#now to disappear in a puff of smoke until next time

[bearambles]

Okok little request if ur up for it. Just Hamzah x reader (gn if mentioned) where they have a smoke sesh together in his new apartment but reader gets too comfortable and accidentally falls asleep on Hamzah with the cats.

Just pure fluff lmaoo I just can't get the thought out of my head I need to grip his shirt like a child he just looks so comfy :')

Also idc what format it can be headcanon or a small fic, whatever u feel!!

close to you 🎀 (hamzah)

words: 1.1k

warnings: use of weed, making out, fluff, established relationship

note: hi lovelies!! im so sorry for the lack of posts recently - im on vacation and ive had no time or motivation. on the ride home though, im gonna try to catch up to requests!! and im thinking abt writing smut again 🤭

“do you wanna smoke?”

hamzahs head turns from looking at the ceiling to looking at you. he looks almost nervous, his eyes darting across your face like he did the first time he kissed you. you smile at the thought and sit up on his bed.

he’d invited you over to see his new apartment (finally). you’d ended up in his room playing with his new cats, blue and red, who seemed to take a liking to you. blue sits in your lap now, and you scratch behind her ears as you speak.

“like, a blunt?”

he stays laying down, red lying on his chest. he pets her and laughs softly.

“nah, i have a pen. but it’s the same idea.”

he raises an eyebrow, “you have smoked before, right?”

you blush, your face heating up. you look down to the kitty in your lap, and bring both legs up so they’re crossed.

“duh. just like. once or twice in high school, though. and…” you trail off.

“and?” he asks, picking up red in his arms and sitting up next to you.

“i don’t think i did it right. like, i didn’t really feel anything.” you admit

“oh okay. that’s okay. i mean like- if you don’t wanna-“

“no, i do.” you say quickly, “i just - like you’ll have to teach me i guess. that sounds stupid. but the first time was like, a bong and i totally didn’t inhale shit.”

he laughs, and the sound makes you crack a smile, even after embarrassing yourself. he’s wearing his camo hoodie, and his curls are just the perfect amount of messy. one falls into his eyes and he blushes it away with his palm.

“that’s okay, i can show you. though, i don’t know how great a teacher i’ll be.”

he places red in your lap next to blue and gets up from the bed, going to dig through his drawers for his pen. you watch the way he moves, the way his sweatshirt rides up and shows a bit of his back. the way his pants fit. you look away when you catch yourself being a creep.

he finds it and goes to sit in front of you this time, near the end of the bed. he’s closer now, his legs matching yours in a sort of lazy criss-cross. he observes the device in his hands for a second before bringing it to his lips and inhaling.

when he releases the smoke, he tilts his head up and you stare at his neck. the smoke leaves his lips slowly and quickly disappears. he looks back to you and holds it out for you to take.

“it’s gonna die soon so we can just finish it today.” he says as you grab the pen from his hand, “unless you like, go crazy after a few hits.”

you roll your eyes and look at the pen in your hand, before lifting it to your mouth. you look to him for confirmation and he nods, so you deeply inhale like you saw him do.

“okay, now inhale again, and you’ll feel it in the back of your throat.”

you do as he says and feel it - it sort of burns. after a moment you puff out your cheeks and then release the smoke, slow at first. that is until you cough, and the rest comes out.

he laughs and takes the pen from your hand.

“you okay?”

you nod, but keep coughing for a moment. sitting up, you reach your hand out again, wiggling your fingers to ask for the pen back. he raises an eyebrow at you.

“you want it again already.” you nod. “alright, but be careful, for real. don’t do too much just to impress me.”

you give him a look.

“i’m not, i swear. just, lemme try again okay?”

he hands you the pen and you take another hit, this one burning less. you feel it in your head, and you smile as you let out the smoke into his face. he waves his hand to get it away, but he’s laughing.

“thatta girl, hey, you feel good?”

“i feel great.” you say, going in to kiss him. he kisses back and leans forward, wrapping his hands around your waist. you uncross your legs and sit up on your knees.

his mouth is soft and you moan into it as he moves his hands down to the back of your legs, lifting you onto his waist. from there he moves back so he’s up against the bedframe with you in his lap.

it’s like that for the next hour - slow kisses and the pen passed between you two. neither of you suggest anything more despite your closeness (and hamzahs obvious hard-on). there’s a soft sort of feel to the moment.

“i wanna try something.” he says eventually, taking the device from your fingers and moving it to his mouth.

you look at him with curiosity and lean back slightly to watch. he pushes the smoke around in his mouth a bit before taking your face in both of his hands and pulling you close. you open your mouth to kiss him, but he stays just an inch away, and while your lips are parted, blows the smoke into your open mouth.

inhaling it, you smile against his mouth and properly kiss him. you can feel his grin forming too. he deepens the kiss and his hold on your waist tightens.

when he pulls away, his eyes dance across your face and his mouth rests in a lazy smile.

“what?” you ask, regarding his staring problem

“just so…so fuckin pretty.”

you bite your lip to hide your grin and shake your head. your hair is a mess after all that’s happened and your makeup is smeared. still, hamzah seems mesmerized.

you bury your head in his neck for him to hold you. his hoodie smells like the smoke and a bit of his cologne. you breathe in and out repeatedly, smelling him. he smells so good, so safe.

slowly you slump down to lay on his chest. on instinct, his hand reaches to play with your hair, pushing it out of your face.

it’s funny, hamzah never seemed handsy before this. you never considered him someone who likes physical touch - not with friends or even family, mostly. but with you it’s different. he didn’t expect it either, but as soon as he felt your soft skin on his, he never wanted it any other way.

the motion of him stroking your hair makes you sleepy and eventually your eyes drift closed. you sleep for hours - if you had any actual plans for the day you would wake up stressed and anxious. instead, you wake up and see his head above yours, resting against his pillow.

he’s fallen asleep too.

-

i hope you enjoyed! requests are open! >_<

[michelle-is-writing]

Comfort, Kurt Wagner

Word Count: 1k~

Disclaimers: nightmares, Kurt speaks with a German accent like he does in the movies.

One thing I have learned about Kurt is that he is a very touchy person. He's not touchy as in moody, no, he's touchy as in he constantly wants to be touching me. There's nothing wrong with it, but it does scare me sometimes when I feel his tail wrap around my leg out of no where or when he randomly teleports behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He's good at unintentionally scaring me, but unfortunately, he also gets scared when I get scared at the same time.

Tonight is a good example of this. Usually, I sleep soundlessly without something disrupting me. However, for some reason, I woke up in the middle of the night for seemingly no reason until a puff of blue smoke with a man in it appeared in front of me suddenly. Of course, like usual, I screamed in surprise, causing Kurt to accidentally teleport again and land on the floor a few feet away with a thud.

"Kurt!" I scold him, turning on the lamp beside my bed. Turning back toward him, I watch as he quickly stands up with a small stumble. Looking over at me, he smiles. How could this boy still be happy when he nearly hurt himself mere moments ago?

"Hi, lovely," Kurt greets me, walking closer to the bed. His pajamas are wrinkled beyond measure and his hair is pointing in every direction possible. "Have you slept vell?"

Glancing toward the clock, my eyes widen. "It's four am, Kurt," I point out, looking back at him to see his eyes cast away from mine as his smile disappears into thin air. "What are you doing up at this time?"

"I-I know it's early," Kurt admits, his voice low and fragile. Rubbing his arm nervously, Kurt continues pointing his yellow eyes away from me and onto the hardwood floor of my room. "I just had a bad dream, and I knew I-I could come to you," he adds, making me stare at him with concern.

"What'd you have a bad dream about, love?" I ask Kurt, watching him shake his head with his eyes now closed. He’s never one to come running after a dream, so I know something has to be bothering him. Kurt is quiet, yes, but when he comes to me seeking comfort, he's usually open to talking to me. This time seems to be different.

"Kurt," I address him, watching his eyes flash back to me in the moonlight. I hold my arms out toward him, giving him a small smile and nod as I know exactly what he wants. "Come on."

As soon as the last words leave my lips, Kurt immediately pulls back my (f/c) comforter and crawls in, curling up within my arms like a cat. Nuzzled close to my chest, his entire body hides underneath the covers while his hands play with the ends of my sweater, his tail having a mind of its own as it wraps around my leg. "I vould prefer it if ve shared a room together like Scott and Jean," He shyly confesses, causing me to smile.

"If that's something you want, I don't see why we can't have it," I tell him, watching as he quickly pokes his head out from underneath the covers.

"Is zhat truly something you vould like, dove?" Kurt asks, staring up at me with questioning eyes.

Once again, I smile before moving his dark away from his face. "I would love it, Kurt," I admit, too tired to even feel embarrassed at my confession. "Now, are you going to tell me what your nightmare was?"

In response to my question, Kurt looks away before gently lying his head on the pillow next to mine, a soft sigh falling from his lips. "You vere attacked in your room," he states, "a-and I teleported as fast as I could to get in here, but I couldn't help you in time and I couldn't... I couldn't save you," He shamefully admits, making me hold him closer to me. Kurt's voice gives away his distress, and it pains me to hear it.

"I can't bear to lose you, (Y/n)," He adds on, one of his blue hands rising from underneath the covers to wipe away a fallen tear. However, before he can, I gently swipe my hand against his cheek, making a tiny smile spread across his lips. "I've been zhinking about us moving into zhe same room for a vhile now, but I didn't know if you vould vant zhat too," in my arms, he lightly shrugs. "I vant to be able to protect you vhenever I can, and I guess my vorries got zhe best of me tonight."

Leaning down, I place a kiss to Kurt's forehead before nuzzling my nose against his. "My room is big enough for us both - we can start moving your stuff in the morning?" I suggest, gaining an even bigger smile from Kurt as he leans forward to kiss me.

"That sounds vonderful, dove!" He almost shouts, causing me to laugh as I gently place my hand over his mouth to lower his voice. Noticing his sudden burst of excitement, Kurt grows a little embarrassed, but continues on. "You mean you vouldn't have a problem vith me living vith you?"

I shake my head at his question, still smiling. "Of course not, baby," I assure him before turning on my other side to press my back against his chest. Kurt quickly takes the chance to move his arms around my waist and hold me close, his tail moving to wrap around my stomach at the same time. "Now, go back to sleep. May I remind you that you woke me up at four in the morning?"

"Of course, mein liebling," Kurt murmurs, leaning over and kissing my cheek. Even after he removes his lips from my skin, I still see him leaning above me as he gazes down at me with a soft, almost peaceful expression. "Please, do go to sleep, and I will be here when you awake."

With his words, I close my eyes and fall into slumber shortly afterward, but not before smiling to myself as the thought of falling asleep like this every night brings happy butterflies to my stomach. I'm in the arms of the man I love who holds me close to him with no intent on letting me go - what more can anybody ask for?

[musings-ofthe-unamused]

CoD Headcanons: Back From a Mission Gone Wrong

A/N: Hello friends! So sorry for not posting in a while. Will try to post some hcs and fics more often!

Warnings: Angst, yelling, fights, hurt/comfort

Ask Box: Open

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Ghost:

He's so pissed

At first, he doesn't say a thing 

But finally he explodes

Yelling, getting up close

He won't back down until he's got it all out

And once he does, he just walks away to cool down

"You're fucking insane! You're a trained soldier, not some war hero in a movie!" 

"LT, it was just-"

His voice raised even higher until he was shouting. "No excuses! It was fucking reckless and you know it!"

"What, and you don't get to-"

"Shut the fuck up! This isn't a fucking game! I'm so sick of you trying to pull these stunts. You wanna be punished for insubordination? This is the third fucking time you haven't listened to me! And I'm so fucking sick of it!"

You felt your face growing hot. Everyone stared at the two of you as Ghost continued to yell at you. It felt so unfair. You were just doing what you thought was right. But now he was acting like you have never done a single thing right. With a thick swallow, you lowered your head. You couldn't say a thing. He eventually stopped. And once he did, he walked away, leaving you to face the stares of everyone else.

Soap:

Absolutely in shambles

He was so scared that you were gonna die 

He's dealt with this before, but not in a way like this

Soap has never been so terrified

So as soon as he sees you, he clings onto you

Soap's arms were wrapped securely around you. Normally, you wouldn't mind the affection. But now that your arm was in a sling and you were trying to eat lunch, this was more of a nuisance. You groaned, trying to shake off your clingy boyfriend. He didn't budge. It's been only one day since you came back, but he's acting like you'd disappear in a puff of smoke.

"Soap, I need to eat."

He shook his head. "Five more minutes."

"Are you not embarrassed? We're literally in the cafeteria and everyone is staring." You tried pushing him off once again. No luck. 

"I don't care. I almost lost you, so I'm never letting you go again."

Gaz:

He tries to make it seem like he was calm

He knows your strengths and how you manage to pull through

But Gaz can't help but let out a sigh of relief when he sees you in the infirmary

Gaz would sit down next to you and flash you a smile

Crack a joke about how you're immortal

"Well, well, well. You made it back. How unlucky." Gaz sat next to you on the cot. 

You snorted and rolled your eyes. "Wow. I love your concern for me."

"I can't be concerned." He reached out, grabbing your hand. "I know you'll always come back to me."

"Of course I will."

Price:

A mix of anger and concern

The type to be super silent 

That's when you know you've fucked up

Lecture in his office

Will hug you after

The office was silent except for the ticking of his clock. You watched as Price sat back in his seat, smoking a cigar. Your uninjured hand tapped nervously against your thigh. He had just spent the past twenty minutes lecturing you on being more careful and vigilant on missions. But now was the scary part. The silence.

"Captain, I'm really sorry." You finally managed to speak. "I thought I was in the clear. They just came out of nowhere, and I-"

Your words were interrupted as he suddenly got up from his desk. He stalked over to you and leaned down. He hugged you tightly. Cigar smoke curled around the both of you like a second embrace. Your body relaxed.

"Captain…"

"Don't ever do that again."

"Yes, sir."

Alejandro:

He's there when you arrive on base

Immediately looks you over to make sure you're okay

Will mutter under his breath at how reckless you are

But praises you for getting out of there alive

Alejandro was staring at you with his arms crossed as you limped off the aircraft. You could already see the gears turning in his mind, deciding if he should scold you or immediately send you to the infirmary. When you finally stood in front of him, he lifted your chin with his fingers.

"Look at you. How reckless." He mumbled under his breath. His eyes traveled over your face.

"Sorry."

"I know. But you did good, getting out of there alive. I'm proud of you."

König:

The type of anxious guy that has to be doing something

He knows your hurt when you come back, but he isn't there to see you

Instead, he's in the gym, working out

You actually have to find him 

When he sees you, he just kinda breaks down a bit

König wasn't waiting for you when you got back from the mission. You wanted nothing more than to collapse in his arms and complain about how everything went wrong. And yet, he was nowhere to be found. You searched practically the whole base before finding him in the gym, lifting weights.

"I'm back." You said, walking closer to him.

His back was facing you. "I know."

"Can you look at me?"

He turned around. You could just see his shoulders deflate as he looked at your injured body. You sighed and walked up to him. He buried you in a tight hug, his cheek resting on your head. He squeezed you as tightly as possibly. You felt almost bad for messing up on the mission and worrying him.

Keegan:

Calls you idiotic, but brave

Has a bright smile on his face

Can't believe you got out of there alive

Tells you to not do that shit again

Keegan's hands slowly ran down your arms as he looked over you. His eyes were shining with pride. You had just come stumbling out of the Humvee, dizzy and disoriented. After throwing off your helmet, you stare up at Keegan.

"I didn't die!"

"No, you didn't. You're so stupid."

"But brave, right?"

"Right."

Graves:

Will make fun of you

Never thought you would fuck up a mission that badly

Will be incredibly annoying about it

Doesn't even offer to help you?!

Bitch

Graves couldn't stop laughing. He was doubled over, his hand clutching his stomach. You stood in front of him, battered and bruised. A glare was on your face as you waited for him to finish. Of course he wasn't concerned. He was an asshole, why would he be?

"I can't believe you fucked up so badly!"

"Graves…"

"You crashed into a ditch!"

"Graves, I am bleeding profusely! Shut up and help me!"

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Hi! For the kink thing you're doing - could we please please get a Billy Russo competency + overstim kink (or competency and praise, whichever pairing you prefer). In my mind the reader gets *ideas* when Billy is building something (bc those damn IKEA dressers are difficult) or maybe she goes to Anvil one day and sees him doing like training with recruits or something? Anyway, sorry for the ramble and thank you in advance!

I am!

Masterlist

In the Sniper's Nest

Contains: Consent and kink negotiation, hand kink (you get an extra one), competency kink, fingering, overestimation, P in V, fluff.

1.5K words

You check out the new instalment at Anvil, a sniper's nest that Billy seems to love.

Despite his ear protection, he still heard you ascending the steps of the sniper's nest. It was Anvil's newest toy, the tall structure standing out above the skyline of the flat warehouse. He pulled aside his ear muff and pulled the earplug free, pushing himself up from his position lying on the table in the middle of the room to rush over to greet you. "Hi."

You tapped your own ear muff with a smile. "What?"

He pulled them off your head and placed them around your neck as you yanked the earplugs out. "These are a good look for you."

You chuckled. "Yes, that gun is very loud."

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you, his hand soft on your cheek as you leaned against him. He pulled away, brushing your hair from your face as he looked down at you lovingly. "Now what are you doing here?"

You sighed. "I missed you, you've been busy and we've been missing our lunch dates." You furrowed your brow. "Why are you in your suit?" Normally during training, he wore his grey fatigues.

He sighed. "I just got done showing our client our new space. They were very impressed."

You took the chance to look around the small room. It was set up like an embedded sniper outpost, the walls covered in large charts about wind speed and bullet type, even though it was furnished like a dining room in a dilapidated apartment. The only things that really stood out were the new couch in one corner and the shelves of binoculars and PEE along one wall. "It looks even better than the photos." It really felt like you were in enemy territory.

He took your hand and led you to the table, gesturing to his rifle with a smile. "You wanna watch?"

You nodded, and he walked around the table to the shelves, picking up a pair of safety glasses and a set of binoculars. He placed the binoculars on the table and pulled you close, sliding the safety glasses over your face before booping your nose as you held back your giggles. "You're being silly, Billy."

He bent his head and kissed you again before helping you climb onto the table and settling next to you. His shoulder was back bracing the riffle as you looked through the lens, and the shot shook the room while smoke billowed from the barrel. You didn't see anything until he tapped your shoulder and pointed to one of the trees at the very edge of the property. Another look clarified what he was shooting at as another shot rang out, and a left was blown clear of its branch.

It happened like that each time, the green leaves disappearing in a puff as the boom of the gun jerked the table until he ran out of bullets. When he finally placed the weapon on the ground, you still found yourself unable to look away from the sight, he hadn't missed a shot the whole time. He ran his hand all the way up your back, finally breaking your attention away from the tree. You removed everything from your head and turned backwards to face them. "That was very impressive."

He was smiling, his ego clearly boosted by the look of amazement on your face. "I gotta go back to the armoury and clean my rifle. You wanna come?"

You nodded. "Of course I do."

The trip was short, only down the stairs and through a door before you were standing in an expansive space loaded with guns. He made his way to the large table with you following close behind and began to dissemble the weapon, taking it apart piece by piece before cleaning each part with care, his face a mask of concentration as the burnt gun powdered turned into shiny metal.

"You see something you like?" He looked so smug.

You most definitely did, each movement of his slender fingers was precise and controlled more like a dance than a tedious process he could do with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back. "Yes, many things, would you like me to list them?"

If you thought he was smug before, that was nothing compared to how he was now. "Nah, I think I have a pretty good idea."

The gun was put away in his personal spot, and he washed his hands in the slop skin as you watched on, swaggering up to you and lifting you onto the table when he was done. "You need something from be gorgeous girl?"

You nodded. "Many things."

He settled between your spread legs, his fingertips playing with the hem of your jeans as he gazed into your eyes. "Are my fingers one of them?"

It was hard to concentrate on anything when he was touching you, but you knew if you didn't answer, nothing would happen. "Yes, I would like that very much."

He smirked and popped open your jeans, slowly undoing the zip if only to toy with you before his fingers met your core. "You got something you need to tell me about, because there's no way my poor landscaping and the smell of gun oil has got you this wet."

He wasn't pulling any punches, there was no tease or slow build, he was doing exactly what he needed to bring you right to the edge before your brain could catch up. "You're very good at things…" You took a deep breath to gather yourself as heat spread out from where his fingers were on you. "And I like that you're good at things."

The feeling of his fingers leaving your skin shocked you into action and you tugged at his clothes while he tugged at yours, and before long, you were both naked with your clothes in little piles around you. "You know what else I'm good at?"

You knew exactly what answer he was looking for by the way his thumb was rubbing at the inside of your thigh. "Yes, yes I do."

He smiled and returned to touching you with the same insistence as before. It didn't take long for the pressure to build in your core, and he knew it. His beard scratched your skin as his lips worried at your neck, and he smiled into your skin as you clenched around nothing. He didn't stop there, his long fingers filling you before the aftershocks could fade.

Everything was so steady and practised, the fingertips on your G-spot, his lips on yours, each move intentional and purposeful until you were once again cresting the hill into bliss. He was unrelenting, pushing and pushing and pushing until one orgasm faded into another and space reduced to just the two of you in the empty Anvil warehouse.

"Please, Billy, I can't take it anymore." That was only half a lie, you could have told him no if you needed to.

He chuckled warmly, pulling his hand away and sucking his fingers into his mouth with a groan before speaking. "So you don't want me inside you?"

His tone held just a hint of mischief, and you nipped his shoulder as he chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes."

You nodded. "Yes please."

His forehead fell against yours as he slid inside you, taking a careful pace as you leaned your weight into him. He wrapped his arms around your body, controlling the pace as you wove one hand into his hair and held the table with the other. As his speed picked up, he pulled back to watch your blissed out face, grunting like an animal with every thrust as he took in the sight of your screwed tight eyes and heaving chest. "Billy..I."

He kissed you softly, whispering against your lips as his fingers made their way to your clit. "I know, gorgeous, I can feel it. How about you be a good girl and cum for me again."

You were powerless to resist his request, not when he said it so sweetly and as you were swept into the undertow of it, his teeth sunk into your lower lip as he followed you.

You stayed together for a breath before he finally stepped back, smirking as you twitched. "Sorry."

You huffed. "No you're not."

He kissed the corner of your mouth with a smile. "You're right about that."

He reached down for your clothes, dressing you piece by piece before dressing himself. Your eyes went wide, and he paused, looking at you intently as if he could decipher your worry. "Umm, is Jerry watching the cameras?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I made sure they were turned off when we walked in here."

You fained offence and shoved his shoulder playfully. "You ass, you planned this from the start."

He nodded and kissed you again. "Yep. You can't be mad, you love me."

You sighed. "I do but I'm expecting you to make it up to me, I can't have you scheming all the time."

The look of lust on his face told you what he was thinking. "Oh, don't worry, I will."

Fin

@thegirlwhowritesfics

[weniswastelandwenis]

Companions React To Sole Announcing Her Pregnancy

Cait:

She was neither happy, nor sad for Sole. She offhandedly told her “Congratulations on the wee one” when they swapped out guard shifts. Months upon months passed, and finally little Shaun 2 was born.

Cait’s heroine business was getting lean in the resource department, so she snuck into Sole’s house when she was sleeping, slipping through the back window. She shuffled quietly through the kitchen, checking closet to closet, until finally, jackpot. Baby powder. “Finally, I’ll be able to turn a profit!”

 The next day Sole asked around if anyone had seen her missing baby powder. She was within the vicinity of cait’s house, and passed by an unsafe looking individual that swapped items with cait. ‘Can’t judge a book by it’s cover!’ Sole thought, a smile on her face.

Cait spotted her and attempted to shut her front door, but Sole got her boot in it first. “Heyyy Cait! I was just asking around, did you happen to see a bottle of baby powder anywhere? Mine just abruptly went missing.” Cait’s gaze shifted to her desk, then back to Sole, then to the desk. “Uhh, no, why’r you asking me that? What would I need baby powder for? I don’t like what you’re implyin’. Get out me house!” And with that, she shoved Sole out the front door and slammed it in her face.

From that point on, whenever Sole would miraculously find another bottle of baby powder, it would strangely disappear in the night. Cait’s front yard had a mile-long line of drifters and ne-er do wells on it at all times, and Shaun turned to dust due to improper infant care.

Codsworth: 

He knows this is his own doing. Codsworth realizes with a heavy heart that he now has another set of lives to worry about and protect in the wasteland. He’d already lost sole once, and ever since his heart had turned to stone.

Codsworth goes to the local chapel and prays for forgiveness for what he was about to do. He’d never forgiven Sole for dying and for leaving him behind in the blast. Codsworth tells sole he’s going out to buy diapers for the little toaster, and all he leaves behind is a pack of cigarettes and a puff of smoke. Between a wave of hookers a booze, Codsworth is never seen again. 

Curie: 

She cooed that a young human child, Sole’s child, would be joining them all shortly. She had always loved babies, and Dr. Collins and her frequently tested on them to find ways for humanity to survive the irradiated wasteland in the future.

One day, Sole and some of her companions had to leave and help one of the settlements. Curie was entrusted to watch the baby, to which she agreed to do with extreme fervor. “The little one will be safe with me Mademoizelle.” Sole tossed the toddler like a football and Curie went long. “So long!” Curie almost squealed.

Immediately she took the baby to her test chambers which she had been secretly building in a shack, not too far from Sanctuary. The child was given many different experimental vaccines and medicines, which didn’t do much of anything. Curie started losing hope. Then, something happened.

The baby started growing. And growing. It bust out of the flimsy tin shack they were both in. Then it kept growing to the size of a skyscraper. Curie began crying happy tears, and fell to her knees. “Humanity finally has a chance to survive! Mr Collins, we did it!”

Danse: 

Was excited he would have the opportunity to brainwash another unwilling victim over to the brotherhood. “It’s time to stay with Uncle Danse, Shaun Jr. Be good!” Sole said on the way out of the house, off to her go-go dancing. The baby and Danse locked eyes. “Let’s begin.”

For non-stop 13 hours, Shaun Jr was to perform Brotherhood drills, which were demanding on his baby body. Danse custom-built him a tiny power armor suit. The pair of them traveled the wasteland, going door to door and handing out pamphlets about the danger of ghouls and feminism.

Sole finally arrived home, and the baby she left was not the baby now in front of her. His brow was furrowed. His fist, clenched. He had been indoctrinated. Sole wept.

Deacon:

Deacon has always felt insecure and unsure of his place in soles life. When he hears she is with child deacon is overjoyed at first, he cant wait to have a baby around to put tiny sunglasses on and teach to spy. But deacon soon realizes that if the baby is born, then deacon will be replaced as the bald man in soles life and sole wont have time for deacon anymore.

Deacon spends hours and hours waxing and polishing his bald head so that it would stand out as the most bulbous and waxed head in the world- even better than the new born babies. Sadly, deacon doesn’t realize that sole loves him for more than his bald head and deacon spends so much time waxing and polishing his head that he neglects his friendship with sole.

Sole runs away and gets attacked by a deathclaw as Deacon stares in the mirror, transfixed by the glow of his own bald head. 

Hancock: 

In the midst of all the cheers and laughter, Hancock is silent. He is seen tugging at the collar of his mayoral shirt, and sweating ghoul bullets. Weeks pass, and Sole finds he is being distant and avoiding her.

Finally, she confronts him as he’s taking a leak on an irradiated tree, making him stop mid-piss. “Ok, it’s time to end this!” She screamed. Hancock zipped up his jorts hastily and turned around, attempting to look charismatic and casual but failing. Sole could tell in his inky, black eyes that something was bothering him, deeply. He sighed.

“You’re right. You don’t deserve this, Sole. It’s just that… What if your baby… Looks like me?” A ghoul tear fell from his empty, soulless eye and dropped, joining his piss on the ground.

Soul walked over to him, and put a friendly hand on his shoulder in an attempt to calm his quiet, shaky breaths. “Hancock… No matter what my baby looks like, I’d love them. Just like I love you.” Then she smirked. “Besides, it’s Strong’s baby.”

MacCready: 

Maccready knows an opportunity when he sees it. Caps are his main priority, and when the going is tough he’s willing to get down in the dirt and be a street rat like every other wastelander.

That night after throwing Sole a party to celebrate her pregnancy (and wearing a sinister smile the whole time) Maccready changes into an outfit of all black and sneaks out in the dead of night. He makes contact with Jeanie May, and hands her a certain contract… Sole and the baby are sold for fifty caps and Maccready has a few free rounds of beer. 

Valentine:

After Sole essentially saved the commonwealth and beat the Institute threat, business had been slow. Upon hearing that Sole was with child, the lighbulb attached to his robo-head went off. 10 months pass and Sole had a perfectly healthy baby boy, whom she oddly named Shaun. For many days and many nights, the other companions would give Sole gifts and attention, leaving the old detective to collect rust in his office. He tented his metal fingers. “It’s time.”

(1 day later, 16:00) A flurry of footsteps is heard outside, and Nick wore a wry smile. Bells jingled as the door slammed open. Sole looked beside herself, in an unkempt state, and more manic than he’d ever seen her. “It’s Shaun! Nick… He’s-He’s gone!” She clenched his desk and let out a massive, eight wheeler, tractor trailer-size fart. “I can’t do this again Nick, I just can’t!!!” 

“Calm down Sole, it’s going to be alright. Thanks to my handy-dandy detective skills, we’re gonna get your boy back. For real this time.” That seemed to ease her anxiety, just a tad.

For many days and many nights they made fliers, and Nick’s business was more popular than ever before. He was able to afford an irradiated limousine, yacht, and robo-wife. Life was good. He finally decided he had acquired enough material goods, at least for now, to be satisfied.

Making sure no one was following him, he walked behind one of the houses in Sanctuary to the hidden bunker no one knew existed. Inside was baby shaun. The thought of her child not being lost after all, and right under Sole’s nose made him chuckle darkly with glee. That bitch.

Picking him up disgustedly, he began walking to the square of sanctuary only for a blur of color to appear in his peripheral vision. His orbs weren’t as strong as they used to be, and when he recognized what it was, it was too late. A deathclaw swallowed Shaun whole, burped, and walked away. 

Piper:

She knows there's a story here, there just has to be. Piper frets long hours of the night in front of her evil magic mirror, plotting a way to get publik occurrences on the world map.

Through extensive research and bribing Piper finds out that Sole has a serious disease from being cryogenically frozen and she will die soon. Piper waits until the baby turns 18 to announce in a tell all article that the baby has blood poisoning from their mothers cryogenic freezing.

She had been studying the effects on a human from birth ever since the baby was born, and now her research has made her millions of caps. She also adds that soles child has two days left to live and sips her wine from her pimp chalice with a smirk. 

Preston:

Preston decides to raise this baby just like he was raised, to protect and serve the minutemen. He tries to raise the baby with the best values he can, but soon shaun starts to act out. First its a stolen candy bar, then it’s vandalism. Preston has a good talk with them every time and he tries to reinstall those values, but shaun never listens.

One day shaun acts out again by leaving the kitchen door opened with the air conditioner on, and preston makes them go outside and count the flowers. 

Strong: 

Smashed the baby, killing it instantly.

X6: 

Sees this baby as an opportunity for the institute, which is quickly failing with no leader. He tracks down Edward Deegan, and forces him to hand over the mystery serum, which he reverse engineers into an aging serum.

One quiet night, he sneaks into Sole’s house and babynaps her child. “Welcome back, Father. My creator.” He says in a quiet prayer before injecting the child. It happens in a flash; where once there was a baby, there now was an old man.

The issue was, he still had the mind of a baby. X6 strangely did not consider this before carrying out this plan, and picked up old-man baby Shawn and set him back in his crib. Back to the drawing board, he thought.

[bbearthyy]

headcannons of TWD characters

these are just some headcannons i have for characters from the walking dead. are these extremely unlike the characters? well, yes! do i give a fuck? no, not one!

tw: none lol there’s angst but just typical TWD stuff, these are mostly during the prison era

- carl and beth stole daryl’s cigarettes one of the first nights at the prison. they snuck up on the roof and huddled close to fight the cold. worried daryl would notice if too many disappeared, they chose to share one. (carl blushed over the fact that they basically kissed, beth only noticed how cold the cigarette was after his puffs.) they both decided they hated the taste, and swore they wouldn’t do it again, but every year on the anniversary of beth’s death carl finds a pack of cigarettes and smokes a few, letting some burn a little longer so she can smoke with him.

- rick tried teaching judith to say carl (or bubba), beth, and daryl, before he ever tried to teach her ‘dada.’ he felt guilty for the fact that in her first few days of her life he neglected her, and wanted her to acknowledge those who took such good care of her when he couldn’t.

- judith’s first word was actually ’mama,’ due to how often everyone told her stories of her mother. when she said it rick had to hand her to beth, and walked away. him and carl disappeared for a while after that. rick came back after a couple hours, but carl didn’t show till the next day. they both had bloodshot eyes and puffy cheeks, but nobody commented on it.

- (1) after lori’s death carl had awful nightmares almost every night. they were usually of his mom as a walker, blaming him for her death. when he had these nightmares he’d leave the cell block, sneaking out onto the roof. he’d wrap his arms around his torso like a tight hug and rock himself back and forth, before listing all the constellations he could see; just like his mom did for him when he was little.

- (2) daryl started noticing carl sneaking out, and followed him out once. they talked about it, and carl cried… a lot. daryl didn’t mind, he just pulled the boy onto his lap and rocked him while he cried. it became almost routine after that: carl would wake up in tears, daryl would walk with him onto the roof, he’d hold the child in his arms and rock him, and when carl fell back asleep daryl would carry him to bed. they never talked about this routine, and when the prison fell it never happened again. but sometimes, in alexandria, when carl wakes up with tears pouring from his eye, his instinct is to find daryl, and he has to rock himself back to sleep. (*whispers aggressively* daryl misses the rocking too. and sometimes he’ll sit on the porch counting the stars and wait for his nephew to come find him. he never does)

- (3) before carl dies he asks daryl to rock him one last time. nobody knows what he’s asking for, but daryl doesn’t hesitate. the man steps forward, pulling the now young adult into his lap, and begins rocking. there wasn’t a single dry eye in the room. daryl couldn’t sleep for weeks after.

- rick absolutely adores hugs, and carol meets his enthusiasm towards the embrace every time. the man is such a hugger and if he ever gets a “dry hug” from someone, where they merely patted him on the back and walked off, he’d immediately search for carol to make up for the loss. this never changed, even during his relationship with michonne

- when the children of woodbury first joined the prison, rick appointed carl with the job of telling them about all the adults of the original group. most of the younger kids didn’t understand that they weren’t all carls family, so he just told it like they were. there was not a dry eye amongst the group when they found out carl had introduced them as his grandpa hershel, aunt maggie & uncle glenn, uncle daryl, aunt carol, and so on.

- hershel panics a little more every time a patient comes into his cell. he begins a prayer when they come in, and doesn’t end the prayer until they leave. he gets angry when they leave in a body bag, and sometimes curses God. he apologizes profusely less than a minute after, and finds relief in the fact that every other patient he has/had that day survives.

- maggie is allergic to strawberries. no i will not elaborate. glenn was not aware of this fact and nearly had a panic attack one day when he tried to kiss his wife after eating one of the strawberries from the garden. maggie had seen glenn eat the berry and pushed him away quickly when he leaned in for a kiss. the Korean man looked like a kicked puppy when she did so, and maggie was quick to explain, giggling as she did. glenn never ate another strawberry after that, but they used to be his favorite.

- beth was actually carls first kiss. after the kids from woodbury came, carl and beth would often find themselves tucked away in a forgotten spot of the prison, backs pressed to each other as they read silently or went about their own hobbies. one day, carl was reading a spiderman comic, and must’ve made a strange sound, because beth turned around to look at him with a curious hum. “this makes it seem like kissing is this crazy world shattering thing. it’s just lips pushing against each other. what’s so great about it?” beth offered to show him what was so great about it. carl blushed profusely but obviously agreed. the kiss was sloppy at first due to carls inexperience, but they got used to each other real quick. carl found that he really liked kissing. they kissed quite a few more times after that. carl was very disappointed when beth got a boyfriend and they couldn’t kiss anymore, but beth snuck him a goodnight kiss every once in a while when she knew he had a bad day.

- daryl got sick one time at the prison, just a little head cold. he refused to acknowledge the fact that he felt sick until he nearly collapsed on top of rick while they were tending to the pigs. when he awoke the whole group was piled into his cell, some teary eyed, others just trembling in fear. daryl felt extremely guilty afterwards, and to this day he makes sure to let someone know if he so much as gets the sniffles.

- carol used to have a pug. his name was diesel and he was her baby. when she started dating ed, he told her he hated dogs. carol didn’t care, and refused to get rid of diesel. one day when carol came home from work, ed was asleep on the couch and her pug was no where to be found. when questioned about it, ed claimed he had no idea where the dog was. but carol saw blood on the front tires of his worn down pick up truck. it’s why she slashed said tires, and claimed she had no idea who could’ve done it.

- carl let someone trim his hair ONCE. and of course it had to be maggie. it was when they first got to alexandria. the ends of it had curled up and matted in some places and he knew it wouldn’t be worth the hassle of trying to pull the knots out. he sat in front of the couch and maggie reassured him multiple times that she was only trimming the ends, and that he didn’t have to let her do it. he held judith while maggie cut his hair. and if he cried a little bit and maggie had to pull judith away from him and hold him till he could breathe again? that’s nobody’s business but theirs.

- carl hates the smell of gardenia flowers, but they were beth’s favorite. they grew like crazy at the back of the prison, where most chose to avoid. every morning beth woke up to three fresh gardenias in the mason jar on her bedside table, and every night carl washed his hands vigorously as he gagged at the smell. beth never found out who brought her the flowers, and carl stomps on every gardenia he sees after she dies.

- rick actually hated being sheriff, and was going to quit his job a month after he began. but one day when he was picking carl up from school, rick saw his son gushing to some of his friends about how his dad was a “totally awesome super hero cop.” rick decided he loved being sheriff not long after.

that’s all for right now but i have SO many more. let me know if you liked this and i’ll make a part 2🫶🏻

[missbenzayb]

Waking up Hazy

A Oneshot Between Smoke/Tomas Vrbada and Y/n~ (Author's notes at the end and artwork!)

- Smoke's POV:

I didn't mean to wake up behind my usual time, I didn't mean to ruin things, I didn't mean to think of her that way...

Those are my thoughts— I couldn't think properly except my body was rushing, jittery on my own footing and fretful in sight. My own world is clouded with worry, I can't think of anything except her...

Sometimes I didn't notice something that's near me until I felt a strong hand tapped on my shoulder, I was ready to pounce on them- but it's just Kuai Liang and Harumi staring at me with concern. I got self-conscious, gently sighing from my actions.

"Are you alright, Tomas? "

My brother Kuai Liang asked. A short pause before I could say anything,

"We saw you pace past through our room, we were calling your name. You didn't respond back, that's why we chased you just now."

My brother's eyes felt like he was about to scold me but Miss Harumi meddled in with a question that— made me felt gloomy after.

" Did something happened between you and Y/n?"

A long sigh came out of my mouth, I cannot say much to Miss Harumi about Y/n nor I don't want her to worry of her childhood friend— who disappeared not too long ago. However, Miss Harumi is able to catch on base on my expression.

"Don't tell me she went missing?"

With a calming tone in her voice, I looked at Kuai Liang relaxed his face, tilting his head to Miss Harumi to give her the honest answer.

I look down, taking a deep breath and told her.

"She did— but few people including Cyrax saw y/n in a good mood until the afternoon— she just vanished."

" Like a puff of smoke?"

My brother joked jovially, Harumi slapped his shoulder. I chuckled, Kuai Liang did lightened my mood even the situation like this. I explained to Harumi what happened, she is able to understand of the event.

My head was still fuzzy until Miss Harumi giggled, I was confused at first— Kuai Liang looked at his wife and she whispered to him leaving me more bewildered. My brother chuckled, ambling along the floorboards and patted lightly the side of my shoulder.

"Tomas, how long have you and Y/n been together?"

"9 years, why?" I replied

Yes, y/n and I have been together for 9 years— never left her side when I was raised by my adoptive father along with Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. She was taken in like me, what caught my eyes on; is her modesty, self-discovery and Shyness. My first interaction with y/n, she was sitting on the bench where I can rest after training.

I sat next to her, struggling to say hi. I looked at her- curiously on what she's sketching. I thought she's drawing a statue in front of us but turns out— it's Johnny Cage.

I want to say something and ask something— but my mind couldn't do anything for me. Suddenly I got startled when an eraser dropped on the ground. I picked it up and hand it to her, a small weak thank you came out of her mouth and smiled as she went back to her sketch. I must have eaten my words, she couldn't hear it but I was flustered.

"Please say hi to her"

My head is telling me to. As I was about to turn to her, she's already standing in front of someone. My adoptive father asked her to come and train with someone. Then he saw me beckoning to come along too, thought I was already too late to say hi.

To my surprise, y/n was assigned to train with me that same day. After that, both of us introduced ourselves properly. As time passed by, our bond grew and our long love has ever been strong. She was there for me, when my father died and when Bi-han betrayed us.

What shocked me the most— as we resided to Japan to meet Kuai Liang's childhood friend; Miss Harumi, is happy to see y/n. She revealed to us that she's her childhood friend who grew up in the Philippines and moved to Japan with her father and brothers. Miss Harumi received letters that y/n got kidnapped without a trace.

I didn't know I'm dating someone who is fierce as Miss Harumi! Kuai Liang comment how lucky I am. Now, I'm in front of my brother who asked the question. Waiting what will he'll say,

"You can find y/n sitting on the bench, Tomas."

My brother pointed the direction, I thanked him and Miss Harumi then I ran off to see her. It didn't take me long to find y/n, it's like the same time where I first met her— sketching in front of the statue, sitting on the bench where I rest from training.

Sauntered near and sat beside her. I was waiting for her to look at me but she didn't. Y/n kept her pencil in pace, ignoring my presence. Until I call her name.

"Y/n.."

She didn't say anything, there was an unexplainable sadness, frustration and defeat in me. I continued to speak to her.

" I was not in the right mind earlier...I'm letting my defenses down and just talk to you. All I want is being with you, for making you wait and hurt you because of it..."

I woke up in a wrong time and had no idea what was going on. Cyrax was the one who explained to me on why y/n is acting this way. She was excited to tell me something important and waited for me outside. However, I was in the deep sleep that I locked my door and my phone in silent mode.

Indeed I am in deep regret,

"I'm here now,"

I reached for her hand while her pencil is intertwined between our fingers, I looked at her. Waiting for her to respond.

"I don't know...I'm still hurt,"

She said. Her tone was raspy like the first time I heard her voice, I softly sigh and told her:

"I didn't go elsewhere,"

I held her hand tightly, slowly she put the sketchbook down beside her. Scooch over, laying her head on my shoulder and I nestled my head on hers. I finally asked y/n what she's going to say from earlier, she cleared up her throat lightly.

What she told me— made me want to go back in time!

" Well, my father was begging me to get married with you through the texts. He added

" - Tell Tomas that you two should get married now! - "

I got excited that time..."

I leaned forward covering my face, groaning in frustration and happiness at the same time. Tears about to swell up when I told her I ruined her excitement and that I was bad person.

She turned to me, gaze with a wholehearted smile, intertwining our hands together. She opened her mouth with a question that made me tear up,

"So, what's your take about it? "

Chuckling at her question, there was an immense joy inside of me.

"I'm so happy! And excited!"

A/n: This is my first oneshot with Smokey Bear! I haven't done writing in ages since I do more a lot of fanart and all~

This is actually base on what happened in real life, nothing bad happen, just a bad timing to wake up and all~

And a wholesome art of Smoke in tears of joy~ If given the chance to make more of these, then I might :3 I got so many backlogs of fanart to do~ Laters gators~

[seabirdtxt]

.Irminsul Push/Pull

You, the Creator, experience your first day with the world's weirdest roommates. [< prev] [Blog tag] [next >]

Notes: SAGAU, reader is the Creator but no cult shenanigans. mild swearing. very gentle puppet bullying, it's probably the cain instinct or smth. all relationships are currently platonic!

WC. 1.8k

----- ⚘ -----

You’re not super sure what you thought telepathic communication was going to feel like, probably assuming you would hear the voice of the other person saying their message out loud in your head.

In reality, it ends up being more like receiving a text message. In all caps. In your head.

GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE.

You sit up in your bed with a frown when the message suddenly crosses your mind. You check outside the mansion’s window, deeming it to be relatively early in the morning. Curious, you slide out from under the covers and shuffle your way downstairs.

Your curiosity quickly turns to irritation as you hear the sound of tools being thrown and voices arguing coming from the direction of Kabukimono’s room, the only currently inhabited room on the ground floor. 

You slowly push open the unlatched door and quickly duck to avoid a flying object—what is that? a pair of tongs?—that was aimed somewhere in the vicinity of your head. 

“- told you you can’t cook on the forge!” Kabukimono shouts, whiny and furiously stomping around, tossing loose tools around the room. Scaramouche is standing a little ways away from him, holding a bowl of ingredients with a bored look on his face.

“It’s a heat source, isn’t it?” The Balladeer asks, rolling his eyes. “If I can light it on fire, it can cook things.”

“No you can’t! I have to keep it way too hot to cook things,” Kabukimono scolds him, brandishing a metal poker in his direction. “And if you get food crumbs and oil in it, it might affect the quality of the metal! I won’t let you use it, and that’s final!”

“What else am I supposed to use, then?” Scaramouche growls, gesturing widely. “It’s not like this genius Creator of yours, in their boundless wisdom, made a kitchen.”

Whoops. Your eyes scan the room, surveying the damage, until your gaze lands on a terrified Cuppy hiding under a coat rack behind you, close to the door.

“Hey, buddy,” you whisper, inching closer to him. “D’you think you can turn one of the ground floor rooms into a kitchen really quick?”

The little teacup spirit nods frantically and disappears in a puff of smoke, presumably to fulfill your request as fast as possible. 

You look around the room again and spot Wanderer hovering above the other two, one leg crossed over the other in a pose hilariously similar to Ei when she’d been meditating in the Plane of Euthymia. You wave to catch his attention, and he looks over at you with a wry expression before zooming over to where you are.

“About time you got here,” he snarks, landing delicately beside you. “These idiots have been going at it for about twenty minutes now.” 

“I just asked Cuppy to make one of the rooms a kitchen,” you tell him. “I totally forgot about that, I don’t usually make a kitchen inside the Traveler’s teapot, so…”

“Yeah, you use the outdoor one, right?” 

You nod, having briefly forgotten that Wanderer had seen your layout of the Traveler’s realm before. As you’re musing on this, Wanderer darts forward and smacks the underside of Scaramouche’s bowl, causing it to escape the Balladeer’s grasp and sending ingredients flying in all directions, much to Kabukimono’s displeasure. 

“What the- why would you do that?!” Kabukimono wails, his argument interrupted. “Look at this mess! Niwa would have a heart attack if he saw this!” 

“Half of this garbage is yours,” Scaramouche points out, expression thunderous as he picks up one of the smaller prongs on the ground and uses it to take a swing at Wanderer, who takes to the air and floats out of reach with a smirk. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself,” Wanderer says with a shrug. “I was just getting so sick of hearing you guys whining like babies for no reason.” 

“Okay, and you needed to waste perfectly good ingredients, why?” Scaramouche snaps, bending to pick up his now empty bowl and waving it at Wanderer threateningly, visibly restraining himself from flying off the handle.

“Because it’s not like you were gonna actually use them,” Wanderer snaps back. “I am you, and I know for a fact that you can barely make cup noodles if someone else did the preparation for you.” 

Scaramouche quickly turns red in the face as Kabukimono laughs at him, so you step in before another argument can break out.

“Guys, come on, I think Cuppy finished making a kitchen,” you say placatingly, hands outstretched and palms up. The three puppets look at you with varying levels of skepticism. 

You lead the way out of the trashed room, picking one of the other doors at random and hoping that it’s the one Cuppy chose. Mentally keeping your fingers crossed, you turn the knob and open the door, and freeze in the doorway, prompting at least two of the puppets to peer over your shoulder at the scene inside.

Cuppy did, indeed, choose this room. It’s one of the Mondstat-themed bedrooms, and what the teacup spirit did was put a single stove in the middle of the room and replace the bookshelves with jars and cupboards. Everything else about the decor, including the bed, carpet, and wardrobe, is the exact same.

Wanderer can’t seem to help himself about this, either, and bursts out laughing. 

“You call this a kitchen?” Scaramouche asks, pointing at the lonely stove sitting beside the Mond-style bed frame. 

“I think he did a great job,” you try, covering your mouth with one hand to hide your amused grin. Thankfully, it seems Cuppy made his escape as soon as he renovated, because he’s nowhere to be seen. 

“I don’t get it,” Kabukimono says, and you can feel him pushing someone (Scaramouche) behind you to see the rest of the room, to the person’s (Scaramouche’s) protests. “What’s so funny? A good stove and a well-stocked pantry is more than okay.” 

“And,” you interject through your repressed giggles, eager to defend your little teacup spirit. “Having a bed nearby just means you can lay back and relax while you wait for your food to cook!” 

“Are you serious right now? It’s just a stove in the middle of a bedroom!” Scaramouche protests, pushing you aside and stomping into the room. He points at the stove, and then at the carpet it’s sitting on. “This cannot be safe, right? This breaks all kinds of safety regulations.” 

“We’ll just move it aside, it’s fine,” you say, hoping to diffuse the situation. 

“It’s understandable,” Kabukimono agrees. “It’s not like he’s seen a proper kitchen before, right?”

Even Wanderer stops laughing as the three of you stare owlishly at Kabukimono, who shuffles nervously under the attention.

“What?” Kabukimono asks defensively. 

“I actually hadn’t thought of that,” you mutter, hands on your hips as you survey the room with new consideration. “He is pretty small, and who knows if he ventured outside of the realm before…” 

The other two remain silent, seemingly contemplating Kabukimono’s words but not voicing their opinions on it.

IS IT BAD THAT I FEEL BAD FOR LAUGHING?

You hide your flinch well, the sudden message scaring you out of your own thoughts. You steal a glance at Wanderer out of the corner of your eye, where he’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He doesn’t look you in the eye, instead pretending to be very interested with the shelf of ingredients near him.

‘I think that's just normal’ you think, hoping he somehow receives your thoughts as well. ‘I didn’t think of it either, so we’re all kinda wrong…’

While you’re distracted, Scaramouche has already started lighting the stove, having kicked aside the offending carpet, and browses the shelves for ingredients. He knocks on a few of the jars with a frown.

“... These are all empty.” He finally evaluates. 

“Yeah, that tracks, I don’t actually own anything yet,” you nod. “Everything I’ve ever collected is probably still with the Traveler.”

“Presumably they’d be willing to part with some of their stash,” Wanderer adds sarcastically. “I don’t think they really need several thousand of each ingredient they own.” 

“I mean, you never know, right?” You chuckle nervously, thinking of all the bag space your farming must have taken up. How does the Traveler’s inventory work outside of a game-mechanic perspective? You suppose you’re going to find out soon enough. 

“If you’re going out to get stuff, I’m coming with you,” Scaramouche declares, crossing his arms as if daring you to refuse his company. “No way am I staying in here with these guys.” 

You shrug, and Wanderer doesn’t protest either. “Yeah, that’s fine with me. I’ll head out now so we have time to sort and put everything away before lunch.” 

“Bold of you to assume we’re going to get anything done before lunch,” Wanderer mutters, herding Kabukimono out of the ‘kitchen’, promising the other puppet to help him clean up the mess in his room. 

“Are you ready to head out?” You ask Scaramouche, ignoring the jibe. You hold out your hand, which the Balladeer reluctantly takes, and you will yourselves out of the teapot realm.

You materialize in one of the alcoves of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, briefly disoriented by the change in location until you see Nahida and Aranyani sitting on the central dais, seemingly having a quiet conversation. Nahida spots you first, waving cheerfully at you both.

“Your Grace! Balladeer! Apologies for relocating you, but we decided that the chamber of Irminsul should remain uninhabited for now,” she explains, hands clasped together. “After all, it’s too easy to stumble and damage one of the branches of information, and I would hate for any of you to blame yourselves if that kind of accident were to happen.” 

“That’s fair, thanks for doing that for us!” you smile at her thoughtfulness. Still holding Scaramouche’s hand, you lead the two of you down to the central part of the chamber. “Do you know where the Traveler is? We wanted to ask if they could spare some of the materials I had collected from before I came here.” 

“Yes, we saw the Traveler earlier, but they went to fetch some people that Nahida recommended,” Aranyani says, picking up Nahida under her arms and putting the small god in her lap. Nahida doesn’t react, still smiling as Aranyani begins to play with her hair.

“Recommended for what?” Scaramouche asks before you get the chance to. You elbow him subtly, a warning to watch his tone. 

“To help us figure out how and why you’ve descended to Teyvat, Your Grace!” Nahida claps her hands together. “It will be good to know in case you need to go back home, or if you wish to return here from your world!”

You nod, grateful at the prospect of having that option. “Who did you call in for this?”

Aranyani cheerfully answers this for you: “The General Mahamatra, and a scholar named Alhaitham!” 

You share a quick look with Scaramouche.

“The linguistics guy, and the cop…?” You ask, with a slight wince.

“I don’t think you’re figuring this one out anytime soon.”

[snnrinc]

Codename: ROOK

Now completed on AO3!

Ch. 1 /11- Outside Contractual Obligations [AO3 Portal]

— PAIRING : Dabi/Touya Todoroki x F!Reader x Hawks/Keigo Takami

— WARNINGS : NSFW (Not in this chapter), Noir AU, No Quirk AU, Porn With Plot, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Drugs Blood and Violence, Crime Scenes, Organized Crime, Murder, Eventual Smut, Cunnilingus, Double Penetration, Masturbation, Analingus, Mildly Dub-Con, Not Canon Compliant, AFAB reader, She/her pronouns for reader

— SUMMARY : Being a police officer in a city where crime runs high and respect is non existent has got to be one of the shittiest jobs you've ever had. But it pays the bills. However, once you and detective Keigo Takami are assigned a case that deals with the murder of a prolific law enforcer and the subsequent chain of disappearances happening all over Musutafu, you realise that having your bills up to date is most definitely not worth all the danger you're up against. Especially when that danger is named Dabi, one of the most sought after criminals that you've been trying to catch red handed for years. Nonetheless, this is your only opportunity to make your job finally mean something, so you and Keigo decide to go undercover right in the jaws of peril, its razor sharp teeth waiting to bite into your neck like a guillotine. But you won't back out now, will you, officer? Good luck on the job, codename Rook.

— NOTES : This was supposed to be a smutty one shot I have no idea what the fuck happened. It's been gathering dust in my Docs for over a year and yet this is the only chapter I have 💀 I left notes for myself saying "don't go overboard with the plot because the point is for them to FUCK" and now here we are. It definitely worked. For sure... Still hope you enjoy!

“A big-name agent of ours went missing a few months ago. No trace of his whereabouts until a couple weeks ago, when his body was found in the dumpster behind a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. Well, parts of it anyway.”

The man in front of you took a final puff from his dying cigarette and promptly extinguished it in the ashtray in front of him, right next to a bowl of sweets with generic labels. He exhaled the smoke in billows and it vanished in the air, lingering with a pungent smell of tobacco and an awful chocolate flavouring. Your nose scrunched up slightly and you resisted the urge to cough.

“We have no evidence left at the crime scene and the body being chopped up makes it near impossible to determine the murder weapon,” he continued. “We have some of our best agents dealing with the autopsy and the case as a whole, but no clear suspects so far.”

“This seems like highly classified information. So why are you telling me this?”

You closed the file you were handed and placed it back on the desk, eyes shifting to detective Enji Todoroki sitting across from you, watching the way his eyebrows dropped down just a little in an expression that seemed to almost be judging your intelligence.

Really, you felt like you should be the one judging here.

To say you were confused would be an understatement. When you were called into Enji's office, you had assumed you did something wrong on the job, since most people in your workplace seemed to overlook you even when it came to small tasks. Sometimes you felt that if you wouldn't turn up to work one day, no one would notice. Usually, you didn't mind — being invisible meant you could do your work in peace without being bothered by unnecessary small talk or the occasional office drama that you sometimes overheard in the break room. You were just an officer, one of the lowest ranks in the force, so the only time you expected any attention was when something went wrong.

When Enji personally came to look for you before you went on patrol for your shift you felt your stomach drop. Yes, the job sucked a good majority of the time, since you noticed you were often not taken seriously by your colleagues, sometimes probably even considered a liability when dealing with more violent cases. But like any other person roaming the earth, you still had rent to pay and food to buy if you wanted to continue existing, and working for the Public Safety Commission ensured you did just that and still had some money left for your more frivolous wants. Straightening your back, you followed Enji to his office, every bad scenario playing in your mind only getting worse when, as soon as you sat down, he dropped a file containing the case details on the desk in front of you, pushing it forward in a silent prompt for you to read it.

And now here you were, bombarded with information about a murder you were pretty sure you were not qualified to deal with, at least judging by your contractual obligations. You had half a mind to ask if you'd be getting paid more if you worked on the case, but you bit your tongue from the overwhelming feeling of uneasiness creeping up your spine.

“Of course, I don't expect you to understand things so quickly.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his comment. “But surely you've gathered by now that you have been assigned as an assistant to this case.”

“That much is obvious,” you couldn't help but retort. “The question is still why?”

“I was meant to be assigned to this case, but the crime rate has spiked in recent months. I have bigger issues to deal with, so the Commission decided that we need someone that can slip under the radar.”

Ah, so they just needed some cannon fodder. Part of you thought you should've expected as much from the Commission.

“I still think I'm terribly underqualified to be working on this case.”

Enji leaned back into his chair, tapping one of his armrests with his index finger. “So do I, but you'll be working under detective Takami.” He heaved a sigh and allowed a sarcastic undertone to lace his voice, “Who should've been here to give you a quick overview of the case progression so far, but who are we to count on his punctuality?”

Wait a second, working under who?

You blinked and did a double take at him, replaying his words in your mind as if trying to dissect their meaning. This was fantastic in the worst possible way. Not only did you practically have a murder case of a prominent agent dropped into your inexperienced and unsuspecting arms, you were now the right hand of the second best detective of the Commission, Keigo Takami.

If only you had these kinds of odds bestowed upon you if you played the lottery, surely you'd have won enough to ditch this job.

You thought back to what Enji had just revealed to you and couldn't shake the feeling that there was a different reason why they would ask an officer to help with this case, other than just “slipping under the radar”. With one of the best detectives taking over, you figured the Commission wouldn't be stupid enough to allow someone like you to get in the way of the investigation.

As the questions multiplied in your mind, your tongue was tied, unable to figure out a way to put your doubts into words, especially since you knew Enji would do nothing to soothe them.

There was a knock on the door breaking your train of thought, before it opened to reveal detective Takami, an easygoing smile etched on his lips, his gloved hands buried inside the pockets of his shearling jacket, with only one coming up to push his aviator sunglasses that were resting on the bridge of his nose to the top of his head.

“Sorry I missed the introductions,” he said, “but I'm sure we weren't called here just to chat.”

“At last you grace us with your presence, detective. A little while longer and our officer here would've taken over the case in your stead.”

You whipped your head towards Enji, almost ready to ask him if he was serious, before you looked back at Keigo to see him meet your gaze.

“I'm Keigo Takami, it's a pleasure to meet you.” He gave you a charming smile and extended his hand for you to shake. You grasped it firmly and introduced yourself. “So, were you one of the first responders at the scene?”

“Actually,” Enji interjected, “the officer is unfamiliar with the case at the moment, save for the basic details.”

“Oh?” Keigo frowned in confusion.

“As of today, this is your new assistant in this case.”

Keigo blinked a few times, then shook his head and huffed a laugh. “I'm sorry. What? An officer? Not that I mean to doubt your judgement or anything, but isn't this case a little too sensitive for an officer to deal with?” He turned towards you. “No offence.”

“None taken, I'm a little confused myself.”

Enji sighed and massaged his temple with one hand before he leaned forward. “You see, your role in this case will be a little more... 'hands-on' than usual. I mentioned we don't have any concrete suspects, but we do have an idea of the organisation that might be responsible for the murder, which is why we need to employ your help for the investigation.”

“I don't see how this is anything new,” Keigo said. “We've been investigating the League for a while, they operate in this area. Tying them to this murder would be the most obvious first step.”

“The League?” you interfered.

Enji raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you familiar with them?”

“Uh, yeah.” Your eyes shifted between the two men watching you. “They've made a name for themselves amongst the police officers. We've been trying to catch a few of them in the act but they always slip away.”

“Unsurprising for the police force,“ Enji scoffed and you frowned. “Let's hope we won't have the same disappointing results in this case. We have no time to waste on pathetic failures.”

Keigo looked at you from the corner of his eye and noticed the way your shoulders tensed up. He leaned over and dug his hand into the bowl of sweets on the desk, effectively catching both of your attentions. With a fistful of candy, he resumed his questions for Enji who was dishing out your responsibilities.

“So is this about the NOMU Program?”

Enji's eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that program? It's classified information, even for you.”

Keigo shrugged and shoved some more candy into his mouth. “If it is about that, I'd argue that's even more reason why we shouldn't drag an officer into this.”

“Sorry,” you interjected. “What is the NOMU Program?”

“Don't concern yourself with things outside of your duties,” Enji snapped.

“Come now, let's be courteous with our colleague,” Keigo said with a light-hearted tone before turning to you. “It's a codename used by the League. We figured it stands for Network of Metahumanoid Units. A fancy name that's probably got to do with their attempts at reanimating corpses.”

Fuck, so now you were dealing with zombies? Sure, technology as a whole was impressive, but it was nowhere near sophisticated enough to bring someone back from the dead. As far as you knew, every attempt to reverse death was futile. So then why would someone bother?

Enji noticed the confusion in your eyes and spoke before you could ask any questions. "They're planning to use them as weapons. Keigo called them corpses because essentially that's what they are: on the brink of brain death.”

“The only reason why they don't collapse is because the League is pumping them full of a drug called Trigger that boosts their baser powers,” Keigo continued, earning an annoyed glare from Enji at how readily he presented the classified information to you. “We've only had a few attacks reported so far, and we weren't sure what exactly we were dealing with, so we had our top agents deployed to deal with them. Which is why the police weren't mobilised.”

“Sounds like a pretty important omission to me,” you countered with a frown. “So is this what we're dealing with here? Drugged up zombies?”

“We're still unsure,” Keigo answered. “If this victim was supposed to be part of the NOMU Program, then we wouldn't have a body cut up into pieces on our hands. Maybe they're trying to send a message.”

“That's where you two come in," Enji announced. "This time, you will not be dealing with any forensic analysis, suspect interrogation or evidence collection. Instead, you two will act as our eyes and ears and infiltrate the League.”

An insurmountable amount of pressure crashed over you and clenched your muscles in a vice grip, to the point where you almost felt as if it would crack your bones at any moment. You tried to control your expression in an attempt to stop your shock from washing over your face, but surely the vein that started throbbing painfully in your temple was enough proof.

“Hold on.” You raised your hand again to signal for Enji to slow down. “You mean to tell me you called me here to act as your spy?”

Enji scowled. “I don't like it either. They shouldn't send a rookie in for such a big case. I should've been the lead, but it wasn't my decision to make, so I suggest you suck it up and do your job.”

Your voice was exasperated, “There are so many ways that this could go wrong if you send me out there! I'd just hold detective Takami back!”

“I have to agree,” Keigo said. “It's best if I work on my own as usual.”

“Well you see, Takami, things are not so easy in this line of work,” Enji snarled, then produced two folders from his briefcase and stood up, handing them to you and Keigo. “Commission's orders and instructions. Read them thoroughly. Good luck with the mission detective, officer.”

And with that, he stepped out of the room and you felt as if all oxygen made an exit along with him, your heart pounding in your chest so hard you could almost hear it through the grave silence that fell over the room as you read the instructions:

“Officer,

As of today you will refer to yourself as Rook and to your mission partner as Hawks. Forget your real name. Return your weapons, badge, uniform and any other equipment that may be in your possession at the reception of the PCS HQ.

While infiltrated do not contact anyone outside including family members, friends, acquaintances and other PSC employees except for your partner.

You will not have any accolades attached to your name. Your achievements will not be disclosed by the PSC if you succeed. You will receive no posthumous awards if you die. This is your duty to fight for the people. Failure to comply could result in dismissal, sanctions and/or prosecution.

Destroy this document after reading.”

This job was so not worth it.

You watched the grainy screen of the tube TV perched in a corner of the office intently, listening to the news broadcasted somberly by the anchor along with your colleagues. Keigo was by your side, expertly twirling a pen in his fingers, but his focus was zeroed in on the screen, his nose and mouth buried in the raised collar of his jacket.

After the discovery of the body of the Commission's agent, the disappearances around Musutafu increased by a concerning margin. What was worse was that not all of them were agents, some were simply civilians that seemingly had powerful or useful builts and abilities, like the person whose face was now on the screen, their name, last known location and clothes they were last seen wearing listed underneath the picture.

You crossed your arms over your chest and frowned. If this was what you were dealing with, even with your training and experience you were unsure how you'd survive as a double agent. You had no special skill, no upper-hand tactic and you couldn't rely on Keigo—Hawks—for fear that you'd hold him back and compromise the mission.

With how they had you bring back anything that would suggest you'd ever had any contact with the Commission, it really seemed as if they were trying to erase any trace of your existence. This job was all you had, all you ever worked for since you were just a bright-eyed trainee at the police academy, ready to take on any danger coming your way if it meant you could save someone else from it.

How naïve.

Maybe you should've just given up when you were still a child, still able to choose a path that would fit you and your capabilities more. The society in which you lived was unforgiving to weak people, so you had to adapt. But women were not always respected in the police force, and those who were got there because of their network rather than their own abilities more often than not. Not to mention that a police officer's chances of advancing without having someone behind them were close to none.

In other words, there was no way out for you. But at least you weren't exactly the perfect catch for whatever the League was planning, by the looks of things.

From the fog of your worries, you felt Hawks tap your shoulder to catch your attention. His collar was now pushed down neatly and you could see the serious way in which his lips were pursed. He gestured with his head for you to follow him and you complied with a nod.

You reached his office, after stopping by your desk to collect the last bits and pieces you had left laying around, and sat down in front of his desk, one hand worriedly rubbing your chin as you looked out the window. His eyes never left you as he sat down and leaned back in his chair, the pen he was playing with earlier still in his hands. He watched carefully as your brows turned downward in a frown that casted a shadow of concern over your eyes, before he put the pen down on the desk, the sound making you turn to look at him.

“I know you're worried,” he started, “but I want you to know I won't let anything happen to you.”

You let your hands fall into your lap. “Please, don't worry about me. I don't want to be a drawback in this mission.”

“You won't be,” he said, but noticed you were unconvinced when the corner of your lip lifted in what was supposed to be a polite smile, but didn't quite reach your eyes. “You graduated as the top eighth trainee in the police academy, surpassing like, what, 22 of your classmates? That's pretty impressive.” You stared at him in a mix of confusion and surprise and he shrugged nonchalantly. “I've read your file. You've got a lot of potential, officer.”

You smiled and nodded as thanks. In the past, this kind of compliment would've left you feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside, feeding into your pride and fuelling your determination to get even better. But now, the comment felt like tossing a coin down an endless pit, nowhere near enough to fill the hollow space in your chest and, despite its value, ultimately useless. When did your outlook on your job get so sour?

Maybe it was when you were put up for disciplinary action after attempting to stop one of your fellow officers from brutalising a murder suspect. Or maybe when you had one case shut down because the culprit was the daughter of an acclaimed attorney that somehow found the perfect team of lawyers to render the evidence null. Or maybe it was simply after you had graduated from the academy and were thrown out into the real world. Any way, perhaps this was the universe's way of making up for all the times it fucked up. By giving you a new opportunity.

You picked up the pen from Hawks's desk and fiddled with it. “Officer, huh? I thought my new name was Rook.”

Hawks chuckled. “They're really terrible at picking codenames, huh? Sounds like we're just two bird enthusiasts with no imagination.”

You chuckled at his comment and after a moment you bent down to rummage through the box in which you had collected your remaining possessions from your desk, pulling out a document. You opened it, quickly finding the file in which you and Hawks took notes about your action plan.

“So,” you started, scrolling through the notes, “you were saying you already have a way to get inside the League?”

Hawks leaned forward on his elbows to get a better look at the notes. “Well, yes and no. Enji didn't tell you this, but remember how I said we've been investigating the League for a while? Well, I've been in contact with one of the members. I managed to get close enough for him to think I'll soon defect and join them.”

“So you've been planning to go undercover for a while now?”

“It's the only way I could squeeze any information out of them. They seem pretty loyal to their cause, so getting one of them to become an informant for the PSC was highly unlikely.”

You nodded in thought. “So who's your contact?”

“A guy named Dabi.”

Your blood ran cold and your eyes shot up to Hawks. You knew that name too well. Not only was he notoriously known among the law enforcement as one of the most dangerous members of the League, but he was the person responsible for numerous counts of arson in your area, courtesy of his pyromaniacal tendencies. You'd been trying to find a way to get closer to catching him for years. Each time, he slipped out of your hands, your attempts always too late or too little.

You knew what Dabi was capable of, and without the comfort of a self defence weapon and protective equipment by your side, you feared you'd be turned to ash before you even tried to get any information out of the League.

You stared through Hawks for a few seconds. His eyes searched your expression as he frowned in confusion at your sudden change. You noticed that and blinked a few times, clearing your throat.

“So this contact is our ticket inside, but how do I get him to trust me? I think I'd be found out before I even get to talk to him.”

“No need to worry, I'll send him your way somehow. You then offer to be their informant. We'll have to act separately to avoid raising suspicion, so if we cross paths, try acting like you don't know me personally.”

You nodded in acknowledgement then remained quiet for a second before frowning in thought.

“I don't understand. If you already have an in, then why would the Commission send me to help?”

Hawks sighed. “You heard what the Commission said, you'll be the bait.” He leaned back in his chair. “The League is reluctant to let me join because I'm a well-known detective. They know who I am and what I do, but they don't know you. If you manage to convince them you're also just a crooked law enforcer, that would be the last step we need to finally get inside.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

Hawks regarded you thoughtfully, tilting his head and looking you up and down. His scrutinising eyes seemed to glow as the final rays of dusk poured through the blinds of his office window. Before he even spoke, you knew that his idea would not be to your liking.

“Say, how comfortable are you with flirting?”

[moraygrotto]

sequel to this!!!

explicitly ÑŚFŴ; vil jacks it to neige burping uwu

~💜~

Once the film comes out, Vil will not be able to bear it. Neige swallows someone—swallows Vil—in this film, in some travesty of cannibalism just shy of grotesque. And then, to regurgitate Vil, Neige—

Neige—

Vil can barely think it.

Vil is alone, feeding a DVD into his laptop, applying a clinically measured pressure to its shiny curve until it disappears into the slot. This is a different film. This one is innocent.

This older film, Vil tells himself, has always been innocent, even as the scene selection menu hits his eyes and ears, more familiar than the feeling of unzipping trousers.

His hands find the scene automatically. He knows how many increments he may skip ahead, not to get too close; the lead-up is vital, like fertilizer upon the soil of—

A young Neige adorns the screen, even younger than twenty—Vil was younger when he first saw this clip, when it first lodged itself into his mind, playing nonstop behind his eyelids long after the screen went dark. He is old enough now to name the way it made him feel, still makes him feel.

Neige engages in a saccharine, snappy exchange with another character in the fantasy, a potion maker.

They're discussing potions.

With fluid grace, then, like it's nothing, like what's about to happen is nothing, the potion maker yanks Neige's jaw open, tips a phial over his mouth, and lets fall two glittering drops.

Neige gives a comically large gulp. It's good genre acting; Vil recognizes that Neige is objectively his superior in comedic skill.

The next few seconds of the clip flow like electricity through water; Neige's eyes bulge, his lips part, and he belches, a petite puff of glittering smoke bursting from his mouth.

It's terrible CGI. Vil could recognize this much as an adolescent, was perplexed that despite the poor quality, this scene had always fascinated him, allured him, caught his heart as if it were a masterpiece of cinema.

Vil's breaths come shuddering. Now, he is old enough to understand.

Vil's fingers skip back the familiar number of seconds. Vil's fingers unzip his trousers.

He's half hard already, and Neige's lips look so plush between the potion maker's fingers, squeezed plump and open, only to be force-fed the seed of that—

Belch.

A satisfying prickle rushes through Vil's body; it's the first time he's touched himself to this tape, to any tape of a belch, but he values his sexual health too much to hold back now, doesn't want to forbid himself any fleeting rush of arousal.

It is not an easy effort. Shame clouds his mind the way it always has when he finds himself stuck to this clip, desperate for just one more replay, over and over.

But he is adept at touching himself. He has even touched himself to the thought of Neige before, has deliberately worked himself up over those very lips. He hates how much better this feels.

Burp. Burp. Belch.

It's such a good-sounding burp. Neige's round eyes pair well with it.

Burp. Burp. Over and over he plays it.

How would it feel to belch up a picturesque little cloud of glitter? How would he feel, if Neige expelled that into his face?

It feels too good. This all feels too damn good. His body begins to tremble as he approaches climax, so quickly, so overwhelmingly good.

He is about to cum to a video of Neige LeBlanche belching. It's vile, but he cannot, will not stop.

Neige cannot burp like that in real life. The sound effect was dubbed in. During the conversation, before the belch has even happened this repeat, Vil comes, spurting up weakly into his palm.

His insides churn.

Neige cannot burp well in real life, and Vil is infuriated; some childish part of him blames Neige for taking away any satisfying ending Vil might have had, blames Neige for ever having burped in his life.

The belch happens, and the dialogue continues on, like nothing momentous had happened at all, and Vil flops down atop his bed, hormones seething through his body.

Vil hates himself most of all, he is sure of it. Sweat adheres the sheets to the back of his neck.

A few moments' measured breathing later, he feels less sick. He'll have to cum again; Vil Schoenheit will not leave himself half-spent, half-full like this.

He thinks of Neige.

He thinks of beautiful models burping.

He is soft as silk, still sensitive from his last orgasm, but not needy of himself, no part of him yearns to be stroked... yet.

Vil has never done what he is about to do.

Opening a private browser tab is something he has done countless times before, and he is surprised to find that, fingers to keys, typing the words into the search bar is no more difficult.

The first rush of offense only hits him when he gets exactly what he searched for.

Neige LeBlanche Burp Compilation. It's so simple, so horrid.

Vil adjusts his headphones. They are warm from the body heat of his ears. He opens the link.

Blessedly, all the video therein appears to be taken after Neige is legally an adult. The fact both reassures and sickens him. Almost everyone who opened this video did so for the same reason.

The burps are all terrible. They're all utter trash, little stifled sounds amidst interview answers, half-audible gurgles at the back of Neige's throat, and Vil is watching them, terrifically frustrated; just like with his movie clip, he is unable to stop; the almost rhythmic flow of pitiful belch after pitiful belch sinks Vil into a state near hypnosis.

Some of Neige's belches are better than others. Vil likes when his chest or tummy does a little hiccuping motion alongside the sound. Once, Neige's lips squirm in a way that goes straight to Vil's hips.

The compilation ends too quickly. Vil actually growls, and hits replay.

Rrrp. Mggph. Mmm. Ggnp.

Vil is hard again. One of the better burps catches Vil by surprise; he had appreciated it the first watchthrough, but it sounds even better the second time; it's so clear next to its brethren, rumbling through Neige's soft body with despicable, sonorous grace. Arousal prickles through Vil as he mentally picks out the belches he likes the most, still yearning fiercely for a fantastical version of this video where each is both big and true. Neige's lips squirm again.

Thousands of individual people have liked this video. Thousands of people have done what Vil is doing now. The idea that Vil has higher standards than them is a comfort; he knows if he came to these pathetic sounds, he would still be unsatisfied, be disgusted with both Neige and himself.

He replays the video.

Only... Vil has something these people do not. A few weeks ago, Neige belched a real, strong belch right into Vil's face.

It had sounded so fucking beautiful.

Perhaps Vil is jealous. He can barely think. All Neige's little sounds from this video form a backdrop to Vil's memory, and Vil feels perfect.

Neige's eyelashes blink as he burps. Neige presses a pale hand to his mouth as he burps. Neige had expelled a soda-scented monstrosity of a belch right at Vil, and Neige's lips press together when he burps.

Vil's dick is getting sore, he's moving so hard. He feels like an animal, bent only on self-satisfaction. If Neige were to ask to marry him, in this moment he would say yes.

Neige's lips squirm when he burps. Vil comes.

Every drop of satisfaction Vil can milk from himself, he takes, as is his habit. It's difficult, letting himself feel good when it is Neige LeBlanche belching that drove him to the brink, but Vil is nothing if not determined.

After the last drops leave him, his brain conjures up an image of curling naked around Neige's warm, soft-skinned body, and this makes Vil recoil in disgust.

Finally finished, he assesses the session while he wipes the heavy palmful of cum out of his hand. He feels marvelously good, right now. It's got to be healthy, circulating one's bodily fluids so thoroughly like this. He ought to replicate this experience next time. He ought to encourage Neige to burp more.

The same thought had struck him that evening, the evening he approached Vil's trailer with a belly full of cola.

Neige had drunk so, so much cola.

It would be bordering on inhumane to manufacture a scenario where he would need to drink that much again, to drink more than that, to bloat himself even fuller with gas. Vil would not let himself be inhumane.

The video had ended long ago. He looks back at the screen. If he told Neige he wanted to hear... wanted...

Neige would surely oblige. Vil's cock twitches weakly. Vil would never make such a request, least of all of Neige. He copies the link to the video, opens his secure messaging app, and sends it to himself.

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Once upon a time in a tavern

@sofasoap @eenochian and @nrdmssgs are bleeding this out of me, so blame them (thank you)

Fantasy AU masterlist / First

In any other town, a tiefling, an elf and a goat sitting at an inn together maybe would have raised some eyebrows.

But in Tharbad, the population was so diverse that one could cross paths with a halfling, a genasi, or a lizardfolk, and not bat an eye.

Once, that very inn had been the foundation of a tiny village on the coast, at a crossroad of the three main roads in the continent that grew until it became a bustling commerce stronghold and one of the most important ports.

The local temples thrived with the crowds of travelers that spent the night while on route to some other place and donated great sums for their safe travels. Local commerce and artisan workshops thrived as well, because there was always someone needing something repaired or made from scratch.

Ruled by a council of nobles and rich merchants, the city was staunchly independent, denying loyalty to any of the Kingdoms around. Said Kingdoms didn’t want any of their rivals to own such a rich city, and thus, Tharbad lived comfortably in a precarious balance.

Loved by everyone, desired by all.

‘‘What do you have to do in this place to get served?’’ Calliara grumbled, leaning back in her chair, with Sebastian on her lap. She was still eyeing up and down the furry creature suspiciously as the kid slept peacefully. That very morning when they woke up in the hay cart, the kid that had been brown the previous day, now had big white splotches on its fur.

And to top it off, when she asked Ol’kha about it, the tiefling had shrugged and said she didn’t see any difference.

‘‘Just being patient’’ Ol’kha smiled, filling her smoking pipe parsimoniusly. ‘‘It’s slow at this hour, and surely the kitchen is busy’’

As if summoned, a bubbly redhead half-elf appeared from the kitchen with a full tray, gliding with grace among the tables, placing meals or drinks and avoiding the grabby hands of some of the patrons. A tall, burly man that seemed to have some orc blood in him stood guard next to the bar counter, eyeing everything, and promptly marched over there to knock some sense into some heads.

‘‘I’m so sorry, serah. Your order will be out shortly, messeres’’ The tavern maid apologized to the tables that were still waiting, and stopped right in front of the tiefling and the elf. ‘‘My ladies, I apologize for the delay, the cook had some problems in the kitchen and needed my help’’

‘‘It’s fine, no need to apologize for being busy’’ Ol’kha waved a hand to disperse the smoke from her pipe. ‘‘When you have time, I’ll have mead, thank you’’

‘‘Same’’ Calliara muttered, looking around while rubbing a finger absently between Sebastian’s little horns. The furry creature’s fluffy tail wiggled happily. ‘‘And something to eat’’

‘‘We have a delicious fowl stew that is almost done, cheese and bread today’’ The bubbly maid smiled widely, ignoring two men that were seated at a nearby table with empty plates and that were whistling at her. ‘‘I’ll bring your drinks shortly, and then your food. Will your little friend want anything?’’

Calliara looked at Ol’kha, raising an eyebrow, and the tiefling shrugged.

‘‘Just water’’

‘‘Right away! If you need to call me, my name is Florrie!’’ The maid practically pranced back to the kitchen.

Calliara leaned back in her chair again, studying the room methodically. Exits, where the stairs were, the windows, what tables were occupied and what tables were free. There was an empty table, big enough for several people, right next to the small stage where a willowy human with chesnut hair was quietly tuning her lute.

‘‘Cozy’’

Ol’kha snorted when she heard the pleased grunt coming from her new friend, and took another puff of her pipe, chuckling.

‘‘Not used to taverns?’’

Two tankards, full to the brim with delicious looking mead were placed on the table along with a bowl with water, and the busy maid disappeared once again.

‘‘Not used to not being gawked at’’ Calliara shrugged, with a sheepish smile, seemingly relaxed with the small kid curled on her lap. She grabbed one of the tankards and brought it to her lips, to taste the golden liquid.

‘‘Gawked at why? It’s not like there aren’t more elves around’’ The tiefling tilted her head in the direction of a noble elven woman, elegant and ethereal, sitting at a table close to the stage and that was now conversing with the minstrel. Next to her, a really tall elven man was trying very hard to look busy with a book, but the red ears betrayed him each time he tried not to look at the pretty human. ‘‘See? There are two there, the lady that owns the alchemy shop and…’’

Her trained eyes noticed something before her rational mind did, and she looked back at Calliara, only to find an understanding smile.

‘‘You noticed’’

Ol’kha frowned, looking at the elven folk again, and back to the one sitting next to her.

‘‘Your ears aren’t as long’’

‘‘But they look the part don’t they’’ Calliara sighed, still smiling. ‘‘Well, I promised I’d tell you at a decent inn. Guess this is as decent as we’ll get’’

The tiefling leaned forward until she rested her elbows on the table, and her chin on her hands, with the pipe in her mouth. The elf, or not so elf, rolled her eyes.

‘‘Well, you know, when a father and a mother love each other very much…’’

‘‘Calliara!’’ Ol’kha nudged her companion’s side repeteadly with the tip of her tail, and Calliara tried to push it away without moving the sleeping goat on her lap.

‘‘Ugh, alright, alright…’’ Sighing again, she left the tankard on the table. ‘‘I’m… mostly elf’’

‘‘What do you mean, mostly’’

‘‘I was raised by humans, up in the North, among the tribes, but my mother was… is a half elf. My grandmother was an elven healer that decided to settle with the tribes, and married my grandfather… Oh, you woke up, little rascal’’

Calliara lifted Sebastian from her lap and set him on the table so he could drink from the water bowl, trying to avoid the wiggling tail on her face. Ol’kha moved dutifully both of their tankards so the kid wouldn’t kick them off the table in his excitement.

‘‘Ok but that would make you a quarter elf… unless your father wasn’t from the tribes?’’

‘‘My father was another traveling elven healer that decided to stay for a couple of seasons. Seems some of them are really fond of saving the savages’’ The elf snorted, dragging her chair on the floor so she could escape the wiggling tail. ‘‘At the end of the first summer since he arrived, poof, there I was. So that makes me, hum… mostly elf. Three parts elf and one part human’’

‘‘And were you born an elf or a little cub?’’ Ol’kha chuckled, making her friend roll her eyes with a smile while they tasted their mead.

‘‘I didn’t change into a wolf until I was almost five, after I got so angry I couldn’t see straight. But don’t ask me why, I don’t remember’’ Calliara shrugged. ‘‘By then my parents had decided to leave the tribes as errand healers, following armies to battle or going to lands ravaged by disease and famine’’

‘‘And they left you with your grandparents?’’ The tiefling raised her eyebrows when her friend nodded, and huffed a muffled laugh. ‘‘A mostly elf living among humans… and your elven grandmother, I hope’’

‘‘She passed shortly after my mother left. I guess from a broken heart’’ Calliara left the empty tankard on the table, and passed Sebastian’s water bowl to Ol’kha when Florrie appeared with their meal. Two fragrant, steaming bowls with a delicious looking fowl stew, that smelled heavenly, especially after being on the road for so long.

‘‘I guess it wasn’t easy’’ The tiefling mentioned, tasting the stew and keeping Sebastian on her lap so he wouldn’t get his hooves inside the bowl.

‘‘I was born there, but I was an outsider. And the second my grandfather died, I was very kindly made aware that I was unwelcome to keep living among them’’

‘‘Bastards’’

‘‘I don’t blame them. I’m not human. I’m not elf. I didn’t owe the tribes any allegiance once my bloodkin had passed away. I can change at will into a wild animal, that I keep under control most of the time. I’m a wild card’’ Calliara shrugged, taking a moment to chew what she had in her mouth. Still gliding among the tables, serving drinks or collecting empty dishes, Florrie appeared from behind the counter to refill their tankards with more mead, before disappearing again with a bubbly laugh.

‘‘Ok, so the wolf thing…’’ Ol’kha made a vague gesture with her hand, pointing at her. ‘‘You said you started being able to change at five’’

‘‘Correct’’

‘‘So… is it a spell? … A curse?’’

‘‘No idea. It’s useful to travel big distances, and my senses are very sharp even when I’m not in wolf form. But if I change too fast, too many times, or for a long time, it gets harder and harder to change back’’ Calliara shrugged, focused on her food, which was almost finished by then while Ol’kha still had half of it. ‘‘My grandfather said my father could do it too, but I don’t remember it’’

‘‘So… what are you?’’ The tiefling smiled, scratching Sebastian’s belly to keep him happy, while the furry creature drooled on her shoulder, asleep again.

Calliara let out a genuine laugh, shaking her head.

‘‘Complicated’’

‘‘You don’t say’’ Ol’kha laughed as well. ‘‘I guess you told me yours, I’ll have to tell you mine’’

‘‘That’s be nice…’’ Calliara stopped talking seconds before the main door opened, looking in that direction. If it wasn’t impossible, Ol’kha would have sworn that her friend’s pointy ears had perked up. ‘‘Ol’kha, that is a…’’

‘‘That is a what?’’ The tiefling turned her head to look at the door too, and smiled. ‘‘Oh, yes. That’s a dragon’’

Calliara stared with wide eyes at the imposing frame of what seemed like a big, muscled man, with short unruly brown hair and muttonchops, enter the tavern as if it was his home. Once he trespassed the treshold, big, green, dragonlike wings stretched wide for a moment before folding again at his back, while a long, muscular tail with green scales moved sinously. He waved a big hand, more like a paw with his sharp, dark claws, at the barmaid and the man guarding the bar counter, before heading for the big empty table next to the stage,

Next to him, a young looking half elf, with beautiful dark skin and dark eyes that glimmered with intelligence and wisdom in spite of his young appearance. Those eyes lit up when looking in their direction, and he raised a hand, gesture that Ol’kha reciprocated with a smile. He was chatting with a human just as tall as him but slightly bulkier, with a long braided mohawk and mischievous blue eyes, and infectious smile. His features looked similar to those of the minstrel.

‘‘Ol’kha, that’s a dragon’’ Calliara’s voice was low, almost reverent. The wolf inside her was shaking, howling at her to flee.

‘‘Oh, yes, isn’t he majestic? That’s… Price, or that’s the name he uses. Nobody knows his real name, of course.’’ The tiefling smiled, admiring the dragon’s wings, whose scales glittered lightly with the light of the candles. ‘‘And the half elf with him is my friend Gaz’’

Calliara nodded slowly. It was well known that one’s birthname was the key to the ownership or your soul and will, especially in the case of sentient mytical beasts with the ability to speak like dragons or sphynxes, in the case of demons or in the case of magical users like wizards and sorcerers.

‘‘I don’t know who’s the human but I think that’s Freya’s brother…’’ Ol’kha continued explaining, and laughed when Calliara looked back at her quizzically. ‘‘The minstrel. Her name is Freya, she’s quite notorious here in Tharbad and along the coast.’’

The mostly-elf-but-not was about to say something else when the main door opened again, to reveal another man, who was so tall that he had to duck to cross the treshold. He seemed to be just a tad taller than Price was, but just as broad or more, or maybe it was just the impression his dark clothes gave. His face was covered with a skull mask, and his heavy steps echoed in the suddenly silent room while he headed for the same table as Price and the other two.

‘‘And that’s… I don’t know who that is’’

‘‘People call him Ghost’’ Florrie appeared from nowhere again, holding a tray full of empty tankars and bowls, still with her wide smile. ‘‘Nobody knows who he is or where he comes from. It is said that Price made a deal with a demon to keep him as his bodyguard’’

‘‘Why would a dragon need a bodyguard?’’ Calliara looked up at the maid, who shrugged without losing her smile.

‘‘I’ve heard tons of stories. That he is a construct. That he is a demon, shackled to Price’s will. That he is a deserter from another Kingdom’’ Sighing, Florrie shrugged once again. ‘‘All I know is that Price appeared with him on his back four years ago, and nursed him back from the death. Since then, he is his shadow’’

Calliara and Ol’kha looked at each other while the maid left for the kitchen, and then looked back again at the group while they shook hands with each other, sitting down. The dragon in human form roared with laughter at something that the human with the mohawk said, while Ol’kha’s friend seemed trying not to laugh as well.

Ghost sat down with his back to the wall, able to look at everything and control where everyone was, and calmly took his skull mask off to place it on the table. Dark brown eyes swept all over the room, until they stopped at the table where a pretty tiefling with dark hair and elegant horns was sitting next to an elf with hair so fair that it looked almost white under the light of the candles.

‘‘Oh’’ Calliara muttered, and Ol’kha looked at her.

‘‘What?’’

The elf seemingly didn’t hear her, while she stared right back at Price’s shadow. Ghost’s scarred face seemeed to soften for a second, or maybe it was just an illusion thanks to the candles, and he looked away. Calliara averted her gaze too, and grabbed her tankard to pretend she wasn’t flustered.

‘‘Are you… blushing?’’

‘‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’’

Ol’kha laughed incredulously, and was about to tease her friend further when the main door opened for the third time.

This time, two men crossed the treshold, talking among themselves while they walked towards the big table by the stage too.

A tall, muscular man with a skintone that suggested there was drow blood in him. In what amounth, it wasn’t clear.

And a big, enormous, burly half orc with a wide smile that showed his lower tusks, golden chains dangling from his neck and over his open shirt, and that greeted Price with a thunderous laugh and a slap on the back that would have thrown to the floor a weaker man.

The men at the table shuffled their chairs to make space for the newcomers, except Ghost, who didn’t move an inch from where he was, listening to something that Gaz was telling him.

The half orc looked around the room as he sat down beside Price, without losing the dashing smile, and that smile widened when his dark eyes fell on the tiefling.

Ol’kha sank in her chair, and Calliara looked at her, surprised.

‘‘Crap’’

[justfrozenthings]

Pairing: Anna/Kristoff Rating: G Summary: Kristoff didn't know what he expected in college, but it certainly didn't include falling for a beautiful redhead in his biology class. Now, working with her on a group project there may be a chance for their relationship to grow past friendship. There's just one problem…Hans Westergaard.

Notes: I finally updated this and changed the fic title because eventually, I saw it did not make sense lol.

“Hey man,” Sven greeted from the couch of the nearly wall-to-wall living room. Kristoff had been surprised to discover that he had been placed in one of the university’s apartment-style dormitories; albeit a bit small and out of date it was nowhere near as run down as his standard college dorm from last year. “How were classes?” Sven lit a cigarette and pointed the packet towards Kristoff, offering him one. “Want one one?” He asked before taking a puff.

“You know you’re not supposed to be smoking those in here. You’re going to get in trouble.” Kristoff leaned his bag against the kitchen counter.

Sven gave a flick of his hand, “Eh. They haven’t caught me yet. By the way, there’s beer in the fridge, if you want any you’re welcome to it. Though it seems you already made a stop on your way here.” He smirked knowingly, pointedly looking at the coffee cup Kristoff still held in his hand. “I wonder who that could have been?”

Sven was well aware of Kristoff’s feelings for Anna, picking up on them rather quickly, though it didn’t take a genius to see it.

“Shut up Sven,” Kristoff grumbled, moving to grab something from his bag. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends don’t draw hearts next to your name.”

Kristoff looked down at his name that had been scrawled rather fancifully - as if a lot of thought and love went into making it perfect - across the cup with a small heart next to it. He never gave it much thought before, I mean it’s not like anyone could blame him really; before Anna he never had friends, just kept to himself and went about his day annoyed with everyone who wasn’t his family. So, if he didn’t have the desperation to make friends, why would he even bother to learn anything about romantic relationships or flirting?

Being new to this whole thing, he just assumed it was Anna being her friendly bubbly self, the way she had always been.

“I’m telling you, man. The girl is into you. And I know you’re into her, so why not just go ahead and ask her out? You deserve to be happy dude,” Sven enlightened, taking a swig of his beer, his now half-lighted cigarette resting between his index and middle finger.

A grin broke out across Kristoff’s face. “Thanks, man. Seriously though, it’s amazing you haven’t set the fire alarm off yet smoking one of those,” he noted, grabbing a cold one from the fridge and making his way over to the couch to join Sven.

Sven’s smile disappeared and for a second Kristoff worried that he might’ve upset him until his eyes gave him a sincere look and he spoke up again.

“Soooo,” he drawled in a somewhat drunken manner. “Speaking of Anna, don’t you start that one history project with her tomorrow. Seems like an awfully convenient time to ask her out?”

Kristoff joined him on the couch, grunting a little at the less-than-comfortable impact of the worn cushion as springs screeched a sound that only comes with age. “First of all, it’s Biology. If you’d actually listen to anything I ever had to say you would know that. And second, we’re working with Hans, who being the asshat he is, who will try and make this project miserable for me and I don't want my attitude from that to be taken out on Anna. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“Well…” Sven sighed, getting up from the couch and patting Kristoff’s knee. “You do what you believe is best, but the clock is ticking, and someone who is as wonderful as you make Anna out to be isn’t going to stay single forever.” He padded over to the hallway before continuing his word of advice. “All I am saying is that you might want to jump on the train before it pulls out of the station.” Then he stretched and disappeared into the hallway before Kristoff heard the click of his bedroom door closing.

Sven was right. A girl like Anna was bound to catch someone’s eye at some point. Hell, it only took a matter of weeks before she had him tied around her little finger.

He had to do something. And soon.

[bigball-thefrog]

The Mighty Sand Dragon And The Maiden: Crocodile X Reader pt2

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Pt1

Just a short one for this week I'll post a longer one next week and the third part of this will be longer.

Warnings and Tags:

None

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Reader POV

It had been six months since I last spoke to the dragon and I finally think I'm ready to defeat him. Once again I made my journey through the desert fighting more monsters and more puzzles which seemed easier this time thanks to my training.

I eventually get the cave and set down my things and called out to the dragon and waited with a smug look. There was silence until the dragon let out a deep growl that caused the ground to shake, soon the large purple dragon emerged from his cave bringing more sand, "Who dares awaken the might Sand Drago-... Oh it's you again. The little maiden that wishes to change her fate and defeat me?~ I thought after the last fight you would have run home crying and given into your fate~" The dragon said tauntingly as he let out his deep laugh. "No, I would never accept that fate! I make my own decisions and iecide my own destiny!" The dragon chuckled again, "Well then fair maiden don't expect me to be easy on you this time.~" The dragon was surrounded by sand again, signaling he was transforming into his human form. When the sand disappeared and he, now in his human form walked towards me with a large grin on his face, "Well then maiden, show me what you've got~" he said tauntingly

I sighed as I raised my sword, ready to attack I ran at him and he raised his hand to keep me away again, this time I ducked and slashed my sword, cutting off his hand. I finally got close to him and smirked, finally one swift move and my fate will change and I'll no longer be the helpless maiden everyone says I'll be. I raised my sword and stabbed it right through his stomach, "Looks like the might Sand Dragon isn't so mighty now-... HUH!!??" I looked where I stabbed and there was no blood just.... Sand? He laughed at me as he grabbed the sword and pulled it out, still no blood and just sand. The wound quickly closed and the sand disappeared, "How? How on earth is that possible!" I yelled in frustration, the dragon chuckled again as he lit up a cigar, "Did you really think that I was called the Sand Dragon because I lived in a dessert? You silly girl, I am the Sand Dragon because I am the sand that makes up the dessert, all this land is an extension of me." I quickly became frustrated at his words and grabbed my sword again and just started swinging it around while mumbling my frustrations.

Crocodile POV

I watched as the maiden swung around her sword in the air frustrated, it was entertaining to watch. I let out one last puff of smoke before walking over to the maiden, I was about to speak when the maiden saw me and just yelled and started slashing me with their sword, I let them since it doesn't effect me anyway and let them take their frustration out, after a few minutes it became annoying so I grabbed them by the face and lifted them up to my eye level, " Listen, maiden I am going to give you one last chance to go train and learn how to defeat me, if you do not defeat me the next time we meet I will change your destiny by killing you before you can get rescued, got it?" I said as I squeezed their cheeks, they barely managed to nod their head yes and I felt myself relax a little. I took a deep inhale from the cigar between my lips and looked at the maiden, if it wasn't for them being so stubborn on trying to kill me, I might have found them cute. I blew a cloud of smoke in their face before dropping them. They quickly got up and grabbed their things, leaving in silence with their head low this time. I let out a sigh of frustration and went back inside my cave.

This maiden is something, frustrating? Yes. Attractive? Maybe... But I'll see if the maiden does come back again and will defeat me next time. Maybe I won't kill her next time, maybe I'll just keep her in my collection.......

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Sorry for the short one this week couldn't think of much to add for this chapter but the next chapter will be longer.

Kelly🐸

[fioreofthemarch]

Finding Her - Chapter 13

Link makes notes, takes photos and keeps time on his quest across Hyrule, in the hopes of finding Zelda and staying sane until he does. [ Previous | Next | First | AO3 ]

Log date: 17:30. 7th month, 27th day 10AC. Location: Gerudo Desert Gateway  Weather: Hot, low humidity 

Started the week at Outskirts Stables. Picked up a few errands here and there — the Stable Trotters have lost their flutist (flautist? flutee?), one of the stablehands wanted to catch a stalhorse so for his own good I said I’d do it, and Penn, of course, had a new lead. 

We interviewed Nell, one of the Zonai researchers, who said he’d been asked by a stranger to help her find her friend. Something felt off he said. I’ve known Nell a while, since before the Calamity ended — he’s one of Zelda’s more sensible researchers, and hard to fool. Believed him right away. 

I had a hunch, and came up with a plan. Fetched a bucket of water from the stable and went in search of the woman, with Penn in tow. Found her shading under a large tree, mumbling something about her friend being lost and in danger. 

Step one: take the bucket, and upend it over the woman. Her shriek made me doubt this, but only for a moment. As she and Penn were demanding to know what was going on, I prepared step two: a Topaz Rod, recently won from a wizzrobe in Hyrule Ridge. The woman’s eyes went wide. ‘What are you doing?’ 

I said that she must recognise me, and know my name, and have heard of what I had done to Yiga like her. I held the electric rod towards her soaked clothes and assured her that I had no wish to hurt anyone, but that I knew what I was capable of, now. And that neither of us should want to find out what that was. 

The woman disappeared in a puff of smoke and in her place — a Yiga in full gear. ‘Kohga will hear of this’, they said, and then they were gone. Do I feel bad? Not sure. A little fear can go a long way, and avoid a lot of bloodshed. Still, Penn’s been nervous around me ever since. 

From Outskirts Stable, we hiked to Gerudo Canyon. Penn decided to join, having heard of further rumours of Zelda’s whereabouts. It was tough going over rocky and sometimes flooded terrain, but it wasn’t all bad: we rescued three lost travellers, and helped unblock the well at the Gerudo Canyon stables. 

I do feel bad about that. It was only after we opened the well (standard issue monster infestation) that I remembered it was Zelda who ordered it closed in the first place. We promised to come back and clear it out, but never did. Thankfully the owner didn’t seem to remember me. Or maybe, he was too polite to complain.

A photograph of the now defunct Gerudo Canyon Stables, its furniture and wears packed into large boxes. Penn is sitting atop some of them, scribbling notes for his next article.  

Caption: I hope they stay, after all. 

---

Warning: Detecting high levels of particulate matter, Purah Pad geographic sensors offline. 

Please keep the Purah Pad ports, buttons and casings free of sand, dust or other abrasives. The Purah Pad’s patented level surface visual-tactile interface is not scratch resistant, at this time.

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Log date: 12:15. 7th month, 28th day 104AC Location: Kara Kara Bazaar, Gerudo Desert  Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility ten metres. 

Made it to Kara Kara Bazaar. Instinct says turn back. Don’t like ignoring it, when so far it’s kept me alive. 

Not far from Gerudo Canyon the trouble facing Gerudo presented itself — a sandstorm, and a big one. Can’t even tell where it ends, except that it hasn’t reached Kara Kara. If it were just a storm, I’d wait to let it pass – eat a few hydromelons, snooze by the oasis…

But it’s not just a storm. 

I’d just purchased a Gerudo headband to stay cool when I heard two Hylians arguing: You go find him! No, you go! Their buddy was missing in the storm, so I offered to help. They said he’d run off after gibdo attacked the bazaar. Gibdo? They didn’t know how to explain, their only advice being don’t get grabbed. Easy enough. I headed out and met with an ocean of scratchy brown air. Nothing but sand and cactuses and shrubs until… something moved. 

Just one at first, then more, and then they were everywhere. Shambling, creaking things with long mandibles and beady eyes. I hit one with an arrow, and then a sword, and it didn’t flinch. Then it had its hands on me, jaws clicking and oozing, inches from my face. I froze up, but instinct kicked in and I shook free, running fast as I could and stumbling over sand until suddenly it gave way and I was falling — down, down, down. 

The good news is I found Ponthos, the missing Hylian. He’d gotten stuck in a cave below a sinkhole. We made it back to Kara Kara without running into another one of those things, and his buddies were so happy they gave me an orb. Which isn’t rupees, but surely someone is in the market for… orb. 

The bad news is Gerudo Town is at the centre of the storm, I think. And the only way to reach them (and help them) is to make my way there on foot. 

A photograph of Gerudo Desert and the blanket of raging sand that covers it. A Zonai creation - a sled with a fan and steering stick attached - is poised ready to go just outside the edge of the storm. 

Caption: Maybe I don’t have to go on foot, exactly.

---

Log date: 05:35. 7th month, 29th day 104AC Location: Underground Shelter, Gerudo Town  Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility five metres.  

Arrived in Gerudo Town, found it abandoned. Snooped around until I found Riju’s diary (why do people always leave them open and so easy to read…)

She wrote of the sudden appearance of the sandstorm, the hasty evacuation of everyone into an underground shelter, and her wish to do something to help, going off to the North Ruins to train. 

We kept close contact with Chief Riju, over the years. She and Zelda had a lot in common. They were two sides of the same coin in a way; Zelda led through analysis, weighing options, evaluating outcomes, where Riju led through action, trial and error, and gathering feedback. They relied on each other a lot, and together they made it work. 

So no surprise to find Riju taking a hands on approach. She’d been working on a lightning power and just needed arrows to help her guide her focus. I was happy to oblige. When she heard that Zelda was still missing, she paused a moment, and looked back to the storm: ‘Let’s sort this mess out first, Link’.

Mess is an understatement. The gibdo marched on Kara Kara first, and then Gerudo Town. We figured out fast enough that they’re weak to electricity, it practically blows them up. Fire burns them and water turns them to mud, so plenty of options. But there’s also plenty of them, and their nests take a beating before they go down. Worse, some of them fly. Others are fast. We only survived the attacks thanks to Captain Teake’s soldiers and Lieutenant Padda’s cannons, as well as Riju’s lightning. She challenged me to a contest before each fight: whoever downed the most gibdo got the wildberry tart she’d been saving. But we both stopped counting after fifty, so we split the reward.

Now I’m here, in the underground shelter. Suppose they don’t mind a voe around so long as he saved the town. Riju hasn’t slept – she’s working on a lead about the source of the sandstorm. Will help her soon. For now, in the mood for breakfast, and keen to try the fried voltfruit they make here… 

A photograph of the painted mural in the Gerudo underground shelter, a determined Riju standing before it. She is deep in thought, a hand to her chin. There is no hint of fatigue on her features. 

Caption: Never seen a Gerudo back down from a challenge.  

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Log date: 17:45. 7th month, 29th day 104AC Location: The Mural’s Myth (Lightning Temple), Gerudo Desert  Weather: Sandstorm. Visibility less than one metre. 

Injured. Typing with right hand. Left in bad shape. 

Made it to Lightning Temple. Three pillars in the desert, three lights, metal conduit in the middle. Hit it with Riju’s lightning. “Zelda” was there, but gone soon after. Big stone temple rose from the sand. Mural’s Myth? Probably not what it was called. 

Big bug guarding it. BIG bug – the Gibdo Queen. Not fun. Never any fun. Gotta be source of the storm. 

We chased her off, Riju’s lightning very helpful. But I got bit, left hand. A gibdo jumped me, sunk in its teeth. Hurts bad. Bandaged it up, fairy tonic didn’t do much. Poison? Hand’s burning. 

Going on anyway. Can’t leave Riju alone, can’t let Gibdo Queen escape. Hurts hurts hurts. Riju seems scared, but trying not to show it. Gotta show her we can still do this – that she can still do this. 

A photograph of the outside of the Lightning Temple, the ancient stone pyramid emerging from the sand. The photo is a little blurry, taken with unsteady hands. 

Caption: Stay alive. Just stay alive.  

---

Log date: 10:20. 7th month, 31st day 104AC Location: Gerudo Down Weather: Clear. Hot. 

Where to begin. I, Chief Riju, of Gerudo Town, am making this account, in the season of the Sun, on the tenth day of the fifth Heroine. I believe the equivalent Hylian date is attached to this log, so I will not transcribe it. 

I am pleased to report that all is well in Gerudo Town. By the Heroine’s and the Goddess’ blessing, Link is still with us. We have seen his illness before, many times. The lizalfos of Gerudo Desert often use poison as defence, but a concoction of voltfruit and electric saffina is a powerful salve, and it worked quickly to heal Link’s infected hand. His injuries there still pain him, so I have offered to keep up the task of maintaining this extensive photojournal, for the time being. 

We had just arrived at the Lightning Temple the day before last, to confront the Queen Gibdo. It was there that Link was injured, but he insisted we continue, and that I lead the way. “Your power opened this place, and your power destroyed the gibdos. I’m just a conduit.” 

And so we went on – through winding hallways, treacherous traps, and puzzling chambers, up and up through the huge pyramid structure until we at last reached the roof, and the den of that foul beast. 

She was magnificent, in her own terrible way: six segmented legs with snatching talons, a fluttering scruff from which her shrieks shook the air, and grotesque hairy wings that bent and warped in impossible ways. She, like all monarchs, was fiercely protective of her subjects — and to the death.  

Link’s strength had been waning our entire climb, and there were beads of sweat on his face that I knew were not from the desert heat. By the time we felled the Queen Gibdo – in a desperate and chaotic fight – he could barely stand. When I shook his hand to pass on my Vow, as was my sacred duty as the Sage of Lightning, I could feel him shaking. 

I admit, I don’t know what I would have done, if he hadn’t made it. I have lived with so much doubt for so long – am I doing what is right? Am I worthy of being Chief? Link’s confidence in me erased these doubts, and his perseverance was what won the day, I believe. 

After he’d recovered, needing only a day to come back from the brink of death, Link proposed a new way to hone my abilities. “The leader of the Yiga Clan is hiding in the Depths below Hyrule. I’d like your help to root him out.” I wish I could capture the look on Buliara’s face when he suggested it! But she could hardly say no — I am a Sage now, after all. 

Ah, I have never seen such a fearsome and beautiful place as the Depths. Its deadly terrain, fierce monsters and hidden treasure spoke of a land of hardship and discovery, qualities close to the hearts of the Gerudo. No wonder then that our dark reflection, the Yiga, have flourished there. Once we found them at the Abandoned Gerudo Mine, however, it was fast work to dispatch them. They had funny little Zonai contraptions that flew through the air, with which they may have been able to outrun my blades – but nothing can outrun lightning. 

Link held back, confident in my abilities. I thought it a failure when I reported to him that Master Kohga had escaped, but he was not disappointed. “The Yiga and I have unfinished business,” he said. “Hopefully next time I see them, I’ll be ready.” I assured him that he would defeat the Yiga, but he said that was not what worried him. I sensed a darkness in his voice then — the rage of a warrior scorned that the Gerudo know well — and I understood that he had restrained himself from the Yiga for their benefit, not his. 

With our immediate troubles past us, I must now do my part to find the Princess. We saw her likeness near the Temple, but I, like Link, do not believe it was really her. I know Zelda too well: in a crisis, the first thing she ever wants to do is talk. The several hundred letters we have exchanged through the years can attest to that. She would never keep away from us, unless something was very wrong. 

Zelda is out there, somewhere. I know it. It’s not where we look, but how. 

A photograph of Link relaxing on a cushioned sofa in a sunny courtyard in Gerudo Town. His left hand is wrapped in a thick bandage, while in his right he holds a sunset coloured drink garnished with wedges of fruit, in a tall glass with a thin stem and a wide brim. It’s an ice cool reward for a well-earned thirst. 

Caption: Very few women in Gerudo history have known what it’s like to have a brother, and I am one of them (he let me have a sip, when Buliara wasn’t looking).  

---

Incoming transmission… Message medallion activated. 

Answer transmission?

… …

Answer transmission?

… …

Answer—

LNK: Hello? 

JSH: Goddess be praised! Link, where are you?

LNK: Gerudo Town. Why?

JSH: No time to explain. You have to come back to Lookout Landing. Did you find the Lighting Sage? I’ve sent word for the others but—

LNK: Josha. What’s going on? 

JSH: You have to come back, as fast as you can. It’s urgent, really urgent. 

LNK: Why, Josha?. It’s not a short trip.

JSH: We— We found Zelda! She’s at Hyrule Castle and it’s really her, Link, I swear it. 

LNK: Zel…what? How?!

JSH: Dr. Purah spotted her through the telescope. It’s like the Princess is calling out to us. Link, please hurry! 

[A pause, and a sigh]

LNK: Alright, but tell everyone to be ready for a fight.

JSH: W-what? It’s the Princess! 

LNK: Just tell them to be ready. I’ll be there soon. 

Connection terminated. 

[glamphibian]

Cherry

🍒🕵🏻‍♀️

~Ex-detective Sarah Christ stays in a mysterious backroad town on a lead that the Creekside killer stayed there in the 90s. But what happens when she meets this town's weird, off-putting people, including a captivating waitress?  Sarah is faced with a choice: does she leave and look for another lead on the Creekside killer? Or stay, pursue this one, and take on the town's mystery?~

My first draft of a Sarah Christ fic...sorry if it's bad lol. TW: Smoking, descriptions of violence, cursing, I think that's it? Reader is shy and described as a woman, having pink lips, blush, a smaller frame, and curly hair.

A much quieter ambiance replaces the city buzz as the winding road passes through rolling hills and thickets of trees. 

The peaceful atmosphere is only briefly interrupted by the occasional passing car which seems to become fewer and fewer the more she drives. Far in the distance, a few horses could be seen at local farms, a few cows at pastures.

She'd been driving on a forest and water-guided road for the last hour now, not a crazy distance from the bustling city, but seeming incredibly distant in culture and feeling. It's a peaceful and laid-back air…a drastic turn for why she's here…The Creekside Killer. He’s escaped her many times but she felt good about this lead. A forest and water-lined town connected to the city by a long, winding back road. The view of her drive is decorated with overgrowth of vines and grass, the earth seeming to take back parts of the old unused uneven road.

Sarah Christ, a rogue ex-detective, hellbent on catching the creekside killer, a despicable slimy son of a bitch who's escaped her grasp for too long.

Sarah sees a big, old wooden seemingly handmade sign, “WELCOME TO LAKEWOOD ‘The town that doesn't change’ population (160)“.

The road ahead starts to narrow and she slows her SUV, her arm slung outside of her driver's window. A half-smoked cigarette haphazardly between her two fingers, flying smoke disappearing into the wind with the force of the car. She takes a big puff of the stick, her lungs inhaling the thick vapor before she throws the butt out the window with an exhale. 

Sarah fiddles with the dial of the radio, hearing only static for a few stations before she finds actual sound, one was a preacher talking at a sermon, one was strictly country, and the last was “oldies”. Ugh, she’d rather go back home and hear her mother yap instead of listening to this crap.

The bell of the diner rings as the stranger enters the diner. Soft swing music takes the talking space when eating or fills the silence of awkward table conversations.

Sarah's muck-stained boots, damp frazzled hair, dark, heavy clothing, and frown all contrast her from the freshly pressed diner patrons; people like this make her sick. Unaware, blissful, naïve in a way she’s never going to be able to be again.

Sarah eyes a rusty brass sign with a paper that says, “Please seat yourself, you will be served soon!” Sarah scoffs, the only thing she wants to be served is justice for the victims of the creekside killer…and breakfast with coffee that she could slip vodka in. 

Tattered boots trudge along the shiny black and white tiling of the floor, Sarah sits in the corner away from everyone else, next to the window. The cushy, shiny red seats of the booth squeal with any movement, the tables were white with a blue stripe around the lip. Blue like the water the Creekside killer takes his victim's lives…

Sarah scowls and shakes her head as she stares down at the glossy table, lost in her thoughts as she picks at her nails. Grumbling to herself about the sicko freak she would hunt down. Until the sound of clicking heels approaches, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Hi-" Before the waitress could even get out "I'll be your server today,"  the newcomer introduced herself.

“Ex-detective Sarah Christ, can I smoke in here?”

The waitress’s eyes widen softly at the stranger-...Sarah. Her cheeks turn pink as she holds her sticker-covered notepad a little tighter. The waitress looks at Sarah, giving a soft smile as she nods. The waitress tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as a nervous giggle passes her lips. "Pleased to meet you um...o-officer Christ?" 

She says in a questioning tone. "I'm (Y/n), I'll be your server today! No, I'm sorry you can't smoke inside."

Sarah smiles slightly at the introduction, chuckling at how unsure she sounded. Sarah quickly looked over the woman, admiring put together she looked. How pretty her hair was and just how shiny her lips looked.

“Pleasure to meet you (Y/n). Please, call me Sarah.” Sarah shook her head and grinned softly.

The waitress was quite beautiful, to say the least, and Sarah felt she wouldn’t be able to take her eyes off her for even a second if she tried. There was just something so captivating about the woman.

The waitress gives a soft nod, giggling quietly as she opens her colorful notebook with a cheeky smile. "Well Sarah, is there a drink I can get you started with today? Or do you need more time?” 

Forcing her eyes away from the fidgeting woman, Sarah glanced at the menu, looking it over for a few seconds before speaking. “Could I just get a coffee for now, please?”

"Absolutely!..." Her curls bob as she nods, jotting down a quick note. "Cream or sugar?”

Sarah smiled, amused by the woman’s excessive positivity and enthusiasm. She found it incredibly endearing, which is odd considering Sarah usually finds that kind of person to be annoying and nauseating, which only made her more and more interested in the waitress.

“If you can't put vodka in it then just black. No sugar, no cream, thank you.”

The waitress laughs nervously, almost unsure if Sarah is joking, her eyebrows raised as she grins. “I cannot! But everything else is no problem! We'll have that right out for you!"

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Sarah thanked her in return, without even pausing to think. Dammit, what was happening to her? She sounds like a sleazy man in a bar, not a cold detective on a case. She needs to get a grip on herself.

The waitress’ eyes widened as her cheeks glowed bright pink, her lips in an open, soft smile. She looks as if she wants to make conversation, but the only thing she gets out is a small giggle with a dopey smile before nodding and quickly heading back to the kitchen, her platforms clacking against the tiles. 

Sarah leaned back in her booth, an arm slinging around the back, she took a deep breath to try and calm her heart, trying to pull it down from her ears. She has to keep her cool. This was just a cute waitress in a small-town diner, nothing more.

Besides, she already told herself she was done with relationships, she just got out of her divorce, let alone know if the waitress likes women, and- no…she needs to focus on finding the disgusting killer she lost her badge for.

Sarah leaned forward and rested her head in one of her hands, drumming her fingers on the table with her other, trying to push the thoughts of the waitress out of her head. She was not here to get distracted by a pretty woman with a sweet voice. No, she was here to focus on her case and find the serial killer who had been hiding out here at least once in the 90s. 

Sarah sighed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the case. All she had to do was find a single lead on where he was and go from there. Her thought process was interrupted by the sound of the waitress’ heavy heels coming back towards her.

"Alrighty, Sarah...Here is your black coffee!" Her pink cheeks ball as she smiles, setting down the steaming white mug. "So can I put you down for any food this morning? Or do you need more time?"

She asks as she looks at Sarah, wiping her hands on her apron before pulling out her book.

Sarah’s heart picked back up at the sound of the waitress’ voice, the sight of her bringing out her only made Sarah’s stomach somersault. Damnit. Get it together. Pull yourself together, woman.

 She shook her head as she spoke, forcing her thoughts to settle and stay focused.

“Uh, no, no, I can order now.” She replied, trying to stay casual. She quickly looked down at the menu, glancing over it for several seconds, trying to pick from the wide variety of options on it.

The waitress nods curtly with a smile as she opens her sticker-covered notebook, ready for Sarah. "What can I get for you today?" She prompts as she looks between Sarah and her notebook, flipping her hair over one of her shoulders.

Her eyes were just as wide and deep as they were kind and sweet. Her hair looked soft, curly, and long enough that it made Sarah want to run her fingers through it and pull it and- no. No, she was not going to fantasize about a woman she just met. Dammit, she was a professional; she could handle this cute waitress.

Sarah let out a soft sigh and tried to clear her mind as she looked over the menu more thoroughly this time. Finally, she picked, closing the menu and handing it to the waitress with a tight smile.

“I’ll do the country sausage skillet,” Sarah looked back up at her waitress once more, unable to control herself from staring at her. She was just so damn cute, it was driving her nuts. Her eyes lingered on the woman’s lips.

The waitress writes down her words with a concentrated look. "Alrighty I'll have that right out for you!"

Sarah smiled as the waitress packed away her book, watching her as she took a moment to memorize her features. She had such a soft, cute face. Every part of her just seemed so perfect, she almost looked like a little doll. God, she was gorgeous. 

Sarah could only watch as the waitress quickly rushed away. She had been hoping to keep the conversation going longer. Not just so she could hear her speak more, but so she could just keep her eyes on the pretty woman more. But here she was now, sitting in the booth alone, left with nothing but the coffee she’d ordered and her thoughts. Sarah sighed and leaned back in the booth, feeling very frustrated and confused.

Why was she getting so caught up on a girl she barely even knew? It wasn’t like her, the last thing she was thinking about right now was to be in a relationship, so why was she letting this woman pull all her attention like this?

Sarah watched as the waitress brought a family a few tables down their meals. Sarah took the opportunity to stare unabashedly, watching the woman as she expertly walked between tables, serving, moving, and chatting with the customers.

She made it all look so easy, so effortless, and she had a smile on her face the entire time. Sarah’s eyes were focused intently on the waitress when she looked up in her direction. For just a moment, a brief second, Sarah was almost certain she’d caught her staring.

Her suspicions were only confirmed when she saw the waitress go red-faced and wide-eyed, before fully turning her back to Sarah.

Sarah took a long, slow drink of her coffee, staring out the window and thinking, trying to calm the thoughts bouncing around in her head like a ball on a tile. But, for now, all she could do was wait. 

As Sarah stared out the window, she felt eyes on her, practically burning holes in her body. She grins softly, expecting to be welcomed with the beautiful eyes of the waitress again.

Instead, it feels like almost every customer in the diner turns their heads around as if they weren't looking at her.

Sarah shakes her head and rolls her shoulders, ignoring the glances thrown her way. Was it that surprising to see a stranger in this town? She tried to shrug it off and look back out the window when the sound of the kitchen door’s jingle once more caught her attention, and she looked back towards the entrance of the little diner.

In walked an older man, around 40 or so. He was dirty but looked at home here.

Sarah watched as the man casually walked through the diner, sitting at the counter, taking a seat on one of the stools. There was no doubt in her mind that he was just another local, but Sarah found herself watching intently.

She had learned a long time ago to always be observant, and the way the man seemed to look back at her seemed to almost set off an alarm that something wasn’t right about him.

The waitress pops her head out of the tall kitchen window. "Hi, Mr. Daniels." She says with a kind smile but Sarah could tell, even from afar, how she spoke to him seemed different from the way she spoke to the other people in the diner. There was something about him that the waitress didn’t like…

Sarah, of course, continued to watch intently, focusing on every small action and exchange between the waitress and the man at the counter.

He chuckles, his eyes staring into the waitress’, she breaks eye contact to look towards the door.

"No Debby today?" She asks as she looks back at the man, now shifting to hide away behind the kitchen wall.

"No...Deb's not feeling well still...you know how she is." He says dismissively as he leans back to look at the door. The waitress nods at his words, a weary look in her eyes. "Right...well, send her my condolences...I'm guessing you want the usual?"

“Of course, and a coffee. You know me." The man leans his arms against the bar, glancing around the diner as he speaks. His eyes locked on the booth Sarah sat in, lingering on her for a moment before snapping back to the waitress.

Sarah felt an immediate drop in her stomach. The hair on her neck that wasn’t covered by her scarf stood up when the man looked at her.

He leans in over the bar a little and whistles. "Ey, Cherry...who's the wet lookin' cop chick?... She's just uh eh...passing by, right?" He almost sneers as he whispers. The waitress’ eyes widened as she looked between him and Sarah. "She's just come through this morning...I'm sure she's not staying in Lakewood, don't worry about it."

Sarah had managed to hear most of what was said, and she found herself growing even angrier. How dare some strange man call her a “wet-looking cop chick” and then question who she was and what she was doing here. She tried to stay calm, though; she had to keep her cool and not cause a scene. For now, she’d have to keep listening and just continue to watch their conversation, praying that this rude man would leave her alone for the time being.

Sarah watched intently as the waitress left the kitchen and began to make her way to Sarah’s table. She did her best to look nonchalant, taking a relaxed sip of her coffee as she waited.

"Alright, and here you go! Is there anything else I can get you? You need a refill on the coffee?" She points to the mug with a soft eyebrow raise.

Sarah smiled back at the waitress, trying to be polite and calm, no matter how much the entire situation had set her on edge. But no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't help but get distracted by the way the soft lighting in the diner danced in the woman's eyes. Or how soft and sweet her voice was. Or how cute she- Sarah snapped out of her thoughts, mentally scolding herself for getting distracted like this.

"Oh, no, I’m fine for now. Thank you.”

She smiles and nods, one of her hands coming up to rest on her hip as she looks around quickly, seeing almost everyone at least peeking out of the corner of their eyes at the two of them. Matthew is just flat-out shamelessly turned towards the pair watching.

"Well, let me know if you need anything! Just holler, I'll hear you!" She says her waitress speech, like a script. Tapping both her name tags, one saying "(Y/n)" on her right side and the other saying "Cherry" on the other.

Sarah smirked as she noticed the woman tap the name tags, a small moment in which Sarah could see just how nervous the woman looked. Now and then she'd steal glances across the diner herself, always meeting the same man's eyes looking at her with a strange mixture of something that almost felt like... jealousy. Strange… 

"I'll be sure to," Sarah responded with an easy smile. "And you're Cherry, right? That’s a very cute name.”

"Oh, just a childhood nickname. I've lived here all my life, so some people know me as that or use it instead; my real name is (Y/n), but either way, I'll be here in a jiffy if you need anything!" She says with a smile and a shy giggle, her cheeks flashing red at the question as she turns her head away before looking back at Sarah. 

Sarah found the way the waitress ((Y/n)) giggled and blushed almost adorable. How could one person be so cute all the time? It had to be some sort of witchcraft, nobody should be allowed to make her heart flutter like this.

"Well, thanks again.." Sarah took a moment to glance down at the woman's name tag. "Cherry." She decided to use the nickname, hoping to get a good reaction out of the woman. From the way she went red when Sarah asked about it, she was sure it would work like a charm.

Sarah chuckled to herself as she watched the waitress disappear into the kitchen once more, disappearing with flushed cheeks and a shy look on her face. She couldn’t help but feel satisfied that she was the one that made her look like that.

It wasn’t sitting well with her, and her thoughts started to get a little more paranoid and suspicious.

Sarah took her eyes off the kitchen where the waitress had disappeared, glancing once again at the rude man sitting at the counter. At this point, he had given up on being inconspicuous, he was just staring at Sarah with a look on his face that only set off more alarm bells in her head. What the hell was his problem? And why was he staring at her like that? Her gaze drifted back around the diner, noting how almost all the customers seemed to occasionally glance her way, almost as if they were checking on her.

Sarah watches from across the diner as an older man who seems to be a chef brings out the rude man’s order, and the waitress returns from the kitchen, still looking a bit flushed and shy. God, she was just too adorable. The sight of the waitress' flushed face and sweet smile was only adding fuel to Sarah's growing attraction towards her, and it was doing nothing to help her focus on her case. Or help her figure out why this seemingly small town of Lakewood was so strange and creepy.

Sarah took a sip of her coffee, her thoughts racing through her head at a hundred miles an hour. It was clear at this point that something wasn’t right about this town, it was like it crawled right out of a bad horror movie. The customers kept sneaking glances at her; the workers were all acting strange, that rude man sitting at the counter looked like he was suspicious of her, and even the waitress with the ridiculously sweet smile seemed suspicious now. As Sarah glanced up at the waitress again, her suspicions and worries only continued to grow. Why did this whole place feel so weird? 

The waitress laughs and nods as she walks the family to the door. "Alright, see you guys on Sunday! Have a great night guys." She waves before going to collect their dishes.

Sarah quietly watched as the waitress said goodbye to some customers, taking a moment to study her. Everything about her seemed so sweet and nice, but there was just something about her that was so weird. The way she acted, the way she talked, the way she looked. It was all just a bit too perfect and sweet, and it put Sarah on edge just a little. Sarah’s thoughts were interrupted once again by the sound of the diner door opening, and a new man entering.

"Father Cory, a pleasure to see you!"

The waitress chirps in a cheerful tone as the man enters the diner.

Sarah watched as the waitress turned, plastering a smile on her face as a new patron walked in, a man in a priest’s outfit. Sarah immediately found herself a bit more suspicious, watching the pair as he made his way to the counter. 

The waitress walks past the men with the dishes in her hands to the kitchen as Father Cory sits next to Matthew at the counter, a seat in between them. "I'll tell Dock to get your usual started." She calls out as she pushes the flap door in and enters the kitchen.

Sarah turned fully in her seat now, no longer trying to discretely observe everyone in the diner. She was too focused on trying to hear the conversation taking place between the two men. She leaned in a little bit, trying to hear as best as she could from the distance. 

Sarah couldn’t quite make out what the men were saying from where she was sitting, but she could tell that they were talking in hushed tones as if they were trying not to be overheard. This only set off more alarm bells, Sarah’s instincts telling her that something was off. And now, she was more determined than ever to find out what was going on in this weird little town and what the hell was up with these people.

The waitress walks back out of the kitchen with a bottle of cleaner and a rag to clean the table, beginning to wipe a nearby table down.

"Who is-" Father Cory starts before being interpreted by Matthew. "I don't know...she apparently drove in this mornin'...seems like a city cop." Matthew sneers as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Sarah watched from her booth, pretending to be looking out the window as she listened to the men’s conversation. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the tone the rude man had taken when he had said ‘city cop’. It wasn’t exactly a secret that city cops and small-town law enforcement didn’t always mix, but did he have to sound like she was the scum of the earth just because she was a city cop? 

"Does Greg know about her?" Father Cory asks in a whisper as he casually looks down at the menu, her heart picks up again. Matthew shook his head, glancing at the waitress before looking back to the minister.

"No...but Cherry seems to uh....taken an interest, which isn't good, you know how excitable she is...I'm driving by the station on my way to work anyway, I'll swing by and update Greg."

Matthew mutters to Father Cory as he turns back to his plate.

Sarah’s eyes furrow a little as she listens to their conversation, their hushed tones and suspicious glances towards her making Sarah feel even more on edge. The mention of Greg, presumably the Sheriff, only added to Sarah's already growing pile of questions and suspicions. Why were they talking about her? And why was the waitress, Cherry, seemingly “interested in her” a bad thing? Sarah tried her best to stay calm and not let the men see her growing sense of unease. 

She quickly glanced back out the window, taking a moment to try and see if there was anything outside that was notable or important. But no matter how closely she looked, she never saw anything of import, the streets almost looked dead. Almost like a ghost town…

“How are we doing?”

Sarah looked up as she heard the waitress return to her table. Her heart fluttered just a little bit as she saw the woman walking closer, a small smile on her face as Sarah responded.

"Oh, I'm doing alright. But I have to admit, I’m a little confused. I get the feeling everyone here is watching me.”

She gives her an apologetic look and nods. "Yeah...Sorry about that, we just usually don't get a lot of new people in Lakewood." The waitress says with a weary look around the diner, seeing the heads of the men at the counter quickly turn away.

Sarah’s eyebrows raise as she notices the men sitting at the counter quickly look away, acting as if they hadn’t been watching her just moments before. She couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable with how they were all eyeing her, and how the waitress seemed to be almost acting ashamed that they were watching her. Was this town really so paranoid of strangers that they all had to study her like some exhibit at the zoo?

"Are you staying in town?"

The waitress asked with a soft tilt of her head, looking at the ex-officer with curious eyes. Shifting on her feet a little.

Sarah hesitated for a moment. Truth be told, she hadn’t fully decided if she was going to stay in town or not. But the whole vibe of the town put her on edge, and part of her wanted to get the hell out of this place as soon as possible. But, Sarah just couldn’t stop looking at the waitress, there was something about her, something that was drawing her in and keeping her from making up her mind.

 "I- if you don't mind me asking, you don't need to answer if you don't want to, I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable!" The waitress speaks with worry as she starts to panic a little.

Sarah chuckled a little, giving the waitress a soft smile. It was sweet, how nervous she could get. Not to mention, how damn cute it was when she started stuttering and panicking. 

"No, no it’s fine, don’t worry. I’m still trying to decide if I will stay. Why do you ask? Why is that so important?”

She takes a breath and nods, Sarah's laugh sending more blush to her face. She hastily looks up at the men at the counter before looking back at Sarah with a slightly quieter voice.

"Just um... wondering, I know the best places in town if you do plan on staying..." She stutters out as she tries her best not to seem nervous.

Sarah noticed the waitress glance over to the men at the counter, her voice becoming softer and more nervous. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the waitress was trying to keep something quiet, the question was what. Sarah’s gaze followed the waitress’ as she took in the sight of the men at the counter. They quickly looked away, pretending to mind their own business, but Sarah could tell that they were listening in on their conversation.

The waitress shakes her head and blinks a few times. "Well, um...if you do end up staying, I'm here pretty much all the time if you have any questions or anything." She nods with a soft smile. 

Sarah smirked as she listened to the waitress, her little nervous stuttering and blushes sending a wave of butterflies through Sarah’s stomach. The idea of spending some more alone time with her was enough to make Sarah willing to put up with the strange and unnerving vibe the town gave her.                           

"I’ll certainly keep that in mind...Cherry." Sarah responded with a soft chuckle. 

She nervously takes in a shaky breath with a smile as she shyly nods. 

The blonde giggles, biting her lip before opening her mouth to say- The bell above the diner entrance jingles, announcing a new patron.

Sarah looked over in the direction of the entrance, a frown crossing her face as she saw who she could only assume was the Sheriff of the town, Greg standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed as he spotted her immediately. 

He didn’t make any move to walk towards her, simply staring at her from across the diner. Sarah looked, taking in the sight of the Sheriff, she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the ridiculous cowboy hat he was wearing. 

The waitress looks at him, taking a deep breath with a pale face. "Morning Sheriff!" She smiles softly, and a nervous breath comes out as she practically scampers over to the scruffy man. 

Sheriff Greg turns to look at the waitress, a small nod to acknowledge her greeting. Even from across the diner, Sarah can see the tension on his face, his features stern as he looks at the waitress. "Cherry..."   He said, his voice cold and gruff. He was eyeing the waitress, almost as if he was silently questioning her as she quickly walked away from Sarah. The waitress stands with her back facing Sarah, her shoulders rising. Her head was low as the Sheriff sneered at her in a whisper, obviously not wanting Sarah to hear. Sarah looks down at her food, pushing it around as she pretends not to be listening in, only able to hear snippets.

 "No...no I-...I know I-... I'm sorry."  The woman nods, keeping her head down as the sheriff reprimands her for talking to "The Stranger." The waitress takes in a deep, shaky breath, her hands shaking slightly as she grips the skirt of her dress.

Sarah watched, seeing how the waitress seemed to shrink in on herself as the Sheriff whispered, how her hands trembled subtly as she fidgeted, gripping her skirt, how she kept her head down with her nodding. Sarah felt a sudden surge of anger course through her. She didn’t like seeing the girl look so nervous and scared like she was terrified of making a mistake, and Sarah didn’t like the way the Sheriff was speaking to her like she was some sort of child being scolded. 

Sarah was about to speak up, wanting to say something or at the very least clear her throat to grab the Sheriff’s attention, but before she could move or make a sound, the waitress quickly scurried away back into the kitchen.

Sarah exhaled, shaking her head with a deep frown on her face as she sat and stewed in her anger. Something about the way the girl had retreated into the kitchen, almost like she was avoiding being in the Sheriff’s line of sight.

Soon after, she saw the waitress outside the window, walking behind the diner. Seeing the waitress outside caught Sarah’s attention, seeing her walking somewhere out of sight behind the diner. Her curiosity and her growing suspicion got the better of her, and she couldn’t help but want to see what the waitress was doing.

Sarah took a moment to glance around the diner, and noticing that no one seemed to be paying any attention to her at the moment, she threw money on the table and quietly made her way to the front door.

Sarah snuck quietly out of the diner, making her way around the side of the building, trying to find the spot where she had seen the waitress before. As she got around the side, she saw the waitress, leaning up against the wall with something in her hand. Sarah took a few more steps, now within hearing range as she watched the girl take a hit from a vape, the end glowing pink.

Sarah freezes as she sees the waitress suddenly turn, whipping her head to look at her with a squeak. Sarah can tell she's scared, seeing the way the waitress's eyes go wide and the way her body tenses up. Sarah quickly holds her hands up in front of her in a surrendering motion, trying to let the waitress know that she means no harm.

"...hi.” She says quietly, a shy, shameful smile on her pink lips, she quickly looks around, behind Sarah almost expectantly

"Hey...sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Sarah said as she took a few slow steps closer, testing the waters as she watched the waitress poorly try to hide the vape from her view.                                                 

She giggles nervously and shakes her head before speaking. "It's not hard to do...I'm so sorry about that...in there." She twisted the toe of her platform in the dirt as she anxiously apologized, she seemed embarrassed and guilty. Her head was down and her cheeks flushed as she spoke quietly.

Sarah took a few more steps, now so close to the waitress that she could have reached out and touched her if she wished. Sarah shook her head, taking in the way the waitress held herself, her arms folded around her waist almost desperately, her eyes constantly breaking contact with Sarah's.

"No, don't apologize. You don't have anything to be sorry for...I hate the way he talked to you in there…” Sarah leans back on the wall, trying to seem less threatening if possible.

"oh, don't worry about that...that's...that's whatever." The waitress shakes her head with a dismissive motion of her hand as she looks around the corner to the front of the diner.

Sarah felt that pang of anger come back to her as the waitress dismissed the way the Sheriff had reprimanded her. She hated it, the way the woman had so easily just brushed it off like that. Sarah just barely stopped herself from clenching her fists, instead taking a deep breath to try and push down her anger.

"Bullshit. No one should ever talk to you that way. Especially not that jackass Sheriff..." Sarah said a bit more bite in her voice than intended.

She makes a pushing-down motion with her hand, she walks closer to Sarah while looking around the two of them. "Shhh!... Greg is... Greg is just a high-strung.”

Sarah leans in as the waitress walks closer, noticing the way she glances around them, seemingly paranoid of someone hearing them talking. Sarah felt herself frown at that, her suspicions of this town only seeming to grow more and more by the second. "Oh, is he? It seems to me that he's a control freak. Talking to you like you were a child…”

(Y/n) gives her a half smile, laughing dryly as she looks towards the diner once more.

Sarah could tell that the waitress wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she stayed quiet, her gaze going back to the diner with a questioning look. Sarah had an inkling in her brain, a thought that just wouldn't seem to go away, seeming to latch itself into her brain. She took another step closer, now standing directly in front of the waitress. She spoke softly, her voice quiet enough that only the two of them could hear it.

"Is there something you can't say...?” The waitress looks up at her with weary eyes, biting her lip as she looks off once more. Turning back with a soft smile and shaking her head.

"No...I'm just… I’m just embarrassed by how everyone has been acting towards you.”

Sarah was skeptical of the waitress's words, not fully convinced by her response. It was clear that the waitress was holding something back from her like there was something she just couldn't tell her...or she was scared to tell her. Sarah studied the waitress closely, looking directly into her eyes as she spoke again.

"No, that can't be it...it's more than that. I can tell. Are you...afraid of someone listening in?”                           The waitress looks over her shoulders and down the road leading into town again, before leaning in to whisper. 

"You shouldn't be here, Sarah...they...we aren't fond of strangers." It’s like she was trying to scare Sarah off but her warning comes out sounding like a plea for help.

The whisper of the waitress's voice and the fear in her face sent a shiver down Sarah's spine. She took in every word, the tone of her voice only further raising her suspicions. When the word “us” left her lips it hit Sarah like a bucket of ice-cold water, making the hairs on her arms stand. "Wha-...what do you mean, we?”

The Waitress lets out a frustrated sigh, "Them! The town! They-" 

She looks around the wall towards the front of the diner, her eyes widened before she turns back to Sarah with her waitress smile, her tone changing back to a customer service voice. "But the ashtrays are back here and around the front. I'm sorry again for the inconvenience but it's about smoking inside policies.”

The panicked look and the nervous glance at the front of the diner didn't go past Sarah unnoticed but it did confuse her. The waitress was clearly on edge, and the mention of the town further confirmed Sarah's thoughts that something was off here. When she completely changed the conversation it was like whiplash.

"What? No, It's...fine...but can I talk to you about what you said first? It's...kind of important..."                            Sarah asked, taking a half-step closer to the waitress, now standing so close that they were almost touching.

Sarah saw the waitress shake her head and make a motion towards the diner, Sarah tried to ignore the disappointment she felt in that. When the waitress slipped the vape back into her pocket, Sarah took a chance, reaching out and gently grasping her hand. The feel of the waitress's hand was soft and warm under her touch, and just holding her hand sent butterflies through Sarah. The waitress’ face turned a deep pink, almost turning red as she looked at their interlocked hands with wide eyes. 

"No, please, just for a moment. It's important..." Sarah pleaded, keeping a gentle hold on the waitress's hand, but giving her enough room to pull away if she so wished. The waitress shakes her head slightly with the same almost robotic face. She quickly lets go of Sarah when she hears footsteps start coming around the back and the waitress takes a step away from her.

Sarah's heart sank as she heard the footsteps behind the wall, she released the waitress's hand as she stepped back. She whipped around to see who was approaching, and she saw the Sheriff walk around the corner, a stern look on his face. The sight of him made Sarah's blood boil as she saw his eyes narrow as he took them in, his jaw set as he came to a stop next to the waitress.

 "...Sheriff..."  She greeted him with a tight smile.

Sarah clenched her jaw as she saw how tense both the Sheriff and the waitress were. The air felt tense, and she could practically feel the suspicion coming off of the Sheriff in waves. He was looking between Sarah and the waitress with narrowed eyes, his brow furrowed as his eyes seemed to bore into the waitress in particular.                           

"Everything okay, Cherry?" He asked in a gruff voice, his tone harsh and stern.

 "Everything's good, I was talking to Miss Christ, about...regulations in the diner." She nods with a nervous smile, looking up at him like a bunny trying to talk her way out of being a wolf’s lunch.

Sarah saw a flicker of irritation pass over the Sheriff's face at the mention of her name, and he quickly darted his eyes over to Sarah in a glare, his expression darkening. 

He looked between her and the waitress for a moment, his eyes narrowing at both of them, before he spoke again in a harsh, stern voice. Giving Sarah an up and down with his eyes. "You mind if I speak with Charry...alone?”

Sarah's heart skipped a beat and her stomach twisted into knots as the Sheriff spoke. She didn't like the sound of him wanting to talk to the waitress alone, especially with how tense both he and the waitress had acted. Sarah had half a mind to refuse, and insist on staying, but she forced herself to stay quiet, simply swallowing down her protests and looking over at the waitress, trying to silently ask her if she wanted help.

The waitress hesitates, staring at Sarah with an almost, thoughtful and worried face. Before it quickly melts away again into a soft smile, she puts her hand out to Sarah. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Sarah."

Sarah took the waitress's hand in her own, her heart clenching as she felt her soft, warm hand once more. The touch almost seemed electric, and Sarah could hardly pull her eyes away from the beautiful blushing waitress as they shook hands. Sarah found herself holding her hand for just a second longer than necessary, wanting desperately to just pull her in, hold her close, and never let her go, take her away from this town.

"Likewise..." Sarah said with a soft smile, and a small, almost hesitant, squeeze of the waitress's hand before she reluctantly let go.

Sarah caught the look in the waitress's eyes, and followed her line of sight to her car, noticing the nervous nod in its direction. Despite not wanting to leave the waitress with the Sheriff, Sarah knew that she wouldn't be able to stay and watch them. It was obvious the waitress wanted her to go, and Sarah realized that she was most likely going to get in trouble for even talking to her.

Sarah forced herself to stay calm, nodding subtly to the waitress in an understanding manner, before making her way towards her car.

Sarah walked quickly towards her car, her head spinning. Something was off about this town, about the way everyone was acting. The waitress seemed to be afraid of the Sheriff, and the way she kept looking around as they talked like she was waiting for someone to see them. But most of all, the things she'd said, the mentions of "them", the warnings... All of it left Sarah with more questions than she had before. And Sarah was getting desperate for answers.

As she neared her car, Sarah glanced back over her shoulder at the waitress and the Sheriff. She saw the waitress standing in front of the Sheriff, a nervous but annoyed look on her face as the Sheriff spoke to her in a harsh whisper, his voice too low for Sarah to hear but it was slowly growing louder. 

After reaching her SUV and getting inside, Sarah watched from the safety of her car as the waitress was practically scolded by the Sheriff. Sarah could still hear them pretty well through her cracked window. 

The Sheriff seemed to be losing his patience with her, and his tone was harsh and rough as he scolded her. "No Cherry! Your job is to take orders and serve- I just..." He pinches the bridge of his nose and groans. "What the hell is the rule about strangers?”

"I'm not five anymore Greg! I can talk to people without worrying about stranger danger! People have passed through here before and now I'm sure that's what's happening again, just...just, ugh!- I have to get back to work, Greg. I'll see you at home…” 

Sarah wanted to step in, wanted to shout at him to back off and leave the waitress alone, but she held herself back. She watched the waitress's body language change as the Sheriff spoke, her arms crossing over her chest in an almost defensive manner as she rolled her eyes at the Sheriff's words, seeming more comfortable with talking back now that Sarah was away.

Sarah watched as the waitress walked through the door into the diner, leaving the Sheriff standing there alone calling out for her. Even from a distance, Sarah could tell he was pissed. She saw the way he clenched his jaw, the way his shoulders were tense, and his hands balled at his sides. His knuckles were practically white he was clenching them so tight. He groans as he lights a cigarette and turns away from the diner.

Sarah was itching to speak up, to say something to the Sheriff, to confront him and demand answers. But the waitress's words from before rang through her head, “… “we” aren't fond of strangers.” It seemed clear to Sarah now that if she wanted answers, she couldn't cause a scene.

Sarah took a deep breath as she leaned back against her car seat, trying to calm the anger bubbling up in her throat. She needed to tread carefully...very carefully...and she had a choice, did she leave, look for another lead on the creekside killer? Or stay, pursue this one, and take on the mystery of the town?

Sarah watched the Sheriff through the window for a few moments, seeing his shoulders slowly relax and his hands unclench as he smoked his cigarette. The Sheriff let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair and over his face, clearly frustrated.

Sarah looked away from the Sheriff, letting out a deep breath and putting her seat down to be less noticeable. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to process everything that had happened in the past few minutes. The waitress's nervous demeanor, the Sheriff's anger, the town's suspicion... All of it seemed to point to something bigger, something they were hiding, and Sarah desperately wanted to find out what it was.

After a few moments, Sarah opened her eyes and looked back at the diner. She saw movement behind the window, and when she focused her gaze, she could see the waitress inside, taking orders and bringing food to the customers. Sarah found herself staring at her, watching her as she moved around the diner, and Sarah couldn't help the way her heart ached as she saw her, her cheerful smile, her curly hair, her pretty body...No! Sarah tries to pull herself back out of her thoughts with a shake of her head...tries.

Sarah felt herself getting lost in her thoughts, her mind filled with images of the waitress. Her smile, her laugh, the way her hair framed her face… -HONK- Suddenly, Sarah heard a car horn blaring and it snapped her back to reality. She looked over to see a car waiting to pass her. She mumbled a quick apology and gave a small wave, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of the waitress. As she drove, Sarah found her thoughts continually going back to the waitress.

She couldn't help it, she couldn't get the woman’s face out of her head. She wanted to go back to the diner, to talk to her again, to hear her voice, to be near her... Sarah forced herself to focus on the road, trying to shake the thoughts from her mind, but they were relentless. In town, she sees a sign for an inn/motel.

Sarah turned into the parking lot, grateful for something to distract her from her thoughts about the waitress. The place was a small, unassuming building with about 5-6 parking spaces and a flickering neon "Vacancy" sign. A small wooden sign on the building said it was the "The Black Dahlia; Inn and Motel".

As Sarah got out of her car and looked at the motel, she couldn't help but feel like it fit the description she had heard of this town. It was outdated, old, and dusty looking, but eerily clean. The entire place gave off an uneasy feeling.

As Sarah walked up to the reception desk, she noticed the tired-looking middle-aged man sitting behind the desk, lazily thumbing through a magazine. He looked up as she approached, his eyes giving her a quick, uninterested once-over before he spoke. His voice was gruff and his words blunt.

"Name?" He asked, holding a pen and notepad up, raising an eyebrow as he waited for her to speak. Sarah forced herself to focus on the task at hand, her mind still a bit scattered from her thoughts of the waitress, but her sense of duty and determination quickly took over, pushing those thoughts down as she spoke up.

"Sarah Christ.” 

The man scribbled her name down on the pad and looked back at her. "How long are you staying?"

Sarah took a step closer to the desk and tried to keep her voice casual. "Just for a little while. I'm in town conducting an investigation...into a case."

She spoke, her voice calm but firm. The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow as he looked at her, and he set the pad and pen aside, steepling his fingers as he leaned on the desk. There was a flicker of interest in his eyes now, and he spoke again, his tone a little less bored.

"Investigation, huh? What kinda case?” Sarah tried not to show her surprise at the man's change in tone. 

She took a moment to consider how she was going to answer his question, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how much she should reveal. Finally, she decided on a half-truth, one that would hopefully satisfy his curiosity without giving too much away.

"I'm looking for the creekside killer.” The man's eyes widened slightly at her words. He hadn't expected her to be a detective, and the mention of the creekside killer seemed to grab his attention even more. 

He leaned forward, his voice taking on a sharper edge as he spoke with arrogance and a cocky grin. "The creekside killer? Are you looking into that? Everyone else has long given up on that case…hasn't he been a cold case since the 80s?” 

Sarah felt a twinge of irritation at the man's dismissive tone, but she forced herself to stay polite, to maintain her cover. She nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she spoke, her voice still calm but firm. "Yes, that's correct. But I have reasons to believe that there may be something to the case. Something that was overlooked.” 

The man raised an eyebrow at Sarah's words, his gaze becoming more calculating, more curious. He leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment before he spoke again. His voice was laced with skepticism, yet there was a hint of intrigue, "What makes you think there's something new with a case that cold?”

Sarah had to resist the urge to roll her eyes at the man's skepticism. It wasn't surprising that he would be wary of her interest in the case, almost everyone was, but it still grated on her nerves. 

She took a deep breath, keeping her tone casual and calm, though her frustration still came through in her next words.

"Let's just say I have a hunch. Something isn't adding up, and I always follow my gut.”

The man studied her for another moment, his eyes searching hers as if trying to read her. Sarah could see the skepticism in his gaze soften slightly, as her words seemed to sink in. After a beat, he spoke again, his voice still curious and a little cocky, though a bit more guarded.

"Alright then. If you think you're gonna crack a decades-old case, be my guest. But don't say I didn't warn you that you're wasting your time.”

Sarah forced herself to bite back the sarcastic reply that wanted to come out. Instead, she simply nodded, keeping her expression neutral. She'd dealt with people like him before, the skeptical, arrogant, doubtful types...like her mother. And experience taught her that the best way to handle them was to play along, even if she wanted to tell them off. Instead, she spoke again, her voice cool and composed.

"I'll take my chances. I'm never afraid of a challenge.” 

The man let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head as he picked up his pen and pad again. His tone was still skeptical, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice now as well.

"Well, ain't you confident. Alright, I'll give you a room. But just remember what I said. You're chasing a ghost. You ain't gonna find any new leads that haven't already been searched till they're raw.”

Sarah bristled at his words, but she forced herself to stay composed. 

She needed a place to stay if she was going to continue investigating, and she wasn't going to let his skepticism get to her, no matter how much it irritated her.

"Thank you. I'm sure I'll manage."

She responded shortly, trying to keep her irritation out of her voice.

 The man behind the desk chuckled, shaking his head again before sliding his chair back and taking a set of keys down from the key cubbies on the wall. He pushes himself back to the window and tosses them on the counter.

“Your room's 2A. Right up those stairs, second door on the left.”

Sarah nodded in thanks, picking up the keys from the desk, a rusty-looking gold skeleton key with a tag, one side reading 2A and the other had a small faded painting of a Black Dahlia. 

Sarah could feel the man's eyes burning into her as she turned and headed up the stairs. As Sarah walked, she tried to shake off the irritation from the man, to focus on the task at hand. The creekside killer always strikes at night, and the sun is setting soon.

When Sarah reached her room, she unlocked the door to find a small, neat room, one bed, two nightstands, a lamp, a dresser with a vintage TV that would surprise her if it had color let alone turn on, one small closet, and a bathroom. It was tidy, but the dated decor spoke volumes about the age of the motel. It was clear that it hadn't seen updates in quite a while, at least the 40s-50s, that seems to be a theme in this town.

As Sarah walked around the room, she felt her exhaustion catching up with her. The long drive, the stress of the day, and the constant thoughts of the waitress were taking their toll. Despite the age and the musty smell of the room, the bed looked a lot more comfortable than the back of her SUV, and she found herself walking over and sitting down on it, letting out a deep sigh as she sank into the mattress.

Sarah ended up taking a hot shower before she let herself sleep, the muck of lake water, car, sweat, and god knows what else stuck on her daily needed a good scrub off.

After getting out of the shower she wipes the mirror of the steam, freezing when she's hit with the feeling of being watched, her blood running cold as the hairs on her body stand up. She quickly looks around the closed bathroom to, of course, find no one. 

Sarah shakes her head as she looks back at the mirror, the gnawing feeling of peering eyes only growing now, almost at a nauseating rate. Sarah grunts before walking out of the bathroom and getting changed.

She sits on the bed with a groan as she towels her wet hair. She thinks about the events of the day, her lead, the diner, the waitress, the sheriff, the whole damn town.

-RING RING…-

Sarah is plucked out of her tired trance, her ears perking up at the sound of the phone. She glances over to the bedside table, her heart picking up its pace as she wonders who could be calling her. It had to be the front desk or the wrong number…she didn't tell anyone she was there.

-RING RING…-

She took a bracing breath, steeling herself for whoever might be waiting on the other end of the line, before tossing the towel aside and reaching over, picking up the receiver of the rotary phone.

“...hi, Sarah…”

Sarah was taken aback by the sound of the waitress's low, shaking whisper.

She hadn't expected to hear from her again so soon if at all, and certainly not with a late-night phone call. How did the waitress know Sarah was here?

Sarah's heartbeat quickened at the sound of the woman's voice. Her stomach swirls with a mix of surprise, confusion, and something else she couldn't quite get a grasp on what to call.

Sarah took a moment to find her voice, clearing her dry throat, a flicker of disbelief in her tone as she spoke into the receiver."...hello?”

There's a beat before the waitress whispers again at a quick pace, her voice further away at first before it is close to the speaker once again. 

“...Keep your doors and windows as locked as possible. Cover the mirror in the bathroom. Don't go in the woods at night.”

The waitress's words caught Sarah off guard, their urgency and warning sending a shiver down her spine. The ex-detective could hear the seriousness in the waitress's voice, the worry or fear propelling her words, and it made Sarah's heart race.

She had to fight the urge to ask a million questions and had to hold herself back from demanding answers. Instead, she forced herself to stay focused, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as she spoke, her voice low and urgent. "Wait...what?-”

"Sarah please, just listen. I can't talk long, or say much. Please you can't be here for long, they don't like strangers especially ones who are willing to ask questions." Her voice wavers as it recedes from the phone again with a shaky breath, showing her worry and anxiety. There's some shuffling on the other line like she pressed the phone against her clothes.

Sarah's jaw clenched as she listened to the waitress's urgent, whispered pleading. The woman's tone made it clear that she was scared, and the mention of "they" only added more questions to Sarah's already swirling mind. 

Even with the hundreds of alarms in Sarah's head waitress's words set off, Sarah pushed her fear down. Speaking with a soft but firm tone into the receiver. "Wait...hold on.. who are "they"?”

"The town Sarah!" The waitress hisses out as she answers quickly. "They all know you're here and they-"

 Sarah's heart lurched at the sound of the sheriff's condescending voice in the background from the other line as the waitress stopped her words short with a quiet gasp.

Fear and unease coiled in Sarah's gut as her eyes darted around the dingy motel room, a hundred questions swirling in her head. She opens her mouth to ask her what she is going to say but the waitress quickly speaks again.

"Please...listen." The dial tone cries into Sarah's ear. She lowers the phone from her head, her fingers shaking slightly as she slowly sets it back on the base, the ring it gives sounds almost aggressive.

Sarah had never felt so off-balance in her life. She found herself pacing back and forth across the small room, her head pounding, trying to wrap itself around the waitress's cryptic warnings.

The mention of the town itself is "they" and the way the waitress had pleaded for her to listen and leave...It didn't make sense. But Sarah had seen enough in her life to know when something was wrong.

After several minutes of pacing, Sarah finally stopped, her hand coming up to run through her still-damp hair. She had to focus, had to figure out what was going on. The waitress had said to lock her doors and to cover the mirror.

Sarah found herself moving over to the bathroom, her heart racing as she approached the defogging mirror over the sink. A feeling of unease settled in her gut as she looked closer at the mirror, remembering her feelings of being watched in this exact place earlier. 

Her eyes locked on her reflection as the warnings echoed in her mind "...cover the mirror…" But why? Sarah's mind was spinning as she stood in front of the mirror, her eyes darting over her reflection in the glass. The waitress's words echoed in her head, the fear in her voice still ringing in Sarah's ears. Slowly, she reached out and ran a hand over the cold glass, her reflection scowling back at her, a mixture of unease and determination in her eyes.

A shiver ran down Sarah’s spine when her reflection fingers caught her eye, there was no gap. The mirror reflected her every movement perfectly, but when she got close when she touched it, there was no gap between her poking the glass and her reflection doing the same.

Sarah's heart thumped in her ears as the realization sank in, fear and confusion rising in her gut. She reached out to touch the mirror again. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and the unease in her gut grew stronger…It's a two-way mirror.

Someone was watching her, watching her in secret, the idea of which sent a chill through her entire body. Sarah stumbles back from the mirror, her eyes darting around the small bathroom.

The waitresses word's "cover the bathroom mirror" ring through her head. Sarah's eyes fall on a nearby towel, lying in a lump on the floor from when she showered. Without wasting a second, she grabbed the towel and flung it over the mirror, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to block out the sick feeling of being observed.

The muffled silence in the bathroom was deafening, the only sound being the dripping shower head. Sarah stood there for a moment, her eyes locked on the covered mirror, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, but the thoughts wouldn't come. Instead, a feeling of nausea did.

Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and unease, the waitress's words and the sheriff's voice still echoing in her head. She forced herself to turn away from the mirror, away from the feeling of being watched, closing the bathroom door behind her.

Sarah paced around her motel room for at least an hour, her thoughts racing as fast as her heart was beating, her stomach still handed stopped churning. She pushes a hand through her damp hair, what the hell does she do? Does she investigate? Does she leave and never look back? Does she stay the night?... Does she hit redial?

She needs a smoke.

Sarah groans out as she rubs her face. She stands before quickly slipping on her coat and shoes, then heading out of her room.

The thick wooden door thuds with its close. Sarah locks it with the key, unsure if locking it would do any good keeping out unwanted pests.

The floorboards creaked under her boots as she trudged down the thinly carpeted stairs. Sarah's head stays on a swivel, scanning the motel and its pristine walls. 

At the bottom of the steps, Sarah swipes a finger across a shelf that looks like it has been touched in ages, the pictures in the frames are so faded it's hard to make out faces on the people in them. 

She pulled her wrist back and turned her hand to examine the dust and dirt on her pointer, but there was none. Her finger was clean, rubbing her thumb against the pad of her pointer finger, there wasn't even a gritty feeling. 

She shakes her head with a sigh, raising her eyebrows with a few heavy blinks as she continues her walk. 

Sarah looked over to the motel desk, an empty chair in the sleazy man’s place, assumedly he was asleep. 

The chill night air feathers across Sarah's skin as she walks onto the concrete outside, she zips up her jacket before reaching into her pocket to fish out her cigarettes.

-CRACK!- 

What sounds like a twig or a branch snapping catches Sarah's attention immediately, she whips her head around in the direction of the sound, her pack of cigarettes falling onto the pavement by her feet. 

The snap is quickly followed by the rustling of bushes and heavy footsteps hastily running across crunching leaves. A bright white blur was all she could see before it ran away, leaving an almost empty-looking woods in its wake. 

Sarah hadn't noticed before how silent the night had been, the crickets, nocturnal animals, and birds were silent when she came out. Only now they start to bring the night to life again with their gossip, Filling the night with a new wave of sound she didn't know was missing. 

Sarah's feet carry her into the forest before she can think. Heart drumming in her ears as she pushes through branches and runs through bushes, her damp bangs sticking to her forehead as she races against the cold autumn air.

The white blur almost illuminates its way deeper into the seemingly never-ending forest from what she remembers seeing when driving up.

She wants to yell, to call out to the fleeting figure, but she can barely get out a breath.

Sarah stumbles down a steep hill, heels skidding as she catches herself on a thick oak tree. The freak was now gone from sight, the sound of the night being left in its absence. 

She coughs as she crouches down to catch her breath. Running a hand through her now sweaty hair, Sarah takes in a deep breath with a shaky exhale, the cold September air now feeling good against her. She looks around as she pushes off of the tree, the wood scraping against her rough hands. 

“What the hell?…” Sarah sighs as she walks in a small circle, there is no trace of anything, anyone, but her. The only footprints she could see on the moonlit ground were her own, the only pathway cleared was from her frantic chase, nothing ahead, nothing abnormal looking where she swears she saw it go.

“HEY! FUCK YOU, BUDDY!” Sarah yells as she puts her middle fingers towards where she had seen it disappear.

Thank you so much for reading!

Dividers:

https://animatedglittergraphics-n-more.tumblr.com/post/674301647443410944/soda-or-cherry-page-dividers-ty

[pastramiace]

Sanji talking to Zoro post Thriller Bark

The warm water ran over Sanji’s hands, the running water from the faucet creating a constant lull as he washed the dishes. He was almost done, but he had been washing dishes for quite some time. Dinner was more…hectic than usual.

But that’s to be expected, the cook thought to himself as he placed another clean dish to the side,  the residual energy from their win at Thriller Bark has yet to die down. Luffy was especially notorious for riling up the other crew mates.

Sanji glanced up, the warm air from the open window above the sink brushing across his face. He could see bits and pieces of the mayhem the crew was causing on the deck and winced as Usopp accidentally ran into the mast, a ball hitting him after to add insult to injury.

The last cup was carefully placed to the side and Sanji dried his hands on the towel, throwing it over his shoulder knowing he would forget about it until the next morning when he wondered what was wrapped around his head as he woke up. He made his way across the kitchen, his eyes scanning the floor and surfaces for any extra utensils or food that he had somehow forgotten.

When he was met with nothing he continued towards the door and pulled his cigarettes outs. The salty breeze and warm air enveloped him like an old friend and he closed his eyes, inhaling his newly lit cigarette and exhaling a long and deep breath.

He took another puff, knowing that Chopper would force him to put it out before he was allowed entrance into the infirmary. He was still surprised that Chopper had managed to get Zoro to stay there for as long as he had. But Sanji was sure that Chopper wrapping the swordsman in bandages while crying probably helped.

After all, the injuries Zoro had sustained were not unsubstantial and he would need more time than usual to recover. Guilt flooded Sanji's chest but he shook his head, taking a deep breath to try and shove the feeling away. Zoro hadn't almost sacrificed himself for Sanji to feel guilty for his choice. Still...

If only I was stronger.

"Tch," Sanji make a noise of annoyance and he flicked burnt ash from the top of his cigarette, "Stupid." He wasn't sure if he directed it at himself or Zoro but he was sure it applied to the both of them.

Arriving at the door to the infirmary, Sanji tossed is cigarette to the floor, stepping on it as he looked through the small window. He could make out a bit of Chopper's hat moving by the doctor's desk and he knocked, watching as the hat disappeared from view before reappearing in the opening doorway.

"Sanji," Chopper said, giving the cook a tired smile and Sanji felt his heart twist. He put a hand on Chopper's head.

"Hey Doctor," Sanji said softly, looking through the doorway slightly to catch a glimpse of Zoro laying on the spare cot Chopper had, "Why don't you get some rest, I can watch over this Marimo for now."

Chopper nodded, Sanji noticing how his body drooped and his hooves rubbed at his tired eyes. "Make sure he doesn't move around, and make sure his bandages stay on and are wrapped properly. Oh and-" Chopper began to ramble, Sanji gentle guiding the small reindeer out of the infirmary, "-make sure that he doesn't drink it's not doing to help him heal faster, and-"

"You can leave this newly sober Zoro in my hands, I got him," Sanji said and ruffled Chopper's hat a little, "Good job Chopper."

Chopper huffed and began to make his way to the sleeping quarters, a small "don't think you're fooling me you bastard," quietly reaching Sanji's ears.

The cook slipped inside the infirmary, closing the door slowly and quietly but he knew that Zoro was awake. A shuffle and Sanji turned around, eyes catching Zoro's as the swordsman looked at him expectantly.

"You got any booze for me?" came the gruff question and Sanji shrugged his shoulders, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it as he sat down in Chopper's chair.

"You heard the doctor idiot," Sanji exhaled with a puff of smoke.

"Don't bullshit me," Zoro said in response, Sanji letting out an amused huff before pulling a flask out of his inner jacket pocket. He held it up and turned his head to make eye contact with Zoro, the other's eyes twinkling at the sight.

Sanji passed it over, Zoro grabbing the drink and popping it open, downing the entire thing faster than he normally would. Passing the newly emptied bottle back over to Sanji, Zoro sat up and rolled his shoulders out, wincing in pain.

The two sat in silence for a while, Sanji's cigarette dwindling down and Zoro's breathing getting slower and slower as his exhaustion began to overtake the pain his body was feeling.

Just when Sanji was sure the other had fallen asleep and was getting ready to start another cigarette, Zoro spoke up in a soft but firm tone.

"I don't regret what I did. To you or to myself."

Sanji sighed. "I know."

Zoro nodded, his bandaged arms folding over his chest. An understanding seemed to pass between the two and Sanji started another cigarette, Zoro falling asleep faster than Sanji had expected.

He inhaled, then exhaled. He ran a tired hand over his face and pushed his hair back, getting a full look at Zoro's bandaged body, blood beginning to seep through some of the bandages at the worse injuries. Sanji hung his head, letting the guilt pile up in his chest against his better judgement.

"But I regret what you did."