#handling cold colours is harder for me

[urmum-lovesme]

May I request dad rafe? Surprising wife reader w a cake the (tried to) bake for her birthday?

anon this is so adorable stop I love the way your brain works😭

The house was filled with the vibrant scent of fresh flowers and colourful balloons floated cheerfully around the living room. Sarah had gone all out, making sure the place was filled with decorations to celebrate Y/N’s birthday. She had even topped off the presents Y/N received with a few extra touches, leaving Rafe to handle the rest of the surprise. Rafe was in the kitchen, a slight frown on his face as he flipped through one of his mom's old cookbooks. Baby Cameron, now six months old, was strapped into her high chair squealing in excitement as her daddy flipped through the pages. “Alright, let’s see,” Rafe muttered, reading the instructions aloud,

“Flour, eggs, sugar… how hard can it be, right?”

Baby Cameron responded with an enthusiastic squeal, as if agreeing with her dad. Rafe looked at her, his lips curling into a grin,

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.”

He leaned over and gently lifted her out of the high chair, carefully sliding her into the baby carrier. Rafe murmured, adjusting the carrier straps and gently bouncing her.

“Time to show your mom how much I appreciate her”

Though Rafe had never baked a cake before in his life, he was determined to get it right for Y/N. She had been running around, balancing everything with the baby, and he wanted to do something nice for her- something simple but meaningful. As the warmth of the kitchen surrounded them, Rafe set the cookbook down on the counter, glancing down at his baby girl as she cooed, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Alright, you gonna help me?"

He asked, giving her a playful smile. She let out a squeal in response, as if saying ‘yes'. Rafe stood at the counter, holding the cookbook open with one hand and stirring the batter with the other. Baby Cameron, nestled in her carrier, was happily watching from his chest.

“This isn’t so bad, hmm?”

He murmured, a smile creeping onto his face as he stirred the ingredients together. “I mean, I thought it would be harder..”

The girl gurgled happily, her little hands swiping at the air as if agreeing with him. Rafe chuckled. He measured out the flour, cracking eggs into the bowl with precision. It was going so smoothly that he started to get cocky.

“Look at this baby girl, I’m a pro,”

He grinned, adding sugar with the same confidence. But just as he finished stirring, his foot bumped the edge of the counter, sending a stray bottle of vanilla extract tumbling off. It hit the floor with a soft thud.

“Shit”

Rafe muttered under his breath. He bent down to grab the bottle, careful not to knock anything else over. Meanwhile, watching her dad closely, the little girl let out a high-pitched squeal, her excitement increasing with every movement he made. Rafe, feeling a bit more at ease now that he picked up his mess, reached for the rubber spatula and handed it to the baby, who immediately grabbed it with both hands, her eyes lighting up with joy.

“Look at you,” he chuckled, “my little chef hmm princess?”

Baby Cameron’s response was to shove the spatula straight into her mouth, chewing on the silicone with delight, baby spit soon covering the pink heart shaped utensil.

“Uh- probably shouldn’t be doing that...”

Rafe said, his eyebrows furrowing. He gently pulled the spatula out of her mouth, placing it back down onto the counter. The baby girl's face immediately fell. Her bottom lip quivered as she gave him a pout that could melt anyone’s heart. Her upset whimpers started to fill the air between them causing Rafe to panic slightly,

“Oh shit-” he spoke realising his mistake, “I’m sorry, baby.”

She looked up at him with big, watery eyes, her little fists clenching in distress. He hesitated for a moment, gaze flickering back down to the spatula laying on the cold granite before sighing.

“Okay, okay, you win. Here-”

He gave her the spatula back to which she immediately waved it in the air in triumph, her giggles echoing around the kitchen. Rafe grinned and his daughter's delight mumbling to himself,

“Look at that”

But in her excitement she flailed her arms around enthusiastically and the spatula went flying- right into his face.

“OUCH!”

Rafe yelped, recoiling slightly, hand coming upon to touch his nose where she'd hit him on accident. . . well he hoped it was on accident.

“Probably deserved that,”

He muttered, rubbing his nose to which the baby laughed in response to, clearly pleased with herself. Rafe turned back to the counter, whisking the wet ingredients together whilst baby Cameron continued to giggle in the carrier. What he didn’t notice was her tiny hand sneaking out and grabbing a handful of flour. Before he could react, she flung it- spreading a puff of flour all over the counter, and the floor beneath her. In an erratic panic to stop the mess, Rafe jerked back, accidentally knocking over the flour bag, and sending it crashing onto the floor, spilling flour everywhere.

The kitchen went quiet for a moment as both of them stared at the disaster.

“Oh, Jesus”

Rafe muttered under his breath, slowly bending down to scoop up the flour with his hands. She let out a little giggle, watching him struggle. Her tiny hands reached out to play with the flour, but it only made the mess worse. With a sigh, Rafe shoved the flour bag back onto the counter, but in the process, another puff of flour flew up into the air, drifting down right into the little girl's hair.

Rafe blinked, staring down at his daughter, who now had a little flour dusted on her head.

“Oh no-”

Before he could react further, her tiny face scrunched up, her nose twitching as she let out the tiniest little sneeze. Her whole body jolted slightly with the force of it, her big eyes widening in surprise afterward. Rafe felt his chest squeeze at how unbelievably cute it was. His tough, 'Kook King' persona had no chance against his girl.

“Bless you, baby,”

He chuckled, reaching out to wipe some of the flour off her forehead. Still blinking in surprise, she let out a happy little babble in response, and Rafe could only shake his head, pressing a kiss to the top of her flour-dusted head. “Jesus, you’re killing me here,” he muttered.

“We’ll clean you up later, baby girl.”

Rafe carefully poured the batter into the pan, and kept one hand steady on the bowl while glancing down to check on the baby still firmly strapped to his chest. She was still happily chewing on the rubber spatula, completely entertained by it, her little fingers gripping it like it was the most precious thing in the world. He smirked, shaking his head.

“You’re really into that aren't you”

Pouring the last bit of batter into the pan, he suddenly felt a tiny flick of something against his arm. A second later, a little drop of batter splattered onto her cheek. She startled for a moment, before breaking out into wild giggles, waving the spatula in the air like it was part of the fun.

“Oh—sorry sweetheart”

Rafe chuckled, setting the bowl down and wiping his hands on a towel. Still laughing at her dad, he unstrapped her from the baby carrier, lifting her carefully before settling her back into her highchair. Her chubby little legs kicked excitedly as he grabbed a clean kitchen towel and gently wiped the batter off her cheek.

“Daddy’s so silly huh?”

He murmured, shaking his head at himself. She just stared up at him, wide-eyed and absolutely smitten, her gummy little smile melting him on the spot.

Rafe now stood at the counter, hands on his hips, staring at the cake like it had personally offended him. It had been baked- probably over baked- and he'd just finished cutting it.

The layers were… not even.

Not even close.

One side was thicker than the other, and the middle looked slightly lopsided, like it was barely holding itself together. He’d tried to cut it evenly, really, but his hand had slipped. And now it was just sitting there, looking a little. . . sad.

Baby Cameron, still strapped into her high chair, stared at the cake just as skeptically. Rafe sighed, glancing at her. “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“My hand slipped.”

She just blinked at him, completely unimpressed. He rolled his eyes and grabbed the piping bag full of pink buttercream, ready to fix the disaster in front of him. But the second he picked it up, the icing started squeezing out of the wrong end, smearing over his fingers and onto the counter.

“Are you kidding me?”

He mumbled under his breath, trying to scoop it back into the bag, but it was useless. The more he tried, the worse it got.

“This shit is so stupid.”

Eventually, he managed to get the buttercream onto the cake, smoothing it over with a spatula. But no matter how much he tried to make it look clean, there were crumbs everywhere, mixed into the icing, and the colour wasn’t even right— splotchy in some places, too thin in others. By the time he stepped back, the cake looked… well.

Like a cake?

Rafe sighed, running a hand over his face, smearing a streak of pink icing onto his jaw. Defeatedly, he dragged his palm over his buzzed hair. He turned the cake towards his daughter, gesturing to the cake like he was presenting something grand.

“So… what do you think?”

She smiled up at him, completely unaware of the chaos, her little feet kicking under the tray of her high chair. Rafe huffed, shaking his head.

“Good enough”

With the cake iced- badly but iced- Rafe strapped baby Cameron back into the carrier against his chest, securing her snugly before turning back to the mess of frosting and butter smeared across the counter. He exhaled through his nose, deciding to ignore it for now. Instead, he grabbed a small bottle of sprinkles, the tiny multicoloured sugar rattling inside. He shook the bottle lightly, glancing down at Cameron.

“Alright, baby girl, you gonna finish the cake for Mommy?”

She squealed, waving her little hands, clearly delighted by the attention. Rafe unscrewed the cap just a little, just enough for a few to come out, and then handed it to her.

“Here, like this-”

He said, demonstrating a gentle shake over the cake. A few sprinkles tumbled out, landing haphazardly across the icing. She giggled, her tiny fingers clutching the bottle as she eagerly mimicked him. Sprinkles rained down onto the cake, dotting it with bright pops of color. Rafe grinned, watching her delight in her little task but then, in her excitement, she shook it too hard.

The lid popped off.

All at once, the entire bottle of sprinkles dumped onto the cake, forming a heap of colorful sugar right in the middle.

“Oh, shit-”

Rafe muttered, eyes widening. She froze for a second, staring at the cake. Then she let out a loud, gleeful belly laugh, kicking her legs against his stomach. Rafe sighed, shaking his head, but there was no real frustration behind it, how could he possibly be mad at her?

“Great job princess”

He muttered, leaning forward slightly to pick the lid off the cake.

And that’s when disaster struck.

Baby Cameron's tiny hand, still chubby with baby fat, plunged straight into the icing causing Rafe to jolt back at the sudden, unexpected action.

“NO—!”

It was too late.

Now, right next to the mountain of sprinkles, was a perfect little baby handprint smushed into the buttercream. He looked at the cake in utter disbelief. Then down at the little girl strapped to his chest. Then back at the cake.

“Well…” he exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face as he scratched his cheek,

“Could be worse.”

The baby, now waving her icing-covered hand in the air, babbled happily. Before she could get it everywhere, Rafe caught her hand, shaking his head. He wiped a little of the pink icing onto his finger, holding it up for her to taste. She eagerly sucked on his finger, blinking up at him with wide eyes, kicking again in delight at the sugary treat. Rafe huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he playfully licked the last bit of icing off her pinky.

“You’re so naughty, you know that?”

She just giggled, pure joy lighting up her tiny face. The front door creaked open, and Y/N’s voice rang through the house.

“Guys, I’m home!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in pure panic.

The kitchen was an absolute disaster. Flour dusted nearly every surface, there was butter smeared on the counter, a rogue spatula sat abandoned in the sink, and- most importantly- the cake was a lopsided, sprinkle-covered mess with an obvious baby handprint in the frosting.

“Shit, shit, shit,”

He muttered under his breath, moving into overdrive. With one arm, he fumbled through the drawer, yanking out a candle- was it the right kind? Who cares. He jammed it into the center of the cake, grabbing the lighter. As he flicked it on, he barely noticed his daughter, still strapped snugly to his chest, managing to get a hold of the spatula again. From the hallway, Y/N’s footsteps grew louder.

“Where are you guys?”

Rafe scrambled, lighting the candle, tossing the lighter aside, and grabbing the cake. He walked around the counter so he’d be the first thing she saw when she entered.

“Surprise!”

He said quickly, forcing a grin. Y/N appeared in the doorway, her eyes immediately landing on him- and then dropping to the cake in his hands. Her lips parted slightly, taking in the uneven layers, the heaps of sprinkles, and the little baby-sized handprint pressed into the frosting. And then she noticed her daughter, wide-eyed and happy, holding the spatula up like a trophy. Rafe glanced down and did a double take, his face twisting in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” he started, looking between his daughter and the spatula in confusion.

“How do you keep getting that?”

She just squealed, waving it around proudly. Y/n's lips twitched before a giggle bubbled out, and then she was laughing, full and bright, doubling over slightly as she clutched her stomach. Rafe huffed, shaking his head.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“I—I’m sorry,” she gasped between giggles.

“It’s just���what happened in here?”

Rafe glanced at the kitchen like he was just now registering the full extent of the mess. “Uh… well, happy birthday baby.” He flashed her his best charming smile, motioning to the cake.

“Made this by myself- with a little help.”

Y/N stepped closer, still grinning, eyeing the chaotic decorations. “Oh, I can tell.” She pointed at the baby handprint.

“I take it this was our baby girls contribution?”

“Yeah, she really put the final touches on it.”

At the sound of her nickname, their daughter kicked her little legs excitedly and beamed up at Y/N, still clinging to the spatula like her life depended on it. Y/N’s heart melted as she reached out to gently cup her daughter's chubby cheek.

“Did you help Daddy make me a cake, baby?”

In response to her mother's words, she let out a string of happy babbles, waving her arms- spatula included. Y/N gasped playfully.

“Oh, you did? You worked very hard, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, too hard,”

Rafe grumbled, watching as the baby joyfully wiggle her arms around, resulting in her smacking his chest lightly with the spatula. He shot Y/N a look.

“She’s dangerous with that thing.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head before looking at the cake again. It was far from perfect- wonky layers, uneven frosting, and enough sprinkles to last a lifetime- but the fact that they had made it for her?

It was the best birthday cake she’d ever seen.

“This is the sweetest thing ever.”

She met Rafe’s gaze, warmth blooming in her chest. He smirked, shifting the cake slightly in his hands.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“I love it”

She said sincerely, reaching up to wipe a smudge of pink icing from his jaw with her thumb bringing it to her mouth, humming slightly at the sweet taste of the sugary cream.

“Mess and all.”

“Good, ‘cause we nearly destroyed the kitchen making it.”

Rafe gave her a lopsided grin. Her eye's drifted around to look at the kitchen, she didn't even want to think about how long this was going to take to clean up. Y/N giggled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back just slightly.

“Thank you baby”

“Anything for you, birthday girl.”

His smirk softened, his free hand settling on her waist. Rafe finally set the cake down onto the counter island, rubbing a hand over his buzzed hair with a sigh. Y/N stepped in closer, standing right beside him, and before she could say anything, he dipped his head down, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips once more. She hummed into him, her fingers grazing the side of his neck as she smiled.

“You taste sweet.”

They both chuckled, their foreheads nearly touching before a happy babble from the little girl made Y/N pull back, turning to their daughter. She reached out to smooth a hand over the soft baby hairs on her head- pausing when she noticed the light dusting of flour clinging to them. She raised an eyebrow at Rafe.

“And this?”

“Yeah, uh… I was getting to cleaning that.”

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck. Y/N shook her head fondly before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to Cameron’s chubby cheek.

“Thanks for the present, sweet girl,” she cooed. Rafe exhaled beside her, running a hand over his jaw.

“Sorry… I thought it’d turn out a little better.”

Y/N frowned at him before shaking her head, cupping his face in both hands as she kissed him again- soft and sweet.

“It’s perfect, baby, I wouldn't want anything else.”

Rafe gave her a small, boyish grin, but before he could say anything else-

SMACK.

The spatula struck him right in the face again, and he groaned, closing his eyes as the little girl waved her prize around like a trophy. Y/N let out a giggle, biting her lip at their daughter unexpected attack, yet Rafe's reaction told her this wasn't a first.

“And we spend so much money on toys for her.”

Y/N laughed, as he slipped an arm around her waist, both watching their daughter babble happily, completely unaware of the chaos she had caused. Rafe shook his head, eyeing the baby skeptically.

“Next baby we have, we’ll let them loose in the kitchen.”

I love their little family so much Dad!Rafe is such a softie for his girls 😊

[issysh3ll]

i'm on my period rn and i just ran out of pads 😭 could you pretty please write what Phases Matt would do to help me?

Yes of course!

Summary: Matt helping you when you run out of pads Warnings: mentions of blood (period), fluff Phases series -> here | Phases asks/requests -> here

You've been sitting here for so long your hips are starting to feel stiff. The cold porcelain of the toilet seat has warmed under your thighs and the tiles under your feet are the same. Your underwear discarded on the ground stares up at you, very obviously missing something.

A soft knock on the door sounds through the bathroom followed by Matt's voice on the other side, "you've been in there a while... everything okay, sweetheart?"

When you don't respond, Matt knocks again a little harder. You knew this would happen eventually, he was waiting for you in the kitchen while you went to the bathroom. But a quick toilet trip turned into a big problem very quickly and now your boyfriend has been patiently waiting for over 5 minutes. After a long pause, you finally call back

"I'm fine I just—" you trail off. This wasn't how the day was supposed to go. You were going to have a good day, you were excited about your little day out with Matt but excitement faded as soon as you looked down and saw the blood dripping out of you into the toilet, staining the water a bright red colour. You let out a breath and start again, "I'm fine. I just got my period."

"oh." There's another long pause and you think he's left but then you hear the door handle rattling and his voice cuts through again. "Do you need me to get you something?"

You glance around the room, you'd already searched through the cabinet to your left for pads and come up empty. One more scan of the room tell you you're going to have to let Matt help you. "Um, yeah. I don't have any pads. Can you go buy some for me?"

"Of course, i'll be back in 20 minutes." he calls back. You hear some shuffling and then the sound of the front door closing. Sitting on the toilet, free bleeding for 20 minutes is really not your idea of fun so you pull out your phone.

About 10 minutes into mindlessly scrolling, a text pops up from Matt.

Laughing, you return to your distractions while you wait for Matt to return. After another 10 minutes, the door handle rattles again.

"I'm back. Open up."

You pull yourself up off the toilet stiffly and awkwardly shuffle to the bathroom door. Your knees are turned in and bent slightly, trying to stop the blood from dripping onto the floor. Flicking the lock undone, you twist the handle and Matt pushes into the room holding several colourful packs of pads.

"I got options." he declares, a proud grin on his face as you sit back on the toilet again and reach for the blue pack in his hand. Once the pad is safely stuck on your underwear and resting against your body, you push up from the toilet and smile at your boyfriend.

"Thanks, baby."

"Anytime, princess."

Phases series -> here Phases asks/requests -> here

[cosycryptid]

Cold, Shiny, Hard Plastic - Part 4

Steve and Eddie share their first detention. Read on A03 [here] Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Steve stays silent as Robin slides into the passenger seat. His eyes are fixed across the parking lot, watching Eddie Munson climb into a beaten-up van.

At first, when Eddie had given him a chance to win him over, Steve had felt elated—maybe even a little smug. He was confident in his ability to charm people, after all, and he’d been sure Eddie would be no exception. But now, doubt was creeping in. This didn’t feel like a game or some lighthearted banter. He genuinely wanted to be Eddie’s friend. And for some reason, he had a gut feeling that his usual approach wouldn’t cut it.

“Stare any harder and you might set him on fire with your mind,” Robin says, breaking the silence.

Steve doesn’t respond. He just keeps watching until the van rumbles to life and pulls out of its spot.

“A penny for your thoughts?” she tries again.

Steve taps his fingers against the steering wheel, then lets out a troubled sigh. “How do I prove to someone I’m not a complete asshole anymore—in two weeks?”

“Don’t be yourself,” Robin deadpans.

Steve shoots her a look—equal parts frustration and betrayal.

“I don’t know,” she continues, shrugging. “Ask him about himself. Take an interest in his interests. Or bake him a giant cake with ‘Sorry I was a humongous asshole’ written on top in three different colours of icing.”

“Thanks, Rob,” Steve scoffs. “Maybe I’ll open an apology bakery. Hand out cakes to everyone I’ve ever personally victimised.”

“Is there enough flour and icing in the world for that?” Robin teases, laughing at the wounded look on his face. “Okay, okay—maybe that was too far.”

Steve flips her off with a sigh, then starts the engine.

The next afternoon, Robin is doubled over with laughter as Steve pulls a Tupperware container out of his locker. It’s full of cookies, each one iced with a single word in neat, looping black and red script. Lined up, they spell: “sorry for being an asshole.” The last cookie, added just to make the number even, is decorated with tiny bats—like the tattoo Steve had noticed on Eddie’s arm.

“I can’t believe you actually baked something,” Robin says, wiping a tear from her eye. “Please tell me you took pictures of this. We need scientific proof that guys will do literally anything except talk about their feelings.”

“I was stressed, okay?” Steve hisses. “I stress-baked. And then I figured, why not do something with it? At least it’s not a cake like you suggested.”

“Right, because a container full of perfectly decorated cookies is totally normal, but a cake? That would be too much,” Robin says, deadpan. “Honestly, the worst part is no one’s going to believe me when I tell them Steve Harrington bakes under pressure.”

“I don’t usually,” Steve mutters. “You put the idea in my head.”

“You can’t lie to me, Steve,” Robin says, narrowing her eyes. “I bet you had a little apron with your initials on it and everything.”

Steve doesn’t respond—because unfortunately, he did have something like that. When he was six, his nanny gave him a tiny apron with his initials embroidered on the chest. She’d been teaching him to bake. His mom had called it adorable. His dad had just frowned, waiting for the day Steve would outgrow it so he could throw it away.

“Oh my gosh, you did!” Robin crows. “This is the best day of my life.”

“I was six, Rob. I don’t have it anymore.”

Robin is still giggling as Steve carefully places the container into a gift bag he picked up from the store, handling it like it might explode.

“I mean, it’s actually kind of impressive,” she says, peeking into the bag. “They look really good. You even kept the icing from bleeding. That’s, like, expert level.” She glances from the cookies to Steve, then back again. “Wait—where’s mine? Why didn’t I get anything from the Harrington Apology Bakery? Is this because I’m a lesbian? Wow, Steve. Discrimination and emotional neglect?”

Steve glares at her. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to help,” she replies cheerfully. “I’m preparing myself for the moment you hand this to Eddie Munson and he either laughs in your face, throws the box at your head, or proposes on the spot because you’ve proven you’d make a great house husband.”

Steve groans, staring down at the gift bag like it’s suddenly a terrible idea. “He’s going to think I’m making fun of him, isn’t he?”

Robin’s grin softens. “Maybe. But if he does, you’ll explain. You’ll tell him it’s sincere. And if he still doesn’t believe you, at least you tried.”

Steve sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I care so much.”

“Because you’re not plastic anymore, remember?” Robin shrugs. “Or maybe you are, but now you’re using your powers for good.”

“Something like that,” Steve mumbles. He looks at her, then down at the bag again. “I just hope he sees that too.”

“Hey,” Robin nudges him gently as they head toward the entrance. “It’s going to be fine. And if it’s not, you’ve still got eight more days to win him over. That’s what the prophecy says, right?”

“Now you sound just like him, nerd,” Steve says with a laugh as they stop outside the music room.

“I’m not the one who spent last night perfecting apology cookies for a guy I once saw drop half a sandwich in the parking lot, shrug, and keep eating it without brushing off the gravel,” Robin says, giving him a look. “Loser.”

“Go hang out with your crush.”

“Enjoy making a fool of yourself in the name of friendship,” she fires back.

They grin at each other before heading off in opposite directions.

Steve mutters under his breath on the way to detention, rehearsing what he’ll say when he hands over his homemade olive branch.

“Okay, just say it. ‘Hey, Eddie, I made you these to say I’m sorry I used to be a jerk’” He grimaces. “No, too blunt. He’ll think I’m trying to bribe him into forgiving me.” A pause. “‘I figured you deserved something sweet for once.’” He winces. “Nope. Sounds like I’m flirting. Shit.”

He stops outside the classroom door, takes a deep breath, and squares his shoulders.

“You’ve got this. Just walk in, hand it over, be cool. Be sincere. No big deal.”

He pushes the door open—and frustration hits him like a freight train. Tommy Hagan is sitting in the second row, smirking like he owns the place.

“Well, well,” Tommy sneers. “Precious Stevie slumming it in detention with the misfits.” He nods at the gift bag in Steve’s hand. “What’s in the bag, Harrington?”

Steve rolls his eyes. He spots Eddie in the back row, watching curiously. Drawing on the same fire he’d felt in gym class, Steve smooths his expression into one of bored disinterest.

“Wouldn’t worry about it, Tommy,” he says coolly. “It’s not for people who peaked in sophomore year.”

Laughter ripples through the room as Steve walks past.

Tommy scoffs and twists in his seat. “So, how’ve you been spending detention time? You and Munson been bonding over being total losers? Your shared Daddy and Mommy issues? Might wanna watch who you’re spending your time with, Steve. We’ve all heard the rumors. People might start thinking you’re a Devil worshiping queer too.”

Eddie stiffens. His gaze drops to his notebook, shoulders tense, fists clenched.

Steve stops. Slowly, he turns. The room falls silent. He sets the bag down on an empty desk with deliberate care, then faces Tommy, arms crossed.

“You know, Tommy,” Steve says, voice calm but cutting, “I used to think you were just a loudmouth with a small brain. But now I think you’re scared.”

Tommy blinks. “Of what? You? The freak?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, stepping closer. “Because he’s got something you never will—an actual personality. He doesn’t need to tear people down to feel important. He doesn’t need to ride someone else’s coattails to matter. And he definitely doesn’t spend his afternoons trying to prove he’s relevant by bullying people who are ten times more interesting than he’ll ever be.”

Tommy opens his mouth, but Steve keeps going.

“You’re not funny. You’re not clever. You’re not brave. You’re just loud. And the only reason anyone ever laughed at your jokes was because they thought they had to.”

The silence is deafening.

“And what really scares you,” Steve finishes, “is that I feel better now—without you, without Billy, without any of it. Because that means all the crap you did to be popular? It didn’t matter.”

Tommy’s face flushes. “You think you’re better than me now?”

Steve leans in, voice low. “I’ve always been better than you. I just used to pretend we were equals.”

Before Tommy can respond, the teacher walks in and clears his throat. “That’s enough, gentlemen.”

Steve doesn’t break eye contact. “Yeah. It is.”

He turns, picks up the bag, and walks to the back of the room. Eddie is staring at him, wide-eyed.

Steve sets the bag down gently. “This is for you,” he says, quieter now.

Eddie blinks, then pulls out the Tupperware. He lets out a breathless laugh. “You really are full of surprises, Harrington.”

Steve shrugs and slides into the seat beside him. “Get used to it.”

“I thought you’d try to bribe me with some fancy rich-kid gift. But this?” Eddie lifts the lid. “You bought me personalized cookies?”

“I baked them,” Steve says. “They say ‘sorry for being an asshole.’”

“You baked these?” Eddie stares at him. “From scratch? And iced them?”

“Yeah. I didn’t know what else to do. I was stressed, started baking, and… well, here we are.”

Eddie looks at the cookies, then at Steve, then back again. Then he exhales—and bursts out laughing.

Steve’s stomach sinks. He knew this was a bad idea.

“Shhh!” the teacher hisses.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, trying to stifle his laughter.

“If you think it’s dumb, I get it,” Steve mutters. “I can take them back.”

Eddie’s head snaps up. “Don’t you dare.” He clutches the box to his chest. “It is dumb. It’s also the most ridiculous, thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I love them.”

Steve blinks. “Really?”

“Yes, really. The time and effort you put into this?” Eddie shakes his head. “I gave you two weeks, and you’ve already got me rethinking everything I thought I knew about King Steve Harrington in twenty-four hours.”

Steve swallows. “And what conclusions are you coming to?”

Eddie grins. “First? You’re really fucking weird.”

Steve frowns.

“No, that’s a compliment,” Eddie says quickly. “The weird ones are the ones I trust.”

Steve smiles. “I can live with that.”

Eddie sets the box down, pulls out the bat-decorated cookie, and snaps it in half. He offers one piece to Steve.

“To new alliances,” he says, holding his half like a toast.

Steve taps his cookie against Eddie’s. “New alliances.”

They take a bite. And honestly? They’re pretty damn good cookies if Steve does say so himself.

Steve drags himself to detention the next afternoon.

If he had to guess, he’d say he got maybe two and a half hours of sleep last night. His brain had decided to torment him again—visions of monsters with too many teeth, and flashes of Nancy with her finger on the trigger, aimed right at him. Worst of all was the dream about Barb. Dying alone in his pool.

Those were always the hardest. He hadn’t seen what happened to her, so his imagination filled in the blanks—usually in the cruelest way possible.

Tommy’s already there when Steve walks in, but he’d overheard the teacher say it’s his last day. Small mercies. Still, Tommy seems determined to go out swinging.

“You look like crap today, Steve,” he sneers.

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “So, like you every day, then.” He pauses, then adds, “By the way, I never said this before because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but last year? Your hair looked like a toilet brush.”

Tommy bolts upright. “You said it looked cool! You said Carol would love it!”

“Yeah, I lied,” Steve says with a cringe. “We used to laugh about it when you weren’t around. Sorry. Guess I’m just a huge bitch—like you told Billy when you ran and cried to him after I showed you up in gym last week.”

Eddie’s doing that thing where he hides a smile behind his hand. Steve feels a flicker of relief—at least their fragile truce from yesterday hasn’t shattered overnight.

He drops into the seat beside him. “So… Dungeons and Dragons has monster fights, right?”

He’s still jittery from the nightmares. Part of him just wants a distraction. The other part is hoping Eddie might say something—anything—that makes the things he saw feel less real.

“That’s a bit of an oversimplification,” Eddie says, leaning forward, “but yeah, that’s part of it. Why? Thinking of playing? Because I’m telling you now, Steve—if you give another DM your D&D virginity, I might have to revoke our friendship.”

Steve grins. “So, you admit it—you think of me as a friend.”

He ignores the rest of what Eddie said. He has no idea what a DM is and he’s not ready to ask.

“It’s been, what, two days since you issued your challenge? Be a bit harder to get than that, Eddie.”

“What can I say? The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Eddie pats his stomach for emphasis. “Also, my uncle tried one of your cookies and told me to hold off on forgiving you until we see if you’ll bake more. So, it works on him too I guess.”

“Well, now you’ve shown your hand,” Steve teases. “But honestly, if today keeps going the way it’s been, I’ll probably be stress-baking again by tonight.”

Eddie’s expression shifts. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve says quickly. Then, after a pause: “Do you ever feel like you’re living on a completely different planet from everyone else? And you wish you weren’t, but there’s no changing it?”

“Only all the time,” Eddie says without hesitation. “Every single day. Three sixty-five, twenty-four seven.”

He looks at Steve like he’s trying to figure him out—and like he’s willing to offer a piece of himself in return.

“What do you do about it?” Steve asks.

“I find people who feel the same way,” Eddie says. “Makes it less lonely.”

Steve nods slowly. “Yeah… that makes sense.”

He remembers Mike and his friends huddled together in the hospital waiting room, comforting each other while they waited for news about Will.

“That makes perfect sense. Thanks, Eddie.”

“No problem,” Eddie says with a quiet smile. “So, I believe we were talking about D&D. What did you want to know?”

Steve hesitates. “Say you defeat the monster. What are the chances it comes back?”

Eddie tilts his head, thoughtful. “Short answer? Yeah, it can. Depends on how it was defeated. Some creatures are hard to kill for good. You can slay it, sure, but if the conditions are right—or if something’s unfinished—it might return.”

Steve’s jaw tightens. “Unfinished like what?”

“Could be anything.” Eddie shrugs. “Maybe the party didn’t destroy its source of power. Maybe it left a mark on someone. Or maybe it just lives in a place that doesn’t follow the same rules. Some monsters don’t die the way you expect them to.”

Steve nods, eyes distant. “So even if you think it’s over… it might not be.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says, watching him more closely now. “But that’s why you don’t fight alone. You’ve got your party. If it comes back, you face it again—together. And maybe this time, you’re stronger. Smarter. Less scared.”

Steve’s voice is quiet. “Right. Yeah. That’s what I was afraid of.”

Eddie shifts in his seat, more careful now. “In the game, that’s kind of the point. The danger coming back—it keeps the story going. Helps the characters grow.” He glances at Steve, then away. “But if you’re talking about something else… it’s not really about the monster. It’s about what it left behind. The effect it had on you.”

Steve doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t look away either.

Eddie clears his throat. “I’m not trying to get all deep or anything. I just… I get it. Being afraid something’s not really over. Even when everyone else thinks it is.”

He offers a small, tentative smile. “You don’t have to tell me what it is. But if you ever want to talk—through D&D metaphors or just normally—I’m around.”

Steve gives him a grateful smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He straightens up a little, trying to lighten the mood. “Anyway. What made you get into D&D in the first place? I remember Mike’s games used to go on for hours, and he never ran out of things to say.”

“Oh yeah, that can happen,” Eddie laughs. “Who’s Mike? I need to know who my competition is for best DM in Hawkins.”

“Nancy Wheeler’s little brother. Don’t worry, he’s like 13, he’s probably not coming for your throne any time soon.”

“See, you say that, but I do actually have a throne in the Hellfire Club room. And it’s not nailed down. If this Mike kid’s good at lockpicking, I might be in trouble.”

“And they call me the King.” Steve laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more dramatic than you.”

Eddie gasps. “Me? Dramatic? you wound me, Steve!” He clutches his chest like he’s been mortally wounded, then flops back in his chair—too far. The legs tip, and his eyes go wide.

Steve lunges forward and catches it just in time.

They look at each other, then both burst out laughing as Steve steadies the chair. He’s still giggling when he sits back, the image of Eddie’s panicked face replaying in his head.

“Dude, your face,” he wheezes. “You looked ridiculous.”

“Still saved me, though, didn’t ya?” Eddie says smugly, leaning in. “Anyway, it’s cool you know another group of players. Always nice to hear about more people keeping the game alive. You’ll have to introduce me sometime.”

Eddie pauses, more serious now. “D&D was the first thing that made me feel like I was good at something. I could make people laugh, get them hyped, tell a story that mattered. Suddenly, I wasn’t just the weird kid—I was the Dungeon Master. People respected me. It gave me a place to belong. Still does.”

“That’s really cool,” Steve says.

“Really? Even though it’s a nerd game?”

“Yeah. I wish I had something like that.”

“You can,” Eddie says. “You just have to find it. It’s part of the journey from current jock asshole to reformed jock asshole.”

Steve thinks for a moment. “I used to like swimming. Now I just get in the pool, panic, and swim as fast as I can to get it over with. Still works—timing-wise—but I don’t enjoy it anymore.”

“Why’s that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Steve hesitates. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “What, I’m not cool enough to know?”

“No, no. There’s just legal stuff involved, and I have to be careful what I say,” Steve sighs, running his hands through his hair to self-soothe. “Someone... drowned... in my parents’ pool. I didn’t even know they were out there. But I still feel guilty. I get these nightmares, and since I didn’t see what happened, my brain fills in the blanks. It’s disturbing. Now I feel weird around pools. It’s stupid.”

“Well shit,” Eddie says. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

Eddie shakes his head. “It’s not stupid, Steve.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Really? Who’s afraid of swimming pools other than literal children?”

“Trauma is trauma,” Eddie says with a shrug. “Brains do weird stuff. My dad was a shithead criminal. Used to make me hide in the closet when the cops came around. Now, even if I know it’s not for me, sirens make me feel like I’m back in the dark again. Scares me every time.”

Steve blinks. “Wow.”

“Yeah. Mom’s dead and dad’s on the run. Your old buddy wasn’t totally wrong with the ‘mommy and daddy issues’ comment.”

Steve is quiet for a moment, then lets out a breath.

“My parents aren’t… like that. Not in the same way. They’re not around much, but it’s not because they’re running from the law. It’s more like they just… don’t care.”

He glances at Eddie, then away again.

“My mom had me to try and save their marriage. She told me that once—like it was some kind of confession. But it didn’t work. She still has to follow my dad around on business trips to make sure he doesn’t cheat on her. And when she’s not doing that, she’s pretending everything’s fine. Like I’m just this… background detail in their life.”

He shrugs, trying to play it off, but his voice is quieter now.

“I think they see me as a disappointment. Or maybe just a reminder that things didn’t turn out the way they wanted. Either way, I’ve kind of been on my own for a while.”

Eddie’s expression softens. He leans back slightly, like he’s giving Steve space but still fully tuned in.

“Man… that sucks. I mean, I knew your folks weren’t exactly winning Parent of the Year, but I didn’t know it was like that.”

He pauses, thoughtful.

“That thing your mom said? About having you to fix the marriage? That’s not on you. None of it is. You didn’t ask to be born into their mess. And if they can’t see what they’ve got in front of them, that’s their loss.”

He gives Steve a small, sincere smile.

“You’re not a disappointment, Harrington. You’re just stuck trying to live up to expectations that were never fair to begin with. And honestly? You’re doing a hell of a lot better than most people would in your shoes.”

Then, after a beat, Eddie adds with a crooked grin:

“Also, if it helps, I think you’re alright. And I’ve got excellent taste in people.”

“Just alright?” Steve asks. “Damn, tough crowd.”

“Well, I can’t let you have all the highest honours right away. There’s still a chance I might find something that makes you go down in my estimations—like what if you’re secretly lying about your perfect hair and have just been wearing a wig this whole time?”

Steve gasps, deeply offended. “You take that back right now. Don’t even joke about that.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, eyes narrowing playfully. “Sounds like you’re protesting a little too much there, Steve.”

Steve lunges at him, but it’s all in good fun. Soon they’re both roughhousing and laughing in a way that makes Steve feel light and carefree. The teacher starts to yell at them, but the timer goes off, signaling the end of detention.

Somehow, the hour flew by.

They gather their things, still grinning.

“Same time tomorrow?” Eddie asks as they head for the door.

Steve bumps his shoulder. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

And for once, he means it.

Previous

[spaceycat]

tehe.. hehehe.. hi ... i have.. i have requensts...

ahem cough cough

listen.

Chris in that stupid cloak and mask? i just wanna fuck him in the mask. IMAGINE HOW HOT IT WOULD BE?

messy...

YES GIRL!! like him going "eyyy... EYY!! you just got monked!!" me and my friends quote that SO often. AGAIN!! another fic that was requested weeks ago but was like halfway done for a solid amount of time, enjoy bre !!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 

✮⋆˙ ɴᴏᴡ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ...  ╰┈➤ 𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚎 & 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚔 ꩜ .ᐟ

♫ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: nonsense by sabrina carpenter (2:44)

✰ pairing: monk!chris hartley (sorry what??) x fem!reader

✰ cw: smut, p in v sex, dirty talk, swearing, exhibitionism if you squint, chris fully has a conversation with josh while fucking reader, kinda a drabble lol

✰ word count: 0.7k+

✰ summary: while chris was putting on the robe and mask, you found yourself kind of into it - stealing him away from everyone, letting josh and sam be spared from that beloved chase scene LOLL

✰  a/n: im so into him

════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 

༺colour chart༻ reader ❀ chris ★ josh !! sam ☪︎

You were cold, that's for sure. There was a snow storm coming to the mountain, as you heard the wind and the snowfall outside of the lodge. You just arrived with your boyfriend Chris after struggling with the cable car, you should've worn something alot more warming. All you wanted to right now was to get warm, how? You didn't care. A fireplace, a bath.. either one.

You were sitting on the couch, trying to keep warm - Sam and Josh went down into the basement to get the hot water starting, maybe when Josh came back you would beg him to light his fancy fireplace. You decided to go up to your room to grab one of Chris' jackets. When you opened the door, you saw Chris wearing a robe - a ski mask in his hand.

"Oh-- Chris, why are you.. wearing that?" Chris turned to face you, "I was gonna go prank Sam and Josh--" "With.. a robe." "Yeah?--" You'd walk over to him, he'd notice how you were shaking a bit. "You cold, baby?" He'd place hand to your arm, rubbing it gently. "Mm.. I'll be fine. A fire would do me good." You grabbed the mask from him, dusting it off - before gesturing Chris to come closer towards you. When he did you adjusted the mask onto his face. You let out a "tsk", laughing a bit. "You look like a dork." "A cool dork?" "Could someone even be a cool dork? If so, you aren't.." "Awe-- no fun." He'd move closer to you, pulling the mask to rest on the top on his head - a smirk on his face. "You into this?" He said jokingly, "Actually.. yeah-- kinda." He didn't expect that, a blush creeping to the tip of his ears as he backed up a bit. "Oh-- oh.. I--" "Maybe its the cold getting to me who knows.." You'd shrug, "I'll-- spare Sam and Josh, this time.." He'd step closer to you, watching as your hands clenched onto the robe - pulling him towards you, locking him in a kiss. He stumbled a bit, placing his hands to your hips for support.

You then found yourself on your stomach, Chris' hands on your hips still as he fucks his cock into you - the sound of skin slapping against skin almost too much to handle. Your hands gripped onto the sheets as Chris flipped you onto your back, his cock driving you into you even harder - you could hear the sharp groans and breaths he was taking underneath the ski mask, you moved your hands up going to unclip his mask - but he'd grab your hands with one hand, pinning them beside your body. "No looking, sweetheart." "Chris--" You'd whine, just wanting to see him, kiss him, touch him. "If you're good, I'll let you take it off and I'll eat you out- okay?" He never was this forward in bed, but oh it's like that fucking mask made his confidence skyrocket - knowing that you were practically defenceless against him with that shit on.

You then heard footsteps nearby, Chris immediately covered your mouth with his hand - his pace not stopping, not faltering for even a moment. "Yo, Cochise-- you in there?" Josh knocked on the door of the room you two were in, he was only a door away from knowing about how hard Chris is fucking you right now. Chris cleared his throat, looking down at you - you made eyecontact with him through the small eyeholes in the ski mask. "Yeah-- just got out of the shower, what's up?--" "Uh-- yeah, we just need some help with something downstairs, can you be down soon?" "Mhm--" "Bring your girl aswell, she just disappeared but she was shivering like a leaf before." The footsteps soon retreated, leaving you the object of his focus once more.

Josh walked back downstairs to Sam, who was still fiddling with the valves in the basement. "He said he just had a shower--" "Does.. does he realise the hot water wasnt working?" "He's a liar, fucking Cochise." Josh laughed a bit.

After everything, you were thoroughly warmed up and wrecked.

[calummss]

Reborn in Death | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: things are not always what they seem. behind a happy facade hides the horror of reality not everyone can live with; including you

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 800

a/n: i’m not putting tw just bc i want the reader in the unknown. there’s a theme of death. if you don’t think you can handle it or unsure don’t read.

‘Say goodbye to daddy, Lillian.’ You rocked your daughter on your arm, stepping into the kitchen where Thomas was smoking.

Thomas turned to you before placing his cigarette on the ashtray, his hands reaching out for Lillian’s face, her cheeks never safe from his pinching.

‘Have a good day with mummy,’ he gave her a quick kiss, ‘try not to cry too much.’

‘You’ll be good, won’t you?’ You grinned at her.

Thomas also gave you a quick kiss, reminding you to stay safe on your morning stroll with Lillian.

Lillian loved your little walks. She seemed to be more relaxed when she could feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, the wind, the sounds of chirping birds when they were there.

‘We should be back in an hour or so.’ Another quick smile before leaving the door to place little Lillian inside the stroller. Tucking her in and making sure she was covered, the biting coldness of winter starting to get colder by the day.

The streets were mostly empty. The only ones that found themselves outside were the unfortunate, or workers, forced to take a shift no matter the conditions.

You took the usual route to the nearby park, trying to get Lillian to see the world for the beauty it had. Wanting her to see different things nature had created. Lillian liked ducks. You took notice of it when she started grinning at them, they’re quacks making her giggle hysterically.

The pond was not yet frozen, the water still flowing peacefully. Ducks floating above the crystal waters, their colourful feathers reflecting a beautiful ombré.

‘When are you going to tell her, Thomas?’ Polly took a drag of her black rolled cigarette, her eyes gleaming.

Thomas’ back was pressed against the wall, he inhaled the silver smoke that relieved him of his nerves.

‘You have to,’ she snapped, her voice growing louder, ‘her delusion is starting to spread across town. How will that make us look good? Let alone her.’ Aunt Pol bit her lip, her honey eyes glued on Thomas’ frame as he hung his head, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier as she continued to speak.

‘What do you want me to say, Pol?’ He glanced up, his voice the softest it had been.

‘That Lillian died and that what she is holding is a doll!’

‘You know I can’t do that!’

’You have to!’

‘I CAN’T!’ Thomas shouted back, hands sliding across his face.

Polly marched towards him, her hands trembling. ‘YOU HAVE—‘

‘SHE KILLED HIM!’ He yelled, his face eye to eye with her.

Tommy’s eyes bounced back and forth, unable to focus with the dragging noise of his heart that silently grew louder and louder as he looked at Polly’s face. The horror made him sick.

‘What?’ Her eyes somewhat softened, still wide as her heart stopped beating what seemed to be too long for her to still be alive, her hands no longer shaking. Paralysed.

Thomas’ hand brushed against his lip, turning around, pacing across the living room, his feet moving despite his wish to settle. ‘She was home alone when Kimber came here, the day we sent our men to the race. She hid in a kitchen cabinet when the baby suddenly started crying.’ His voice started shaking, just enough to tell that Thomas Shelby carried a heavy weight in his soul, every word harder to say out loud. ‘She was so scared. So scared to die. She covered Lillian’s mouth and nose to silence her. Stopped her from breathing…when they left, Lillian had already died in Y/n’s arms.’

‘Why did you never tell me?’ Polly asked.

‘Because if I told you, I would have to tell her the truth and I don’t think she’ll be able to handle it again. I cannot put her in that state again. Especially when part of it is my fault too,’ his voice grew quiet, shame washing over him like a wave trying to drown him. ‘I should never have made a move on Kimber. Never have left her alone in that house. I should’ve never done it.’

Polly opened her mouth wanting to respond but the sudden clicking of the door brought her to her feet, her arm brushing against Thomas as your familiar face appeared behind the door.

Closing the door behind you, the family portrait of you, Thomas and Lillian fell over.

‘Shh don’t cry,’ you rocked Lillian, her cries filling your ears. ‘Mummy would never do anything to hurt you. You’re safe with me, I’ll always protect you.’

Polly looked at Thomas, faced with an expression she had never seen on him, patting his shoulder to reassure him. ‘Switch it with a real baby, Tommy.’ She whispered in his ear, helping you with the stroller as you held Lillian on your arm.

Thomas smiled at you, taking Lillian into his arms from you, rushing upstairs, leaving him alone.

I stay where your calendar stopped.

[otissbluebearshirt]

I See Red 18+

Chapter 24 - Will You Really Fight For Me? Until It Kills Me

Word Count: 8871

Series Masterlist | Full Masterlist

It was quiet out. The sun had set only moments ago and the first of the winter darkness began to loom over the snowy streets of Sioux Falls. The sky above was slowly filling with clouds, preparing themselves to rain a fresh sheet of snow down onto those brave enough to venture out into the icy chill of the night, which in this case just so happened to be Crowley.

It’s where he’d been for upwards of an hour now. Standing at the end of the driveway with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets as he did nothing but stare out at the street in front of him, watching as the snow that littered the road wore down with each heat-filled car that drove past him. He didn’t care that it was freezing. The cold didn’t bother him, and whilst he could feel the sharp sting of it against his warm skin, it didn’t cause him any sort of pain or discomfort.

If anything, it brought him a touch of relief to feel something other than the small pieces of his heart that had recently shattered inside him. The ones that now felt like they were flowing throughout his body, transferring the excruciating pain in which he’d succumbed to to every single part of him they could reach until they had paralysed him completely. 

And they were close. He knew they were. He could feel it. The heartache deep in his chest was relentless. No matter what he did, or what he told himself might miraculously happen, it continued to chip away at his soul and he knew it was only a matter of time until he broke completely. 

It’s why he’d come outside in the first place, to try and stop it from happening. Why he tore himself away from Selina’s body that still lay on the dining room table. Cold. Stiff. Withering away into nothing as the hands on the clock ticked tauntingly by. He couldn’t handle being near her anymore. He couldn’t handle seeing her like that. Watching as the colour of her skin faded and was replaced with the sickly shade of death as the seconds passed by in which the realisation that she was never coming back slowly began to weigh heavy on his shoulders.  

Crowley had never felt like this before. So numb, yet so paralysed with emotion that his whole body felt like it was three times heavier than it should have been. He hadn’t even felt like this when he first had to let Selina go, because at least then he knew that she would still be out there somewhere. Breathing. Living her life, and whilst she may have been depressingly heartbroken, she would have still very much been alive. But now she wasn’t. Now, because of his own stupid, idiotic decision, Selina was dead and the worst part of it was that he had no idea where her soul was. 

No one could find it. Not himself, not Castiel, not even Heaven as a whole could pinpoint where Selina’s soul was and perhaps that’s why this was so much harder on him than it should have been. If she was in Heaven, then at least she’d be at peace, and even if she hadn’t gone upstairs where she belonged and instead descended into the pit, he’d still have been able to find her. He’d have been able to track her down, save her from whatever torture she might have been enduring and bring her back to him. But he couldn’t even do that as no matter how hard he looked or how many demons he had scouring every inch of Hell, Selina was nowhere to be seen. 

Her soul was lost, and with it, so was his own. He was beside himself with grief — something he’d never once experienced and that’s partially why he’d eventually ventured outside. He couldn’t let those who’d come back into the living room see him crumble at the mere thought that he’d never get to see Selina again. That he’d never get to see the smile she had that left him weak at the knees each time he was lucky enough to be with her. He’d never get to hear her voice again, or the way she would snort softly each time he had her laugh until she cried. 

He’d never get to feel the soft warmth of her touch on his skin when she would cup his face, drag her hands down his arms and chest or even something as simple as holding his hand. But worst of all, he’d never get to see the glisten in her gorgeous eyes when she looked at him, with so much love clouded over her pupils that he almost couldn’t believe it was directed at him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her love, yet he was somehow lucky enough to have gotten it. 

Only now, because of his own moronic decision, he’d never get a chance to tell her that — how lucky he was to have been able to be with her, regardless of how short a time together they had actually had. He’d never get to experience any of the things he loved about her again because the truth was that he had lost her. Hell, he couldn’t even bring himself to look at a photo of Selina as he knew it would never compare to the real thing and if anything, it would destroy him completely to see her as she once was when he knew he’d never get to experience it again in person. 

The fact of the matter is that he had lost everything . And the more time he spent staring off into space, the more he came to realise it had all been for nothing. He should have hunted down those who were opposed to their relationship and ended that, instead of ending the best thing that had ever happened to him — getting the throne of Hell, included.

Letting Selina go had been the worst decision he’d ever made in all his long years and now, because of that, there was a family in the house behind him mourning the loss of their beloved sister. The one who only ever deserved the best, and whose death they would more than likely never bounce back from. 

Crowley could tell they blamed him for it, even if they didn’t explicitly say so themselves, he could see it in their eyes. The way they looked at him, with tight knit eyebrows and tense jaws, it was only a matter of time before they snapped and that’s another reason as to why he’d left the warmth of Jody’s home and come outside. He didn’t have it in him to deal with a grieving Sam, or an angry Dean, and so he hoped to remain alone until the harrowing time came where they had to burn Selina’s body, after which they’d never see him again.

However, it was as if the universe couldn’t grasp that he needed to be left alone and instead continued to throw punches at him as soon enough, he began to hear the soft crunch of snow coming from behind him. He knew that meant that someone was approaching him, and given the lightness to the footsteps he knew it wasn’t Sam, Dean or Castiel. More than likely it was Claire, who’d been the one to give him Selina’s necklace back after breaking his heart even more by telling him Selina had taken it off seconds before she died. 

But when Crowley turned, about to politely tell Claire he wasn’t up to explaining the laws of the afterlife to her anymore, his heartbeat quickly slowed to halt as, it wasn’t Claire who had been cautiously approaching him… 

It was Selina. 

Some way — somehow — Selina was alive and walking ever so slowly towards him , fiddling anxiously with the sleeves of her blood soaked jacket as she tried her hardest not to cry. And Crowley could tell that she was from the way her lip wobbled. From the way she bit absently at the skin on her bottom one, making him want to reach out and run his thumb down them just to stop her from doing so as over the course of her life she’d developed a bad habit of biting it until she bled. 

Although this time, to Crowley’s surprise, she stopped on her own — as did all other movements she may have been making as she came to a slow halt about ten feet in front of him. Her eyes were already glistening in the light of the moon that peeked through a crack in the dark clouds cascading over them, allowing Crowley to see that which he never thought he would again — her love, shining brighter than ever as she stared so deep into his soul he could feel it stitching itself back together.

“Did you mean it?” Selina eventually said, her voice cracking terribly as she wiped furiously at the tears that had leaked from her eyes. She’d already cried enough in the last few hours to fill a bathtub, she didn’t need to cry anymore. “Will you really fight for me?”

The question was unnecessary, Selina knew that. She’d already heard the words fall from Crowley’s very own lips, and she’d even gotten a sneak peek at the end of the life they might have to fight to look forward to, but she didn’t care. She needed to hear him say it again. She needed to hear him , the present day version that she loved, say it to her soul, not just her empty vessel. 

“Until it kills me,” Crowley replied instantly, feeling his heart piece slowly back together with each small step she began to take towards him. He didn’t know how she had heard him. Where her soul had been to allow her to know of the desperate pleas he’d cried over her body, but much like Selina, he didn’t care. She was here. She was back, and she had heard him, and that’s all that truly mattered to him. “Because I love you, Selina, and I never should have let you go.” 

“You did exactly what you were supposed to,” Selina sniffled, once again wiping at her tear-filled eyes as Crowley narrowed his in question. 

However, she didn’t answer that question and before Crowley could open his mouth to ask it aloud, she had come running towards him and quite literally jumped into the safety of his arms, almost knocking him off his feet in the process of hugging him as tightly as her strength would allow her to. His arms wrapped around her instantly, his hands sliding beneath the cool leather of her jacket to feel the gentle warmth that had returned to her body. 

Oh, how he’d longed to hold her again. 

“God, I missed you so much,” Crowley whispered into the crook of her neck, increasing his hold on her out of fear that she’d be so cruelly taken away from him again. “And I promise you, I’m going to do whatever I can to make it up to you.” 

“You don’t need to do that,” Selina said softly, drawing her head back just a little and forcing Crowley to lift his own back up to face her, allowing her to see the redness to his eyes and for once, it wasn’t because of his essence. “I already forgive you and like I said, you didn’t do anything you weren’t supposed to.” 

“Darling, I do believe you’ve lost me,” Crowley said in confusion, his eyes once again narrowing.

“Let’s just say I got a sneak peek into how the universe really works,” Selina replied, rather mysteriously to say the least — looks like ways of Death had rubbed off on her a little. 

“Oh?” Crowley’s eyebrows raised as his curiosity piqued. “Care to share?”

“Maybe one day,” Selina said with a smile, which only widened when Crowley frowned playfully and it was kind of hard to believe they hadn’t been together this whole time with how easily they fell back into the swing of things. “But for now…” 

Selina cut herself off when she grabbed Crowley by the knot of his tie and pulled him closer towards her, kissing him as though it was the first time she’d ever tasted him and even to Crowley himself, it felt like that first kiss all over again. Hungry. Heated. Passionate. With all the appropriate hair gripping and face cupping one might expect, yet at the same time it was incredibly gentle. Soft and slow, as this time… they didn’t have to rush out of fear of being found out as everyone Selina deemed as important already knew — which only seemed to add to the pleasure the kiss was giving her. 

All in all, it was perfect. As though the stars had realigned above them and when Selina’s hand dropped from around Crowley’s neck to land upon his chest, she felt their hearts beat as one and she knew… Despite everything she had previously seen or learned, this moment right here was when she knew that they were truly meant to be together. 

As the kiss went on and the more engulfed in the smell, taste and all round essence of the demon she loved it became almost too much for Selina to handle so soon after her resurrection and so she pulled away, gasping softly for breath yet never once allowing her hands to fall from Crowley’s body or her forehead to part from his. 

“I do believe your family just watched you do that,” Crowley exhaled, equally as out of breath as he glanced briefly to his side to see the six pairs of eyes that watched them through the blinds. 

“I know,” Selina replied, with no indication that she cared if they had or not — as she didn’t. She was tired of hiding Crowley from the world, so they were just going to have to get used to seeing her kiss him in front of them. “I sort of came straight out here after they almost hugged me back to death so they’re probably still waiting on an explanation as to where I was.” 

“And where might that be?” Crowley asked curiously, his eyebrows rising once again. 

“You’ll see,” Selina smiled, before leaning in to kiss him again. And, as if the moment couldn't get more perfect, it started to snow, and the moment she felt that first icy flake land on her nose Selina drew back just an inch and whispered softly, “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Crowley replied, watching as another snowflake floated down between them and landed directly on Selina’s cheek. It melted on impact almost instantly, and when it absorbed into her skin, causing a small circle of light red to form he leaned in, pressing a warm kiss to the exact spot and sending a fresh wave of goosebumps over every inch of her body. 

Soon enough the sky opened more and the falling flakes started to grow increasingly heavy around them. Selina pulled away and started to back up the drive towards the house, hearing the soft crunch of the fresh snow beneath her feet with each careful step she took. She then held out her hand, wiggling her fingers a touch as though encouraging Crowley to take it as it seemed like she was going to have to physically drag him back inside with her and out of the incoming blizzard. 

“I don’t want to cause any trouble,” Crowley said quietly, clearly hesitant about going back inside. 

“You won’t,” Selina assured him, even though she was on the fence about that answer herself. And Crowley clearly knew that as he still didn’t move so much as inch towards her, causing her to walk back over to him and take his hand tightly in hers, feeling the never-fading warmth of his skin ripple across the brewing coldness of her own. “I want you to stay.”

Unable to bring himself to say no to her under any circumstances, let alone so soon after her almost permanent death, Crowley’s brow softened. He then stepped forward, bringing his free hand up to gently cup the side of her face and using his thumb to wipe away another moist drop of snow that landed just below her sparkling eyes.

“Then I’ll stay,” He whispered, causing a heartwarmingly wide smile to spread across Selina’s face. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before eventually he allowed her to drag him all the way back to the house with her — where, once the door clicked shut after them those inside quickly scattered, not-so-nonchalantly acting as though they hadn’t just been spying on the two of them through the blinds. 

“You gonna tell us how the hell you’re back now?” Dean asked the second they turned the corner into the living room, focusing his attention solely on his sister and not the demon whose hand she was still holding as it made him sick to even think about. 

“Soon,” Selina replied — a little coldly as she could tell what Dean was thinking by the way his jaw tightened each time his eyes flicked towards her. “I want to get showered and change into something more comfortable first, so in the meantime… Try not to kill each other.”  

“No promises,” Dean grumbled, before slouching down into the spare spot on the couch and immediately eyeing up the half drunk bottle of scotch that sat on the table in front of him — which didn’t exactly help instil anymore confidence in Selina that they wouldn’t kill each other whilst she was gone. 

“Cas, I’m leaving you in charge,” Selina said towards the angel, who was honestly the only one she could fully trust to keep the peace. He nodded once towards her in understanding, before flashing Jody an apologetic smile as she frowned disapprovingly at being overruled inside her own house. 

Then, after she was sure too much damage wouldn’t occur in her absence, Selina gave Crowley’s hand a quick, comforting squeeze before she grabbed the bag she’d dumped in the corner of the room when they had arrived and headed for the stairs. It was like she hadn’t just died bloody with the way she skipped up them, faintly humming the tune to an old rock song as she left her family and Crowley alone in the living room together. 

She knew it was risky, lord knows she did, but she also knew they’d all have to learn to get along together if they ever wanted to live amicably. And if there was anything Selina wanted more than the last three months of her life back, it was to be able to live out the rest of it in peace. 

However, that more than likely wouldn’t be happening any time soon as the very second Selina disappeared from the top of the stairs, a thick fog of awkwardness and hostility swept over the entirety of the room. No one dared say anything. Nor did they risk looking anywhere other than the floor beneath them — not without Selina there to keep the peace anyway, as the last thing they would want was to have her come back downstairs to what would most likely be a deeply heated argument. 

Or worse, a living room brawl that consisted heavily of everyone in the room fighting to keep Dean from brutally murdering Crowley. He’d already broken into that scotch again and was slowly sipping on it, which in hindsight may not have been a particularly good idea, but at least it kept him distracted… For the most part.

As for everyone else, they all stayed quiet and alert. Claire and Alex had gone back to bickering with each other over who had more room on the couch but aside from that, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall and Castiel’s soft footsteps as he slowly paced before the window, the room had fallen into rather tense silence.

Only, to those blessed with the ability of what Selina had once described as supersonic hearing, there was one other sound that they could vaguely make out. One that could override even the most hostile of tensions. This one included. It was a sound which, whether it had been from Selina being dead or simply because she hadn’t been the same since the break-up, neither Castiel nor ever thought they’d get the pleasure of hearing again. 

And that was… Selina singing in the shower.

They never thought they’d get to hear it again so soon after she came back. They had both assumed it would take Selina a little while to get back to the roots of who she had once been as overcoming what she’d gone through was no easy feat that could be accomplished overnight. Yet here she was, back to her usual, carefree self and already comfortable enough to perform a solo concert in the steamy confines of Jody’s bathroom — which, given that her resurrection had been a miraculous endeavour on its own, was just the cherry on top of a rather delicious sundae.

In fact, for Crowley, it was more like a handful of cherries as he couldn’t even begin to describe how much he’d missed that sound. Missed hearing it as he lay in bed, forbidden from entering the bathroom after her as Selina was always so afraid she’d go home smelling like sulphur thus exposing their secret. She used to spend upwards of an hour thoroughly washing her hair and body, and the whole entire time she would sing, leaving Crowley with nothing else to do but sit back and bask in it. And boy would he ever. 

There was never a moment of it that he didn’t treasure. That he hadn’t locked away inside his mind for rainy days as he leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes, shutting out everything that wasn’t the, for lack of a better word, heavenly sound of Selina’s voice. 

And as he sat there now, his fingers tapping anxiously on his leg and his heart warming in his chest, the faint sound of Selina putting her heart and soul into parts of the most random songs that came drifting down the stairs was enough to make him forget about his surroundings. It was enough to make him forget that Dean was firing grim looks at him over the rim of his glass, no doubt cooking up ways he could potentially kill him without causing Selina too much misery and despair. 

It was enough to make him forget that he’d just spent the last… However, many hours holding Selina’s cold, limp hand as she lay dead next to him. But most importantly, it was enough to make him smile widely. Fondly even. As though he were hearing it again for the very first time, and with each melodic tone that left Selina’s lips that smile continued to grow until it had caught the attention of every single person surrounding him. And, unluckily for him, the one that he least wanted to talk to right now, just had to be the one who went and broke the now comforting silence.   

“What are you smiling at?” Dean asked bitterly, watching as Crowley slowly shifted in his seat and forced the once love-filled smile to fall swiftly from his face.

Clearing his throat, Crowley’s eyes shifted briefly towards Dean — just in time to catch the slight whiteness to his knuckles as he increased his grip on his glass at the mere handful of seconds in which he was forced to wait for an answer. He didn’t even care if it was an appropriate amount of time for someone to take when deciding to respond, it was angering him — Intensely. Probably because it was Crowley, his sister’s demonic boyfriend — God, it really pained him even thinking that — whose response he was waiting on. 

Luckily though, before the eldest Winchester ended up whirling the empty glass directly at his head Crowley went against his better judgement and decided to answer with nothing more than the plain, heartfelt truth that Selina was singing. And just like that, both Sam and Dean’s faces softened instantaneously. 

Even Crowley himself couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips again when Selina interrupted her singing to swear at a bottle that had fallen over — before immediately getting back into her concert that caused his heart to flutter with each and every word. 

“I never thought I’d hear that again,” Sam said softly, despite the fact that couldn't even hear it himself. 

But at least someone could and that’s really all that was important right now. For him anyway. Dean on the other hand… Well, he didn’t think that was any reason for them to celebrate as to him, Selina never should have had to stop singing in the first place. Yes, it may have annoyed him sometimes — especially early in the morning when her voice would drift through the bunkers vents and wake him up, but he had never wanted it to stop. 

At least, not in the way that it did. 

He never would have wanted Selina to have stopped singing solely because she was in so much pain that she could no longer bring herself to want to feel anything even remotely close to joy. Pain that he was still coming to terms with learning had all been because of a demon. That this whole ordeal — Selina’s death, not to mention her deep spat of depression — had been entirely because of Crowley, and perhaps that’s why this moment had pissed Dean off much more than it should have. 

“You know, you have some nerve to sit there and smile ,” Dean scoffed, uncurling one finger from around his glass to point directly at Crowley. “You have some nerve to come in here and act as though you aren’t entirely at fault for everything that’s happened lately.” 

“Dean,” Sam warned, lifting himself from where he’d been resting on the arm of the chair. “Don’t start this again.” 

“Oh, I never finished,” Dean exhaled angrily, slamming his glass down on the table so hard it made the girls sitting across from him jump. He then got to his feet, catching a glimpse of trenchcoat from the corner of his eye as Castiel edged his way slowly, and nervously, towards him. “You see, I never got a chance to tell Crowley how the woman he “claims ” to love so much had to be put on suicide watch for the past three months because she was so broken… So destroyed — because of him — that every single moment she had to live was nothing but complete and utter agony.”

With anger now coursing through his veins and his teeth clenching, Crowley got abruptly to his feet, forcing Sam and Castiel to each take another step towards them should that living room brawl well and truly break out. For a moment, that’s where this was leading. To an anger-induced fist fight, and they were fully prepared to deal with that. They were fully ready to pull the two of them apart by the scruff of their collars and put Dean to sleep in order to calm the situation down. 

Only, as Crowley went to square up to Dean in order to begin in giving him a stern piece of his mind before knocking him off his feet, as he fully intended to, he suddenly stopped. Then, his shoulders sank low and as quickly as his anger brewed, it was gone. Replaced with nothing but the strong sensation of guilt as… Dean was right. Selina’s death… Or rather, her apparent suicide driven by her inability to deal with her heartache anymore had been entirely his fault and deep down, he knew… He knew that he deserved this. He knew he deserved to have his ass handed to him, both physically and verbally, by those whom he’d forced to pick up the pieces of the woman he loved. 

Therefore, he simply couldn’t bring himself to argue back. Nor could he even bring himself to stay another second in that room and before Dean could egg him on any further into that fist fight, Crowley vanished, leaving those left in the living room rather puzzled at his sudden abandonment of an argument that he normally would have pleasantly enjoyed participating in. But like he said, he wasn’t in the mood to argue. Especially over something such as this, so instead he opted to go to the one place… the one person rather , whose blame for this was the only one he’d ever truly take to heart. 

Selina — who, thankfully, was now out of the shower and fully dressed in a pair of clean, comfy pyjamas as opposed to the bloody outfit that was now a reminder of what had happened. She was still in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror with her hair dripping wet and leaving dark spots on the fabric of what was once Sam’s favourite red t-shirt, the shade of which matched the flush on her cheeks perfectly and it wasn’t all that surprising to see that the rest of her skin was also still a deep shade of red. 

Crowley knew well that she often enjoyed her showers hot enough to almost burn her skin and by the steam still covering the bathroom mirror, today was no exception. She’d absolutely had the dial turned up as far as it would go, yet for once it didn’t bother him to see that she was willingly putting herself in a situation that could potentially be bad for her. All he cared about was the fact that she was here to put herself in that situation and for now, that’s the only thing he cared about. 

Taking a small step forward, Crowley watched as Selina raised her hand and in one quick swipe she had erased the steam that once covered the small oval mirror, allowing her to see that Crowley was now standing behind her and by his guess, not to mention the small jump of her shoulders, she absolutely had not been expecting to see him there. 

Nevertheless, she was glad he was and so, still gazing at him in the mirror, Selina smiled. Warmly. Lovingly.  And not just with her lips, but with her eyes as well and that was all Crowley needed to feel his heart practically burst in his chest as he never thought he’d get to see that, particular smile again. Then, without his mind having a clue as to what his feet were doing, he moved towards her — until there was nothing more than an inch separating them and, almost nervously, he raised his hand, lightly brushing his fingertips up the length of her arm as he never once drew his eyes away from the reflection of hers.

For a moment there, when he saw that oh so addicting smile, he couldn’t help but think that this had all been a dream. But now, as his touch increased in pressure and Selina began to lean back into him, he came to realise that this was very much real life. She was alive. She was here. And most importantly, she had forgiven him. Somehow, she’d found it in her heart to forgive him for everything and by her next words, it was almost like none of it had ever even remotely happened. 

“If you wanted to see me all soaped up and naked, I’m afraid you’re far, far too late.” Selina flirted, hooking her teeth over bottom lip as she slowly began to turn around in the light, comforting hold he had on her.

Only, Crowley wasn’t here to flirt with her. Surprisingly. Nor was he here to see her all soaped up and naked — which was even more of a shock as he’d never once shrugged off the opportunity to see that or acted as though it hadn’t bothered him. No, this time he was here for one thing and one thing only.

To hug her. 

And he did. Instantly. The second he remembered why he’d come up here instead of staying downstairs to fight with Dean, he wrapped his arms around her the very moment she faced him and within seconds, he had pulled her as tightly against him as he could without hurting her. 

It had very clearly taken Selina by surprise to be pulled into such a tight, lung-moving restricting hug when things had started out so soft and gentle. For a moment, she was nothing more than a stiff board against his body as it took her mind a second to realise what was happening. But when she did. When she came to realise what had most likely happened downstairs and what Crowley needed from her, she immediately loosened up and slipped her own arms around his body as best she could, holding him equally as tight and feeling as he shifted the position of his head in order to bury his face in the crook of her neck. 

At one time, such vulnerability from Crowley would have shocked her deeply. To see a demon so in touch with their emotions as Crowley was, was such a strange thing for a hunter to experience. Not to mention rare. Or rather, non-existent to be exact as in her lifetime, Selina had only ever come across two demons who were capable of showing emotions. Crowley being one of them, of course, and as for the other, well, she hadn’t exactly met him herself but she’d seen the videos. The ones which opened up a whole new wave of opportunities for them when they learned that demons could be cured. 

Obviously, there was a common theme with both demons in that they’d been exposed to copious amounts of human blood before they were able to experience such emotions, but despite all that, it was still such a strange thing to see. Yet, no matter how much may have baffled her to see Crowley cry or to have him express genuine feelings to her, Selina would never change it for a second. Not even when she felt her neck begin to dampen again — and this time, it wasn’t because of her hair. 

Crowley was crying again and it broke her heart to see him like this so she pulled back a touch, once again causing him to lift his head to face her. He could see himself in the mirror over her shoulder. How weak he looked. How pathetic he was with his red-rimmed eyes and the tears that rolled slowly down his cheek, but he didn’t care. He’d almost lost his one true heart and soul for good, and if that wasn’t reason enough to be overtly emotional, then he didn’t know what was. 

“I thought I’d lost you for good,” Crowley finally let out, forcing down the thick lump that was trying its hardest to rise up his throat. 

“I know,” Selina said softly, bringing her hands up and using one thumb to wipe away the lonesome tear that had rolled down his cheek before she cupped his face entirely. 

And when she did, he could have wept. 

“But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere,” Selina carried on, drawing both her thumbs across the lining of his beard — the same way she knew would always bring him comfort and if anything, only brought his tears on more given that he thought he’d lost it forever. “I promise you that.” 

“Can you promise such a thing?” Crowley asked hesitantly, his heart breaking just speaking the words let alone hearing what she may respond with. “With the way Dean is…” 

“You let me worry about Dean,” Selina cut him off, her voice stern as she seethed internally over whatever nonsense her brother might have spewed downstairs to have Crowley like this. “He’ll come around eventually… Especially when he learns the truth.” 

“Truth? What truth?”

“That you and I are destined to be together… And that we always were,” Selina confessed, watching as Crowley’s eyes slowly widened as the realisation of what she was so clearly implying set in in his mind. 

“Are you saying…” 

“We’re soulmates, Crowley,” Selina said plainly, hearing the shuddered, shaky breath Crowley sucked in as he tried to comprehend what he’d just heard. 

He’d always known soulmates were real — rare nonetheless, but completely real. Carved into the very fabric of the universe by the Gods themselves and to hear that he was a part of it? He almost couldn’t believe it. Not just because he was a demon and didn’t technically have a soul, but because, even in his human life, he hadn’t done anything even remotely deserving of a soul mate.

Selina had though. She’d done more than her fair share of soulmate worthy deeds, so perhaps this wasn’t about him at all. Perhaps this wasn’t hisreward for things he’d done, but was in fact, all about Selina. About her reward for the things she's been through. The things she’d sacrificed to make the world a little safer for those living in it. 

Of course, Crowley could think of about a million other things she deserved as a reward more than him. But if he was what she truly wanted. If she really desired to spend the rest of her life with him, then he wouldn’t deny her that. He couldn’t. He loved her, and most importantly she loved him, which soulmate revelation aside was a miracle in itself given his history. But if Selina could look past that. If she could forgive him… If she could love him despite the things he’d done, then so could he. He had to. If he ever wanted to live happily with the woman he loved then he needed to let go of all of that, and he most certainly had to stop taking what those around him said to heart.  

“And I have this to prove it,” Selina carried on, dropping her hand and digging quickly into her pocket to produce a small, silver bullet from within. She held it up between her thumb and forefinger, watching as Crowley’s brows knit together as he tried to place the bullet in the mass of memories that resided in his mind. 

Then, a few seconds later, his eyebrows shot back up and his eyes widened, “Is that…” 

“The bullet that should have killed you?” Selina finished for him and Crowley nodded. “Mhm, and the only reason it didn’t kill you is because I was the one who pulled the trigger.” 

“I always wondered how that happened,” Crowley exhaled, reaching up to gently take the bullet from between her fingers. 

“Death said that no matter how hard we might have tried, we’d never have been able to kill one another.” 

“Death?” Crowley repeated, closing his fist around the bullet and glancing back up at Selina. “Is he the one who had your soul?” 

Selina nodded, “He wanted to talk to me before he sent me back.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the old suit for bringing you back to me but I have to ask… why? Why would he do that of his own free will?” 

“Because it wasn’t my time,” Selina said, once again drawing Crowley’s eyebrows together. She then went on to tell him everything. What she’d heard. What she’d seen — well, most of it. She left out the ending and the fact that Crowley turned human for her as she didn’t want to overwhelm him. Or scare him, as he could be quite skittish and question-dodging when it came to their future together so it was for the best that she keep that to herself for now. 

Other than that though, she told him everything and spared no detail either.

By the end of it, Crowely was overwhelmed with a wide range of emotions — relief being the most prominent of them all as he gladly came to learn that their continuing relationship would no longer pose a risk to Selina’s life. He didn’t even feel as much guilt and regret as he had done over letting her go in the first place. As had he not, then by the sounds of what had been written in her death book he really would have lost her for good and if the way he’d been early was any indication as to how he’d have managed with that, then the chances are he wouldn’t have been alive himself for much longer afterwards. 

“Do you see now why I was so quick to forgive you?” Selina asked softly, continuing to draw her thumbs along the lining of Crowley’s beard as she loved the feeling of how he’d lean into her touch with every gentle motion.

“I do,” Crowley nodded, “But don’t think I won’t be spoiling you every single chance I get.” 

“You know I could never say no to a little spoiling,” Selina chuckled, leaning in to peck a soft kiss to the smile that had widened on his face. She then drew back a touch, guiding her eyes from his lips up to his own and staring deep into them, watching as the love she’d once longed to see directed at her stood loud and proud in the centre of them. “Promise me something…” 

“Anything.” 

“Promise me that this is it… That there’ll be no more messing around… No more secrets. No more pain… Promise me that from this moment right here, no matter what might happen down the line, that it’ll be just us.” 

“I promise you,” Crowley said softly, his heartwarming as even though Selina had heard from Death himself that the two of them were destined to be together, she still sought out assurance from him. He raised his hands, taking hers from aside his face and placing a soft kiss to both of wrists, feeling the gentle beat of her pulse beneath her skin. “From this moment forth, it’ll only ever be us.” 

With a sniffle, Selina smiled. Then, before her heart could burst from her chest and land in Crowley’s hands she leaned in, pressing the sweetest, most tender kiss to his lips that he had ever felt. And that she had ever given as in all her life — all the people she’d been with, she’d never once kissed any of them like this. She’d never once loved any of them like this and truthfully, it still scared her a little to feel such deep and intense love for one single person — especially when she knew she still had to explain that love to Dean and try and get him on board with the whole demon-hunter relationship. 

But if anything, that love only gave her more strength of which she needed to be able to do so. After all, she was essentially going to have to fight for it and if there’s one thing Selina was a near expert at, it was fighting for those she loved. After all, her entire life had been about fighting for her family therefore she knew that one measly talk with Dean about growing up and getting over the whole all demons are evil mindset he had would be easy. 

Perhaps even more so than she would have thought as when Selina eventually ventured back downstairs after sending Crowley ahead of her whilst she finished up, she soon found out that Death had paid a little visit whilst she was gone. Not to reap someone, as people might expect, but instead to tell those she had left waiting for answers exactly what she had been upstairs telling Crowley. 

Honestly, it had come as such a relief to find out Death had spilled the beans himself. She really didn’t have it in her to ramble on about all that again, and something told her he’d probably know that. They were connected after all so chances are he’d felt her strong reluctantly to want to tell everyone that her and Crowley were soulmates and opted to spare her the hassle of having to do so herself so soon after coming back from the dead — which she greatly appreciated and she couldn’t help but think he deserved a little basket of mini muffins as a thanks. 

In the meantime though, with the truth finally out there, Selina felt as free as she could ever possibly dream of being. In fact, she felt so free that when she entered the living room to find everyone, minus Dean, in a slightly better mood than when she left them she didn’t choose to sit on the small gap on the sofa between Dean and the girls like she would have at one point. No, instead, she opted to sit in the adjacent arm chair… Right on Crowley’s lap.  

However when she did, pecking a short and sweet kiss to his lips when he wrapped one arm around her waist the second she leaned against, Dean let out a scoff of disgust and stood up, grabbing his bottle of scotch before heading for the door as he’d rather stand outside in the cold than have to witness anymore of public displays of affection. At that, Selina’s once happy mood seemed to outwardly deflate. Her shoulders sank and a frown tugged at her lips as she sighed. Guess having Death explain that she and Crowley were soulmates just wasn’t enough to warrant Dean’s blessing, so it looked like she was going to have to have that dreaded conversation after all.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Selina whispered, flashing Crowley a thin-lipped, partially reassuring smile as she slid off his lap and quickly disappeared out the door after Dean before he could make sure she was okay — or even give her his coat as she was heading out there with nothing but a short-sleeved t-shirt covering her upper half. 

Selina felt the intense chill the second the front door closed behind her, but it was too late to go back inside as Dean had already spotted her from where he stood — against the Impala with his arms folded and snowflakes already coating the back of his head as he stared aimeslessy down at the ground. He hadn’t touched the bottle of scotch yet, which sat on the roof of the car with the same amount of alcohol in it that there had been when he left, so perhaps this conversation wouldn’t go down as badly as Selina couldn’t help but think that it would.

“Dean, I know you’re mad at me,” Selina said carefully, followed by the soft crunch of her footsteps in the snow as she made her way towards him. “I know you’re pissed that I fell in love with Crowley…” 

“That’s not why I’m pissed,” Dean interrupted, yet he never even bothered lifting his head from where he was staring at his own footsteps. 

“No?” Selina said, in disbelief to tell the truth yet she couldn’t help but allow her voice to break with her next sentence — as it had been what she feared from the very day she gave into temptation. “Because from where I’m standing it seems like you can’t even be in the same room with the two of us together… At least, not without looking like you want to murder the man I love right in front of me.” 

“You know I would never do that to you,” Dean said defensively. It may have been on his mind at one time or another but he would never , evereven think of doing such a thing if he knew it would hurt Selina — regardless of whether or not it involved Crowley. 

“Then what is it?” Selina asked exasperatedly, taking another step further into the icy tundra that had become Jody’s driveway. “What is it that’s made you so pissed that you can’t even stand to look at me?” 

“It's because you didn’t trust me, alright?” Dean blurted out, a little more harshly than he meant and even Selina seemed so taken aback by his abrupt and rough voice that her eyes had started to water. It could have been from his tone or simply the snowflakes that coated her lashes, but either way Dean hated that they were and with a regretful sigh he straightened, finally lifting his head to look her in the eye. “You told everyone the truth about you and Crowley except me… Me? 

“How do you think that makes me feel? Huh? To find out that Cas , someone you didn’t trust for an entire year when you first met him, knew before I did?” Dean carried on, pushing off the car to take a few slow steps towards her, “I get telling Sam, you know the twin thing, but Selina come on, I’m your big brother… I looked out for you. I protected you from dad your entire life and you couldn’t bring yourself to tell me?”  

“You don’t think I wanted to?” Selina said, her voice cracking as she choked through her words. “You don’t think I wouldn’t have given everything to be able to tell you, because I would have. I’d have done whatever I had to in order to finally tell you, but Dean how could I? How could I have risked telling you something as big as that when every single time Crowley had been around you threatened to kill him?” 

“That’s only because I didn’t know that you…” Dean hesitated, unsure whether he could bring himself to say it. “That you… You…

“That I love him?” Selina said softly for him, and Dean nodded. “So now that you know… Are you saying you don’t want to kill him anymore?” 

“If it’ll hurt you, then no… I don’t want to kill him anymore,” Dean said seriously, before his lips curled upwards into a playful yet scheming smile, “But that’s not to say I won’t lock his ass in the dungeon anytime he annoys me.” 

“You always were such a flirt, Dean,” said Crowley himself, who had suddenly appeared beside Selina and made her jump once again — as well as making Dean roll his eyes before reaching out for his bottle of, now incredibly chilled, scotch.

“What are you doing out here?” Selina asked, glancing to her side to see Crowley in the process of taking off his coat. 

“Making sure you don’t freeze to death,” Crowley replied, wrapping his coat securely around Selina’s shoulders and engulfing her in the warmth of his body heat that still lingered in the fabric. She pulled it across her chest, only now feeling the chill of the air surrounding her and in that moment, as she tilted her head down and took in the alluring scent of his coat, she couldn’t be more grateful.

“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling briefly over the edge of the dark fabric that she still had pulled up against her chin. 

“You’re welcome, darling,” Crowley replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and feeling as she leaned into him as he placed a soft kiss against the side of her head. 

“You really love her, don’t you?” Dean asked, the smile on Selina's face and the look in Crowley’s eyes when he saw it being all he needed to know that Crowley wasn’t just doing all this as some sort of evil plot to get back at them for the trials.

“More than you know,” Crowley replied sincerely, watching as Dean pressed his lips together tightly and slowly nodded his head. He then stepped towards them, causing both Crowley and Selina to suck in their breaths as they couldn't help but think he was going to do something stupid. 

But all Dean did, or rather all he said was the only thing he’d truly care about when it came to his sister’s relationship, “You take care of her.” 

“I plan to,” Crowley said, and it was all Dean needed to hear for him to nod once and head back inside out of the cold. 

At that, Selina let out all the air she’d been holding in her lungs as what she could only describe as a weak chuckle. She never thought it would be that easy to get Dean on board with their relationship, and she had fully intended to have to fight for it. And hard too, as Dean was more stubborn than her and that was saying something. But by some blessed fate, all he’d been annoyed about was her having not told him the truth. To think, had she just manned up and told him all those weeks ago then maybe things wouldn’t have been as hard as they were and perhaps she wouldn’t have felt so nauseous all the time either. 

But no matter how much she wished she could, she couldn’t change the past. All she could do was alter the future and hopefully for the best. She already saw how it ended, but how it got there? Well, that was something to look forward to and now that she was back and no longer had to live her life in the shadows… She simply couldn't wait to get started.

The End 🖤

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

For your winter break prompts!

Snow for Spar/Mij?

Glossary:

Br'alor - commander (alor) of a hill fort (bral)

Baar'ur - doctor or medic

The ground under Mij’s boots crunches as he steps down out of the fort commander’s office and he surveys the preternaturally quiet surroundings. It’s still early, even for a Mandalorian training base. Well, the base has had plenty of oddities for him—it’s supposed to be a rest day today, so no wonder no one has woken to start handling the inches of snow that have already built up on the walkways and fields, the roofs and porches.

And yet, the fort commander has vanished.

He sighs, aggravated that he’s the one sent out after the wayward Taung hybrid. Being integrated into their household is already its own issue, packing many more duties on top of his work with the other doctors on base and his continued training among the Mandalorians.

He spots faint bootprints in the snow and begins his slog through the base’s buildings. The bootprints become more clear uncomfortably quickly, considering their initial faintness. The commander must not be going very fast, which could mean they’re just meandering or could mean they’re once again not feeling well. The longer they’re outside in this weather, the more likely it will become the latter.

The cold air recently has already been wearing away at the commander’s health in a way he finds baffling on a scientific level. The idea that a being could be so fragile as to have their body’s homeostasis unbalanced by a change in weather and yet be able to pull out feats of strength that even a Jedi finds awe inspiring is discomforting.

And yet their little fort commander remains, as the Mandalore of all people put it, a bomb resting on the side of a blaster fight.

He turns a corner and finds himself on the edges of one of the practice fields on the outskirts of the base, just on the edge of the hill, and finds a figure swathed in furs waiting for him, staring up into the overcast sky and the flakes of ice falling gently from it.

As Mij approaches, the commander turns to look at him. They’re well bundled, at least, but their hair is windswept and the tips of their ears and their cheeks have roughed with cold, their green-brown skin dark and a little warmer in colour. There’s a pleased smile on their face, one that makes Mij’s heart beat harder. Not even the markings on their face, which can so often make them look like a predator, can stoke the usual noise in the back of his head that the fort commander is not his friend.

They aren’t his anything, except maybe his boss, but something about how they look standing in the falling snow—ice clinging to their hair and eyelashes—covered in furs and genuinely glad to see him makes him wonder if being a Mandalorian wouldn’t be so bad.

Maybe he could stay with them and it would be worth leaving Stewjon and the Republic. The Republic is already on his shit list as it is, it’s not a large jump for him to stay here.

To stay with them.

“You need to come back inside, Br’alor,” Mij says, but he lets himself reach out to wrap the furs tighter around their shoulders.

“It’s a rest day, you can call me by name,” the commander tells him slyly.

Mij raises an eyebrow, but only gets a cheeky grin in response. He sighs again, his fingers drifting far too close to their face. “Akaani,” he gives in.

The commander darts close to him, beaming up. “Let’s go back in. I want shig.”

He wants to hug them, but that’s not happening. So instead he nods. “I’ll need to give you a once over, considering this little escapade.”

“Of course, Baar'ur.” They laugh; for once it’s a little sheepish. “I thought I could be back before you woke up and got going.”

He gives them a look that shows them what he thinks about that.

They laugh again. “Let’s get back in.”

[emitowrites]

Chapter 1 of Golden is up now!

AO3 link

Summary:

Robin discovers that not only can Steve apparently sing but he can also play guitar (and, like, what the fuck?) so she convinces him to perform at the weekly open mic at The Hideout, which is run by - to Steve's dismay - Eddie Munson. Steve performs 5 songs that have impacted who he's become and shaped his life, and then writes one that changes Eddie's life, too.

Chapter 1 Excerpt below:

The parts of himself that he’d learned to hide away from even himself were the parts of Steve that he’d begun to embrace over the past 6 months, ever since Robin had barged into his life, with her tally boards and her effervescent joy. It was this unmasking, with Robin’s assistance, that had led Steve to where he was now… Sitting inside his car on a cold Thursday evening, parked just outside a dingy bar in town, his hand hovering over the handle to open the door, frozen solid.

“Steve.” Robin’s voice breaks him out of his reverie, and his head snaps to where she’s observing him from the passenger seat. She’s bundled up like he is against the December chill, so her little face is peeking out at him from beneath a, frankly ridiculous, multi-coloured beanie, the pom-pom on the top seeming even more absurd compared to the serious look on her face. “You don’t have to do this if you really don’t want to.”

Steve scrubs a hand over his face.

“I do want to… It’s just… I’m always… I feel… Urgh, I’m so fed up of feeling afraid of being myself.” He gives her a tight smile, and one side of her mouth quirks up in response.

“Steve. You’ve done harder things that this.” He gives her an exasperated look, and she gives him one right back. “Dingus, you defeated a demogorgon with a baseball bat, apparently? I’m still struggling with that one, not gonna lie… You took on torture for me? You drove a car into Billy Hargove’s to save the kids… You can do this, this one, tiny, infinitesimal thing for yourself, yeah? What’s a little societal disruption, compared to all of that?”

“Yeah. Ok.” He pulls his coat tighter around himself, rubbing his hands over his arms for warmth and for comfort.

“We’re saying ‘fuck you’ to fitting in with societal expectations, right?” She raises her eyebrows at him, going for humour now. “And, if you try this and you never want to do it again, that’s ok, too.” Fuck, Steve loves her so much. He gulps, trying to feel his emotions but not let them overwhelm him.

“I know. I really, really do want to do it.”

“I know, that’s why I’m making you do it.” She grins at him fully now, her front teeth peeking out.

“Thanks, Rob.”

The first chapter of Golden is live on my AO3.

[tavyliasin]

BG3 FicFeb SFW - Day 14

I have no idea why this one just went "oops all angst" so here is your Content Warning for this prompt: THIS SHORT REFERENCES LOSS, FAMILIAL DEATH, AND DARK THEMES. Also some swearing.

Short Fic below the cut~ ----- -----

Day 14 - Family Reunion

The magic oozed through the graveyard with malevolent tendrils of the Weave. 

“What have you done?” Gale yelled, running towards the group, even as the child scampered backwards, still clutching the spell page.

“What she always does, trying to help!” Astarion called back, not unkindly, but the words still stung. 

“No, no no no…fuck no…” Tav was on the floor, pushing herself backwards with her heels digging into the dirt, shaking hands still gripping her daggers. 

“Darling, whose grave is-” He didn’t even get to finish his question as he saw the hand clawing through the dirt. By some instinct that would have felt distinctly foreign had he a moment to think about it, Astarion pushed the child behind him protectively as he aimed his crossbows at the first two corpses to rise. “Gale, a little help?!” 

“I can’t undo it now! Just keep them alive and send those creatures back to their graves!” The wizard was already casting fire bolts at the nearest risen dead.

Tav, meanwhile, remained on the ground. Her eyes were wide, skin drained of all colour, drenched in cold sweat and shivering.

“Darling please, I can’t-” Astarion reloaded his weapons as fast as he could backing up towards her. “Whoever that is, they are long gone. Love I need you to fight. It doesn’t have to be whoever that is, was, just cover our backs!”

“What in the hells-” Karlach’s voice cut in as she dashed down the alley to see what was going on, quickly leaping at the nearest risen dead. 

Unearthly groans filled the air with fear, the screams of civilians who had come to mourn echoing down the streets. 

“SOLDIER, ON YOUR FEET!” Karlach yelled, slashing down another undead and kicking the re-dead corpse to one side. “I SAID NOW!” 

Tav finally started to hear the words, the firm instruction reaching her with no room for argument, and almost no time to react as one of the shambling dead was almost on top of her. She gritted her teeth and leapt at it with both daggers, ripping through rotting flesh with a howl of pained rage. 

“Fire! That helps keep them down - it’ll get up if you don’t-” Gale’s warning came just at the right moment as the body at Karlach’s feet began to rise. Tav threw a small flask of oil on the ground and dipped her blades in it, just as the puddle - and her daggers in turn - caught light from a nearby candle left out for remembrance. 

“Gods, not a moment too soon.” Astarion was already reloading his crossbows again, taking down another that was trying to crawl up from the filth. “How many left?” 

“Six, I think!” Gale was still throwing magic as carefully as he could, the balance between taking down the undead quickly and avoiding civilian casualties becoming ever harder. 

Fire, arrows, daggers, and axe. The sounds became deafening to Tav, as everything became a blur. She let her muscles carry her, the memory of a hundred fights moving her body without need for thought. She became a weapon, doing what she had to do…

It took another few minutes for the battle to finally come to an end, by then Tav was on her knees, daggers dropped to her sides, tears streaming down her cheeks. Karlach and Gale had taken the child to one side, leaving Astarion to take care of Tav. 

“What happened? Are you…sorry my love that is a ridiculous question, of course you are not alright…” He knelt beside her, hand on her shoulder. “Darling, look at me. Look into my eyes. Do you see me?” 

Tav blinked, blurred vision coming to focus on two points of crimson. “I…” 

“Gods, sorry, I have no idea how to handle this…” He took a brief glance around, hoping to see anyone else coming to his aid, searching for an answer in the blissfully motionless corpses around them. The sudden grip on his arm brought him back to face her again. 

Tav’s voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and strained. “It was…her.” 

“Her who?” 

“My mother…” 

“Darling no, whatever that thing was, it had no relation to you. Not any more. Do you hear me?” He shook her gently, hoping to wake her from the dazed state she was in, but it was no use.

“She…” Tav’s voice caught again.

“We should go back. You can tell me everything later.” Astarion quickly stashed her dropped weapons in his pack, scooping her up in his arms to carry her as her head fell to his chest, tears falling anew. “I wish I knew what to say, my love… I am here. That will just have to do for now.” 

As he walked back to the Elfsong, the vampire couldn’t help but notice how small she looked cradled in his arms. A far cry from the fierce woman who usually leapt into the middle of whatever trouble happened her way. She looked so…ordinary. It wasn’t a bad thing, of course, but some days it had been easy to forget that her body and mind both bore scars she wouldn’t let show so easily. 

Either way, he hoped there wouldn’t be any other family reunions any time soon…

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

I'm autistic but I'm more sensitive to sound and touch, not light. I prefer bright cold white lighting because I like to be able to fucking see. Warm lighting makes me nervous because it's harder to clearly see things and it softens their colours.

I can handle it in rooms if I have a bright lamp to see what I'm actually doing though.

i see a lot of neurodivergent people talk about how they can't handle bright white overhead lighting at home, so their preference is to have warm/yellow bulbs in lamps as the main source of household lighting, often with colouful neon lights/fairylights/candles as other secondary lighting sources. I feel like this is actually more common than we think but maybe there are some insane people who love or at least are indifferent to bright white overhead lighting. so poll time.

if you say bright white overhead lighting is your main lighting preference please tell me why

[bookvibesandtarotcards]

Julie Tudor is (not) a Psychopath by Jennifer Holdich

Love is patient. Love is kind. Love will absolutely eliminate the competition if necessary.

Pre-Reading Thoughts

I was expecting dark comedy, a dash of cringe, maybe some workplace awkwardness à la Fleabag meets Gone Girl. The cover screamed “offbeat,” and the blurb suggested I’d be trapped inside a dangerously deluded mind - which, yes please. Always here for female narrators who are slightly unhinged but deeply committed to their own reality.

Post-Reading

As I thought...

This book is WICKED. Julie’s narration is so tightly wound and gloriously off-kilter that every page is laced with tension, even when nothing “big” is happening. That uneasy, crawling feeling that something is very, very wrong? Jennifer Holdich serves it cold and with a smile. The satire is razor-sharp - Julie is one spreadsheet away from turning “project management” into an actual crime.

It surprised me by...

How deeply it got under my skin. Julie’s delusions aren’t played just for laughs - they’re disturbingly plausible, grounded in patterns of behavior that are all-too-recognizable. The tone dances a fine line between hilarious and horrifying, especially as we start to peel back the layers of Julie’s past. That final line? Still haunting me. This is an unreliable narrator masterpiece, and it goes way harder than I expected.

MUSIC PAIRING

🎵 Featured Song: “Oblivion” – Grimes

🎶 Vibe Album: Art Angels – Grimes

🎧 Artist Recommendation: MARINA (Electra Heart)

VIBE CHECK

🎨 Colour Palette: Dusty pink, blood red, Excel green

🎬 Soundtrack: Soft jazz and office background noise, constantly undercut by sirens and internal screaming

🌸 Season: Late spring

💭 Mood: Darkly funny, claustrophobic, and deeply unsettling

👃 Scent: Expensive perfume clinging to a knife handle

Tarot Pull

Santa Muerte Tarot, The Moon

The Moon is a card of illusions, half-truths, and dangerous delusions - and in Santa Muerte, it’s hauntingly literal. A woman gazes into a moonlit pond and sees not her reflection, but a skeleton. It’s Julie in a single image: presenting one polished version of herself to the world while the truth rots just beneath the surface. Beautiful, unnerving, and absolutely perfect for a story built on warped perceptions and unsettling obsession.

[the-cursed-recruit-story]

The cursed recruit

By Symon Pude

Chapter 1 - The last day

The door creaked open, morning rays invading our main room. Before my mother and I could shield our eyes, the  silhouette of a man blocked the sun from the door. Cold air pushed inside, fighting the stuffy warmth from the rekindled hearth.

“Close the door,” I said. “You’re letting out the heat.”

The stranger squeezed himself through the entrance, rising to his full height, but the ceiling prevented it. He spread his broad shoulders, rounded by muscles that could crush bones. Few other villagers were taller than me, but this man still dwarfed them all.

I swallowed hard. “Berserker.”

As frightening as his physique were his clothes that slowly revealed themselves as he walked out of line of the light behind him. His long-sleeved gambeson was deep blue, with dark brown plates inset into his chest, shoulders and underarms. The octagonal crest sewn on his chest left no doubt. It was the uniform of a high ranking member of the royal army.

I jumped up, grabbed the broom leaning on the wall and put myself between him and Mother. There were few reasons for a man of his rank to get into our house and none of them were good.

The officer looked down at me with his turquoise eyes. A freshly groomed ash-blond beard and hair of the same colour adorned his head, complementing his tanned skin. An old wound on the left side opened up his tightened lips, revealing white teeth.

"Lay down the broom." His deep voice sounded like the lowing of a stubborn cow. "It won't do you any good in a fight."

The makeshift weapon trembled in my hands. He was right. The only thing I could hope for was that I was able to stall him, hoping that Mother could get far away in the meantime.

The berserker spoke again. "I'm not here to harm you or your family in any way, if you think that for any reason."

"Then why are you here?" I spat. "We're not due any tax."

"A horde of orcs is en route to Forlam. Every able man has to join the army."

I gripped the handle harder. "Not interested. Go away."

"It's the order of the king."

"I don't care, go away."

The man took a step closer, and before I could react, he grabbed the handle of the broom and ripped it out of my hand. I got pulled forward, but the berserker pushed me back against the edge of the table. My fingers traced over the wood, searching for anything that could defend me.

I reached the wooden spoon from breakfast and brought it forward. The berserker looked at the cutlery and grunted. Then he looked up into my face, and his expression changed to one of surprise.

A thin hand laid down on my shoulder.

"Stop," Mother said, then turned to the berserker. "He will join, please forgive his brashness."

"He'd be better off if he keeps it in check." The army official threw away the broom that he still held. "Is there any other man in this household?" 

"My father, but his leg is stiff, he can't even walk properly."

The man narrowed his eyes. "Did he get hurt in the Broken War sixteen years ago?"

"Yes. Like most our problems, that was your fault too."

His eyebrows shot up. “Other siblings?”

"None alive."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't need your false sympathy," I said. "I need you to get out."

The intruder sighed. "Tomorrow at dawn, in front of the chapel.”

He pushed his shoulders through the entry. His massive outline slowly moved out of view through the open. A small cut of wind carried in the cold air from outside.

I shivered. “I said close the door, are you stupid or something?”

“Sh, he might still hear you,” Mother shushed me. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? You know it doesn’t end well when you shout at the back of a blue gambeson.”

I sat back down on the bench, which gave a sound like it wanted to break. "Then what else should I do?” I leaned my head back against the wood of the wall. "I can’t go, you need me here. Spring is just around the corner, and somebody has to tend the fields. Father can’t help much."

My mother grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Her skin was as callous as mine, made even rougher by a long winter. "It’ll be fine. I've run this farm alone once before; I can do it again. Plus, I had to take care of two little children then."

I placed my other hand atop of hers. "But you’re older now, and back then, grandmother was alive. "

She let go of my hand and rubbed away the lonely tear, past the quite new scar by her left eye. “At least there’ll be no one to mourn over this time.”

“But no one to help you either.”

“It's no use."

She grabbed both wooden bowls before us, carrying them away.

"Off to a battle, huh?" I said almost to myself. "Maybe the curse will finally catch up with me."

The bowls slipped from Mama's hands and onto the counter. "Don't say that."

I looked down. That had been out of tone.

The typical grunt of my father standing up sounded from the adjacent bedroom. Mother took that as a sign and started sawing some bread. I couldn’t take the scraping sound, taunting me that we couldn’t use the rest of our broadcorn stock, which would be better for baking.

“Have you seen the size of that guy?” I said to cover the noise. “He looks like a boulder that grew legs.”

A raspy voice called from the bedroom, “He's normal height for a berserker.”

Father stumbled into view in the doorframe. His felted, brown hair mirrored mine, except for its extensive gray strains. His angled nose and pointed chin, his unblinking, brown eyes made him look like a hawk. His expression had a seriousness about them, a feeling that he would reach anything he would set his mind to. My face twitched upwards; it was the same look of determination I thought I remembered before he went to military service. A look he had lost for years to bottles of alcohol. 

He made his way over to the table, dragging behind his right leg.

With a deep sigh, he sat down on his designated chair, clutching his stiff leg. “You were lucky that he isn't of noble blood. You wouldn’t have survived talking like this to a mage.”

“How would you know all that about that guy?” I asked. “You haven’t even seen him.”

He averted his gaze, changing the subject. “You might have to pick up the spirit cleansed seeds today.”

“It’s rather soon for that, the equal day hasn’t even passed,” my mother said, putting the slices of bread in front of my father. 

"He’s right,” I said. “Or would you want to take the trip on your own?”

“No.” Mother admitted.

“I will go in the afternoon." I stood up. Until then, I’m in the backfield, ploughing.”

My father spoke with his mouth full of dry bread. “I’ll join you when I’m finished.”

My mom said, “Just wear something warm, I don’t want you freezing your ass off.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I walked to the door, the freeze from outside pouring in. I reached out for the thick wool tunic, which reached to about the centre of my thighs, but changed my mind and grabbed my surcoat instead. The expertly sewn cow hide protected from wind, rain and snow. After years of use, the hairs were already peeled off in most places, revealing a lighter colour. With leather pants, tunic and surcoat, one could even go out for hours in the winter. As the only layer above the shirt, the coat might just be right for today. I secured the coat with a belt and fixed a waterskin and a belt pouch to it. 

The door creaked again as I closed it behind me. I turned my head upwards and closed my eyes. The rays of the sun tingled on my face; the slight breeze was barely noticeable. Still, the chill of the morning seeped through my clothes.

I sighed and made my  way towards the stable, stopping at the overflowing rain barrel to fill up the water skin. I took a swig of the water, but broke the contact immediately. The freeze hammered into my forehead, making me squeal in pain. I gripped the side of the barrel, my knuckles white. When the feeling wore off, I took another gulp. The second time, the feeling was manageable. 

Heaving a sigh, I walked to our pasture. The cows, sheeps, blood hens, the rooster and the old donkey Ratter all lifted their heads when they saw me. One animal was missing. I found the almost black hen back in its usual place behind the stable door. She trembled a little when I picked her up. The veins under the translucent skin on her face showed a panicked pulse. I threw her to the other animals . The red hens charged her and the bird scuttered away back to the stable door. I sighed again and whistled for Ratter. The old donkey perked up and hoofed over without any hurry. I stroked him between his eyes, as his warm breath blew from his mouth.

"Now, Ratter. Do you wanna get ploughing?"

A bobbing of his head and a positive Eee-Ah might seem like he was happy to, but he acted the same to everything else.

"At least one of us."

I led him into the stable and hitched the old, trustworthy plough behind him. The field I thought of working on today was not big, but at an uncomfortable incline that had flipped the plough more than once. 

I stopped Ratter as we ploughed closest to the border of a forest of conifers and deciduous trees. 

A patch of snowdrop flowers broke the monotone ground. I picked one of the flowers and put it in my pocket. 

When I turned around, I stopped for a minute. From here one had a great view of rolling hills patched with fields, meadows and forests. The plants still wore their drab, brownish winter colours. In the shadow of some trees, old snow remained. A gust of wind shot into my clothes and made me shiver. 

“I should’ve listened to my mother.”

I looked further. Smoke rose from the chimneys of the few lonely farmers’ houses that were Hazelbrook. The white walls of the chapel stuck out like a weed on a freshly ploughed field. Ratter puffed, sending his warm, moist breath on my skin. I rubbed him between the eyes.

“I’m leaving, you know?”

The old donkey just puffed again.

A frown appeared on my face. “I don’t know if you’ll still be around when I come back.”

"Eee-ah."

"Me too, buddy, me too."

My father stumbled out, and I stood back up to continue ploughing before he could join me.

The next time I looked up to the sky, the sun had passed noon. I nodded to my father and led Ratter back to the stable. A few minutes later, the donkey pulled our one-axled cart. I sat down on it beside a shovel, and Ratter hoofed forward slowly. We stopped at the house, where I switched my surcoat for the tunic. I went back out, past the cart, to the eight poles driven into the earth beside the path. A year of weather had done a number on them, and I added it to my list to replace them; they won't be forgotten. I fished out the snowdrop, only two pedals on, and placed it next to the fourth pole. “Sorry, it looks a little tattered.” 

Hannah loved flowers. It has been sixteen years since her death, almost twice as long as she had lived. Still, the memory of her face stayed in my mind, hopefully forever.

I finally turned away and jumped back onto the cart. Ratter continued on the old path, past the overgrown remains of a small house and towards Hazelbrook. Though the old donkey's steps were slow, the cart jumped up and down, threatening to break at any moment.  I had to hold the shovel beside me, so it wouldn't jump all over the place.

A sudden jolt threw me against the railing, hitting the wood with my elbow. I let out a short cry of pain. The right side of the cart had sacked down, and although Ratter tried to continue, the cart wouldn't move.

I ignored the pain and jumped off to look at the issue. The right wheel got stuck in a muddy hole between two stones.

“For fuck’s sake.” I kicked the cart. “Stupid wheel.”

The same thing every year after winter; the path had never survived the snow. I looked out further. This time it was especially bad, with more holes than path. I had been tempted to just let it grow over and have the tax collectors deal with it, but we needed the path more often than them.

"Stupid tax collectors," I said, then grabbed the spokes of the wheel and pulled upwards. The muscles in my arms groaned as the wheel lifted out of the hole. My fingers slipped; the wheel fell back down. Without the weight, I lost my balance, and I fell back on the wet grass beside the path.  

“Stupid cart.”

I worked myself to my feet, brushing off the plant bits from my behind.

A triumphant horn echoed through the early spring landscape. I turned to the sound. The army had arrived in Hazelbrook.

"Mighty soon here, aren't they?"

I leaned against the stuck cart and watched the procession coming from the east. The lead were horse riders in royal army blue, followed by a number of carriages in a single file line. Then came foot soldiers clad in blue; enlisted, men who spend a year or more in the employ of the army. 

"Idiots," I said and helped myself to a handful of nuts from my belt pouch.

As the army went along, fewer people wore a coloured uniform, instead opting for utilitaristic brown clothes. These recruits made up the bulk of the procession. Recruits taken from their home. From tomorrow, I'd be one of them. A few people carried their belongings on the back, some rolled a barrel in front of them, and again others brought a mule or a donkey.

I looked at Ratter. Our old donkey wouldn't survive such a long journey, so I would be carrying my stuff on my own.

While the army continued on their way, I focused on getting the cart out of the mud again. I fetched the shovel from the cart. Using it as a lever, I freed the wagon from the hole, which I filled with a stones by the side of the path. I had to stop a few times for repairs on the path so we wouldn't get stuck again on the last stretch to Hazelbrook. As the path got better - a road now - and I passed by the first houses, the chatter got louder. The villagers had come out of their houses to greet the new arrivals. I sighed; the worst time to come here. And I had to travel on the main road to the seed stock as well.

The familiar faces of the locals seemed more bony than when I last saw them. Beside the villagers, small pockets of unknown men milled around, having stopped before reaching the camp at the other side of town. Some wore the army's uniform, most others tunics and leather pants just like mine. I scoffed. Not exactly like mine. Mine was covered with careful stitches that showed their age. 

Like many Hazelbrookers, most of the men had either a darker complexion or a greyish tint to them. With one notable exception; A strange, pale man leaned against the side of the only tavern in our village. His pristine, leather cloak was too thick for the temperature and he seemed as still as a statue, not a muscle moving in his body. He stared at me, and I stared back.

A jolt went through the cart, breaking our eye contact. Ratter had stopped before hitting a tiny girl who had wandered onto the street. I jumped off the carriage and faced her. She looked up at me with unblinking eyes. She was the daughter of a farmer, the father only a year older than me, and now she was already five winters old. For a second, both of us were still.

I stretched out my tongue and crossed my eyes for a silly face. The small girl let out a refreshing laugh. I smiled, but as soon as I uncrossed my eyes, my cheeks fell down again.

The girl's mother dragged her off the dirt street, throwing me a disapproving look. I evaded her stare, choosing to focus on the road instead. A barrel of a recruit had broken into pieces a bit further along, and a group of men scrambled to pick up all belongings.

"Stupid soldiers," I swore under my breath. For now, I'd be stuck here. 

In an instant, disapproving looks from the locals focussed on me. I The mother of the girl in the street knelt down and berated her. "I don't want you to talk to that person."

"But why?" 

"You would die," the mother said.

The little girl started crying and hugged her mother, who carried her away. They disappeared in the crowd, and the other villagers stepped forward to protect as if I would come at the little girl with a knife.

I climbed back onto the cart, trying to ignore the looks. A few recruits had noticed the commotion, and I didn't know how they would act.

"Greet the Maker," a voice started with the formal greeting. "I believe we have not yet met."

I turned to see a young man standing by my cart. His bluish skin and the blue down feathers above his ears showed him to be of gargoyle blood. He wore a black robe with the crest of the church sown in at the centre of his chest; a red octagon around a red hand on a white background. He put a hand on the crest, which revealed a belly under his robe.

"I am the new ceremon in Hazelbrook," he said. "And you are?"

I took another handful of nuts from my pouch and started eating, one by one. All the while, I did not look once at the man of religion.

"We will celebrate a small ceremony in the evening to ask for the maker's protection for the recruits," the ceremon continued. "I know your family has not heeded the weekly call, but it would be great if I saw you there."

"Ceremon Altone, nobody of us wants him anywhere near the chapel," a woman's voice said.

The ceremon turned to the grey-haired woman, the waitress of the tavern.

"Now now, Silvia," he said. "Samoht taught us that nobody is too wayward to get back on the right path."

"He's got the curse of death upon his head. Don't get too close or you'll be caught in it."

"A curse?" The ceremon walked away from my cart. "Preposterous, there is no such…"

"It's true," an old woman at a table said. "Every last one around them dies before their time. Seven children they had, five dead in birth, one has not seen ten winters, he's left. Their neighbour burned alive,..."

"And even their dog doesn't bark anymore," her husband added, mulling over his ale. "I tell you, they were all sacrifices for the grey demons to let their crops grow tall."

My hand formed into a fist. I had to put Bello out of his misery last fall after a wild animal attack. His whine still rang in my mind from time to time. And they say I wanted to do this?

"If what you are saying is true," the ceremon said with doubt in his voice. "Then why is he still alive?"

"He should have died a few years ago," the waitress said. "Hanged for the murder of Britta, the eldest daughter of the Hahn family. He pushed her off that tower to her death. It doesn't matter what the army inspector said, we all know it was him."

I pursed my lips and checked the street. Finally, they have cleared the path, and I tapped Ratter's behind to get us away.

As the cart got moving, they still discussed further. "I still suspect that the farm hand they had was actually that priestess-rapist from Sunhill."

I scoffed. That one was the only one that had a bit of merit. Yrgal was not a rapist, though. If a priestess and a monk were caught together in bed, they would both be punished, except one takes all the blame on him. His love repaid him by slipping him a key to escape. And it wasn't a priestess, it was a priest. 

I still vividly remembered how we plastered hair on Yrgal’s bald head to trick those that searched for him. In return for our help, he taught me things that no other farmer knew.

As I pondered in the memory of my friend and teacher, Ratter pulled me past all other bystanders to a wooden hut not far from the soldiers' camp, where some soldiers were building up their two-men tents.  

The old donkey stopped right before the seed stock. I jumped off, turned the animal with the cart around and walked to the hut. An ancient man slept on the ground, wrapped in blankets. Joseph had already been old when I had been just a young boy. Although senile, he oversaw giving away the seeds. He was the only one in the village who could - officially - read highfont, save for maybe the new ceremon. 

"Wake up, Sepp!" I called to the old man.

No reaction. He lay there, not moving at all, making me think he finally kicked the bucket. But, as I came closer, his chest was still heaving up and down.

"Wake up!" I nudged him with my boot.

He jerked awake. "What? Who?"

"I'd like to take my share of seeds."

"Isn't it a little too early?" 

"It's afternoon," I extended my hand, so he could stand up.

He sighed in exhaustion, pushed his blankets off and heaved himself on his feet. He stood wary, threatening to fall over any second. "No, I mean early in the year."

"I know. But I have to join the army tomorrow."

"The army is already here?"

"They just arrived and were not silent in doing so. How did you miss this?"

He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the tents. "Aha, what do you know? So, what are you doing here?"

"Getting my share of seeds."

"Isn't it a little early for that?"

"Yes." I gave a smile.

He staggered for a moment before he continued. "Okay, then let's take a look at the list."

I picked up the big, leather-bound book he had used as a pillow, before the old man even tried to. 

He took it from my hand. "Thank you." 

He set the book to the small table that stood by the stock. He opened the index and turned filled page by page until he got to a page which was almost empty. I skimmed through the column of the table and found the symbol for my name within a few seconds. Joseph took longer; almost pressing his eyes to the page, he searched for the information. I took the time to look around in the stock for the things I could take with me.

Joseph tapped on the paper. "Ah, there we go. So, you can take...two bags of longseeds."

I checked the list again. "That's a three."

"Where's a tree?"

"No, I mean the number is a three."

He squinted at the writing. "Oh, right, my mistake. Thanks for pointing it out. You should be standing here, not me."

I took a look around. Luckily nobody was in earshot. If anyone found out I could read, they might find out about Yrgal, and punish the people who harboured the apostate monk. 

The old man didn’t seem to care, or he had forgotten already. He went into the low room and pointed at three yute sacks with the church's crest printed on. “Take these."

I bent my knees and wrapped each arm around the bags. Taking in a short breath, I heaved them on my shoulders.

I carried them out of the stock house, while Joseph babbled on, “I heard that it’s a horde of orcs again that we’re fighting. Can you imagine they’re so stupid as to attack the capital?”

I grunted as I put the sacks on my cart. “No, I can’t.”

The old man’s rambling followed me a second time to the storage room. “Stupid green beasts. Do they really think they have a chance after we defeated them only a few years back?”

My reply was another gasp as I yanked a sack of longcorn and one of broadcorn on my shoulders. With the direct comparison, it was clear that the latter was lighter.

Joseph stopped me. "Hey, that's not longcorn, put it back."

"But I know that I definitely also get a bag of broadcorn. This makes it faster."

"Put it back!"

I sighed and did as he said.

After I loaded the third bag of longcorn on the carriage, Joseph read the next column. "Broadcorn, two bags."

I stared at him for a moment, before I made a heavy sigh and loaded two bags onto the carriage.

Josef continued reading. "And one bag of peas."

"Only one? In the last few years, we always got two in the beginning."

"Are you questioning the decision of the church?"

Yes.

I smacked my lips. "No." 

Silently, I took the designated bag. On my last trip into the stock house, I could take smaller amounts of other seeds. With them in one hand, I said, "Bye, Joseph."

"What?" 

I just waved him goodbye. He did the same and lay down on the floor again.

As I turned to the cart, the pale man from before now leaned against the wheel of the cart, eerily still. Even as I closed in, he didn’t show any intentions of moving. I examined the man further.

His thick leather cloak hid his body form, though the slight bulge around his waist hinted at a sword. A deep blue gambeson and wool lining peeked out at his sleeve. His hair was black, with only a few signs of grey in it, his slender face clean shaven. Slight wrinkles gave him a look of experience, while still retaining some youthfulness. I guessed he was around his late forties though it was hard to tell. His orange eyes seemed to glow on their own. I made a second take. The shine might have been a trick of the light, but what was even more strange were his vertically slit pupils. Now that I looked for it, I found other abnormalities. At his collar and at his wrists, his skin turned reddish. He had to be a member of a magical race, one that I had forgotten the name of.

“Can you move?” I said while putting the last seeds on the cart. “That’s my wagon you’re leaning on.”

The man unfroze, reaching into the pocket of his coat. With one quick movement, he produced a decimetre long, thin, porcelain tube with a small circular compartment at the end. The strange pipe had a gleaming white coating, with a sky-blue floral pattern. With his right hand, he took out a small pouch, and filled some dried leaves into the compartment. He pushed them down with the index finger of his left hand and put the pipe in his mouth.

I pointed in the direction of the army camp. “You could easily struggle to light the tabak just a few metres that way and not bother me.”

As soon as I said it, thin smoke streamed out from the pipe, while his finger was still in. His eyebrow went up just a little bit.

I narrowed my eyes at the smoke. “How…”

“Apple?” The man mumbled with the pipe still on his lips. His raspy voice had an authoritative undertone.

My head fell down and I noticed that he now held out a yellow apple with his right hand. I struggled for words at the sudden offer, and my stomach growled due to the lack of lunch.

“No,” I said finally. “My mother told me to not take food from strangers.”

“Good point.” With one quick motion he pocketed the fruit.

“What do you want?”

The man breathed away a stream of smoke. "The other villagers say you're cursed because your family members died." 

Hate welled up in my chest. "Why would you care?”

He took another whiff from his pipe. "I wonder if they are right."

"Maybe they are,” I said. “So you better get away from me before you die as well.”

He ignored me. "It's most likely 'hogwash', as a farmer like you would call it. It's not too uncommon that a woman struggles to birth alive children, especially if that woman does not have a drop of magical blood. Is your mother human, through and through?"

"Is your mother a donkey considering how stubborn you are? Fuck off already."

"Hmm," He blew smoke over, and did not move an inch. "Do you have any special talents? Strength, good eyesight, a talent for swimming?"

“I was never in water deep enough.”

The hint of a smile appeared on the strange man's face. "Good."

“I’m getting tired of this.” I turned away and started walking homeward. 

"What about your cart?"

I whistled, and Ratter started walking.

The man lost his balance from the sudden movement of his support. His pipe fell from his lips and raced to the ground. He jumped forward, catching the object, but hit the street hard.   

"You damn..." he swore.

I skipped further, Ratter barely catching up to me. I let out a small laugh, which caused many of the bystanders to look at me in fearful concern.

When I was back on the path home, I stopped Ratter. It was a little early to plant seeds, and Mother and Father would profit more from a well maintained path. I took the shovel and got to work.

 When I was back at home, the sun was close to the horizon. Back at Hazelbrook, the army men were in their camp, while the locals grouped up to go into the chapel. 

I stored away the seeds in our storage. Despite what the church wanted, we won't use their blessed seeds for our field; seeds from last year's harvest sprouted more plentifully in our soil. 

Then I tended to the animals in the last light and said my goodbyes. Some of them would die before I’d come back in one- or two-years’ time.

When I went back inside, a savory smell hit my nostrils, coming from the cast iron pot in the middle of the table. Father sat by the table, with short hair and close to no beard now. Mother stood beside one of the chairs, with shears in her hand.

“Smells good like always" I said.

“Rabbit stew, a hare went into the trap,” Mother said, pushing me down on a chair close to the entrance. “But first we need to take care of your unruly mane.”

“For what reason? Nobody cares how I look. Not even me.”

Mother ignored me, and started to cut along my scalp. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a nice girl to bring home on your journey.”

“I already found a nice girl years ago.”

My mother didn’t comment. She continued cutting my hair and then moved on to my beard.

When she finished, she took a step back and looked at me. "See, if you're groomed properly, you are quite a handsome young man."

I scoffed. There were many things that one could use to describe me; handsome was not one of them. With the same pointy chin and hawk-like nose, I looked like a copy of my father, save his wrinkles and warts that undoubtedly would come with time.

"Thanks, mum."

I stood up and joined my father at the table. Mother scooped some of the steaming stew into my bowl.

I took a spoonful and moaned at the taste. It could have used more salt, but that’s a luxury we didn’t have. I finished my first bowl with a side of the hard bread and took seconds, the pot still not empty.

“This could’ve fed us for days,” I said while putting another spoonful in my mouth.

“Yes, but I just…” my mother’s voice broke as she struggled for words. “I thought you’d like it as a last meal at home.”

I looked into her brown eyes. “I guess it’s only a little battle on the other side of the map. I should be back within a year.”

The sombre silence settled between us again. 

After the meal, my mother went to sleep, and I washed the pot and the bowls with the rainwater outside. When I went back in, my father still sat at the table.

“Sit down, son.”

“I still need to pack my stuff.”

"I already prepared that for you."

He pointed at the corner, where clothes, provisions and other things I might need on the journey lay beside the rucksack we normally use to carry tools.

“Please, sit down.”

I sighed and slid back on the bench.

He started, "The battlefield is a place you will wish you’d never come to."

My hand formed into a fist. I knew this spiel. "Are you drunk again? Are you also going to claim again that you punted the allmage?"

A line formed between his brows and his jaw clenched. "No." He stared deep into my eyes. "I know I normally only talked about the war when I've had a few, but now, I'm sober and you need to listen to me so you're aware what will come for you. The battle is chaos, pain, and loss. I've seen some of my bravest friends freeze at the sheer sight of it. And that cost them their lives."

He reached for my hand. "You will have to make difficult decisions within a heartbeat. Spare a man, and he will drag you to the floor. Kill him, and you'd live your whole life with the tears of his family.  Give your life for the lives of others,..." He sighed. "Maker knows that I and my company didn't always choose right."

His eyes reflected the horrors he had seen. "In the end, you can only come home and hope everything will be alright."

I remained silent. He didn't even get this luxury.

He reached under the table and took out a bottle of schnapps and put it on the table between us. I stared at him, anger welling up inside me.

"Don't worry," he said. "This is my promise to you. It doesn't matter how hard it's going to get; this bottle will stay closed. And when you come back, we can decide what to do with it."

I looked in his eyes and gave him a small nod. 

My old man pushed himself up, grunting when putting weight on his hurt leg. "Don't be too long. You have long days ahead of you."

With these words he stumbled to the sleeping room, leaving me alone at the table.

Before long, I stood up, took the candle holder and made my way over to the things my father had prepared for me:

My spare clothes, a water skin, provisions like bread, sausage, eggs and carrots for a few days, patches and threads and a needle for repairs, shears to cut my beard,...

The only things missing were my knife, and the tunic that I still wore. I put all of them into the rucksack, then tested its weight. Manageable.

My eyes fell on the patch in the pattern of a flower on the rucksack. I traced my fingers around it. The leather of the patch was a bit softer, I hoped it and the seam would survive the journey. I breathed out of my nose and took my hand off again. 

It was time to go to sleep. The tall candle had shrunk significantly, only a few minutes of dim light left. Just enough time to check something.

Instead of going to rest, I fetched a chair to reach the books stored away on the top of the cupboard. ‘Books’ was a generous term; they were collections of self-made parchment pages bound in shoddy leather. I took the one on the very bottom of the stack and carried it over to the table. Carefully, I opened the cover. The first page stuck to it, and when I freed it, the edge of the brittle parchment broke off. 

In the candlelight, a rudimentary map of the kingdom appeared, as well as Yrgal could draw it from memory on the uneven parchment. Hazelbrook lay far to the east, Sunhill just a bit further west. That was the farthest I’d been in my life. I traced my fingers further along the indicated street. Not far after, there was a city called ‘Arkyras’, the seat of our baron. Then, the path continued along the coast of the Granaq river, which turned southward as if to escape the massive forest that made up the centre of the map. Eventually, the Granaq reached the city of Torza, where it turned westward again, past the city of Eugenia, to Westpass. From there, the road turned north, along another river to Forlam, the capital of the Kingdom. Simply going there would take months, and going back would take just as long. 

I sighed and flipped to the next page. With effort, I deciphered the heading in the highfont symbol.

Naiad

Thankfully, the more common name of the race was written beside it in simple script.

Gargoyle

I turned the page. I knew enough of the blue skinned people with down feathers above their ears. 

I turned the next few pages as well. Zivot, dwarf, berserker, elf, orc,... I knew the strange man I’d met today was none of those. 

The next page spoke about ‘Albos’. 

‘White hair, red eyes,...”

As soon as I started to read the first line, I knew that was not it either.

That left the last page. The highfont on this page was even less readable. I remembered, this was around the time when Yrgal taught me to write.

Squinting as hard as I could at the page in the low light, I deciphered the symbol on top.

“Souvra,” I said.

At that moment, the candle finally died down, leaving me in the dark.

“Damn it.”

If there was still time tomorrow, I’d need to read further in the morning. I yawned at the unusual time. I placed myself on the coarse straw and pulled the wool blanket over me.

[distinguished-slacker]

Manga colouring prayer post to see Mitsuba’s demon in the next arc cuz at this rate OnS will run out of arcs before the manga finishes 7^7 🙏🛐

[kiraixi]

Bad kitty, Billy!

nsfw : ao3

It was that time of year.

Steve was a responsible owner, honest! But sometimes Billy really got out of hand.

Especially in his heat.

Billy would be such a good kitty normally and Steve just learnt to deal with it, only a week of frantic behaviour compared to a year of bliss was something he could handle right?

Wrong.

For some reason this time Billy decided to take his frustration out on Steve. He was used to Billy holeling up somewhere in the house, the only indication of his presence from the ever depleting food stores, but now?

Billy was insistent, constantly rubbing against him ever after being shooed. Sticking his tail up in front of Steve’s nose and constantly yowling. He was really stumped on what to do.

Grabbing the kitty by the collar Steve tickles his chin, “Billy, do you want me to call another cat in?”

A vigorous shake from Billy followed by the most heartbroken blue eyes “Only want master…” He flicks his tail and flutters his eyes for effect.

That’s new. Sure it’s not uncommon to have a relation with your hybrid, but Billy’s never really indicated interest from Steve before.

Surprise colours his voice, “You’ve never asked before, sweetheart.” He reaches out, scratching behind the kitty’s ear.

And Billy just melts into his hand, ears perked slightly forward and purring like a motor.

He looks up through his lashes “Before was shy.”

“You were shy before, baby? Didn’t want Masters help?”

He whines desperately, rubbing his head up and down Steve’s arm.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ve got you now.”

Steve and Billy have been companions since childhood. After finding him wounded behind their garage, he fought tooth and nail till his parents let him keep the hybrid. Steve’s always had a slight crush on the cream cat and only grew over the years.

He grips both Billy’s thighs pulling the blonde into his lap. Billy takes the liberty to grind down a little, making him groan.

Steve’s impatient, needs to feel Billy skin on skin now.

Grabbing at the other’s shirt he pulls it off to fondle at the exposed tits, gorgeous in all their tanned beauty. Lavishing many kisses and bites around his chest, Billy responds by nuzzling Steve’s neck and lapping at his ear making the area cold and sensitive to every pant and moan elicited from Billy.

“Steve”

He rocks harder up and down Steve’s thigh, hands gripping into his arms, claws tearing at his shirt. It turns painful so Steve takes both arms and interlocks them behind his neck with a– “Hands up here precious.”

Steve’s own wander down Billy’s bare torso caressing every crevice and divot, running up and down that practically slutty waist. Billy’s face is flushed red, small whines music to his ears compared to the earlier noises.

He reaches for the lube located between the seat and undoes his slacks. Stroking himself a few times to fullness and groupes at the full globes of Billy’s ass. So plush they must be a blessing from above. Slips one finger inside and pays close attention to the way Billy’s lashes clump together with unshed tears squirming for more..

“C’mon Stevie, I need-!”

And Steve can’t deny when his kitty begs so pretty. Lines himself up and maunvers Billy to lower onto his cock, the other letting out a relieved sigh once bottoming out.

“Are you satisfied kitten?” He puts a hand over Billy’s stomach feeling the small bump from his dick, he’s always been above average. Billy responds with pants and high pitched moans, gripping his neck hard.

“You ready love?”

Billy nods desperation clear on his face “Please, Steve!”

Goes sweet and soft once Steve thrusts upwards, drooling on his shoulder. Tail wrapping around his leg and arms tightening, clinging on for dear life.

They go many rounds until Steve can give no more and Billy is a ball of purring content above him. He strokes the kitten, cooing and kissing him over and over, repeating what a good boy he was for Master. Billy responds with a cute little smile and cuddles closer.

It’s a great afternoon spent together

[capricorn-writes2]

Tfp Arcee romantic hc's with her little human S/O?

If not then I understand, have a good day/night!!!

Romantic headcanons of Arcee, Bumblebee and Cliffjumper with their little human S/O

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A/N: Hello there anon! I am sorry for the long reply to your request. As you can see, I have another account where I also write anime headcanons like this one with lots of requests (13 requests-) so I hope you understand why I late reply and as a bonus, I added Cliffjumper and Bumblebee.

Warning: None

Gender: Neutral

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Arcee

As an Autobot, I can see Arcee is still careful around you since she doesn't want to accidentally hurt you while. She's bigger than you after all. That's why she is very careful.

Hear me out. Even though she is an Autobot. She is still defensive with her feeling, even if you are smaller than her. You had to understand, that she looses all of her partners when she was in Cybertron.

During the war, Tailgate was killed by the hand of Airachnid and Cliffjumper was killed by Starscream. Because of that, this is why she tries to distance herself from anyone, she doesn't want to be attached and then ended up brokenhearted.

Because you are a human, she would be more twice protective over you and careful with her actions. She is still assertive, even more stern around you than around other Cybertronians but she means well.

Be patient and give her some space. She would open up on her own, do not force her to open up. Unlike Bumblebee or Cliffjumper, she prefers to internalize her feelings than show them.

Once you are over her cold stage, I can say everything will be worth it. Her cold personality is just a mask to cover up that she is very caring, especially to you who happened to be her human S/O.

Hear me out, I know Cybertronians don't have knowledge about humans so I can see Arcee is a bit stiff but when you are sick or injured because of Decepticons, she would try to take care of you by not letting you work too much.

She would also defend you when you are getting bullied by other humans but with a plan. Unlike Smokescreen, she isn't as brash as him but you can see from the scene of Jack Darby versus Vincent, that she would humiliate your bully in the smartest way.

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As she speeds up, there are two Vehicons chasing behind the two of you with their guns pointed at you and Arcee. This is your daily occurrence after joining as Autobot to help them protect the earth from Decepticons. Nevertheless, it still scares you knowing Decepticons still going to hurt any creatures that are weaker than them, including you.

To protect yourself as you join Autobot, you would never forget to bring a gun with you inside of your pocket. Carefully pulling it out, you pulled the trigger as the hole of the gun faced the violet coloured cars. Even though it did;t do much like you hope, it was at least helping you a little bit because the Vehicons would dodge as they were distracted and their laser would miss.

"Thanks, (Y/N). Now hold on tight, Ratchet is going to send us a ground bridge over there,' Arcee says.

You nod softly as you hold the handle of the motorcycle harder and get ready. In front of you, there was a tall wall that are blocking the position of the ground bridge. As she was getting faster, there were shotgun and laser sounds shooting near her.

"HANG ON!" Arcee screams.

As she was getting faster, there are enormous ramps on the corner and the motorcycle sped off, flying into the air as the ground bridge appear on the back. Seeing the laser almost hit you, she transformed herself before gently holding you into her chest and using her arm as a protection for you while she was shooting the Vehicons and getting inside the bridge before it disappears.

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Bumblebee

As one of the youngest members of Autobot, Bumblebee is playful or childlike yet mature. Having him as your romantic is like a mixture of comfort but also intense.

He is fun, friendly, caring, and one of the most outgoing Autobot other than Wheeljack, Bulkhead, Cliffjumper and Smokescreen. He would make your day full of fun.

He would be likely to ask you to play games together with you as the two of you compete who is the best racer in a racing car game, there would be a few time he would cheat in front of your eyes.

When you lose, BUmblebee going to tease you but if you win against him, he would playfully sulk and pout. He's not really angry or sour if he loses, to be honest, he's acting like that just to be playful.

Just like Arcee, he is going to be protective of you especially if you are his human S/O but unlike Arcee, he would still let you do your own thing but would not let you follow his mission.

Would kiss the top of your head when no one is looking and chuckle when you are getting embarrassed. Bumblebee is very affectionate so I can see him being cuddly but careful not to squish you.

Would cradle you in his arms carefully and not drop you since you are just a human being. Unlike Smokescreen, he can be very careful when handling humans.

Bumblebee would be one of the sweetest Autobot for a human S/O. Not only he is open-minded and less judgemental, but he would also make sure that you are fine every day without making you feel uncomfortable or awkward.

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In the middle of the desert, you were sitting inside of Bumblebee as a cable data connected to the screen in front of you. A two chored race car driving side by side inside of the screen as the car trying to win the race. Unknownbeast to you, you are competing with one of the cheekiest race car players in the Cybertron.

"YES! YES! I'm Getting Close! You jumped on the sit, cheering up when you see the finish line of the racing car game. Not wanting to lose you, Bumblebee made a banana peeling appear in front of your car, making your chosen car slip and hit the side of the lines, causing your car to slow down.

Seeing this, your mouth gaping open and looking at the screen as the title of the game shows that Bee won the game, "AWWW, C'MON! I WAS CLOSE!" You groaned, crossing both of your arms and pouting.

"But still loose~" Bee chirped teasingly.

"Hahaha, that was not fair, Bee. You made me slip and hit the corner by the banana peel. You're lucky I love you or I would tell Arcee that you made me miss," you laughed.

"Love you too babe," He softly whispers.

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Cliffjumper

I am gonna say this, as his S/O especially since you are human. I can see your relationship as a roller coaster, super intense. His personality is low key like Wheeljack but if Wheeljack is planned beforehand, he's not.

Protective but he is the least protective among Autobots. I can see him letting you join his mission but his eyes would be always on you so no Cons going to hurt you.

Affectionate, I can see Cliffjumper as one of the most affectionate Autobot. He would kiss the top of your head teasingly just to fluster you when you are distracted. He would also cradle you since you are his s/o in his arms.

Cliffjumper likes to tease you a lot, purposely flirting with you when no one is looking. Even if he got caught, especially by Bee or Ratchet, he would ignore them.

Since you are dating him, I can see him bringing you around some places that haven't been reached by other humans and showing beautiful sights.

As you watch the scenery together with him, he would gently place you on top of a tree branch so you can see the total view of the sky and talk together with him.

There would be a time he would prank you on purpose by acting as if he would leave you on the three and not come back just to see your scared reaction if you cannot go down before coming back and laughing his ass off.

Would laugh harder if you ended up pouting and sulking, would apologize when you gave him a silent treatment but that doesn't mean he is sorry at all, he would do it again.

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Sitting on Cliffjumper's head, the two of you are throwing jokes to each other, mostly it was a horrible pun but it was so bad that it was very funny "A man got hit in the head with a can of Coke. The man said, 'Thank Goodness it was a soft drink" you winked at the red Autobot.

Even though it was stupid, the red horned Autobot couldn't help but snort and laughed while he was walking on your side, careful not to step on you since you're smaller than him, "HAHAHA! That was one of the stupidest jokes I ever heard, but still hilarious," the male said, wiping a fake Energon from his optics.

"I know right!" You chuckle and roll your eyes.

After those words left your mouth, everything suddenly went silent but it wasn't a typical awkward kind of silence but rather the one that sent a comforting silence where the two of you enjoy each other company.

As the two of you see the sunset going down, the red horned Autobot had an idea before his optics moved toward your tiny from, "Hey Babe, wanna see the sunset from the tree? The sight is more clear," Cliff offers.

"Sure," You smile

Cliffjumper's hands gently placed on the ground, letting you sit on top of his hand and carefully picking you up in his palm. The gentle Autobot carefully places you gently on the strongest tree branch. You couldn't;t help but internally thank the gigantic robot for letting you see the first time of beautiful sight the sun setting down.

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[thefriendlyghvst]

melancholia // jjk nanami kento

⚠️ WARNING: JJK MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD ⚠️

a/n: this is not accurate to the manga HAHAHA if that's what you're expecting i am so sorry. i also wrote this before the release of the newer chapters, so yeah, not accurate at all.

enjoy!! xx

- nur

*****

"wake up, angel," smooth and soothing, your husband called you to wake up from your sleep.

"five more minutes," you mumbled at him, turning over to face his side of the bed.

he chuckled. "we don't have five more minutes, baby,"

your eyes were still closed as you smiled at him and reached over, only for your hand to fall flat against the surface of the mattress, the spot where nanami was supposed to occupy, empty and cold. you wanted to peel your eyes open and get up to find him, but the sinking feeling in your chest was screaming at you to go back to sleep. to go back to where he actually was. in your head.

soon, the sinking feeling in your chest turned into a lump in your throat and you sat up, fully awake now. your eyes were already open and teary.

we don't have five more minutes.

he was right. you didn't have anymore time with each other. he was gone forever, and you had to live with that for the rest of your life. the lump in your throat turned into choked sobs, and you cried and cried until you grew tired again.

this was how you spent your nights ever since the news reached you that that nanami kento was not coming back from shibuya to you alive. he wasn't even coming back to you in one piece. they had gathered what they could, and for at least an hour, fought you off when you tried to see him. yuuji, mostly, held you back and the kid alone was supposed to be strong enough, but even he had lost someone dear to him, so he had ijichi's help. they didn't want you to see the state your husband was in, claiming that you wouldn't be able to take it.

"please let me in, he's my husband!" you screamed and tried to push through the both of them.

the tears flowed down your cheeks in hot streams, burning your eyes. the feeling in your heart was indescribable. it really felt like someone had ripped it out and stabbed it a million times, and then did a terrible job at sewing it back in your chest. you knew you wouldn't be able to handle looking at his lifeless body, but you had to. you couldn't believe nanami - your nanami, was gone forever.

"please," you sobbed.

you looked at yuuji in the eye, and the kid let you through. and how you wish he held onto you so much harder and dragged you home instead.

when you finally saw him, you felt all the colour drain from your face. ieiri did not expect you to be able to come in, and immediately ran in front of you to cover him up with a blanket. or what's left of him. you grabbed onto her hand to stop her, gripping so hard that from the corner of your eye you could see the doctor wince.

the man that was once your husband, your lover, your knight in shining armour, was now nothing but dust and broken bones, and his lower half. nanami didn't deserve this. you didn't deserve this. no one deserves to go like this. or see the love of their life end up like this.

the wind was knocked out of you. you couldn't breathe and the room began to spin. you let go of ieiri's arm and took half a step closer, before your knees buckled and you fell onto the cold tiled floor. you heard a blood-curdling scream and only realised it was coming from you when your throat felt like it was being ripped out. ieiri was holding onto you, also on the floor as footsteps rushed over and you were being held by another pair of arms. yuuji cradled you as shoko stood to cover up nanami's remains.

the doctor and young sorcerer did not say anything and let you grieve, screaming and crying. you sobbed into yuuji's shoulder as he continued to hold your shaking body in his arms.

"i'm so sorry. i'm sorry y/n-sensei. i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," the boy whispered into your hair, apologising profusely.

you wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't his sin. he was just a kid, and just like nanami, you treated him as your own kid brother, or even as a son. you wanted to tell him that it was okay, that as much as you didn't believe it, things were going to be alright. no words could come out of your mouth, so you opted to grab his hand and squeeze it in your grip. you hoped that he could get the message, blinking through your tears.

time seemed to slow, but yuuji stayed glued to your side for what felt like hours. he helped you off the floor when you had no more tears left to shed, holding onto you so you did not fall since the both of you had been sitting on the floor in the same position for longer than an hour. you told ieiri to do what had to be done, and that you will sign all the legal documents later.

when you somewhat regained yourself, you gently peeled off itadori's hand from your arm and managed a smile at him. you told him you'd go home and freshen up a little before the funeral, even though that wasn't your plan at all. you were going to find who did this, and make sure the fucker regrets ever being brought into this world. cursed spirit or not.

and then you would join kento and be with him forever, just as you promised each other. in life, and in death.

"sensei, you're a good liar, but i've been around you and nanami-san for long enough to know your tells," he said softly, sadness in his voice.

he insisted on following you home, refusing to leave your side in case you did anything stupid. you declined, lying again and hoping he believed you this time. you even begged him, fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. you were frustrated, and desperate. you couldn't just let nanami go like this.

please let me do this, itadori. you thought.

"sensei, please. i can't lose you too," and you felt your heart shatter all over again.

it had been almost a year since that day, and though you think you're improving during the day, the nights just seem to get harder for you. every night you would dream of him and wake up crying, and you would cry about him even before you went to sleep. some nights you didn't sleep at all, not willing to see him in your dreams and wake up disappointed and depressed all over again.

in the morning, you'd miss him. you would miss tying his tie for him as he got ready. you'd miss his tender kisses and light touches, his scent, and his cooking. you would miss every part of him for every part and every second of your day. the apartment home that was once filled with your laughter and his warmth was now deafeningly silent and cold. with every passing hour, you would miss the man you vowed to love forever even more, and every time you did, the wedding band on your left finger would remind you of its weight.

you would kiss it softly, thinking that the sudden weight was nanami's reminder that he was with you, always. in life and in death.

you woke up tired. your sleep was restless, and the sound of the morning traffic outside of the window when the sun rose did not let you sleep in this morning. it was bright and sunny, and birds flew over your window as soon as you opened your eyes, chirping happily.

you sighed while rubbing your eyes and sitting up. they were puffy and your nose was red, you realised as soon as you saw yourself in the mirror. you had gotten up to take a shower and start your day. the sight of your reflection almost made you want to laugh, in a pathetic and dejected way.

why did he have to leave me like this?

you shook your head and washed your face, then stepped into the shower once you picked out some new clothes to wear. when you felt better and slightly refreshed, you decided to go and pay your late husband a visit. you stepped out of the bathroom and sighed again, a sinking feeling planting itself into your chest.

your outfit was simple. you had picked out a white long sleeved a-line sundress that reached just below your knees, pairing it with a silver watch that nanami had bought for you as a birthday gift a few years ago and the silver chain that held his wedding ring and a heart shaped locket that had his initial engraved. you had that done a week ago for your anniversary.

with a small exhale, you gathered your things in your purse, spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists, and put on your shoes. you opted for a pair of flats since you would walk around a lot today. you had taken a month break when you thought it would not get better for you, and wanted to go back to work soon. with your keys in your hands, you glanced at your watch to look at the time. 10.30am. the flower shop down the street could already be open, so you quickly left and locked the door behind you.

-

the columbarium was quiet, breeze gently swaying the leaves that hung over its walls and the potted plants beside it. you slowly approached the row that held nanami's urn, a familiar feeling bubbling in your chest, where your heart ached the closer you stepped towards it. you shifted the bouquet of flowers in your hand to the other, bringing two fingers to your lips, kissing them, and then pressing them to the glass surface that protected your husband's ashes and the photo of the both of you that was placed beside it.

"hi, my love," you whispered, letting your hand fall back to your side.

"how have you been?" you asked, to no one in particular. "i brought you flowers... and your favourite bread from that bakery you liked,"

you knew there wasn't going to be a response, but you kept talking anyway. you didn't want to think that he was actually gone, so you stood there and talked to the picture of you and your husband. you knew you probably shouldn't, but you figured it would help you cope. at least for the time being.

"it's been tough. i'm sorry it took me so long to come and see you,"

silence.

"i miss you so much, kento," you paused, your voice getting impossibly softer as you whispered.

a lump was beginning to form in your throat as it got harder for you to speak. your voice broke as you tried again, tears streaming down and staining your cheeks.

"everyday. more than you think, more than you would ever know," your voice was thin as you tried not to crumble.

you opened the glass with the key you were given and gently placed the flowers you bought on top of the ones already there, not taking them out since the flowers still looked pretty fresh. someone else must have been here, you thought.

when you closed and locked the small door again, you felt a breeze behind you and a familiar scent overtook your senses. then, you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. you sighed, the tears threatening to fall again as you felt yourself relax into his embrace. there was no mistake, you could recognise this man by touch alone.

"all dressed up for me, sweetheart?" you heard him whisper in your hair, his chin resting gently on your shoulder.

"kento," you sigh out his name, trying not to cry again.

"oh no, baby, shh," he cooed. "don't cry,"

he soothed you, lifting his head and brushing his lips against your temple. you kept quiet, not daring to move. you were afraid he was going to be gone again if you did. you felt him sway both your bodies side to side a little and you let yourself follow his movements, quietly enjoying his presence. his chin was back on your shoulder, his nose buried into the crook of your neck as you stood there.

"you look so beautiful, princess," he complimented softly, his lips brushing your neck as he spoke. "my y/n,"

"nanami," you began. "come back to me, please,"

you turned around to face him, gathering the courage to look at your husband in the eye. you thought you would see him burnt on one side of his face, or that he'd be gone, but he remained. in front of you he stood, handsome and perfect as ever.

he was still holding onto your waist, keeping your body close to him as he gazed at you. the look on his face was a mixture of everything. his eyes showed nothing but pure love and fondness, but his eyebrows were furrowed in regret, and a small, sad smile settled on his lips. he was wearing a white dress-shirt, similar to the ones he used to wear when he was alive, and his hair, dirty blonde, was neatly styled in his signature side part. he wasn't wearing his glasses, but you didn't care. you got to see your nanami again, and that was enough.

your eyes blurred with tears as you swallowed, the lump in your throat making the simple action hurt. the ache you felt in your chest was almost unbearable as you reached up to touch nanami's face. he smiled wider a little at you, his gaze soft as he leaned into your touch. you choked on a sob when you felt him lean his forehead against yours.

"i'm sorry for breaking my promise, y/n," he muttered, his eyes closed. "i'm so sorry, my love,"

the tears did not stop flowing. your eyes and cheeks burned with the heat they left, but you couldn't stop crying. nanami embraced you completely, engulfing you in his arms and his familiar scent. though you wished you could cry out in agony, you stifled your sobs. you missed him so damn much, it was killing you on the inside. when nanami died, it felt like a part of you went with him. your whole world, your happy little world filled with hopes and dreams, crashing down and destroyed in one moment.

the two of you pulled away after a moment, taking each other in. he studied your features, the same way he used to do when you did his tie for him in the mornings, the same way he used to do when you spoke and he listened, the same way he used to do all the time, as if trying to memorise every inch of your face.

you just wanted your husband back.

"my beautiful, beautiful, y/n," he declared quietly as he cupped your cheek in his hands.

"thank you for coming to me, my sweetheart. i love you," he uttered as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead.

you didn't feel his soft lips press themselves onto your skin, but felt another gentle breeze blow past as you heard a voice say your name.

"y/n sensei?"

your eyes opened and you found yourself still facing the picture of you and nanami beside his urn. your heart sank again, but your hand subconsciously reached up to play with kento's ring and locket on your necklace. you planted a kiss on your own wedding band as an 'i love you too' before you turned around to face the owner of the voice that called you.

yuuji stood a few feet away from you, hands clasped together in front of him. in the few days you haven't seen him since he last checked on you, the kid seemed to look much older. your heart ached for him, too.

he was taking care of you all the time, but who was looking after this poor kid? he has been through so much more than all of your problems combined. with a warm smile, you opened your arms for him and he ran up to you for a hug.

the younger boy paid his respects to both nanami and his grandfather while you waited outside after paying your own respects to mr. itadori. your dress swayed with the gentle wind, the open columbarium's natural light and wind keeping the plants that decorated the place alive. birds flew ahead in the sunny blue sky, and the clouds moved in line with the earth's steady rotation. you inhaled and exhaled deeply, again playing with your necklace.

"i'm done," yuuji's voice said from behind you.

you turned around and smiled at him. with an arm around his shoulder - or the best of it you could do since he was slightly taller than you, the two of you walked out of the place together to head back.

"have you eaten?" you asked the teenager who was clad in his uniform.

he shook his head and you frowned, quickly rummaging through the bag of fresh bread that you bought so that you could pass him a sandwich. he refused to take it at first, but accepted it anyway when he saw how insistent you were.

you watched him munch happily on the sandwich, thinking, you knew he missed your husband too, and you vowed to yourself you'd protect him, the same way nanami had. it was your turn to take care of him, come what may.

nanami smiled to himself as he watched the two of you walk out of the place with smiles on your faces, talking and laughing with each other. it was nice to see you smile again, and he knew that you were both going to be okay in each other's good hands. he sighed.

i'll see you next time, my love. the both of you thought at the same time.

-

masterlist