcome, all the way from sunny California, the latest passenger to join us on our curiosity voyage, Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” The girl clarifies immediately. 

He blinks. “Sorry?”

“Nobody calls me Maxine.” She says, honestly. “It’s Max.”

The boys’ eyes widened in shock, as Lucas whispered, “Mad Max.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hopper finds himself standing in a field filled with rotten pumpkins that stretched over miles long. He’s happy for once in his life that it isn’t Summertime. He can only imagine how bad the smell truly is if it was hotter. “You’re saying this was fine yesterday?”

Farmer Merrill scoffs. “Fine? These were prize winners, Chief. You should’ve seen ‘em. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what happened. And then I remembered... Eugene.”

“What about him?”

“He’s been complaining about me to just about anyone who’ll listen.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he started this ‘Pick Your Pumpkin’ thing. Acted like it was trademarked. I said, ‘Hire yourself a damn lawyer. See how far that gets you’.”

Hopper raises an eyebrow over his shades. “You’re telling me that nice old Eugene came out here after dark and doused your field with poison?”

Merrill shakes his head. “Not Eugene himself. I’m thinkin’ one of his field hands.”

“Uh-huh.” Hopper crouches down and pokes the fly infested pumpkin with his pencil. 

“Listen, Chief, I don’t go throwing around accusations lightly. You know me. But this happening the day before Halloween, when sales are peaking? That’s a hell of a coincidence. Hell of a coincidence!”

He’s not wrong about that. However, even if it was true, he couldn’t imagine a sweet elderly neighbour like Eugene actually doing this. But if it wasn’t him…

.

.

.

Then who or what was causing all this?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“You’re coming to this.” Nancy says, once her and Jonathan got out of their classroom.

The oldest Byers grabs the orange flier, reading it over and laughing. “‘Come and get sheet faced’. No, I’m not.” He replies, trying to hand it back to her but she refuses to take it.

“I can’t let you sit all alone on Halloween. That’s just not acceptable.”

“Well, you can relax. I’m not gonna be alone. I’m going trick-or-treating with Will and his friends.” 

“All night?” She asks, skeptically. 

“Yeah.” He says, but he knows by now that Nancy can read him like a book.

“No, no way.” She waves him off. “You’re gonna be home by 8:00, listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something.”

He ponders on that for a moment before nodding. “Sounds like a nice night.” 

“Jonathan, just come. I mean, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone–” Her words were cut off when Steve came up from behind and picked her up, causing her to shriek. “Oh, my God!”

“Sorry, Nance.” Steve laughs, and sets her down. 

“Take those stupid things off.” She says, pulling off his sunglasses.

“Okay, okay.” He happily smiles. “I missed you.”

“It’s been like an hour.”

“Tell me about it.” His gaze shifts to the other party member. “Hey, Jonathan. You going to come to Tina’s party?”

“I’m actually trying to convince him right now.” Nancy says, shifting around to face him.

But Jonathan’s expressions were becoming unreadable as he bows his head, and says, “I’ll think about it.”, then disappears down the hallway.

“What’s his deal?” Steve asks, as his girl watches him worriedly.

“I…” What was that reaction just now? “I’m not really sure.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“There’s no way that’s Mad Max.” Mike says, as he and his friends stare at the girl riding around on the playground with her skateboard, occasionally doing a few neat tricks she’s fully mastered. “And even if she is, you can’t get 750,000 points on Dig Dug. It’s impossible.”

“She had to find some kind of cheat code, right?” Will suggests. In his eyes, that could be the only way. Right?

“Totally.”

“But her name is Max.” Lucas points out.

“So what?” Mike asks, as Lucas looks at him like he’s crazy.

“So, how many Maxes do you know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Zero. That’s how many.”

“She shows up at school the day after someone with her same name breaks our top score. I mean, you kidding me?” Dustin says, stating the obvious as well.

“Exactly!” Lucas says, ecstatically. “So she’s gotta be Mad Max. She’s gotta be.”

“And plus she skateboards, so she’s pretty awesome.”

“Awesome?” Mike says, in disbelief. “You haven’t even spoken a word to her.”

Dustin shrugs. “I don’t have to. I mean, look at her–” His face falls when he notices she’s gone. “Shit. I’ve lost the target.”

“No, no, no! Look!” Will shouts and points to Max throwing something in a trash bin before heading inside. The boys of course wasted no time rushing over and retrieving what she tossed, in hopes that it’ll give them some other clue.

Dustin unfolds the crumpled piece of paper, showing it off as they all read a loud: “‘Stop spying on me, creeps’.”

The Henderson exhales in defeat. “Well, shit.”

“We’re officially the worst spies ever.” Lucas says, grabbing the paper and tossing it away.

“Agreed. So, what’s next?”

“Well, we could try–”

“Hey.” Will butts in, his attention elsewhere. “You guys keep talking. I gotta do something real quick.” And he leaves before anyone could question or object.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“What’s his name again?” Gareth asks, as he and the others sit around the picnic table. It was recess (or PE in their case) for them as well, and they spent it by going for a nice “jog”. But since the coaches were hardly ever outside, it was easy for students to just hang out in the grass and gossip. 

And that’s exactly what they were doing. 

“William Hargrove. He goes by Billy, though.” Jeff says, as everyone takes this information in.

“What’s he like?” Grant asks, which was the question that was on everyone’s mind.

“He’s from Cali and had just moved here. He’s really charming with the ladies, but the other hand, with the guys, he’s a little… testy.”

“Testy, huh?”

“Awe, don’t tell Stephanie that now.” Eddie teases, and nudges her.

“Hey, I said he was ‘cute’, doesn’t mean I was going to date him.” Steph defends, with her hands up. “And Jeff, how long did you talk to this guy?”

“None. I’ve just observed.” He replies.

“Well, maybe don’t judge a book by its cover. We can’t just assume.” 

“True.”

“But–” She emphasizes hard. “If he is a douche, we just stay away from him with a ten-foot pole. Capish?”

They all nodded in agreement, Grant even chuckling and saying, “I’m starting to think she’s a better leader than you, Eddie.”

Eddie immediately clenches his chest with his hand, his body slacking his seat like he’s been struck. “Grant, the light of my life, you wound me.”

Stephanie snorts, rolling her eyes. “Oh, stop with the theatrics. Nobody can ever replace Munson, or he might die of heartbreak before he’s twenty.” That earns a few more laughs, Eddie even pinching her side that makes her squeal.

“I swear, you’re just as bad as them, Henderson.”

“Shut up, Eds.” She laughs, eye soon catching familiar movement in the distance. “Uh, I’ll be right back, boys.” She excuses herself before beelining towards the chain link fence that divides the two schools. She watches the boy with worry as he starts climbing over. “Please, be careful.”

“You know I’ve been through worse.” Will states, all tongue-and-cheek.

“That is true. But still. I can worry.”

“I know you will. Wait…” He pauses at the top of the fence. “You’re free to talk, right?”

She smiles. “For you, any time.” He returns the expression and hops to the ground to begin their walk together. “How you feeling?”

“Alright.” He sighs. “Kids are mean.”

Her eyes flashed with anger for a split second, but it was not towards him. “Another note?”

“Yeah.”

“I got one of those last week. Stuck it right on my windshield.”

“Assholes…”

She snickers at his language (He’s the one that rarely cusses in the group). “Careful with that word, Byers, or you’re going to turn into your friends. Or worst… you’re going to be Dustin 2.0.”

That got him to go back to smiling. “Yeah. I probably will. Have you written anything else down in your journal lately?”

“Eh, there’s really nothing for me to write. My mind’s been pretty quiet for the last few months now.”

“Except yesterday?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “I had one the other day, but it barely lasted a minute.”

He tilts his head curiously at her, as they start slowly down. “When was that?”

“Hmm… I think it was Wednesday.”

“That’s when I had mine.”

“Interesting.” She scratches her head at that statement. “I’ve been having nose bleeds off and on all week. I can’t figure out if it’s connected to my episodes, or if it’s something else. Have you had any?”

Will shakes his head. “No. I’ve just been extra tired lately.”

“Have you heard any voices?”

“Hmm, not really. I’ve just been getting these… feelings, I guess you would call it? But I can’t really figure out what it’s telling me. It’s… annoying me.”

“That’s strange. And new.” She shifts her weight around as they come to a stop. “I thought I heard a voice yesterday before the Upside Down appeared, but I couldn’t pinpoint if it was something my conscience was making up, or I was remembering something.”

He looks at her worriedly. “Do you think you’re remembering something from after you died?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know.” And she really wishes she had more of an answer. It’s been almost a full year now since the incident and she still hasn’t put the whole puzzle pieces together. It’s been very frustrating. “Well, besides all that, I did read this thing called: ‘The Anniversary Effect’. It’s basically the anniversary of a tragic event that brings back traumatic memories. Sort of opens up the neurological floodgates, so to speak. I know soldiers tend to have this.”

“Well that would make sense. I mean, November 6th is right around the corner.”

“Yeah.” It was just a few days away and it was already making them both feel uncomfortable. “Have you mentioned your episodes to anyone?”

“Um, I kind of told my mom. But nothing in detail. I’ll have to mention that ‘Anniversary Effect’ to her. Give her some peace of mind.” Will answers truthfully. “You?”

“Same. My mom suspected I wasn’t sleeping again, so I told her about what I found. Not a lot of details just because she doesn’t know the whole truth. And I’m also sure that Dustin is catching on, too. I know he’s going to hound me for answers when it’s just the two of us.”

“So, what do we do? Ride it out?”

“I… guess so.” Steph frowns. “To be honest, I don’t really know. I mean, we can come clean and talk about it with everybody, but I doubt it’s going to stop what’s going on with us. I think we just need to remind everyone to be patient until the 6th passes. Then, I think we’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” He says, hugging himself. “I hate feeling like this.”

“Me too, kid.” She says, ruffling his hair. “But you gotta understand, we went through a lot a shit in seven days.” 

“Yeah…” He looks at his feet with glassy eyes. “But you had it worse.”

His little voice tugged on her heart strings as she got down on his level. “Yeah, but you saw all those things happen to me. No kid your age should have seen those things. Do you understand?” 

He nods slowly, and whispers, “...Yeah.”

“Okay. Look at me.” She takes his face into her hands. “If you ever want to talk to me, just pick up the phone and I’ll be right over, or you can come over to my place. And if you don’t want to talk to me, then talk to your mom. Your mom will understand. Okay?” He nods again. “Okay. Do not let your bottle of emotions explode. Take that from someone who has experience. Got it?”

“Will…” He sniffles. “Will s-she… understand?”

Her face softens. “Of course she will. She’s your mom. And may I remind you that your mom was one of the people that got us out of that place. I guarantee she’ll understand. Talk to me, or talk to her. Alright?”

“Alright. But who are you going to talk to? I know you’re not going to talk to Dustin.”

“I don’t know yet, buddy. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” She replies, and he throws his arms around her for a hug. “We’re going to get through this. I promise.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Hours later after school, Lucas and Dustin were standing in the parking lot where the Arcade was, snooping around to see if Mad Max would make their appearance (And they hoped Mad Max was indeed the person they think they are). -- Mike went home a while ago claiming there was “No point in waiting this long”, which sucks for him though. In Dustin and Lucas’ minds, with Mike out of their way they have a better shot at making their move on her.

“Still no sign?” Dustin asked after a while.

“Jack shit.” Lucas replies, still holding onto the binoculars.

Dustin sighs and checks his watch for the millionth time in the last hour. “Damn it. My mom’s gonna murder me if I don’t leave soon.”

“So go home.” Lucas says, trying to be all slick. “I’ll radio if she comes.”

“Oh, yeah, nice try. You just want me out of here so you can make your move.”

“Oh, ‘cause you’re such a threat.”

“That’s right. She will not be able to resist these pearls.” Dustin says, and purrs, making his friend roll his eyes. And Dustin was about to take offense to that when he spotted the pot of gold. “Ten o’clock. Ten o’clock!”

The two of them watch as a car comes speeding into the parking lot, abruptly stopping as Max gets out in a huff. She and the person driving started exchanging some heated words that they couldn’t quite hear.

“Whoa! They’re arguing. They’re arguing!” Lucas says, pointing out the obvious.

Dustin groans. “Oh, my God. I see that. I don’t even know why you need those. God, you’re so stupid.”

Eventually, the car speeds off with the door still half open, and Max flips it off immediately. So that’s when the duo took it as a sign and decided to move in. They don’t know how long they were watching her play Dig Dug, but it was enough for them to be completely smitten by her. They both slid to the floor against the wall, giant grins on their faces that’ll never come off. 

“She’s incredible.” Lucas says, bubbly. 

“She’s…” Dustin begins, locking eyes with him.

“Mad Max.” They said, happily.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Nancy and Steve arrive at the Holland’s residence late at night, all nicely dressed and plastered with fake smiles. For the sake of Barbara’s parents, they must keep up the act. I mean, who’s going to believe that an interdimensional creature kidnapped and killed their daughter over a year ago?

“I’m so sorry I didn’t get to cook.” Marsha said, as she placed the silverware and plates down. “I was gonna make that baked ziti you guys like so much, but I just forgot about the time, and before you know it, ‘Oh, my God, it’s five o’clock’.” 

“It’s fine. It’s great.” Nancy says, (overly) boisterously. 

“Yeah. I love KFC.” Steve replies, as they start helping themselves. They let the silence fill the air for a few minutes, before asking, “So, I noticed a ‘For Sale’ sign out in your yard. Is that the neighbors’, or…”

“You wanna tell them, George?” Marsha asks her husband.

“Go ahead.”

“We hired a man named Murray Bauman. Have either of you heard of him?”

“No.” Nancy says, looking at her boyfriend who shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

“He was an investigative journalist for the Chicago Sun-Times.”

“He’s pretty well known.” George states, as his wife agrees. 

“Anyway, he’s freelance now, and he agreed to take the case.” Marsha adds, making the teenagers’ stomachs turn horribly. 

“That’s... That’s great.” Steve forces out, trying to hide the guilt on his face. He can still see his classmate’s decomposing body sometimes in his nightmares dreams. “That’s really... great. Right, Nancy?”

“Uh, y-yeah. It is. Um, what exactly does that mean?” Nancy asks, worriedly. 

George grips his silverware tighter, his face full of bitterness as he spats, “Means he’s gonna do what that lazy son of a bitch Jim Hopper–” His wife touches his arm, cooling him off immediately. “Sorry.” He sighs. “What the Hawkins police haven’t been capable of doing.” His words made the teenagers look at their plates, slowly starting to lose their appetites. “Means we have a real detective on the case.”

“It means…” Marsha begins, getting choked up. “We’re going to find our Barb.”

“If anyone can find her, it’s this man. He already has leads. By God, he’s worth every last penny.”

“I-Is that why you’re selling the house?” Nancy asks, her trembling hands falling in her lap and out of eyesight.

“Don’t worry about us, sweetie.” The woman reassures. “We’re fine. More than fine. For the first time in a long time, we’re hopeful.”

And that was the last straw for Nancy. “Excuse me.” She chokes out, and gets up from her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

Martha watches her disappear for the bathroom, both her and her husband oblivious about what their words were doing to the teenagers. Her gentle face falls slightly though as she notices Steve had stopped eating. “Are you okay, honey? Is it not good?”

Steve nearly flinches when he realizes he slipped up. He quickly forces another smile, and replies, “No, no, it’s great. I just, uh… I have a lot on my mind today. Sorry.” 

“Oh, it’s okay. I get it.” Her happy expression comes back at full speed. “When Barb returns, we have to all celebrate together. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Yeah. It will be.” His chest tightens at the lie. He has to be the strong one here. It’ll be too suspicious if he decides to step out of the room to take a breather like his girlfriend. He picks up his fork again and forces himself to eat. “I can’t wait for you guys to find her.”

He was left to keep the hopeful conversation up while Nancy stayed in the bathroom for a while to silently cry.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in another neighbourhood, just like Clockwork, Mike Wheeler sat under the makeshift fort he put up last year, changing to a certain station on his walkie to begin his conversation for this night.

“El, are you there? El?” He called out, but as usual he was greeted by static. “It’s me. It’s Mike. It’s day 352, 7:40 p.m. I’m still here. If you’re out there, say something. Or give me a sign. I won’t even say anything to anyone if you’re worried about that. Just…” He pauses as he starts to get teary eyed. “I wanna know if you’re okay.”

He hated how broken up he sounded, and he wonders what the others would think if they would see him like this?

He waited a full minute before tossing the walkie to the side. 

“I’m so stupid.”

I mean all he’s doing is giving himself this false hope. He knows that there’s a very high probability that she is really gone after all. I mean, he and all his friends, his sister and Jonathan included, saw her turn to ash along with that miniature Demogorgon and that deranged doctor. She may be a psychic, but there’s no way she’s immortal or has a crazy healing factor like an X-Men.

His hands grip his pant legs, trying not to cry for real. “...I am really stupid.”

He was about to call it quits for tonight when a signal started to come in. 

[ ‘Mike? ---- Mike? ]

Mike snags it back up as fast as he could. “Hello, is that you?” He asks, a hundred percent expecting Eleven, and total not expecting–

[ ‘Yeah, it’s me, Dustin. What’re you doing on this channel again? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. We were right. Max is Mad Max.’ ]

Mike scoffs in annoyance. “Yeah, I’m busy.”

[ ‘But–’ ] 

He pushes the antenna down, ultimately cutting himself off from his friends. He throws it off to the side again, a little harsher this time as he starts stomping up the stairs. “This is all so fucking stupid.”

.

.

.

Lucas looks over at his friend as they continue to ride their bikes back to their place. They were actually not completely surprised by their friend’s snappy attitude (He’s been like this since school ended). “What do we do now?”

“We stick to the plan.” Dustin says, getting a wary look.

“Mike’s not gonna like it.”

“Last time I checked, our party is not a dictatorship. It’s a democracy.”

“What if Max says no?”

“How can Max say no to these?” He purrs again which causes Lucas to cringe.

“I told you to stop that.” Lucas says, just before he pulls into his driveway. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Later.” 

They were going to get Max into their group whether Mike likes it or not! The only thing that was going to be tricky for them was convincing the girl to give them the time of day. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And down the street from the two of them, right off the road of Mirkwood, a family was prepping for movie night. Joyce was in the kitchen making stovetop popcorn when she had to do a double take. But she couldn’t help but smile at her Boyfriend’s shenanigans. 

“Stop.” She says, playfully as he circles around her with his camera. “Stop!”

“What?” Bob said, teasing back. “Come on, you gotta get used to it. This is the future.”

“Well, put the future down and get me a clean bowl. And, Jonathan?” She calls out to her eldest in the living room. “Can you go get your brother?”

“Okay.” Jonathan heads for his brother’s room with a stack full of VHS tapes, knocking a few times before entering. “Hey, bud. I didn’t know what you’d like, so I got a variety. Take your pick.”

“Whatever you want.” Will replies, harshly (Which actually stuns Jonathan for a few seconds).

“Alright…” Jonathan takes a seat at the end of the bed. He then decides to be nosy and look at what Will was drawing. “What are you working on? Zombie Boy? Who’s Zombie Boy?”

Will looks at him for a second before quietly muttering, “Me.”

“Did someone call you that?” Jonathan asks, going in defensive mode. But his brother said nothing in return, so he softened his approach. “Hey. You can talk to me. You know that, right? Whatever happened.” He touches his arm. “Will, come on, talk to me.”

He jerks his hand away. “Stop treating me like that.”

“What? Like what?”

“Like everyone else does. Like there’s something wrong with me.”

“What are you talking about?” Jonathan pushes.

Will uses his fingers to count. “Mom, Dustin, Lucas– Everyone! They all treat me like I’m gonna break. Like I’m a baby. Like I can’t handle things on my own. It doesn’t help.” His voice starts to tremble, which punches Jonathan in the gut as he helplessly listens to every word. “It just makes me feel like more of a freak. The only person who isn’t treating me like that is Stephanie, and it’s probably because she’s going through what I’m going through.”

Jonathan’s heart breaks a little bit more. “Will–”

“And she’s…” Will starts to teary eyed. “She’s so strong. At least she tries to be for me. And it… it sucks because she’s always there for me, and I-I don’t know how to be there for her.” He sniffles. “Her friends tell her that… that ‘Freaks stick together’, but it doesn’t help when we’re constantly being reminded of it everyday for something that we didn’t have control over.”

He breaks eye contact again, and continues to draw, hoping his brother would just go away and leave him be. But Jonathan wasn’t. He wasn’t going to let his baby brother wallow over something like this when he’s clearly calling out for help.

“You know what?” Jonathan begins, moving to sit crisscrossed and give his full attention. “You’re right. You are a freak.”

Will snaps his gaze back at him, both confused and angry. “What?”

“No, I’m serious. You’re a freak. But what?” Jonathan shrugs. “Do you wanna be normal? Do you wanna be just like everyone else? Being a freak is the best. I’m a freak. You’re a freak. Stephanie’s a freak. And guess what? She’s right. We freaks have to stick together.”

“Is that why you’re always hanging out with me?” Will asks, still staring with a puzzled look.

Jonathan chuckles. “Yeah, of course, bud. You’re my best friend, alright? And I would rather be best friends with Zombie Boy than with a boring nobody. You know what I mean?” But his brother still didn’t seem to grasp what he was saying yet. So Jonathan tries something else. “Okay, look... Who would you rather be friends with? Bowie or Kenny Rogers?”

Will scrunches up his nose. “Ugh.”

“Exactly. It’s no contest. The thing is, nobody normal ever accomplished anything meaningful in this world. You got it?”

“Well... some people like Kenny Rogers.”

“Kenny Rogers.” Bob says while popping through the doorway. “I love Kenny Rogers.” And his response got the two brothers to laugh, which stirred confusion. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” Will replies, grinning.

Bob was about to comment until he saw the stack of VHS tapes. “Oooh, ‘Mr. Mom’.” He grins like a kid in a candy store. “Perfect!”

And he grabs them and leaves the room, humming something that makes them belly laugh again. It was a much needed belly laugh for the both of them.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Stephanie stepped out of the steaming shower, quickly grabbing her towel to fight off the cool air. She dries her body off first before working on her dark locks; They had grown quite a bit this year, and she wonders if being friends with the ‘Hellfire Club’ has something to do with it. Everyone, except for Jeff, had their hair long in some kind of way. Between Grant’s mullet, Gareth’s baby version of that, and Eddie’s copying Van Halen, she’s somewhere in that mix. 

I’m starting to think our goal is to braid each other’s hair. She chuckles, staring at herself in the mirror as the steam starts to disappear. Even in her house’s crappy lighting, even after all the special cream and a whole year passing, all her scars were still so noticeable.

Her expression fades into pain as she brushes the delicate skin on her neck. Sometimes she could still feel that bats teeth sinking in… and that wasn’t the only spot. They had gotten her pretty good everywhere. There were a few spots on her thighs and calves, a few on her stomach, and arms. But those didn’t bother her as much as the one on her neck.

Luckily for her she’s always been big on wearing baggy clothes, but this time her ensemble included more turtlenecks and scarves off all sorts. Both her mother and brother stopped asking her about them after three months, and Eddie and the other haven’t even got the chance to see any of them, and she liked to keep it that way (Unless they were the tiny marks on her hands, but those were barely there anymore).

She inhales sharply, trying to guide herself away from all the negatives and get dressed. But her attempts weren’t that great because she didn’t notice the lights dimming and the room growing colder and darker. It wasn’t until her chest felt tight and a shiver ran down her spine she finally took note.

She felt a presence behind her, one that she couldn’t dare make herself look at, as she remained frozen to the tiled floor. She felt a pressure in her head, and something slithering around her wrists.

She forces herself to look down, a weird set of red strings twisting around her wrists and hands like we were some sort of puppet. Scaredly she whispers, “What the…?” as someone whispers back,

.

// FIND HIM //

.

She flinches and screams. Her eyes shooting wide open to find herself back in the shower with the hot water still pooling off her body. She gasps like she’s out of breath, frantically looking around that made her come to the conclusion that she never actually got out in the first place.

“W-What the fuck…” She mutters, heart racing in her ears. It then sky rocketed again when someone came pounding on the door. 

“Hey, Phanie, you done yet?” Dustin’s voice called out. And in a strange way it grounded her back to reality more.

“Y-Yeah.” She calls out, loudly. “I’m almost done. Give me five minutes.”

“Okay. Just don’t waste all the hot water, please.”

“I won’t…” She listens to him disappear back down the hallway, almost wishing he’d stayed there until she was done. Her baby brother she’ll admit was everything to her, and as much as it’s easy to talk to him about anything, as much as she wants to talk about what happened in the Upside Down with him, she doesn’t want him to be plagued with this nightmare she’s living every day.

Stephanie sobbed quietly, leaning her head against the wall, and used the last five minutes she had to cry a rainfall.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a long, long day of work, Hopper had finally arrived at his hiding spot in the woods just as someone else pulled up beside him. He gets out with his big flashlight, not turning it on just yet since he already knows who it is.

“How was work?” Steve asks, getting out himself with something in his arms. 

“Oh, you know. Same shit, different day.” Hopper replies, annoyance in his words. “How about you? How was the dinner?”

“It was… interesting. I’ll have to fill you in.” Steve frowns. “Mr. Holland called you a SOB a lot tonight.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” And he probably deserves it since he’s “blowing off” the case in the Hollands’ eyes (But Hopper stopped feeling guilty a while ago since he has bigger things to take care of). He was about to start walking when he finally noticed what the teenager was carrying. “Did you bring KFC home?”

“What? I didn’t really eat much to begin with. And besides, she hasn’t tried it yet. Who doesn’t like fried chicken?”

Hopper says nothing else, used to the teen’s roguishness, and begins his trek further into the woods with Steve in tow. They stayed silent the whole way, being mindful of the traps they laid around the place, including a tripwire they both inspected and carefully walked over. Hopper then knocks the secret code, the door soon opening and letting them inside the poorly lit cabin.

“Hey, kiddo, I got us dinner.” Steve announces, placing it on the table.

Hopper sets his hat and coat aside, along with his belt as he notices something on the kitchen counter: A plate full of Eggos and a mound full of syrup. “Hey, what’d we talk about?” He semi-scolds, as a voice comes from one of the back rooms.

“No signal.”

“What?”

“No signal. It’s 8-1-5. You’re late.”

Hopper frowns apologetically. “Yeah, I lost track of time.”

“We both did. Sorry.” Steve says, just as she entered the room. Her curly hair had grown in a pixie, and she was dressed in clothes he had found in a thrift store (She may have had a tiny growth spurt between New Years and this Halloween).

“I’ll signal next time, alright?” Hopper says, as they all sit down at the table. “Uh, and it’s 8:15. It’s not 8-1-5. Eight-fifteen.”

“Eight-fifteen.” El repeats.

“Good.” He says, proudly before pointing to the waffles on the counter. “Now, what did we talk about?”

“Dinner first, then dessert.”

“Always. That’s a rule. Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Dig in.”

“What is this?”

“It’s fried chicken. Then this is mashed potatoes with gravy, and these are biscuits.” Steve explains, with a smile. “The biscuits are the best part.”

“I think I’d have to agree on that.” Hopper replies.

“But the chicken here has bones, so all you have to do is bite into the meat, and pull it off. Try it.” Steve watches her pick up the drumstick and follow his instructions. Her face lights up after a couple of bites. “Good?”

She nods eagerly. “Really good.”

“Good. Glad to hear. Did you study today?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you study today?”

So she tells him and Hopper everything she has done since this morning, not sparing any details, or questions she may have, as they happily listened to every word.

Oh, and you’re probably wondering… ‘What an interesting group of people’, or, ‘How’d they all end up together?’. And I’ll tell you why…

Although, that’s a story for next time.

(TBC)

-Taglist is Open-

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[concussed-to-pieces]

Arbiter's Solstice; Part Three

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village

Pairing: Eventual Karl Heisenberg/AFAB!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: Karl was either going to spontaneously combust out of boredom, or spontaneously combust out of having to watch you working in the fields. Oh sure, he didn't have to watch you work. But he did. Sometimes. Most of the time.

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and enjoying what I do! Hopefully I'll see you soon, but if not, stay safe. 💚 Enjoy!

Tag List: @stargazerofgoldenwords @cookiethewriter @crookedmoonsaultpunk @colesterstrudel @spoopyredacted @velvet-paradox @kotall-ohh @calwitch @katreneebug @missjasmine98 @sunflowers-and-swear-words @savage-rhi @nova-ivy541 @xyaswrlldd @the-videodame @luvley-shadow @akashiiiiii @spook0 @leediavhs @wysterias-not-so-secret-diary @alldevilsmaycry @writtennotsaid @mulcivert @cedarsmokesrandoms @smallestsnarkestgirl @buttons-beads-lace @vodkafolie @theplagueworm @holydreamerpastadragon @story-chaotic-brain @ohlookapan @topgirl17 @fyufox @immajojoreference @that-thangiling @n-o-r-4 @hauntedadagium @redjahxfox 

[If you were tagged in error, please let me know and I’ll remove you!] 

Part One: Chosen

Part Two: Struggles

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains gore, mentions of death, canon-typical violence, depictions of mental and physical duress and unprotected sexual activities between two consenting adults. Stay safe!]

Karl stared aimlessly up at the smoke wafting overhead from the stubbed-out cigar in his ashtray, his fingers tapping the surface of his work bench. The bench was littered with scrap, bits and pieces he'd been attempting to make sense of all morning. 

When Donna had sent a request for all able-bodied villagers to assist with the salvaging of the fields and the planting of the autumn harvest, he had assumed you would wish to be exempted from such a tedious task. Instead, you leaped at the opportunity eagerly. Had he kept you cooped up for too long and you just needed to stretch your legs? Or was there something more sinister at work? Had Donna gotten to you with her damn spores?

Heisenberg groaned, rubbing his hand across his face.

The phone above the workbench began ringing, a dull clicking noise that Karl barely registered at first. He drew a circle with his finger, mentally trying to fit several pieces on the table in front of him together. If that goes to here, maybe I can–

Wait, the phone?  

The man bolted upright, seizing the receiver and nearly yanking the whole unit off the wall in the process. Through the buzzing hum of poorly-insulated lines came the sound of howling, snarling, and-

“Karl?”

“What the hell is happening, Donna?!” Heisenberg barked, already halfway into his coat. He could almost feel her mustering up the strength to say something through her obviously-crippling anxiety, but he stifled his pity for the woman. Something was clearly wrong. “Donna, what the fuck do you need?” He asked finally, trying to prod her to respond.

There was a choked gasp for air and then she exhaled, “the lycans won't listen.”

The lycans. Fuck. He hadn't spared a thought for them since well before he’d torn Alcina's throat out. They'd been on the same level as humans, annoying, useless. 

Heisenberg slammed the phone down into the cradle, certain he'd broken the rotary dial with the motion. It didn't matter.

He grabbed his hat, shoving it onto his head as he headed for the first of many doors to reach the outside. He'd have to muster up some kind of weapon as he went, unwilling to trust the durability of his old hammer. Worst came to worst, he could make something out of the salvaged tractor. He would be fine, it was the birds that unnerved him when he went outside but he would be fine– 

Why the hell was his heart beating so fast?!

…

You swung the heavy bucket, clobbering the creature in front of you grimly. The momentum carried you in a circle, almost toppling you, but you managed to catch yourself before you fell. 

The lycans had fallen upon the fields without warning, much fewer in number than they had been before the Lady's demise but no less ferocious for their lack of numbers. The villagers, armed with nothing but spades and rakes for turning the earth, quickly rallied and fought back. You had been returning from the well with a fresh bucket of water for the workers to drink, so you didn't even have the benefit of a long-handled tool to defend yourself!

Lycans didn't terrify you like the Soldat had. If anything, you were used to seeing creatures like lycans or Dimitrescu's Moroaică. You weren't thrilled about seeing them, but they didn't necessarily unnerve you, especially since you weren't dealing with them alone. Outside, under the cheery sunlight of midday, they weren't quite so imposing.

You brought the bottom of the water bucket down on the head of another lycan, water flying everywhere as the beast snapped and yelped in response. One of the other villagers swung his rake into the beast's ribs, scoring several deep wounds in the lycan's side. 

Where is Donna? you wondered frantically, glancing around for the unwilling leader of the village. The black-veiled woman seemed to have vanished into thin air, however. You and the rest of the laborers were evidently on your own. You set your jaw, working with the other villager to batter the downed lycan with your implements until it stopped moving. 

The brutality of the action was shocking, yet you felt nearly nothing about it. Pragmatism, maybe a new gift from your service under Karl? The Lady had always weaponized fear and anticipation in equal measure, where Lord Heisenberg was quick to make a choice and carry it out. If something was threatening you, be it Soldat or despot, end it. 

Simple.

You straightened up, wiping the sweat from your brow and squinting through the gritty dust. The fields would be ruined (well, more ruined) if this fight went on for much longer. Someone would need to be decisive to put a stop to the lycans marauding behavior.

That someone turned out to be one Lord Karl Heisenberg, the Iron Horse seeming to materialize out of the dust of the field like an apparition. The large man snapped his fingers, ancient shrapnel rising from the disturbed dirt to do his bidding. Without a word, without so much as a sound, he merely gestured with his hand and every lycan dropped. 

You were certain you weren't the only one standing there stunned by the speed of the whole endeavor, but you may have been the only one to notice how hard Karl's chest was heaving. That, combined with the way his eyes darted across the fields until they met yours and his shoulders visibly relaxed–

Gods, his eyes. You were suddenly breathless for an entirely different reason, feeling your body flush with heat as his gaze burned straight through you. To think, you had jumped at the chance to perform some labor away from Heisenberg's factory, just to give yourself the opportunity to have a little space, only to be rendered useless once more the moment his glance landed on you. So much for your noble attempt!

What was less surprising than his reaction was, unfortunately, the way he stormed across the dusty ground, the large man clearly making a beeline for you. You braced for his approach, mentally trying to remind yourself that he still had yet to be cruel to you. Sure, he could be more than a little terrifying, but that came with his demeanor! That came with just being who he was, it wasn't as though he was making a deliberate effort to be so…scary.

The man kicked a dead lycan aside, the limp body leaving a fresh furrow in the ground from the force of Karl's blow. A jagged piece of metal jutted proudly upwards from the base of the creature's neck, black ichor staining the dark hair darker still.

You swallowed hard.

“You,” Karl hissed, but…but he wasn't even looking in your direction? You cautiously glanced around, quickly spying Donna standing next to the field with Angie. “Don't you know anythin’?! You need to turn the soil first, get all the big rocks and metal out of the way before you try to plant! Imagine if one of-” There was a sickening squelching noise as a deadly sharp bit of metal pulled itself free of another lycan's head, the object rising to hover beside Karl's shoulder. “-your villagers ended up losing a hand from something like this?!” The metal shard darted through the air at Donna's head and you flinched, exhaling hard when it dropped harmlessly to the ground at her feet. “You need to think like a goddamn leader!” Heisenberg roared. “You're not some helpless stupid child, Beneviento, so act like it!”

“This reaction seems a bit overblown, Heisenberg.” That may have been the longest sentence you'd ever heard out of Lady Beneviento. Karl halted, obviously surprised as well. Donna's hands were clasped in front of her around Angie, her already-pale knuckles further whitened by the force of her grip, but her voice was steady when next she spoke. “Everyone, please take a short rest. We will return to work in half an hour.”

“Not you,” Karl growled when you attempted to slink off with the rest of the villagers. “You're staying where I can see you.” He then raised his voice to address Lady Beneviento once the villagers departed, “Why the hell did you call me? It's your damn village to manage.” The man griped, shoving his hands into his pockets as you sheepishly moved to stand beside him. 

Donna wavered, clutching at a nearby trellis for support. You stepped forward, instinctively looking around for something for her to sit down on, but Karl moved past you and took her arm. 

“Have you had anything to eat today? Drink?” He enquired gruffly, clicking his tongue when she shook her head. “Infuriating. It's hot and you're out here wrapped in black fabric. Did your gift eat your brain?”

“I am not so blessed as you.” Donna retorted dryly, gripping his arm. “It is difficult.”

“I'll go draw more water! Uh, can you…?” You held out the metal pail to Heisenberg, who flicked a hand at it and removed the fresh dents. “Thank you!”

…

“Your pet is so dutiful.” Donna remarked after Karl had settled her onto the tailgate of a nearby wagon. “They must be a great help.”

The lord gritted his teeth. “Don't call them that.” He couldn't read her expression beneath the veil, but he could certainly guess. “I'm not fucking Miranda, I don't keep these things around as pets.” 

“‘These things’,” Lady Beneviento chuckled, the noise as dry as parchment. “You still want to sound like her. Very well. Not a pet. What, then?”

He gave the frail woman an incredulous look. “None of your goddamn business, that's what. Since when do you care about my affairs? I feel like you've got much more important shit to consider.” 

“Indulge me.” 

“I'd sooner chop off my own dick,” was the man's uncouth retort. “You've got enough fires to put out, don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong.”

“So vulgar.” The veiled woman leaned back, Angie kicking her heels rhythmically against the tailgate as she did. “I was only curious.”

“Don't act like we're friends just because I agreed to rebuild your crap, woman. I'm not here to facilitate your entertainment. And neither are they, for that matter.” 

“Understood.” Lady Beneviento sighed, actually sounding disappointed. 

Karl bit his tongue, both literally and figuratively as he kept himself from chiding her anew on her childish behavior. “Where did the lycans come from? Which direction?” He eventually asked.

Donna indicated towards what was left of Moreau's reservoir. “It has been so dry recently. Have they run out of food?”

The large man offered no response, instead kneeling to examine one of the quickly-dissolving bodies. The creature's ribs were plainly visible, pressing against the thin, ashen skin in unhealthy juts. 

“What will I have to offer you for your continued assistance as we plow and plant?” Donna called, interrupting his amateur investigation. Karl grumbled to himself, dusting his knees off when he rose.

“Scarecrows.” He watched her head tilt upwards beneath her thick veil, the woman obviously confused. “You heard me. Build scarecrows. You do that and I'll make sure the rest of the lycans don't get your precious villagers.” Heisenberg paused, a wolfish grin creasing his face. “At least, not while they work in the fields. Deal?”

“More than fair, especially from you!” Angie chirped before Donna could answer. “Maybe you're not so bad.”

“Keep your inane observations to yourself, you little creepshow.”

…

The heavy pail banged against your leg with every step. You weren't certain how much water the Lady Beneviento could drink, but if her appetite was anything like her deceased sister's, you may need another bucket! 

Flagging down one of the other women on your way by the resting band of villagers, you requested that she bring some bread and fruit to Lady Beneviento. No doubt the sugar would help to raise her spirits somewhat. To your surprise, however, the woman quickly shook her head.

“I'm not going anywhere near that…man.” She said, her voice just loud enough for the rest of the laborers to hear. “That's Lord Heisenberg.”

You squinted at her, a little baffled. But then, you recalled you had been much the same before everything that had transpired. Her apprehension was incredibly understandable. “Oh, of course! Just bring it to me then, I can bring it to them.” 

“Are you certain? What if he…does something to you?” The woman asked fearfully.

“Don't you recognize them?” another woman scoffed from her place at the fenceline, giving you a disdainful look. “They were his handmaiden, of course they're not scared of him. They're the reason we're in this mess, if they had just-!”

“The bread and some fruit, please.” To your credit, your voice didn't shake as badly as you feared. The first woman skittered off towards one of the houses and you set the bucket on the ground to wait for her return, intent on ignoring the daggers you could feel being glared at you. The snide remarks were a bit more difficult to tune out, though.

“No wonder the lord showed up so quickly-”

“What have they been doing in that factory? Can't be anything good.”

“We're only in such a bad state because they refused to follow the orders of their betters!”

“Imagine willingly working for something like that! And with Lady Dimitrescu hardly cold in the ground-”

A covered basket was pressed into your arms, the woman giving you a sorrowful look. “Take care, little one.” She murmured softly.

“Naturally!” You replied with an air of extreme cheer, determined not to let the rest of the gossips know how their words had affected you. Hefting the bucket once more, you listed slightly to the side before adjusting to the combined weight. “Thank you for your hospitality!” 

Perfectly willing to accept my help when I'm smacking a lycan with a bucket, but bringing some provisions to their leader is a bridge too far, you groused uncharitably to yourself as you made your way back to the other edge of the field. Ridiculous. If Karl had wanted to do something bad, I doubt Lady Beneviento would be able to stop him.

You hoped the rest of the villagers would be able to observe the lord and lady interacting. Maybe they would be able to comprehend that Heisenberg wasn't…

Well, wasn't as much of a threat as they wanted to believe. You sighed heavily, then straightened back up and pasted on a smile. “Some refreshments, Lady Beneviento!” You announced upon your arrival, waiting respectfully until the woman shifted Angie aside so you could place the basket on the tailgate of the wagon. Karl took the bucket himself without a word, filling the ladle and then passing it to Donna so she could drink. In the meantime you unwrapped the basket, surprised to see a jar of pickled vegetables as well as your requested rolls and a small bowl of raspberries. 

“What will you sample first, my lady?” The way you slid back into your more formal manners felt like putting on an itchy sweater. It fit, certainly, it was your place, but that didn't make it comfortable or desirable. You hadn't realized how much more casual you were with Lord Heisenberg until this moment. 

“You're eating.” Heisenberg growled, interrupting the woman midway through shaking her head. “You'll do none of those idiots any good if you're dead. You need to be alive if you expect me to keep showing up to deter the lycans. Now eat.”

“Perhaps just a few pieces of carrot?” You bargained, using the provided fork to spear a sliced carrot from the jar of vegetables. “And this bread looks fresh! Hours old, if that. You and Miss Angie are bound to enjoy it, especially with these raspberries.”

“Ah…I suppose. Perhaps you are right.” Lady Beneviento murmured, gamely accepting the fork from you. “The carrots are very bright this year.”

“They are!” you agreed, stunned but delighted. Was this an actual conversation? 

Karl refilled the ladle, his expression unreadable as he waited for Beneviento to finish chewing the carrot. “Drink. Small bites.” He instructed her, and you heard a snort from beneath the veil.

“Such a doting brother.” 

“Do it, you ungrateful little shit.” Heisenberg snarled. “You want me to protect your sheep? Take care of yourself because after the planting is done, I'm not coming back to your flock.” His eyes wandered to you momentarily before he seemed to snap back to attention, continuing, “you've put enough people in danger today. You need to be able to handle it yourself the next time it comes to your doorstep.”

“There is no need to scold me like an unruly child, Lord Heisenberg.” 

Karl tensed up and you quickly replaced the ladle in his hand with an herbed piece of bread, knowing all too well his weakness for the soft rolls. “Please eat, my lord.” You insisted, your cheeks tingling with the effort of maintaining your pleasant smile. “I can assist Lady Beneviento, I imagine you have more important things to tend to. To er, ensure the safety of the villagers?” 

The man tore a bite out of the roll, sharp teeth easily ripping the bread apart. “Oh absolutely. You know me, I'm a real…humanitarian.” He doffed his hat lazily at the two of you, then turned on his heel and headed for the small rise of land bordering the fields.

“It is curious how familiar you are with dear Karl.” Lady Beneviento commented once she seemed to believe the man was out of earshot. You froze, panic gripping your throat. “You were his…handmaiden, correct?”

“Y-Yes, my lady.”

“How very strange.” After that, Lady Beneviento didn't say another word, the frail woman seeming, frankly, exhausted from the morning's excitement. The villagers returned to their toil soon after Karl took his position on the rise, the lord pacing back and forth aimlessly as the ground was broken and dirt was sifted. You returned to your labor as well, continuing to haul water or break apart the larger chunks of loam to be sifted, and you did your best to ignore the broadening gulf of distance between yourself, the rest of the village denizens and Lord Heisenberg.

Karl would occasionally pause in his pacing to lift whatever shrapnel was picked from the earth, the man clearly collecting it with the intent to form some new weapon. He had a relatively sizable stack by supper time, when all labor stopped in order for folk to prepare their evening meal. Wearily the group of you trudged off the field, and force of habit led your footsteps towards what was left of Castle Dimitrescu. You were only brought out of your reverie by Heisenberg's voice, nearly jumping out of your skin when he spoke up behind you, “going somewhere, sweetheart?”

“N-No, not at all!” You denied, once more out of habit, turning to face him. “I was just…I was lost in thought.” Karl nodded as though he accepted your explanation, his own brow furrowed. “What are you doing following me, anyway?!” You sputtered.

The man shrugged. “The lycans. You never know where they might come from next.” He then straightened up, lighting a cigar. He hadn't smoked the entire time he was on guard duty, you realized belatedly. Just paced, back and forth, back and forth-

“Thank you.” You blurted out before you could think it through, dissolving into a stammer when he gave you a look of confusion. Something about his eyes tied your tongue in knots, but eventually you managed to explain yourself. “Thank you f-for coming today. I know you don't really like Lady Beneviento, so I really appreciate you–”

“It's not that I don't like her,” Karl interjected, his expression darkening. “It's…it's more than that. Look, don't worry about it. We made a deal, and I'm going to honor my side of it. That's all there is to it.”

It's more than that. 

A thought came to you as Karl fell into step alongside you, of Lord Heisenberg and Lady Beneviento…you flinched, shaking your head to ward off that mental image even as your brain pragmatically reminded you well they're not actually siblings, there's no harm in it. Perhaps they had simply found solace in one another due to their unique upbringing, it didn't have to be more complex than that. It would explain a bit of the animosity Karl seemed to harbor for her, especially after his binding–

You had to keep yourself from slapping your forehead in annoyance at your own stupidity, of course that's why Karl was on less than good terms with her! From the looks of things she had been in no position to challenge the Lady Dimitrescu when it came to Heisenberg's imprisonment. Alcina had been…well, a bit of a brute, really. You couldn't imagine Donna defying her in any sense, least of all regarding someone who, in theory, was the only one who threatened Lady Dimitrescu's total dominion over the region. 

To think that your misplaced jealousy (and it was extremely misplaced, why on earth would you believe Lord Heisenberg even thought of you like that?!) had led to you immediately assuming to know the hearts and minds of two individuals who were absolutely your betters in every sense of the word. You were ashamed of yourself, feeling small and foolish in your insecurity.

You were a handmaiden, nothing more, and that was how things had to be.

…

Karl was either going to spontaneously combust out of boredom, or spontaneously combust out of having to watch you working in the fields. 

Oh sure, he didn't have to watch you work. But he did. Sometimes. 

Most of the time.

He'd rest his arm on the handle of his new hammer, rest his chin on that and just let his eyes drift where they wanted. At least you seemed oblivious to his stare, too intent on your chores to bother to remain aware of your surroundings. Good thing Karl was there to ward off anything dangerous that may have approached.

And he had absolutely had his hands full for the first few days. The lycans had tried every which way to get past him in order to attack the vulnerable villagers, but it always ended the same: dissolving bodies pushed off to the side, a few grudging thank-yous, maybe an extra bit of bread and cheese thrown his way during the communal lunch. You'd think he would get a bit more recognition; not a single villager had died yet on his watch. 

A distant yell roused him from his staring match with the area you had occupied, the man finding to his silent dismay that you had vanished while he wasn't paying attention. 

The shout had come from the direction of the well. Heisenberg straightened up and the other laborers in the field seemed to take notice, their work pausing while they watched him shift his posture. Heisenberg ignored them, one hand reaching out towards the well. He closed his eyes to aid his concentration, the range of his power dependant on his focus–

Lycans. Multiple, his attention leaping from one to the next. A filling here, a screw in the knee there, bodies lighting up with hotspots of metal that he could turn to his advantage even at this distance.

Wait. He had needed to fix you after Alcina, a screw in the knee, what if he'd left something behind–

Another scream, this time from the other end of the field. The lycans had split what few numbers they had left, attempting to pick off outliers before Karl could reach them. The man growled, irritated, then stripped two pieces of metal off his hammer and sent them spiraling across the field. He barely waited to see if they had hit their mark before he bolted towards the well.

Karl reached out again, mentally straining to find something-

There! Bullet, lodged in a ribcage. He doubted you'd ever been shot in your life, so he took the gamble and latched onto the piece of metal, slamming it upwards until it tore free of whatever body it had resided in. 

Heisenberg finally crested the hill before the square, taking in the sight beneath him momentarily before he sprinted forward. 

It wasn't you. It wasn't you. Where the hell were you?! It was some man from the village, some useless man who was doing his best to defend himself by dashing back and forth around the well. 

Heisenberg gritted his teeth and brought the hammer down on the head of one of the frail lycans, spotting another one already dead. That must have been the bullet bearer. The last lycan whirled, snarling and howling at his intrusion. Karl bared his teeth at the creature, seeing Moreau pandering and groveling to Miranda every time he looked at the piscean lord's creations. “What's the matter? Were you expecting someone else?” Heisenberg sneered, watching the beast quail in real time as it seemed to recognize him. “Donna isn't here, little mutt. But you're going to wish she was.”

…

You turned out the loaf from its pan, exhaling in relief when it held strong and didn't collapse. The crust was a little darker than you'd like, but it would be edible enough! People were always hungry at the noon meal, so you had taken it upon yourself to bake extra loaves of the herbed bread. You had the time for it, after all, since Heisenberg took care of most of the chores in his factory! All you had really needed to do was prepare the dough in advance and transport it in the morning, then briefly break away to put it in a borrowed oven so it would be fresh for the communal meal. A simple enough task.

You wiped your hands off on your apron, wrapping the loaves in a clean towel and then tucking them into a basket so you could tote them to the mishmash of tables that had been set up outdoors in the shade of the gnarled orchard. The weather had continued to hold, a blessing and a curse for the backbreaking work that needed to be accomplished, but after such a long time cooped up in Castle Dimitrescu, the sunlight was wonderful and you cherished every moment you could get. 

A commotion outside caught your attention and you headed for the door, your basket safely slung over your arm. Perhaps everyone had decided to take the break a little early? It was warmer than usual today, it would certainly make sense-

Karl was in the middle of the field, surrounded by the rest of the villagers. “-want them found now, nothing gets done until they're located!” He was shouting, gesturing down at two more lycan corpses. Your heart leaped into your throat, you hadn't even known there was an attack! Had someone gone missing in the confusion?

“Sir?” One of the men spoke up, visibly shrinking when Karl glared his way and then raising a hand to hesitantly point in your direction. Heisenberg glanced up, paused, and then began shoving his way through the crowd. 

You had a ludicrous thought for a moment of fleeing, but you dismissed it immediately. Lord Heisenberg would be on you in an instant. It would be better to just take your punishment on the chin, so to speak.

That might have been easier to accept if Karl didn't look so exceedingly angry. He had even gone a bit red in the face, the color unfamiliar compared to his usual pallor. He towered over you, the large hammer landing haft up in the dirt as he mutely reached for your shoulders. You couldn't help the shudder that ran through your body when he grabbed you, bracing yourself for some terrible beating. 

A moment passed. Then two. Your eyes welled up and you blinked rapidly at the ground. 

“Look at me.” His voice was deceptively even. You wavered uncertainly, then managed to shake your head. “Why not?”

“I am afraid.” You admitted. “I know I should be able to look at you, but you seem furious. I…I am afraid.”

“You're afraid?” Heisenberg barked that strange, coarse laugh and then embraced you. “I was terrified.” He confessed, low enough that only you would hear. “I…I couldn't find you. I thought-”

Your heart was hammering so loudly in your ears you could barely make out his words. Terrified. He had been afraid…for you? “I don't understand.” You whispered.

“I know.” Heisenberg muttered. Then, “neither do I.”

…

The fields were finally all in order three days later. Donna was hoping (perhaps futilely) to have a bumper crop of corn to carry the village through the winter. The mended tractor had sped up the process considerably, but it was still an immense undertaking to cut back the dead crops and overturn them in the fields that Beneviento did want to use. Obviously she didn't exactly have the manpower that the village had enjoyed during Lady Dimitrescu's tyrannical reign, so she had to make several hard decisions to ensure the survival of the people she did have.

Heisenberg didn't envy her. Of course, that was nothing new, but now he really didn't envy her. It was no small feat managing a village. Hell, he'd had his hands full with his Soldats, and they couldn't even talk back! He knew himself too well, knew he didn't have the patience or the restraint for it.

His eyes wandered to you at your comically oversized stove and he had to snort at himself. Maybe he did have patience and restraint, but only in very…specific scenarios. Speaking of which. “Is it done yet?” He called for the fifth time, your little laugh warming him down to his core. 

“Almost!” You answered, turning to give him a quick smile. “I'm sorry, I know you're hungry.” 

“You have no idea.” Karl muttered half to himself, watching the sway of your hips as you resumed your task. Starving. 

“Are you helping to restore the barn tomorrow? Those that can't are stuffing the scarecrows, so I'll probably be doing that. I'm not much one for lumber.”

Truthfully Karl had forgotten about that next chore. Now technically Donna hadn't asked for his help regarding that anyway, so technically he didn't have to. But the thought of you sitting alone amongst the rest of the villagers was…irritating.

He had heard what they said, he always heard what they said and they were hardly kinder now that his imprisonment had ended. If anything, much of their vitriol seemed to have found a new target in you. Where they wouldn't say anything to his face, they were more than willing to say terrible things to you. He had watched you grin and bear it, but it didn't exactly brighten his day to know that you were enduring bullshit because of him. Add to that the fact that you hadn't ever brought it up to him so that the two of you could do something about it…

It was noble, in an exasperating and unfamiliar way, that you wanted to take on his woes or even shield him from them. As if you cared about him.

You were just some silly human.

Several fresh flatbread on a cutting board landed in front of him, and you carefully placed down a trivet on the table before managing to haul over a heavy skillet full of several eggs cooked in a molten hot tomato sauce. “Please be careful, it's extremely hot,” you warned, but Karl was already midway through digging a large spoon (more of a shovel, really) into the delicious-smelling mixture. 

“Do you have time to eat?” He asked gruffly as you moved to return to the stove. “With me, I mean.”

You paused, giving him a surprised look before answering, “of course, if that is your wish.” Karl made a small motion with the spoon and you practically glowed, your smile was so brilliant. You rushed to pick up a small bowl and then you attempted to serve Karl, which the lord immediately brushed off. He instead placed a substantial amount of the tomato mixture into your bowl, topping it with one of the eggs like a garnish. 

How much did you even eat? He wasn't usually in the habit of watching you consume your meals, too busy with his work to bother. The man tore one of the flatbreads in half to share, unable to fight his smile when you shyly accepted your piece. “Enjoy.” 

…

You were hopelessly in love, despite your best intentions. Absolutely smitten, entirely entranced, mired in juvenile infatuation. You stuffed more leaves into the patchworked shirt that would eventually become the body of a scarecrow and you did your best not to let your eyes wander to where Lord Heisenberg was working on the barn. It was a futile effort, of course, but you really did try!

It wasn't exactly fair that he had abandoned his shirt hours ago, the other villagers laboring alongside him in a similar state of undress. He was just so incredibly strong, and so casual about his strength. Carrying beams of lumber with ease to shore up the collapsing roof, using his strange power to tighten otherwise unreachable bolts or to wrestle with problematic nails…you knew you ought to have been paying more attention to your own task, but you also knew you weren't the only one looking at Lord Heisenberg.

Indeed, several individuals around you who were also busying themselves cramming dried cornstalks into old pillowcases would occasionally pause, hands going still while they watched Karl do something particularly impressive. Something in your chest tightened when you noticed the amount of attention fixed on Lord Heisenberg, but Karl tilted his head at that moment and caught your gaze. The man smirked, throwing you a wink, and you frantically ducked your head to avoid further humiliation amidst the tittering laughter of your peers.

Honestly, you had shared breakfast with Lord Heisenberg, not any of these other individuals. You had been Chosen for him at first, but after everything was said and done, he had chosen you. Perhaps…perhaps it wasn't so bad to have a little pride in such things.

You dared to sneak another look and when Karl met your eyes again, you gave him a soft, fond smile before returning to your task. There was still work to be done, regardless of your own internal discourse, and certain things couldn't wait. 

…

Heisenberg sought you out at the noon meal, the man having taken note of the furtive glances you'd been shooting his way all damn morning. He had to admit, it was…flattering, but also oddly sweet. 

He posted up alongside you on the bench, a trencher of excessively-cooked fish balanced on his leg. You passed him a slice of bread with some pork drippings while apologizing for the lack of salt, but the man waved you off, gesturing down at the fish. “Help y'self,” he mumbled through his first bite, “watch f’ the li'l bones.”

“I suppose-” you began, tugging at the still-attached tail and then making a quiet noise of surprise when the spine snapped, dropping the rest of the backbone onto the plate. “Oh dear. Well, that makes it easier.” You delicately placed the tail off to the side. “The Lady only ever had us prepare red meat or poultry.” You said, half to yourself while you frowned doubtfully down at the remains of the fish. “I'm not quite…sure how to do this.”

Before he could think better of it, Karl picked up a piece of the fish and easily stripped several sections off the ribs, offering them to you wordlessly. You accepted with a grateful smile, placing your portion onto your own slice of bread and then taking a large bite. The man continued to prepare his own smaller portion, pretending not to notice the way you gulped water with every bite.

“It's a bit, er, dry.” You mumbled when Karl finally asked how you liked the fish. “I'm afraid I don't understand the appeal. Maybe some seasonings would improve the flavor?”

Karl cleared his throat, stifling a laugh. The fish was as dry as a bone; he was more impressed that it had stuck together this long instead of just evaporating outright. “You're drinking more water than the fish did.” He remarked, making you sputter. “Don't worry, it's edible. Whatever you don't want, I'll finish.” 

“I'm sorry, I don't mean to be ungrateful.” You apologized guiltily, ducking your head. 

“We'll eat good tonight.” Karl crunched a needle-like bone, feeling it pierce the side of his cheek. “Let the rabble burn their fish and gawk at their betters.” 

“Oh, you noticed.” Your voice had gone thin.

“‘Course I noticed. I'm not goddamn blind.” Heisenberg growled, “they're terrified of me but they'll stare like slack-jawed idiots as soon as I show some skin.” He turned to the side, leaning in just a little and lowering his voice. “You're the only one I want gawkin’ at me, sweetheart.” 

You stared up at him, gawking in every sense of the word. Karl could feel his smirk making a triumphant return and he dared to slip a finger beneath your chin, feeling the way your pulse beat wildly at his touch. 

“Don't get all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he teased, tapping his thumb against your lips and then pulling away once more. “We can discuss further, when we have some…privacy.”

You blinked hazily before jolting, your back going poker straight as you focused your attention pointedly on the remains of the fish. 

…

“It's not hard to notice the way you treat me.” 

Karl turned from his workbench to look at you, the lord obviously surprised by your words. Your whole body was trembling but you did your best to maintain some level of eye contact. You already knew he could sense your fear, but hopefully he wouldn't misinterpret your apprehension. 

What you truly feared was rejection, or even disposal after brief fascination. The Lady had been so changeable in her moods and while Karl hadn't displayed quite that same level of vacillation, he did have a temper which seemed to burn hot. You weren't sure if you would be able to endure being disposed of, being ignored for the rest of your days once the shine wore off. 

“You treat me differently than the rest of the villagers.” You did your best to gentle your tone. This wasn't an accusation, after all, but an observation. 

Karl stood. “You make it sound like I shouldn't!” He half-laughed, but there was no humor in his tone. “Why wouldn't I treat you differently? You're the only one worth a damn in this entire village. You're the only one who treated me like a person, it's only natural that I'd treat you right.”

“You're a lord, though.” You pointed out. “You shouldn't display favoritism.”

“Have I ever given you the impression that I care about what I should or shouldn't do?” Heisenberg asked incredulously. “I killed Alcina. You of all people can understand that's something that I technically shouldn't have done and yet here we are, sans one noble House Dimitrescu.”

You shook your head, wishing you could just get him to understand. “It's not like that, it's just that…I mean, the rest of the villagers, they…” You trailed off, frustrated. What would you even say? ‘They're being rude to me’? Oh surely, what a change in behavior. “They just treat me differently.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You were both startled by the speed and volume of your denial, Karl snorting in apparent disbelief at the outburst. You glared at the floor, making a futile attempt at hiding from the man. 

“Then what's the problem?” He asked brusquely, one ankle tucked behind the other as he leaned against his workbench. “I'm offering even more than what I've already done, and I don't want anything more in return. I'm offering what you know you want, sweetheart.”

“You know what I want, now?” You shot back, a little irritated at how easy everything seemed to be for him.

“Of course.” Karl replied with a cocky little tilt of his head. “You want me over you, or maybe under you. Behind you? Choices, choices.” 

Your dream from the other night raged to the forefront of your mind once more and you buried your face in your hands with a frustrated little scream. “I didn't want to be like this.” You mumbled through your fingers, oblivious to how stiff Karl's posture went at your confession. “It's not my place to be like this, surely someone else-”

“No one.” The lord said curtly. “Not a soul. They can look at me all they want, but it'll be you I'm coming back to every night.” His expression softened ever so slightly. “If you'll have me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. 

“If…if I agree to this,” you swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “If I agree to this, you have to promise me that you won't…I mean, that if you get bored of me or you grow tired of my company, you'll state it plainly. Don't lie to me to spare my feelings, just tell me outright. I couldn't bear continuing to…engage with you if you no longer found my company pleasant.”

“It won't come to that.” Karl stated firmly. “Promise me you'll do the same, though. If you decide you'd rather move on, let me know so I can send you off.” 

“I doubt it will happen!” You rushed to assure him, “but I will acquiesce, of course. Neither of us are obliged to stay if we are unhappy!”

“Good.” Heisenberg fidgeted for a moment. “Can we…” He made an odd gesture at your pallet, “discuss further?”

“What else is there to discuss?” You queried, genuinely confused. Karl rolled his eyes with a groan, scooping you up into his arms and carrying you to your pallet. “Lord Heisenberg, I-”

“Karl.” He breathed in your ear, his voice sending an entirely different shiver down your spine. “Call me Karl when we're alone.”

“O-Of course.” Lord Heisenberg looked down at you expectantly and you bit your lip, hesitant even now. “Karl.”

“Sweetheart,” he practically purred the endearment, the gentle tone of his voice and the adoration in his eyes leaving you breathless. 

“I will meet you however I can.” You offered, propping yourself up on your elbows beneath him. “I am, however, not overly experienced in these matters.”

“Do you want me inside you at some point tonight?” Karl asked bluntly, smirking when you sputtered. “Don't worry about your experience. Whatever you've had, I'll make you forget about it.” 

“Oh.” You wheezed, more than a little frazzled. “Surely it would be better for you if I knew what I was doing?”

Karl ran his tongue over his teeth in that odd, nervous gesture. “Not really. I don't want you to be self-conscious.” He murmured, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. The man began unbuttoning your shirt, shoving the fabric off to the side so he could kiss your collarbone. 

The feeling of his facial hair on your bare skin had you trembling beneath him, your hands feebly gripping his shoulders in an effort to ground yourself. Oh certainly, there had been juvenile fumblings under the stairs in the kitchen, but you had never engaged in anything so…all-encompassing. Karl seemed ready to undo you entirely, the man taking his time with every button and hook that he encountered. 

He finally untied your breast band, slipping the cloth out from beneath you with a soft rustle. “I'm going to put my mouth here,” Karl warned you, his expression serious. 

Unsure of where here was, you still nodded your head, crying out when Karl roughly laved his tongue over your right nipple. The man coaxed the bud into his mouth, humming while you bucked and squirmed under his ministrations. No one had ever-! 

His free hand sought out your other breast, fingers teasing and fondling you to stiffness as you whimpered and bit down on your knuckles in an effort to keep quiet. The man growled something against your skin and then his knee dug beneath your thigh, hooking your leg up over his own and pressing his pelvis to yours through the layers of clothing. His skin was so hot, and the way his intense eyes watched your every move as you reacted helplessly to him…it was all too much and not enough at the same time.

“Karl,” you half-sobbed, fingers fumbling at the open throat of his shirt. “Please, please Karl-”

“You don't even know what you want,” the man gently teased you, undoing the laces on your skirt and splaying the homespun weave open on either side of your hips, leaving you wholly exposed aside from your underthings. Karl shoved your legs up over his thighs, leaning his body forward to return to your breasts. As he did however, he rutted against your pelvis firmly, making you whine without intending to. You flushed hot, avoiding his eyes as he cautiously shifted his weight. “Mm, what's wrong sweetheart? You're so quiet all of a sudden,” the lord breathed, grinding his body down in an abrupt motion that startled another whine out of you. “Is this what you want, hmm?”

He didn't wait for whatever reply might have been forthcoming, the man busying himself at your breasts again. You arched your back, feeling his canines scrape your sensitive skin in a delicious tingle of sensation. “Karl-” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, slipping a hand into the band of your underwear and tugging them off, then unbuttoning the placket of his pants. “Look, look at me.” 

You managed to raise your head to stare down the length of your body at whatever he was trying to show you, your half-lidded eyes widening and the flush rising on your cheeks once more. Karl huffed out a breath, stroking his cock and pressing the heated skin against your wet cunt. You were so slippery that he ended up sliding over your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your clit with a harsh little bump that had you whimpering.

“Too much?” Karl asked through gritted teeth, forcing out a laugh when you vigorously shook your head. “Good, right? Feels good?” 

You could barely get a word out, your voice dissolving into a moan when he reached up to toy with one of your nipples again. “Yes, yes, please…” 

“Alright, I'll keep goin’.” Karl assured, using his hand to spread the lips of your cunt a little wider so he could slot himself against you more firmly. His low rumble when he rutted his cock between his hand and your cunt fanned the ache deep in your stomach, making your hips jolt up of their own accord. “Oh, easy, easy,” the man gasped, obviously startled. “I know you want more, sweetheart, but I don't want to hurt you.” He held up his hand and you realized dimly that it was trembling. “Inside, yeah?” 

You nodded wildly, propping yourself up on your elbows again in an effort to watch what he was about to do. Karl shot you a wink, making you let out a nervous giggle. The sound quickly turned into a gasp as he tapped his thumb to your clit and pressed his middle finger against your entrance, the rough pads of his digits rasping along your skin briefly. Then he breached your cunt, his finger experimentally stroking at your insides while his thumb rolled over your clit. 

“Say my name, sweetheart.” Karl instructed you softly. 

“Karl, I-” your voice cracked and broke when the man pressed his index finger into you, spreading you wider and making lewd, wet noises with your cunt. 

“I know,” he crooned, “I know sweetheart, you're already so wet for me but we need to make sure. Show me what you like.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassed. “I don't–I don't know.” You admitted softly, arching your back when he flicked over one of your nipples again. 

“Mmm, I think you do.” Karl growled, tormenting your nipple with firm strokes that he echoed on your clit, making you squirm and cry out. “How do you make yourself feel good?”

“I haven't!” you denied desperately. “I wasn't allowed, I-I–”

“No?” Karl interrupted you, raising an eyebrow. “You never found something that made you feel nice? Never took advantage of…oh, I dunno’, a certain angle, maybe a pillow?”

“Wasn't allowed.” You reiterated, practically babbling while his fingers curled and thrust into you. “Wasn't allowed wasn't allowed-”

“But did you?”

“No!” You sobbed, caught off-guard when he twisted his wrist and did–something with his fingers that made an explosion happen behind your eyes. Your whole body went tense and then a warm sensation flooded your groin, pulling a bone-deep groan out of you as you sank into the pallet once more.

“Coming so soon? Guess you were serious.” Karl sounded surprised, but also like he was talking to you from down a hallway. You whimpered instead of replying, making him laugh. 

His cock slid along your pussy again, sending a lance of heat into your belly. Your cunt was still riddled with aftershocks from whatever Karl had done to you, the man panting softly as he rolled his cock over your twitching entrance. Back and forth, back and forth, every motion inspiring that same heat to build in your stomach and causing you to moan in response. 

“Spread your legs, sweetheart.” He requested, clapping a hand to your shaking calf. “Let's get these nice and wide for me, loosen everything up so you're comfortable.” Broad palms kneaded at the insides of your thighs, the man helping to warm up the spasming muscles with careful strokes. His fingers were still wet from being inside you, leaving cool trails along your inner thigh when he moved his hand. “I…I can't promise this is going to be good at first.” Karl warned, his expression slightly pained. “We can stop now.”

“No, I want it. I–” you hesitated, still not certain of what exactly you were hoping for. “I want everything.” You finished instead, hoping you sounded firmer than you felt. “I can endure it.”

Karl chewed on his lower lip. “If it's too much, you'd better tell me.” His voice dropped into a lower, more grave register. “Understand, sweetheart?”

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yes, Karl.”

“Good.” 

…

It still took Heisenberg a few minutes to work up the courage to start. He justified the delay by continuing to work you over with his fingers, mentally warring with himself while you sighed and panted under him. 

He could stop. He wasn't an animal. He could be careful, and you had given your word that you would tell him if it was too much. 

It would be enough. It had to be. Damn it all, if he couldn't trust himself to manage this now, he never would. Karl grimaced, tucking his fingers beneath your chin to hold your gaze. “I'm going to start.” He said quietly, “it may be uncomfortable.”

“I understand.” So brave, always so brave, staring up at him with a hazy sort of determination that sent a hot rush down his spine. 

The lord barely refrained from nervously laughing, choosing instead to spread you wide and rest the head of his cock against your entrance. He didn't move for a moment, giving you the opportunity to say no, but in a surprising twist you wrapped your fingers around your own thighs, clumsily helping him to hold you open. 

Karl slowly, slowly pressed his dick into you, the man finding himself having to adjust multiple times in order to keep the motion relatively smooth. Gods, you were so soft and warm, it was incredible. If it wasn't for the guilt he felt welling up inside him, it would be perfect. But despite your natural lubrication and warmup this was still obviously a massive undertaking, your voice cracking when you exhaled a moan of what seemed to be discomfort as he bottomed out. “Oh, Karl, oh God–” you whimpered, fingernails digging into your own thighs. “Can I–can you hold still? I need-I need a minute t-to…”

“Of course.” Karl muttered before you could finish, settling you carefully into the cradle of his hips. “Let me know when you're ready.” He rested his thumb on your clit, the digit sweeping softly back and forth while you breathed deep and adjusted to his size. “Take as long as you need, sweetheart.” He continued, hanging his head when you inadvertently clenched down on his cock. “As long as you need, I can wait.” Truthfully, being inside you at all was undoing him, but he wasn't particularly concerned about his own stamina. He doubted you'd care either. 

Speaking of which, you tilted your hips upwards slightly and Karl watched your eyes fly open, the man biting back a smirk as you all but fucked yourself onto his cock for a breath. Heisenberg pressed a hand to your chest, easing you flat once more.

“I can take it from here, sweetheart.” He murmured, “do you mind if I finish inside you? Promise it won't do anythin’ but make a mess.” The cadou, the gift from Miranda, had given many things to him, but it had also taken much away. Humanity, normalcy, the promise of a simple life with someone else…

In response your heels dug into the small of his back, sheathing him impossibly deeper into you. “Please,” you begged, your eyes teary and cheeks wet. “Need you, need all of you.”

Heisenberg snarled, fucking down into you. He tugged your legs up off his hips, bending them at the knees and forcing you wide open, vulnerable for what he knew would be an insatiable event. “Take it then, sweetheart, take what's yours.” He crooned, certain deep down that he was being at least a little mean. After all, you were giving him this precious gift, the least he could do was behave himself. Easier said than done with your nails scraping tiny crescents between his shoulder blades though, easier said than done when your mouth was right next to his ear and you were sobbing his name while he fucked the sense out of you. Maybe you didn't mind him being a little less gentle? 

Karl pulled out and rutted against you for another moment, enjoying the way your clit pulsed when he tapped it with his cock and the way your body went tense with the pressure. Evidently you were wound even tighter than he was, despite your lack of experience. You cried out when he reached up and teased one of your nipples, your back bowing in response. 

“You close again? Want to come on my cock?” Karl asked, laughing outright when you nodded desperately. “Anything for you sweetheart. Hurt a little less?”

“It's not–it doesn't hurt, you just…” your fingers tangled in the sheets as you fidgeted, obviously trying to explain what it was that you felt. “You're so deep. It's not a…not a hurt, it's more of an ache.”

“Too deep?” The man queried, already considering what he needed to adjust posture-wise to keep you comfortable.

“No, I–” Karl felt the heated flush that spread across your skin, the man patiently waiting until you admitted, “I enjoy it, Karl. It's…I like it.”

“You like me deep inside you?” Heisenberg rolled his hips, sheathing his dick once more and thrusting hard enough to knock the breath out of you for a moment. “As deep as I can get?”

“Please-” you begged, “you fill me up so well–”

“Well I'm sure as hell going to,” Karl grunted. “I want to keep doing this forever, if you're amenable.” 

“I'd like that.” You smiled tearily up at him and Karl's breath hitched, hips stuttering as he lost his battle against the urge to spill into you.

“Sweetheart-” he gasped in your ear, the thunder of his own pulse nearly drowning out your whimpering. “Fuck, sweetheart, you're everything, you're all I want, you…I love you.” 

The man froze, realizing what he'd just blurted out (and the way your body had reacted to it). You tilted your head back, panting and moaning while your soaked little cunt throbbed around him and fucking hell–

Maybe it was alright. Maybe you hadn't heard him. 

“‘Love you too-” you managed to say, your voice weak and tremulous. 

Something inside Karl snapped (snapped more?) and the man buried his face in your neck, growling swears and entreaties in equal measure as he fucked you through your climax. Your answer was to wrap your arms around his neck and beg for more, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging until his scalp ached hotly. Karl wanted to scream, he wanted to fight something, but more than even those most primal urges, he just wanted to fuck you until you forgot your own name. 

A combination of your come and his own began to sluggishly drip from your cunt onto the sheets, clearly not helped by Karl’s relentless rhythm. The man absently slid a hand beneath the small of your back to adjust you and his fingers passed over the raised area of the multiple cursive Ds branded into your flesh. Again speaking before he thought, driven entirely by base instinct and possessive rage, the lord bared his teeth and seethed, “You are mine. Nobody else gets to touch you ever again.” Not Alcina, not fucking Moreau, never again.

“I'm y-yours, I'm yours Karl…” was your stilted, hiccuping reply, not that he'd even needed (or deserved) an answer. Heisenberg felt his expression soften, felt the fight-ready tension in his shoulders unwind, and the man placed apologetic kisses along your breasts and collarbone. You were so impossibly good to him, it was evident he would be repaying you for the rest of your time together.

“I dreamed about doing this.” The confession was soft, rasping in his dry throat. “Stuck in my cell, I-I'd think about it. You were so damn nice to me, I just…” Karl hesitated, well aware of your half-lidded stare boring a hole through him. “I wasn't used to humans being kind. Hell, anyone being kind. Guess I'm a little fucked up.” ‘A little’, fuck's sake.

“I would have let you.” 

Fuck's sake.

Karl closed his eyes, resting his forehead on your collarbone and exhaling raggedly. “I wouldn't have been good to you.” He admitted. “I was still too angry, too mean. I don't…it wouldn't have gone well. Trust me, it's better this way.”

You pressed your face into his neck, inhaling deeply and pressing kisses to the sweaty skin there. “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault, sweetheart. I was fucked up before you were born.” The man shook his head, rolling his shoulders absently. “Fucked up, stuck in the cycle of being bitter and hateful, helpless to do anything but wallow and further other people's ambitions…it really got to me.” He nudged his nose into your cheek teasingly. “And then you came along.”

“The Lady chose me for you, she said it was a great honor.” You rolled your eyes, huffing out a breath. “She didn't mention the part where I would be sacrificed at the solstice, of course.”

“Well yeah, you wouldn't have agreed to it otherwise,” Karl allowed, his smirk fading slightly. “But then you chose me. A hard road to walk, sweetheart, and I don't take it for granted. I…thank you. For–well, for everything.” 

You sniffled, burying your face in his neck once more. 

Karl hummed in contentment, continuing to fuck you at a leisurely pace. “What do you say–” he panted when you clenched down on him again, “we do something special for the winter solstice?”

You squinted up at him, your brow furrowed in confusion. Karl just pressed a kiss to your forehead and smiled his usual, self-satisfied grin.

…

“I'm not certain that I-” you paused, excusing yourself as you yawned broadly. Karl continued wrapping a patched scarf around your neck, patiently waiting for the rest of your question. “-understand what the whole point of this is, Karl.”

“Have some cider.” He insisted instead of answering you, pressing a warm, chipped mug into your hands. “It's almost time.”

You grumbled a little to yourself but obediently sipped on the mulled beverage while Karl banked the fire in the stove and put on his own coat. Several days before the winter solstice, the man had gone out and constructed a small shelter on the rise of land the Duke normally inhabited, and it was from this shelter that the two of you emerged into the frigid blue of dawn. The Duke, parked nearby in his cart as ever, offered a wave but no further commentary, for which you were immensely grateful. It was still a bit early to be cordial, nevermind carry on a full conversation.

The air was breathtakingly cold; you could feel the rush of wind whipping past your nose and biting at any exposed skin it could find. The hot cider was now a lifeline and you kept your mittened hands tightly wrapped around it, taking a more hearty sip.

“Not long now.” Karl murmured, embracing you from behind and resting his chin on the crown of your head. 

“Are you going to explain to me what the point of all of this is?” You grumbled, slouching back against him.

It was several minutes before Karl spoke again, the man seemingly content to sit in silence. “It's…I don't know, it's like the opposite of the binding ritual.” He fidgeted with your coat for a moment (well, it was one of his coats, but you'd sewed an extra thick lining into it to keep yourself warm), eventually tucking his hands into the pockets. 

You hummed, not overly certain you understood what he was getting at, but also no longer cold.

The sun slowly rose over the horizon, burning through the tall pines and setting the morning mist alight with prismatic eddies in its wake. You squinted against the brilliant beams, every inch of your body suddenly tingling. It felt a bit like waking up after a long, long sleep in an awkward position, disoriented and rumpled. Sometimes in Heisenberg's factory you could go days without seeing the outside world, so perhaps your reaction was to be expected. It was a beautiful sunrise, all things considered.

Karl sounded a little faint when he said, “I think…I think there might have been something to that old witch after all.” He shook himself bodily, as if he was a dog that had just been given an unwanted bath. “Granted, nothing she can do about me now. But it does feel sort of–mystical.” He muttered something you couldn't make out under his breath, then raised his voice again. “Shortest day, longest night, rebirth, blah blah blah. We'll have to have a huge bonfire tonight, I guess.”

“Oh?” You tilted your head back to look at him. “Why?”

“Burning away the old, in with the new.” Karl sucked in a deep breath. “I'm…I'm happy you're still here with me.” He said gruffly.

“I'm happy to be here.” You assured him, your voice soft. 

“...I haven't told Donna I'll be building a massive fire next to her shitty little village.” Heisenberg mentioned casually moments later, as though it had only just occurred to him. Judging from the incredibly smug grin on his face, however, that had been his plan from the start. 

With Karl animatedly explaining about the Wild Hunt and the connections between someone named Freyja and the winter ‘rebirth’ of the sun, the two of you set off into the woods to search for dead trees and other dry kindling, his hand in your own. His grin eventually softened into a genuine smile as he answered your questions, and you found yourself falling silent just to hear him expand upon what was clearly a favored subject to him. He had a strange light in his eyes, but not necessarily an unwelcome one. It seemed more like he was returning to life.

The arbiter that was the solstice appeared to have once more come to bear, the cycle beginning anew. You had broken the previous cycle of course, so you hadn't the faintest idea of what this new one could have in store for you, but you knew for a fact that whatever the future held, you and Lord Heisenberg would face it together. 

Karl, you thought privately, a content little smile on your face.

“Why are you starin’ at me like that?”

You started, realizing belatedly that yes, you had been staring at the large man currently giving you a sideways look. “I–you seem happy, that's all. And I'm glad that you are.”

Karl blew out a raspberry, the steam from his breath swirling into the air. “‘Course I am. You're here.” You started beaming and he groaned, rumpling your hair while teasing, “don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Just because I want to keep you around forever…”

A terrifying lord, a ferocious fighter, The Iron Horse…and lastly, your love.

[gothicbatgirl]

Aight so @mirainwonderland dared me to post this.

AN - I don’t remember or know how to make posts pretty.

Commitment, what a strange word…

It had been 3 weeks. 3 weeks of sharp silence that was only broken by the echos of tears and yells.

Moments played in her mind, over and over again, especially the last one. The moment where he walked out, slamming the door, ending it before more words could be exchanged.

It didn’t take a special agent to figure out what he did next. Bursting his way into DSO Headquarters and demanding to be put on the next available job. Didn’t matter if it was below his skill level or pay grade, it was work or alcohol. This, in his mind anyway, was the lesser of two evils.

She didn’t even dig, didn’t question anyone, didn’t try to find out exactly where he was. However, amongst the barrage of complex feelings, she still hoped he was being safe. That he’d come home, even if it wasn’t to her.

She worked too, only being trusted with paperwork since her partner, in more ways than one, took himself away, leaving her to be branded as some kind of ‘risk’. She felt it was a pathetic excuse, and she made that very clear to Hunnigan.

“My sanity doesn’t depend on him! I’m still a damn good agent!”

She stopped counting the days after the first week, not wanting to spiral, wanting to reject everything within her that fell into that cliche… of falling apart without him.

It was currently dusk, she was out for a walk after reluctantly finishing that weeks’ paperwork. Black chunky biker style boots, mercilessly trampled over the early turned autumn leaves. It was peaceful, the small forest area being a haven from everything she was trying not to feel.

Such peace didn’t last long.

Normally, feeling a hand grasp her leather clad arm, would result in the perpetrator being slapped or kicked, but she knew it was him.

Her chest tightened and before she even met his intense gaze held in those sapphire eyes, she could feel the dam of stubbornness she’d put in place, begin to crack.

A slightly shaky breath escaped her cool toned lips.

They just looked at one another for at least 20 seconds. Knowing that once words began to flow between them, the love that lingered, had the potential to be broken down.

She didn’t flinch away and as much as she wanted to avoid everything, especially as a tear rudely escaped, dragging messy eyeliner with it, she couldn’t. That wouldn’t be right, for either of them.

“I love you.” She began before carefully, yet firmly removing her arm from his grip, the leather of her black jacket, squeaking softly from the friction.

“But marriage, is not for me.” Her tone was firmer as she echoed the words that had been said through tears, only 3 weeks ago. She was thankful that she was able to remain composed this time, yet her eyes still conveyed that same level of emotion, if not more.

As she saw the weight of her words slap his weary face, she could feel more tears fighting to escape. She wanted so very badly, to give him that fairytale he desperately wanted but that would be a lie, and he deserved so much more than that.

“I’ve never wanted it… never wanted that white picket fence fantasy.” She continued as he leaned himself against the nearest tree and slowly dragged his hand down his face.

Internally, he was yelling at himself. How could he be so foolish as to think she’d change her stance? The most stubborn person he’s ever met. A woman who often enjoyed the rejection of societal standards. The woman he loved. More than anything.

He wasn’t exactly one for traditionalism. However, marriage and maybe even a family was the one tradition he wanted for himself. So much had been taken from him, was he not allowed, just this one thing?

“It’s … it’s not just about that fantasy… it’s -“ He began to speak, as if in some final desperate attempt to not lose her.

But she cut him off before he could continue, they’d already had this discussion, there was no point in more tears and distress.

“Commitment?” Her tone was rhetorical with an undercurrent of hurt at the very suggestion that just because she didn’t want to get married, she wasn’t utterly committed and devoted to him.

“Or the whole public declaration?” She continued, her words were sharp but not with malice or venomous intent. She simply was doing her best to tell him that this was it, she could sense it, from the moment he presented her with that stunning black opal ring held within a silver band. This was the ultimate deal breaker for him. She couldn’t even blame him, she just wasn’t a girl that wanted a fairytale. As much as that fact ripped her apart, it meant that she couldn’t possibly be his person. Not truly.

“We gave up on a public life years ago.”

This time, the conversation just hurt so much more. More than any bullet wound or chronic pain he’d suffered. This time she wasn’t crying, she wasn’t raising her voice. It was like she’d given up on them. He didn’t want that. He cursed that glimmer of hope that settled in when he left for that mission. That whisper of, ‘time apart will convince her’.

He had to face reality now, his one dream shattered. He knew she wasn’t keen on having a family, that he maybe could’ve done without. As long as he had her. His one light in the darkness of his life.

It was all so raw, he’d spent the past year having little daydreams of a wedding, of a home, of leaving the agency together. He spent so long, scouring small business for a ring that suited her. All for nothing.

Was it selfish? That he assumed she’d want the same? Or did this further prove that she wasn’t meant to be his, no matter how his heart screamed.

No more waking to the autumnal scent of her favourite perfume. No more flirtatious moments during a mission. No more falling apart in the dark safety of her arms.

He had to walk away.

[asordinaryppl]

A3! Homepage Lines - Sakuya’s Birthday (2025)

graphics and proofreading by myuntachis!

text version under the cut!

Spring Troupe

Sakuya: Nothing makes me happier than being able to think I’m glad I was born. Thank you so much.

Masumi: It was easy to do the sword fight with you in the RomiJuli sequel. …! Don’t hug me just because I complimented you!

Tsuzuru: Happy birthday. You really reminded us how much you’ve grown in the RomiJuli sequel. I gotta do my best, too.

Itaru: I passed by a flower shop that was selling cherry blossom bouquets, so I bought one for Sakuya. I thought it’d suit him.

Citron: We have entered the Sengoku era’s rivalry of local craw craws of acting! But with Sakuya on our side, we have nothing to fear!

Chikage: Here, Sakuya, sit in the passenger seat. We’ll go wherever you want today, whether that’s in the country or abroad. You name it.

Summer Troupe

Tenma: It feels like we’re always pushing each other forward when it really matters. I want to continue on like this in the future.

Yuki: I’m going to make omurice and draw on it with ketchup for you today, so look forward to it.

Muku: Use bamboo skewers to make the flower shape… The cherry blossom nerikiri is ready! I’ll bring some tea too and go celebrate.

Misumi: Sakuya, happy birthday! I found alcohol that smells like cherry blossoms, so let’s celebrate your birthday with it!

Kazunari: I found some extra origami paper in the warehouse, so I used it to make cherry blossom petals! I’ll toss ‘em up around SakuSaku to celebrate his BDay☆

Kumon: That chuunibyou etude was SO much fun! We should do something where we’re evil eye-type chuuni twins next time.

Autumn Troupe

Banri: Happy b-day, Sakuya. Let’s go thriftin’ for clothes again soon. I’ll pay for everything, ‘course, so buy whatever ya like.

Juza: I think it’s amazing how you’re jugglin’ acting and your part-time job. But you don’t hafta overwork yourself.

Taichi: Sakkun, happy b’day! It’s been a while, but d’you wanna go skateboarding again? I found a good place~

Omi: I tried making an amigurumi. It’s that grey cat… Yes, Blue. I hope it looks like him…

Sakyo: Sakuma, happy birthday. You were pretty cool in the RomiJuli sequel. You’ve made unbelievable progress since your debut.

Azami: Happy birthday, Sakuya-san. I tried makin’ napolitan. I added some veggies that are good for your skin, but I promise it tastes great.

Winter Troupe

Tsumugi: I love your acting, Sakuya-kun. It shows your genuine feelings for theater. Let’s act together again soon.

Tasuku: Sakuma, happy birthday. Hard to believe we can go drinking together… We’ve spent a lot of years together, huh.

Hisoka: I feel a bit more awake when I’m with you, Sakuya. Thanks for always giving me energy.

Homare: Is this rabbit tea bag not simply the cutest thing you’ve ever seen? I am thinking of gifting it to Sakuya-kun as a birthday present, see.

Azuma: I might get scolded if I make you drink too much, but I bought us some alcohol. You’re all grown up now.

Guy: Sakuma, happy birthday. Would you like to try something other than your usual drink to commemorate becoming an adult?

NOTES:

(1) citron's mistake is the same he makes in the main story, where he uses コケコッコー (kokekokko, cock-a-doodle-doo) instead of the 割拠 (kakkyo) in 群雄割拠 (gunyuu-kakkyo, rivalry of local warlords)

(2) the evil eye-type kumon mentions is one of the three chuunibyou types as categorized in saegami hyouya's chuunibyou user manual; they're the portrayal of chuunibyou most people think of when they see the word, where the person thinks they have magic powers and a cursed eye or arm that they often cover and twitches in supposed pain (eg owain from fire emblem awakening claiming his sword arm is twitching); they also often come up with aliases for themselves (eg okabe from steins gate calling himself hououin kyoma)

[tenthousandyearsx]

The truth of the matter was, whether a person did good or committed evil was rarely ever a feature of their inherent nature. Each person was like a plot of farmland: some were lucky, and their fields were sowed with grain which, come autumn, would bear an abundant harvest, paddies awash with the gentle fragrance of rice, fields of wheat rolling in the wind like waves. Looking out on the land, one would find it to be good and praiseworthy. But others were not so lucky. Their fields were planted with poppy seeds, and the spring breeze brought only the miasma of intoxicated sin and euphoric decadence, filling the skies and blanketing the land with that vile, bloody red and gold. The people abhorred it, cursed it, and feared it even as they indulged in its blissful stupor, rotting away before its filthy stench. In the end, the righteous and upstanding would gather to set fire to the field, and as the twisting smoke rose into the sky, they would say, Oh, he was a breeding ground of sin, he was a demonic fiend, he was vicious and ruthless, he had no conscience, he deserved it. All while he convulsed in the blaze, crying out in pain as the poppies shriveled into a charred, muddy morass. But this person had once been a plot of good farmland too. He had once wanted nothing more than water and sunlight. Who was it who had planted that first seed of darkness, who sowed the disaster that grew out of control? That plot of land, once temperate and lush, went up in flames and sank into ash. Laid fallow.

– The Husky and His White Cat Shizun, Volume 4