#you meet God and shes made of rotting fish

[liskade]

You meet God, and she's an opossum.

"Why?"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I found god in a hopeless place

[writing-is-a-martial-art]

You meet god and she's mostly dead fish. You ask her why and she says most of the world is dead fish, and she's made herself to appeal to the most common denominator, the everyman funnyman comedy show that runs for eleven seasons but with the entire universe in mind. You ask her how much of the dead fish is your fault, she says it's far less than you'd think, in the grand scheme of things. You ask her if you matter at all. If you can do anything. She shrugs her rotting shoulders and says mattering is a made-up concept, like life, but sure, you can matter if you want to, on some scale. She has many scales. She doesn't know what you mean by 'anything', but you can do everything you can. You ask her if it's enough. She says there's no base requirement for deserving to exist. She's smoking a joint and the smoke filtering out of her gills gathers and forms gas giants and red dwarfs. You ask her if there's any hidden secrets of the universe you should know and she says it's not a secret if she tells, plus it's fun to let you figure it out yourself. You ask her if any of your questions were right questions and she says you worry about being right so much it might keep you from fucking around, which is as close to meaning of life as she ever bothered to make. You don't ask but she says she loves your hair, also your whole being, also your planet. She says she figured out what love is yesterday and is trying it out, which explains the ten thousand rainbows and sudden influx in rains of fish. She offers you a drag of her joint and you wake up half past midnight behind a chain restaurant clutching a smoked salmon. The new stars are winking like they're in on some joke and you're sure if you try hard enough you'll remember what it is.

[jezebelblues]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝐇.𝐒 ݁ᛪ༙ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡��𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

pt. i, pt. ii

𝐂𝐖: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 7.3k

❏ yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.” 

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN  frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant. 

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

[hellinistical]

Thoughts on Rafayel- contains card spoilers and lore spoilers.

Rafayel is like a salmon in that he goes out of his home (never forgets the way no matter how far), and slowly loses bits of himself, eventually rotting while alive. Only taking 1 mate for his life time(s), and how in some cases, should she wish to go to her home would return with her despite nature telling him to return to his own. He loses his scales, his sight, his fins, lots of his weight, his strength, and yet still mc consumes him even after the rot. (Farmers often collect salmon when they're returning home before they can lay eggs or soon after; once they lay the eggs and frrtilize them they've served their purpose so they usually die soon). But of course, the farmer doesn't settle for one fish, he gets others. So the fish that's been caught, knowing its going to die anyways, let's the farmer catch it.

If rafayel is hunger then the mc is greed, or better yet, hunger with no appetite. Wasteful. And salmon- even if they're farm raised, still don't learn to get away from the farmer even when they see their kind getting caught.

Lemurians are huge and rafayel, compared to the other mls, is significantly smaller.

Additionally, thinking about child/teen rafayel (sea god him) who foolishly promised himself to mc on the first meeting and how naive he was to just trust her, giving up his future. at the first glance? possibly. but i saw it as more so curiosity and the first start of a crush or feeling flattered. cause mc said she liked his scales and he was like "where i come from that means you like me" which means he understood the societal differences and still went ahead and made a pact with her.

okay so like. he wasnt the sea god in this life but the price he had to pay for the aether core was taking up the responsibility of the sea god once again, but whether this applies to his future self/future lives is unclear, which makes me think that being the sea god is by contract not by blood, nor is it bound by any one person. it is a spirit that possesses you. This would clear confusion that he has lived for 800 years yet died over and over again.

So mc has a bond with both, rafayel *and* the sea God entity/the sea itself. The path just makes it so that they are one being (rafayel and the sea)

And the sea God is messy for using a child to (using this lightly) forcing a contract on mc's spirit (who was ALSO a child).

Kinda like Karma. Karma has you reborn as smth non-human depending how bad you were. Being human was your best bet. But ultimately you wanna *stop* being reborn. Which means achieving enlightenment. There's definitely aspects of Buddhism in his lore.

Also, the only thing that stopped the sea god from killing mc here was the bond she had with *rafayel*- cause she ordered him to stop and snap out of it. And this shows his awareness of the curse (cause let's face it, that's what it is).

Maybe this is a stretch. Idk.

He gave his scales to her, letting her tame him, his leg is weak from turning to a human, he's slowly losing his sight, and he cut off his fins on his ears (check the back- there's scars behind his ears).

[sketchfanda]

A Little Moxxie Love: Teacher’s Pet

Sinners came and went in Hell especially when it came to the annual purge from the Exorcists of heaven, most wound up there with a good reason to a point that the inferno more or less seperated itself into sections. There was the residential 9 circles of course and then there was that little chunk of limbo occupied by the absolute scum of the Earth, the racists fascists and what not all getting their deserved eternal damnation. Within the circles among the hellborn demon denizens, you of course had the Sinners, confined within the pride circle and often occupying locales such as Imp City or Pentagram town, who did bad enough to still wind up here or you had those who spent all their life being good and due to petty reasons or one absolute FUCK-UP due to circumstances found themselves here. Such was the case with one Mrs.Mayberry, a devoted spirited and friendly school teacher who unfortunately punched her ticket to hellfire and brimstone all because she went a LITTLE batshit crazy.

Well okay so a little was an understatement but you expect her to be rational trying to make a video phone call to your husband on his birthday..which you forgot, only to wind up getting a full audio visual view of him cheating you with some whore? Alright so the chainsaw and shotgun may've been excessive and it would've been nice not to traumatise her classroom, who saw every terrifying second, right up to her committing suicide out of the horror she'd done but maybe she more than punched her ticket for Hell. It just would've made for some closure to know that the Bitch known as Martha had gone down with her, but NOO! She'd survived and just the thought of what came to afterwards.

That damn homewrecker got hailed as hero and she was to be remembered in passing as some psycho bitch, just the idea that Martha whatever had not only still kept drawing breath but got some good karma out of it made her absolutely FUCKING LIVID!! So of course it felt there was a sign that there was God, even in this infernal inferno and that he smiled on revenge via seeing that tacky billboard or that commercial with the annoying jingle. A professional hitman group dedicated to helping you get payback from beyond the grave, now how poetic would that be? Okay she had doubts when meeting them given that the boss was beyond fucking insensitive after she'd confided about her circumstances and yeah there was that shit about their office being set on fire by electric eels but really who keeps a fish tank full of electric eels?!!

But hey least she got a discount for the hire and best of all was they actually managed to do the damn job!! They not only got the whore but her family as well, turns out they were Satanist cannibals, talk about something right out of some goddamn cliche slasher flick but the only thing sweeter than her revenge had to be the cake for the after party. But of course Mayberry had then found something even sweeter during said party, thanks to a very vivid and detailed description from that Millie girl about how that homewrecking slut-whore's death came about. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't actually going to get off at night just even thinking that the bitch would be rotting in Hell with her but goddamn how fucking ironic and poetic that she literally and figuratively got fucked to death?! Well it made he just want to kiss the triggerman responsible, said Imp being none other than Millie's husband.

Now mind you back in life, Mayberry had done just about everything right to stay on the straight and narrow path from abstaining from sex outside of Marriage to smoking, drugs and alcohol but we all know how well that turned out. But there wasn't any doubt that before damnation, she'd have not hesitated to politely but firmly reject the quite kinky, generous offer Millie had made her, but after days to weeks in this part of Hell? Fuck it, she was all on board and if a marriage could somehow manage to be functional and healthy for these two imps in Hell that the missus had no issue with this kink of hers? Well it was small wonder she decided to take her up on her offer.

Which of course was how she had wound up being taken by the erotic little short-stack back to the modest little apartment she and her man called home. Surprising the imp himself when he came back to find the lights off and the presence of a set of lips kissing him that most certainly didn't belong to Millie. But he certainly knew when to run with the momentum, that was for damn sure as the former teacher found Millie hadn't been exaggerating or lying in the slightest as the kinky imp watched on with voyeuristic thrill at the sinner and her man making out out on the couch. Mayberry of course found out first hand that Moxxie wasn't just, pardon, one helluva kisser but there was a damn good reason or at least one of key ones as to why Millie married the guy.

That being that despite what his height and overall body-shape implied, the guy was FUCKING HUNG!! It's small wonder Millie had this kink for having her man bone other women a dick, no a COCK like this was all too much for anyone woman to handle and there was no doubt he knew how to use it. It was small wonder he managed to bang Martha's brains out figuratively well enough in order to do so literally with a length and girth like this. His make out skills alone had put her worthless chump of a husband to shame but this, well suddenly the guy now seemed like a pencil dick compared to this thing.

Shock and awe on her face as her eyes began to twinkle with a glow of rising lust as witnessing such a cock awakened something within the former school teacher. A dormant primal urge, the innate animalistic primitve urge to mate...to breed even!! Before she knew it, she found herself naked together with this sex god among imps, body draped upside on the couch at a 90 degree angle with her hanging off of the edge. Glasses askew as those heavy crimson red balls smacked her forehead, Moxxie delivering a power-froce facefuck as he held her horns firmly in his grasp while the sinner experienced her first real act of fellatio in a into the deep end manner of deepthroating.

And she was loving every goddamn second of it, as if all that abstinence back in life had been rewarded with this, recalling just how much of an utter disappointment her honeymoon had been. Or her first time in general, no sir this wasn't vanilla love-making,this was raw, passionate FUCKING, all goddamn caps and it was absolute ecstasy!! But of course Moxxie showed he was no slouch at eating a woman out either and oooh lord what that sweet tongue could do to and for a woman, it'd be a miracle if she'd be able to walk straight for a few hours, days even!! But then of course the moment of penetration itself came and so did she, long, loud and hard with erotic abandon.

Had she gone to hell or was this in fact the real Heaven hiding within it?!! Well it didn't matter about what could've, would've or should've been when she was finally experiencing a real man here and now, as she found herself pinned up against a wall, arms and legs wrapped around Moxxie’s compact yet quite toned form. Hearts glowing in her eyes as her face was wearing what the Japanese called an ahegao, drool dribbling from her lips as her pussy was pounded and hammered by inches of imp length and girth. He wasn’t just hitting her G spot, he was getting the whole alphabet!

Even the most basic vanilla positions such as missionary felt surreal in how fucking amazing they felt but chalk that up to Moxxie not only having size but knowing how to use it. To say nothing of how lewd she felt when Millie joined the fear, having felt she’d done enough of just watching. Now mayberry knew she’d never so much as thought of kissing another woman even for experimenting but Christ could this imp make even the most hetero woman question her own sexuality. Especially in Mayberry’s case when she found herself eating out the wrath shortstsck’s pussy as Moxxie plowed her her doggy style.

For Martha of course, that one time with Moxxie became more than a one time deal in expressing her gratitude for killing that home wrecking bitch. Not long before parting ways, Millie had only offered to exchange contact details but seems she had wanted to let the former school teacher in on something very special she had planned. She thought about this offer for all of about several nano seconds before she accepted it. After all why turn a chance to have herself a little vitamin Moxxie on the regular now and then?

Now as said back in life, this sort of wild spontaneous lust and lewdness was not Something she ever would’ve thought about, period!! It was all just too scandalous to consider but then again she was in hell now so this sort of thing felt natural and really, what women in and out hell wouldn’t want some of this action? Especially with an imp who was hung like a beast and was possessing of such sexual prowess that he could be considered hell’s equivalent to sex a god. It only felt like the least she could enjoy given how much a shit show her life spiralled out into.

And so it had come to pass that was how Mayberry found herself one of the first and earliest members of wha Millie was coming to call a circle of intimacy. Something only a select couple of women like herself would be in, yes that spunky kinky short stack had even worked out a tier system for this passion project of hers and she was all on board for it. So of course in between when she wasn’t having Moxxie rock her world at either his place or hers, she’d be keeping an eye out for any sinners or demons who were looking for something a little better than their current lot in life. Lesbians who wanted a little taboo spice, lonely singles who wanted to end their dry spells and of course married women or girls in relationships who found their men lacking or left wanting, any and all potential candidates, it was rathe fun t like shopping for a quality piece of fashion at a sale.

But of course just when Mayberry her damnation couldn’t get a little easier and sweeter, one fine day she found a large crate delivered to her apartment. A note attached, sealed with a kiss from Millie who wrote “A Lil’ Someone to keep You company. No worries Moxxie made sure she was as tame as a kitten….”. This made the sinner rather curious as she wasted no time in popping the crate open, finding auite sight before her. There was no mistaking her one bit, even if she now had the physical looks of a sinner, as in the crate laying bound and gagged in nothing but lacey lingerie was none other than Martha herself.

And Millie’s note hadn’t been kidding, the homewrecker in life was as sweet and affectionate as a puppy or kitten, greeting the teacher whose life she had ruined with licks and kisses. The shock and surprise in Mayberry of course soon gave way to lust as it occurred to her what exactly the hell was happening. Seems her alpha male imp had an encounter with this damn sinner snd once again, his sexual prowess got one over on her, proofing too much for the satanist cannibal killer to handle. It was all too delicious, sweeter than sugar than honey combined, the bitch who had ruined her life and marriage was a slutty sex pet that belonged to her, she owned this bitch!!

So of course she wasted no time in getting intimately, erotically acquainted with her new pet slash roommate as she asserted her dominance as Martha’s second alpha female. Getting herself a revenge much sweeter than the attempted chainsaw and shotgun murder she tried on when they were both alive. Having Martha squirm and moan, crying out her name, calling her mistress, making her lap up her pussy juices, it was delicious ecstasy. Hell she even got to try out a few of those toys she had bought and been stockpiling, especially Ozzie’s Brand M.

It was a lovely little toy well worth its price tag and handy for filling the void and scratching the itch for when she couldn’t get herself access for some quality time with Moxxie. But ooh using it on Martha more than validated her purchase of it so it more than ensured that homewrecker knew who held her leash, figuratively and literally. Now if you were to tell Mayberry in life that she’d be in hell living with another woman who she kept around as a sex pet? Well she’d call you a deviant with a wild and overly active imagination.

But that was then and this was now of course and far as Mayberry was concerned, she was living her best afterlife. So it came as no surprise that next time around Moxxie and Millie came by her place for her latest session of Vitamin Moxxie intimacy, she had her little sex pet in on the fun. Hell was what you’d make of it, especially with the impossibility of reason and for this former school teacher? She’d say she made a pretty sweet afterlife for herself and how goddamn sweet it is, heaven likely coils t come close being this good.

[akariamai]

Home

Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 1401

You were luckier than most. A wealthy family contracted you to fix up the bus they bought and convert it into their dream home. You managed to construct every aspect the family wanted inside the double-decker bus then the apocalypse hit. The members of your small town, including the family who paid you, left without a single thought. They left with nothing but the clothes on their backs while heading out with military soldiers. You stayed behind, taking the bus with you, and becoming self-sufficient from then on.

You scavenged through the abandoned stores searching for anything remotely useful to survival. Stocking up the pantry to its fullest and filling the closet with ammunition, guns, medicine and general supplies. You began to work.

The perishable meats and vegetables were going to go bad soon. Without constant refrigeration, they’ll rot swiftly. You thanked the heavens, the freezer the family wanted was large enough to stalk up. Shrimp, crayfish, lean fish, chicken and steaks were concealed in an airtight zip lock bag and left in the freezer. On the outside of the bags contained notes of the dates they’ll last within the freezer. All should last months and hopefully you’ll manage to stretch every bit of it.

Once the freezer was filled, it displeased you to see it all go to waste. Trimming off the fat of the meat, you made a marinade of spices that couldn’t fit in your pantry. You might as well not reduce your supplies before taking off. Your dehydrator was a god sent. You dehydrated jerky, salmon, fruit, and vegetables. They were your meals in the beginning of the apocalypse.

You were self-sufficient for a long time. Escaping from the dangers that lurked outside of your bus. You didn’t drive around often but it was necessary at times. While the infected were dangerous, it was arguable people were more of a danger to your well-being.

It was years before you found your way to Jackson, where the community welcomed you with open arms and bright smiles, your presence became well-known throughout the community. Your job was to dehydrate meat before winter hits. It was an easy job as you had the equipment and were given the meat from hunters. You never had to leave the safety of the community.

You were offered one of the available houses, but you declined. You were satisfied living on the bus. Instead, they gave you a plot of land to do as you wished. You proceeded to grow a garden and build a shed to hold gardening tools.

You were clearing the snow off the solar panels when you heard your name. Maria, a dear friend of yours, Tommy, her husband, and two strangers you had yet to meet slowly walked towards your small plot of land.

“Maria, Tommy.” You nodded as the couple and the strangers watched you work. Watching you collecting the snow into a canteen.  

“[Reader] this is Joel and Ellie. They’re new.” Maria introduced them.

“Welcome to Jackson.”

“[Reader] is one of the hardest workers here.” Tommy boasted, “They’ve helped build several houses and know how to make delicious jerky. Occasionally, you’ll see them helping around with the community garden. That is if they’re not working on their own garden.”

“You must be very bored.” She replied with a bit of snark.

“Ellie.” Joel scolded.

You laughed, “True.” You looked down on their figures. “The apocalypse does leave one bored out of their minds.” You could attest to that. Before Jackson, you had gardened your herbs, prepared and cooked meals, occasionally listened to music, and reread the books you’ve found along the way.

She agreed with your statement, having gone through her own mind-numbing activities while surviving, “You’re telling me. I’ve been stuck in a car with this asshole, reading directions and shit.” Joel maintained a pained look on his face, muttering something under his breath, before quieting down.

“[Reader],” Maria drew your attention to her, “We wanted to ask if you could watch Ellie for a bit.” She didn’t specify after that.

“Sure.” You nodded, “You can come right in Ellie, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thank you.” It was not Maria who thanked you but Joel. It was evident he didn’t particularly like being around crowds, probably an aftereffect of the world just beyond the walls of Jackson, it reminded you of yourself when you first walked into the community. Unsure if it was safe or not. A brief paradise before corrupt men or the infected came barreling through the gates.

You didn’t reply as Tommy and Maria began to leave. Joel slowly followed behind them, almost hesitant to leave Ellie in your care, but persisted forward. You climbed down the ladder and proceeded to gather a few items Ellie might need: clothing and hygiene products.

“Do you want to shower?” You asked, “I have hot water.”

“Hot water?” It must’ve been a long time since she enjoyed the luxury of hot water. You never had to know a life without it. The bus kept you sheltered from the horrors left in the wake of the outbreak.

“Plenty of it.” You handed her clean clothing. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Once you heard the water was on, you began to search for spare hygiene products the girl might need. A question lingered in the air as the decision to stay or leave was left uncertain.

“Ellie,” You called out, “Are you hungry? I can warm something up for you.”

“I’m starving.”

“Are you allergic to anything?”

“No.”

You left her alone to enjoy her shower and walked towards your kitchen. You were defrosting a portion of the vegetable soup for yourself, but Ellie needed it more. You proceeded to warm up the soup and searched for a bag of beef jerky you’ve made.

Ellie came down soon after and you motioned for her to have a seat. You pulled out the table and placed the warm soup in front of her. You offered her a smile, “Hope you like it.”

Ellie scarfed down the food as if it was going to disappear. You munched on bits and pieces of beef jerky, enjoying the sweet and spice, before Ellie called for your attention.

“So, you live here?” She looked over the bottom floor of your home. It was extremely organized and untouched.

“Yes.”

“Did they not give you a house?” Curiosity amplified as she awaited your response.

“They did.” You answered curtly, “But I refused.” You offered nothing else.

“Why not?”

“This is my home.” You didn’t want to mention you were waiting for the day the community would fall. It was a terrible thought, but you were a realist. Something or someone would come knocking and destroy everything that was built. It might not be today or tomorrow but someday it will happen. “It’s been my home since the beginning, and I won’t abandon it now.”

You gave Ellie the hygiene products you were willing to part with: a toothbrush, two bottles of toothpaste tablets, and a period cup with instructions. You know Maria would trade for other products she might need.

Ellie looked at the toothpaste tablets bizarrely. “This is toothpaste?”

You nodded, “Crush the tablet with your teeth. The tablet will mix with your saliva to create toothpaste.”

“Cool.” She stuffed everything in her backpack. “Thank you.”

~~~

Tommy knocked on your door early in the morning. He wanted to trade, for Joel and Ellie, for several bags of beef jerky to last a few weeks. Joel and Ellie stood right beside him, as they watched the transaction inquisitively.

You noticed they carried their bags, presumably the ones they arrived with, and knew they were leaving. You sighed, “Without refrigeration, the beef jerky is going to last about a week. I have a few bags of roasted nuts that can last within up to three months.”

“What do you want for them?” Tommy questioned. It was a matter of substance or labor.

“Nothing.” You didn’t have the need for anything, and they were leaving to a place where food was scarce. But nothing was unacceptable to Tommy. You walked back inside and brought back several bags for the two. “Take care of each other. Stay safe.”

You hoped to see them again. Alive and healthy. You wished for them to live long and happy lives wherever life spurred them too.

“Goodbye.”

Masterlist

[vivianroan]

THE LADY OF TABEA

Occupation: The lady of the court of Frigoria.

Name: Vivian Roan.

Age: 23.

Pronouns: she/her

Power: Decay generation & manipulation

IT BEGINS — tw death at childbirth

Some say you were born to create - but, they were wrong, from the very start. You were born to destroy. After all, you’ve destroyed your own mother - she barely had a chance to take a good look at you before the Barrier, and the Sagas, took her from you and your father. Her absence pained your father too much and as you grew up, you could see the question in his eyes, the silent plea to whatever listened - why, oh, why did the Sagas take your mother instead of you? You knew he would’ve swapped your life with hers without consideration - but, it didn’t mean he didn’t love you ; in his own way he did. Better said, he tried to - hoped that you’d inherit your mother’s power, the sweet, lovely gift of life and creation, the ability to make things appear in flesh and blood, just as she had imagined them, drawn them - or sung of them. You’ve heard about a great deal of her power from your father, once her absence stopped driving him to the brink of madness ( you never understood that kind of love and devotion when you were a child - even now, it baffles you ) - and you, too, had hoped you’d inherit it. It was all wishful thinking, all a pretty, sugar coated dream - the reality was much harsher - and if there was a God, he was a cruel bitch with a cruel sense of humour.  Your power came from rot - from things that lived not too long ago, from things that are about to die. You can speed it up, generate it and multiply it - and the moment you felt the first surge of the sweet smell coating the decay in your veins, you wanted to scream. It was unfair, it was cold and it was cruel - and from that day on, every progress you’ve made with your father had fallen apart, rotted into the ground like an apple turned to mould. The moment your power was made public, you could feel the exact moment other people changed their behaviour towards you - and their opinion of you. You hated it, hated the unfairness of it - it was just a power, just something yours, but it wasn’t you - it isn’t you. You have made a vow to never let your power define you, especially not something as rotten as your control over it, but keeping that promise has become harder and harder with each passing day. The Old King offered to take you under his wing, but you refused - politely declined whatever plans he had had for you ; you won’t be anyone's puppet - especially not since you have so little control over it, so little knowledge and understanding of it. You’ve wanted to show the people you’re not the monster they all fear you are, but with your level of control over it, you might as well accidentally rot someone into dust - so you keep to yourself ; until the Old King died and his family summoned you to court for whatever ploy they had - only this time, you couldn’t really say no. 

NOW IT COMES TO —

The Ancient Queen has tempted you with a promise of something very few people have given you - acceptance and respect. People are kind to you, always, but you know it’s just an illusion - they fear you, they stay away from you and they refrain from even brushing past you when you meet them in the hallways ; and it’s driving you to madness. You can control your power now, you’ve taught yourself how - trial and error, trial and error, but you’ve gotten a lot better at it now. So, you pledge your allegiance to the Ancient Queen, and to her family, and you stay at court where all the friendly faces reside. The more time you spend at court, the more you’re starting to notice the cracks in those friendly smiles - your power might be the one over decay and rot, but for the first time you’re noticing how true ancient proverbs are - a fish truly does rot from the head down - and the more you pay attention, the more you’re starting to notice how the Ancient Queen’s court is full of rotting fish. 

HEADCANONS.

character traits: + traits. intelligent, resourceful, unyielding, charming. - traits. manipulative, vengeful, solitary. headcanons. she doesn't eat spy food. for some strange reason, she just can't digest it. however, she loves sweets and also loves salty food. her favourite treats are salted caramels, peanuts dipped in chocolate and hot chocolate in general. she always wanted to have a pet, but was never allowed to keep it due to her power. now that she came to sotera, she is scouting for a stray animal to adopt - there's already a stray kitten that passed her way twice already, but she's hadn't had the opportunity to catch it yet. is a very light sleeper.

POWER.

decay generation & manipulation - she is still iffy about using it, though she's gotten better at controlling it. she can rot things out in a blink of an eye, but it takes a toll in her health - either it leads her to exhaustion, hallucinations or makes her fall into a deep slumber for hours on end. once, when she had accidentally rotted a living being, she fell into a sleep for a week straight without waking once. she can manipulate rot ( as a microbe ) and generate and multiply it, though it drains her. if one would put labels on her, she'd be called zombie puppeteer, though her creations are hardly zombies in the common sense of the word - they are just emotionless, empty vessels for her power to flow through and they don't wail, blink or move, unless she makes them move through her power - she cannot, however, keep it 'existing' for longer than a few short minutes before it turns to dust not even she can manipulate.

[waynes-multiverse]

This chapter was soooo sweet, it rotted my teeth right down to the core 🥹🍯🍭

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

I don't know why, but that moment was so relatable. Poor girl 😂

You didn’t notice the way Jo’s gaze lingered on you and Dean, a frown marring her features. Though she soon moved on to another patron.

We've talked about this in the last chapter, but that is so unbelievably cruel. I really feel for Jo here. I really do 💔 As much as I love swooning over Dean, I wanna slap that man so hard here. God help me 😭

“I mean, you can walk by their table and be all coy and pretend you’re not going to buy anything, but then you walk away with half a dozen boxes of Thin Mints.”

Monica? Is that you? 😂

It made him smile. Those eyes of his considered her dress, an earthy green that brought out the hazel in her eyes, warm against her tan skin. But he lingered on her face, full lips and long, dark lashes.

Oh... Oh! I did not put that together until now that Andrea was that Andrea lol

“I’m tellin’ you, if you had your own bakery, I’d be lining up every damn day,” he said.

Oh, I hope she quits that stupid sales job and opens her own bakery by the end of this series. Since she went to culinary school, it'd be perfect! She already has a whole firehouse as a customer 😆

Instead, Dean reached into his own glass and grabbed an ice cube. After shaking off some excess water droplets, he moved the ice against the pads of your fingers, then down the fading red mark on your palm.

Oh dear effing Lord! That whole "burn & ice" bit killed me! If he had done that to me, I would've just made a sound like velociraptor and died on the spot. Holy fucking crap, that was some icy hot action! 🔥🫠

“Well, I think I’ll start at the roller disco and see where my heart takes me,” he replied.

Oh Grandpa George, you never disappoint ❤️ I probably swoon more over him than Dean in this series. Isn't that something 😂

“Ah, my wife and I met at one of those cheesy-ass places in the ‘70s,” he said.

N'awww 🥹 And I love the 70s roller rinks! I wrote a whole chapter about it in Plastic Hearts lmao (since that series is set in the 80s) 🛼🪩

And I loved the getting ready scenes with Dean and the reader and that they both mirrored each other and showed their nervousness. But I hated the fact that Dean thought he had to be someone else and change for her. That's not why she picked you, you dumbass! But also, so typical of Dean to think he wouldn't be enough... 😔

“Or here’s a thought. You could just be yourself. Order a beer and let her get whatever she wants.”

Ah Sam! The voice of reason. Thank you for this 🙏

He couldn’t remember the last time he got nervous to meet a girl…maybe because he hadn’t gone out on an actual “dinner and conversation” date in a while.

*raises eyebrow* Oh Dean... you're such a mess, God help me 🤨😂

Red was what? What the hell is a Malbec? Sounds like a kind of fish. That can’t be red wine.

His inner monologue is killing me 🤣

Although they had their initial difficulties, I'm so happy she saw how he was struggling and they ended up having such a sweet and honest date ❤️ While it was cute he tried to "impress" and "woo" her, how long could he have kept up that ruse, huh? If he wants to have a real relationship, he needs to be real and, thus, himself.

“See, women tend to like the firefighter thing, until they don’t,” he said.

Awwww, pooh bear 🥺

Loved, loved, loved this chapter! Amazing job, Zep! Can't wait to dive into the next one and see what you have in store for these two lovebirds 😍👏

Smoke Eater - Part 3

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   

AN: Ready for some more ridiculous flirting? lol

🔥 Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: “Got a Hold on Me” by Christine McVie (of Fleetwood Mac) Word Count: 5,800 Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, fluff, first encounters and first dates

Part 3: “Got a Hold on Me”

Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

You couldn’t help but smile back as you met the man’s gaze across the bar.

You recognized his bearded friend, Benny, who leaned over and said something to Dean. You couldn’t hear him, of course, but maybe he was asking a question. Because Dean nodded and said something in reply before he picked up his glass of what looked like whiskey. And he smoothly got up out of his seat.

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said. A smile curved her lips. “I think I’m going to go play some pool.”

And with that, your friend abandoned you. She slid off her seat and patted your ass on her way over to one of the pool tables. You watched her go with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. 

“There you go, hun,” said Jo. She slid your drink in front of you. It came in a deep round glass on a stem, with a straw on the side.

“Thanks,” you replied.

You opened the straw and took a small sip to steady yourself, as you saw Dean coming out of the corner of your eye.

You even pretended not to notice the handsome man sliding into the seat next to you. His elbows rested on the counter next to yours, and you finally glanced over at him.

“Can I help you, sir?” you asked. A coquettish smile played at your lips, but you even surprised yourself with your smooth delivery. Inside, you had butterflies.

You didn’t notice the way Jo’s gaze lingered on you and Dean, a frown marring her features. Though she soon moved on to another patron.

And Dean’s attention was solely on you. He gave you a handsome smile, full of charm. You gave him expectant brows. 

“Well, we’ll see. I’ve got a question for you,” he said.

You indulged him with a nod. “Okay. What’s your question, Lieutenant?”  

“Why Girl Scout cookies?” he asked, speaking of the baked goods you’d brought by the firehouse yesterday. “I mean, we’ve gotten cakes, muffins, Krispy Kreme donuts. But I gotta say, we’ve never gotten some bakery-style Trefoils.”

Your smile brightened a bit.

“Who doesn’t like ‘em?” you asked. “I mean, you can walk by their table and be all coy and pretend you’re not going to buy anything, but then you walk away with half a dozen boxes of Thin Mints.”

Dean chuckled, and you enjoyed the way it crinkled the corners of his eyes.

“Or is that just me?” you added, and once again sipped at your drink. 

Meanwhile, Andréa felt a hot gaze on her as she set up the cue balls on the pool table. She allowed it with a subtle smile. If it was the same one she’d crossed paths with earlier when she walked in with you, then she didn’t mind.

She was, however, getting impatient.

“Mind if I join you?”

The pleasant drawl of the man’s voice licked up her spine. When she glanced over her shoulder, her smile widened a fraction. Finally.

“For a game?” she asked. She straightened, brushing a smooth wave of dark hair off her shoulder.

And she turned to meet the bearded man standing casually behind her, resting his glass on the edge of the pool table. The gray of his rolled up, buttoned-down shirt brought out the vivid blue of his eyes. But even though he was tall and broad, he didn’t seem intimidating.

“To start with,” he said. His lips quirked at a smile. “But first, I think it’d be a damn shame if I didn’t ask for your name.”

Andréa’s head tipped to one side as she considered him. She picked up the second pool stick and handed it to him.

“Are you going to ask?” she replied. Her fingers curled around her own stick as she leaned a hip against the table. 

It made him smile. Those eyes of his considered her dress, an earthy green that brought out the hazel in her eyes, warm against her tan skin. But he lingered on her face, full lips and long, dark lashes.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked.

“Andréa,” she answered, and gestured to the pyramid of cue balls. “I’ll even let you go first, if I get your name.”

His smile deepened, and he leaned over beside her to line up his shot. He glanced over and found the challenge in her eyes was more than welcome.

“I’m Benny,” he said. He took the shot without looking at his target, breaking the pyramid and scattering cue balls across the table.

Back at the bar, your drink and your conversation were both bringing a pleasant buzz to your brain. You nodded along with the music when “Got a Hold on Me” by Christine McVie replaced Boston.

“You’re liftin’ me up,” she sang through the speakers. “Never let me down…and I smile whenever you’re around.”

Dean glanced at you with a small grin, shaking his head.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “What?”

“Nothin’,” he said. “I just didn’t expect to see someone like you here.”

Your brows furrowed. “Someone like me?”

He caught the look on your face, and his turned apologetic.

“Nah, I just mean…this doesn’t seem like your usual vibe,” he said.

You weren’t quite sure how to take that, but you eventually shrugged.

“To be honest, I don’t go out all that much,” you replied. “I like it here though. Good music, good drinks—”

“And good company, I hope,” Dean added in. You allowed that with a smile.

All the while, Christine kept singing.

“I’ve been down. I’ve been used. Now I know, I know, I know, I just can’t lose…”

“So did you guys like the cookies? Or did the Girl Scout thing put you off,” you teased. Dean’s lips quirked.

“Sweetheart, those delectables were gone by end of shift. I’m talking that afternoon. They were easily some of the best cookies I’ve ever tasted…I’m serious,” he said, when you became a bit bashful, and maybe disbelieving.

“I’m tellin’ you, if you had your own bakery, I’d be lining up every damn day,” he said. He then sent you a playfully suspicious look. “Matter of fact, you didn’t just buy those, did you?”

Your smiled warmed as you considered your half-empty glass. Your fingers traced the rim.

“Well, don’t laugh but…I actually went to culinary school,” you said. Dean’s brows rose high at the confession.

“Why would I laugh about that? That’s awesome!” he said. “Why didn’t you become a chef or something?”

Your gaze drifted downwards. “Well…let’s just say, life got in the way.”

His face dimmed a little at that. But you noticed, and you tried to perk up.

“So yes, sir. I baked all five dozen of those cookies with my own two hands,” you said more cheerfully. You raised waving fingers. “I’ve got the burns to prove it.”

You’d actually made a rookie move, trying to move one of the trays before it had sufficiently cooled down. It was bad enough that you had to apply some aloe last night.

Dean made a show of furrowing his brows, with playful concern.    

“Let me see,” he said. He straightened in his seat, acting more “Lieutenant Winchester” as he took your hands and examined your palms and fingers. You blushed, and you bit your lip against a smile as his larger hands handled yours with care.

He did notice the redness on your fingertips, and part of your right palm. He glanced up at you.

“Do they hurt?” he asked.

You blinked at the genuine note in his question.

“Oh, not really,” you said. But you smiled at the fractional raise of his brows. “Well, maybe they still sting a bit, but it’s nothing. I had worse in school, believe me.”

Dean hummed as he considered your hands. Your face heated up further as you tried to get a read on what he was thinking. Was he about to do the cheesy thing and kiss it better? (Though you probably wouldn’t mind, even if he did.)

Instead, Dean reached into his own glass and grabbed an ice cube. After shaking off some excess water droplets, he moved the ice against the pads of your fingers, then down the fading red mark on your palm.

“That feel better?” he asked.

If possible, your blush intensified as your insides warmed and melted like hot butter. It was a sweet, and seemingly earnest gesture that plucked at your heartstrings.

And that was how Dean Winchester got your number before “Got a Hold on Me” ended.

Andréa was still chatting away at the bar with Benny by the time you decided to call it a night. She understood why you wanted to get home, to check on your grandfather.

You saw a bit of disappointment in Dean’s eyes when you said you needed to go, but he graciously offered to walk you to your car. It was pretty late, after all, and you had more than one reason to agree as he stepped out with you into the night.

You didn’t know if it was the evening chill, or his presence burning beside you that made a small shiver run through you. But once the two of you reached your car, you hesitated and looked up at Dean. You realized that you were reluctant to end this, whatever it was.

He quirked a smile down at you and tucked a wily strand of hair behind your ear.

“It was good to see you,” he said.

“Likewise, Lieutenant,” you replied, with a teasing gleam in your eyes. His were drawn to your face, lowering to your lips.

“Can I see you again?” he asked.

Again, your face warmed. “I think I’d be okay with that.”

His smile grew with his huff of amusement.

“Okay, how about I pick you up tomorrow night?” he offered. “That’s, uh…if you don’t got any plans.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. Play it cool, for the love of God. Just say yes.

You didn’t usually agree to let a man pick you up on the first date, but something about Dean felt intrinsically trustworthy. Maybe it was the fact that he’d already saved you once this week.

“Sure,” you agreed, sounding more casual than you felt. “What did you have in mind?”

Dean considered that with a thoughtful look.

“Tell you what, let me take you to dinner. Somewhere nice,” he said. His hand raised to thumb at your warm cheek. He couldn’t see your blush, but you were sure he could feel it.

“I like dinner,” you admitted. Though you immediately wanted to slap yourself. Idiot!

Dean just laughed, and your blush turned to one of embarrassment.

“All right. Something we can agree on,” he said in amusement. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Get home safe, okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, though you paused, looking up at the indecision on his face. His gaze roamed your face, once again falling to your lips. Nervousness trilled down your spine, though you didn’t know why.

Maybe you were just a coward, but you didn’t wait for him to decide. You just gave him one last smile before you turned from him, unlocking your car with a press of a button on your keys.

“Well, goodnight,” you told him. “See you tomorrow.”

He nodded, stepping back from you. “See you soon.”

Well, it was tomorrow. And you were trying not to freak the hell out.

“That’s it,” Andréa said. “That’s the one.”

You had her on FaceTime, with your phone propped up on your dresser as you raided your closet.

Your hair was pinned up, your makeup done, and now, she’d helped you find the right outfit—a dress in vibrant emerald green that hugged your curves and fell to about mid-thigh. You smoothed out the straps and twisted to see yourself in the mirror.

“Why’re you frowning. This is perfect!” Andréa said.

“I just…” You sighed, once again trying to tug up the neckline. It was a bit lower than you preferred, but if you remembered right, your friend had encouraged this purchase a while back.

“It isn’t too much, is it?” you asked.

“Not for a first date with a smokin’ hot firefighter, mind the pun,” Andréa teased. “You’re a knockout, babe. He won’t be able to pick up his tongue off the floor…but I’m sure you can find a place for him to put it.”

You spluttered laughing, even after you made a scandalized sound. “You’re ridiculous.”

Still, you knew you could always count on Andréa to hype you up. You appreciated that about her; she was confident without being petty or prideful. And while she never begrudged you for your more cautious approach to things, she did try to get you out of your comfortable shell when you needed it. This, apparently, was one of those times.

You chose a pair of black suede heels Dean hadn’t seen before, along with a few spritzes of perfume in strategic locations on your body.

“Okay, Dean’s supposed to get here at 8:00. Until then, regale me with more about your night with Captain Benjamin Lafitte,” you said, drawing out each word of the man’s name with a suggestive flourish.

Andréa gave a dreamy sigh. She smiled as she sat back against her headboard in bed.

“He was just so…” she trailed, like she was sorting through a collection of memories, savoring each one, all while trying to find a way to distill it all into a simple sentence. She had an artist’s mind, and so tended to romanticize. But you enjoyed the way she spun her stories.

“Earthy, and real, while still being charming,” she said. “I’m pretty sure he let me win the pool game. Which ordinarily would annoy the shit out of me, but when he offered to buy me another drink, I couldn’t say no, and…we talked until the bar closed.”

“Wow.” Your eyes widened as you made the finishing touches on your clipped up hair.

“Right? I’ve never had an experience like that with a perfect stranger,” she said. “I think…I think it was like, one of those connections you hear about, see on TV but never think it happens in real life. I’ll tell you, when we walked into the bar, his eyes were the first thing I saw. And they were the last thing I remember from that night, after he kissed me goodnight…well, more like made out against my car, but you get the idea.”

She smiled as her face became lost in thought. Meanwhile, you tried not to be envious that she’d had more courage than you.

“Are you going to see him again soon?” you asked. Andréa seemed to come back down to Earth at the question, meeting your gaze.

“I think so,” she said. “We’re trying to plan something for next week. He’s also a construction contractor.”

You nodded. “Yeah, Dean was telling me that a lot of them have part-time jobs when they’re not on shift.”

“Does he do anything on the side?” she asked.

“If I remember right, he said he fixes cars sometimes, but I’m not sure if he’s a certified mechanic,” you replied.

“Well, maybe he can spruce up your old-ass Toyota Camry. How long have you had that thing?” she asked.  

You scoffed. “Since college. And it was old then, since I got it used…I think I’ve racked up about 200,000 miles on it.”

Andréa grimaced. “Oh God. You really need a new car, before that thing breaks down on you.”

“That’s what I keep tellin’ her,” said Grandpa George. He appeared in the doorway with a mug of tea. He waved at Andréa on your phone screen. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“Hey, George. What’re your plans this evening? Go-karting or roller blading?” she teased with a grin.

George matched it with a hearty laugh. Andréa was his favorite.

“Well, I think I’ll start at the roller disco and see where my heart takes me,” he replied. Though he had fond stars in his eyes, and you smiled, knowing what memory he was about to recall.

“Ah, my wife and I met at one of those cheesy-ass places in the ‘70s,” he said. “She was a regular there, had the knee-high socks, the shiny skirt, her long hair whipping around like a rope… I remember she skated past me and knocked me clean onto my ass. I watched her skate away, that little skirt swishing. I think I was half in love right there.”

Your heart twinged, both for yourself and for him, as you could see the sting of melancholy in his eyes. Your grandmother had passed away a few years ago, but it was still deeply painful for both of you.

George shook his head, as if clearing the ghosts of memory from his mind. He looked over at you with a fond smile.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful?” he said. And he reached out for your hand, playfully raising it above your head and twirling you around as you smiled. “Reminds me of when your grandma helped you get ready for the senior prom.”

You snorted at that. “You mean when she almost glued my eyes shut, trying to get those fake lashes on?”

You’d rather pluck out your own eyes than have to ever again go through the “de-gluing process,” as she’d called it.

“It’s a shame we don’t have any pictures of you that night,” George considered. A knowing smile crossed his face. “You looked adorable.”

“I looked like I had a wonky eye,” you retorted. “Why do you think I burned all the evidence?”

Andréa tried not to, but she chortled at your expense. You shot her a narrowed look.

“Careful,” she teased. “Don’t strain yourself, Wonky. You’ve got a better night than prom ahead of you.”

“Speaking of, when’s that boy supposed to pick you up?” George asked.

You let out a breath, slightly nervous as you checked the time on your phone.

“In about ten minutes.”

“Okay, for the third time,” Sam said, trying his best to be patient. He sat on Dean’s bed while the man stood in front of the bathroom mirror. He was debating the age-old question: tie, or no tie?

“Red wine goes with red meat. White wine goes with chicken and fish,” Sam reminded him. “If you get red, you want to order a bottle of merlot. It’s full bodied without being dry as hell.”

“Yeah, merlot with meat. Got it,” Dean nodded. “What’s white again?”

“Everything else,” Sam said, once again. “If you order white, I’d say go with a pinot grigio. It’s light, can be dry or can be fruity. It all depends on personal preference, but I really like—”

“Well, I’m probably getting steak, so no to pinot,” Dean said. He finally decided on no tie, just a black suit jacket over the dark blue shirt, with a couple of buttons left open at the top.

Sam sighed and gestured at his brother. “And what if she wants fish? What if she hates red wine?”

Dean frowned. “Right. Okay. Pinot or merlot, got it.”

“Always ask to try it first,” Sam added. “Or here’s a thought. You could just be yourself. Order a beer and let her get whatever she wants.”

His frown deepening, Dean shook his head and left his bathroom. He crossed his bedroom to find his shoes—the nice black ones he only wore for weddings and funerals.

“Nah. This girl’s classy, Sam. Can’t half-ass this,” he said. A bit of unease coiled in his stomach, but he tried his best to ignore it.

He couldn’t remember the last time he got nervous to meet a girl…maybe because he hadn’t gone out on an actual “dinner and conversation” date in a while.

Or at least, he didn’t think he could count his dates as real ones.

“You’ll be fine,” Sam said. He could see plainly what his brother didn’t want to admit, only because they knew each other so well.

Dean glanced over at Sam and flickered at a smile. He grabbed his keys, his wallet, and didn’t think he was missing anything…

“Dean,” Sam said. He nodded over at the bundle on the dresser. Dean reached for it and shot his brother a wink.

“Hold the fort, Sammy.”

His car rumbled to a stop in front of your house just a few minutes late. Dean took a moment to admire the nice-looking beige house with its dark trim, old but still in good condition. And he wondered if you had roommates, or if you lived alone. Maybe you even owned this place. 

He wasn’t sure, as he could only see one car in the driveway (your car, he recognized). He knew he’d need about two or three other roommates to be able to afford this two-story house. 

He straightened his collar and blew out a breath. Get it together, asshole. You’re going on a date, not running into a burning building.

Funny, he’d probably be less nervous with the latter.

You’re not nervous, he reminded himself. You like her, that’s all…yeah.

Rolling his eyes at himself, Dean turned off the car and grabbed his key out of the ignition on his way out. He walked up the red brick path up to the porch and knocked on your door.

His pulse picked up a bit when he heard a pair of heels approaching the door. Soon enough, it opened, and Dean was greeted with a sight. Namely your face, and a smile spreading across it.

Beautiful, he couldn’t help but think, as his gaze dipped to take in the rest of you. He liked the color of your pretty green dress, the soft and classy makeup, the goddamn sexy heels, and the way your hair was pinned up. (Even though it looked so soft, he wanted to see it loose.)

He liked it all, especially that you seemed happy to see him.

“Hey there,” you said, a little breathy, like you’d been hastening down the stairs.

Dean gave you a smile, along with the small bouquet of flowers he’d been hiding behind his back.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His smile deepened when you uttered a gasp at the modest bundle of red tulips. “Feel like I should’a gone with something more impressive to match you. You look beautiful.”

You glanced up at him with a sweet smile, but you took the flowers and shook your head.

“No, these are gorgeous. I…can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers,” you admitted.

It was a bit old-fashioned, but one of Dean’s earliest memories as a kid was seeing his dad come home, late from work as he so often was. But he’d stopped along the way at his mom’s favorite flower shop. He brought her red tulips rather than red roses.

Dean didn’t know why. Maybe that was her favorite flower, or maybe the roses were all out. In his memory though, his mom’s upset faded whenever she saw those flowers.    

“Thank you,” you said warmly, taking Dean out of his thoughts. He flashed you a smile touched with slight embarrassment. He drew a hand through his short hair at the back of his head.

“Well, uh, are you ready?” he asked.

You nodded. “Yep! Just need to grab my purse and put these in some water.”

You welcomed him inside the house while he waited for you to find a vase. Dean took the opportunity to look around from where he stood in the hall. It looked big on the outside, but inside, it looked like a cozy family home. He took in the wood furniture, a paisley couch in the living room, family pictures on the wall and in a China cabinet rather than actual fine China.

It didn’t exactly scream high-powered saleswoman, but maybe you’d inherited it from your family. Or you were going to have it fixed up before you sold it, like some Property Brothers-type action. Or he was reading too much into it entirely, and should just focus on the fact that you’d agreed to go out with him to begin with.

Dean perked up when you returned with your purse on your shoulder and the tulips in a vase, which you set down on the living room coffee table for now. You greeted him again with smile.

“I’ll find a better place for those later, just didn’t want to keep you waiting,” you said.

“You’re good,” he said. He offered you his hand, along with a grin. “I hope you’re hungry though. I know how much you like dinner.”

You giggled, ducking your head in embarrassment. You followed him out the front door.

“If we can forget about that tipsy foot-in-mouth moment, that’d be great,” you said. Dean shook his head.

“Sorry, my mind’s like a steel trap,” he teased, even as he led you down the few steps of your porch in your heels.

“Oh, really?” Your brow raised. “Okay, I’ll remember you said that.”

Dean smirked. “Uh oh. Why do I feel like that one’s gonna bite me in the ass someday?”

“We’ll see,” you replied in amusement. “Future dinners might be on the line here.”

Your eyes widened when you finally saw his car parked behind yours in the driveway. Big and black and sleek and Chevrolet.

“Wow. That’s your car?”

Dean shot you a grin that was somehow proud without being smug.

“You like her?” he asked. He unlocked the car and even opened the passenger side door for you.

Wow again. A rare gentleman. You smiled and obliged him by climbing in.

“I think I do,” you said. Dean got in on his side after closing your door. The doors creaked and the engine rumbled when he turned the ignition. He looked over at you in a way that made your insides both flutter and melt. Anticipation and warmth.

“Think she likes you too,” he said.

Shit, what did Sam say? Dean stared down the wine menu, which may as well have been a Chinese grocery list, for all he knew.

Red was what? What the hell is a Malbec? Sounds like a kind of fish. That can’t be red wine.

He discreetly raised his gaze above the menu. You were sitting there, pretty much perfect while you looked over the appetizer menu. This was an Italian restaurant. A nice one, and a cut above Dean’s usual dining spots. Neither of you had eaten here before, but you looked vastly more comfortable than he felt. 

“What sounds better to you, clams or bruschetta?” you asked. Your eyes flicked up to his thoughtfully. “You don’t strike me as a clammy kinda guy.”

A smile tugged at his lips. There was a “clam” joke in there somewhere, but he wasn’t sure you’d appreciate it.

“Bruschetta is the toast with little tomatoes, right?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, but then your head tilted as you looked down at the menu again. “Or we could do meatballs. Comes with two—a ball each.”

You bit your lip over a smile, tinged with embarrassment, like you didn't realize what you were saying until you said it.

Dean smirked. Maybe your sense of humor was more in line with his than he expected.

“Well, I don’t typically go for balls, meaty or otherwise. But whatever you want, sweetheart,” he teased. Truth be told, he loved Italian meatballs, but right now, he liked your snort of amusement even more.   

By the time the server, Liam, came to the table, you seemed to know what you wanted, while Dean was still looking over the wine list like it was Calculus homework. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Liam asked.

Dean paused, unsure of how to respond. He glanced at you on reflex. You were waiting for him to say something, he knew. He just wasn’t sure what he could say that didn’t make him look like an idiot.

“I’ll have a glass of this Cabernet Sauvignon,” you replied to the server, and pointed out the name of the wine on the list. He nodded and wrote that down, then turned to Dean next.

“And for you, sir?” Liam asked.

Again, Dean had a conundrum.

He decided to play it safe. “I’ll have the same.”

You eyed him a moment, before you turned back to Liam.

“Can we try it first? See if we like it,” you said.

“Certainly,” he nodded. “Do you want to start with an appetizer?”

“Yes. The meatballs, please,” you replied, glancing at Dean with secret amusement. His lips hinted at a smirk.

When the server left to put in the order, you rested your elbows on the table and folded your hands under your chin.

“Something tells me you’re not big on wine,” you said.

Dean’s smile became more self-deprecating as he tapped a finger on the table.

“That obvious, huh? …Well, can’t say I didn’t try.”

“Dean Winchester.” Your head tilted as you considered him. “Are you trying to impress me?”

“Trying, maybe. Doubt I’m succeeding,” he admitted with a short laugh.

You let out a small sigh, but you didn’t look disappointed.

“I just want to get to know you,” you said. “You don’t have to woo me or anything.”

His brow rose in a subtle challenge. “What if you deserve a bit of wooing?”

You glanced down then, with a pretty blush beginning to dust your cheeks. He could still spot it in the dim lamplight, and it made him smile.

“I get what you’re saying,” he inclined his head. “I just have a feeling the guys you go out with know how to order a bottle of wine, at least.”

You met his gaze at that. Your brows drew together, and it wasn’t until that that you realized what Dean seemed to be thinking. Like you were somehow better than him, or out of his league. While that was incredibly flattering (and downright surprising), it just wasn’t true, you felt.

You’d been nervous as hell up until this point, convinced that this man’s interest was half because he’d saved you. Because really, between the cut of that jaw, that smile, and those eyes, he could have anyone. And yet, he’d noticed you.

So now, you gained enough courage to reach across the table and rest your hand over his. It earned his attention.

“Look, Dean,” you said. “You don’t know anything about the kind of guys I go out with, so why don’t you just try to get to know me, instead of being whatever you think I want?”

There was a challenge in your eyes, but your smile softened it, along with your hand in his. Dean curled his fingers around your hand, and he nodded.

“That’s fair,” he said. His thumb drew across the back of your hand as he considered what you’d said. He realized he wasn’t being fair…

“See, women tend to like the firefighter thing, until they don’t,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, after a little while, it’s like the shine wears off,” Dean admitted. “Between the long, sometimes inconsistent hours, the weight of the job… It’s either too much, or not enough, you know?”

As much as that disheartened you to hear, you kind of understood what he was saying. First responders led challenging lives, and you could imagine how hard it would be to maintain relationships—from family and friends to lovers. And when he met your eyes, you had a feeling you knew what he was really saying underneath.

It’s not enough…or he’s not enough?

You frowned and squeezed his hand.

“That must make it hard to find a real connection with someone,” you said.

Dean read the look in your eyes: sympathetic, but not pitying. He appreciated that, and you right now. But he was also getting a bit embarrassed. Good job, Mr. Overshare.

He let go of your hand just to lean back in his seat and card his fingers through his hair. He blew out a breath.

“Sorry. Don’t know why I’m saying all this crap,” he said with a chuckle.

You smiled and crossed your arms on the table. “It’s not crap.”

He gave you a wry smile.

This Dean is not what I expected, you thought. He was all panty-dropping smiles and one-liners, until he wasn’t. Behold, the softie underneath.

Liam soon returned with two glasses with a sample of the wine you’d requested. Dean took his glass, but waited a moment to watch you bring yours up to your face. You inhaled first before you took an experimental sip. You smiled and hummed at the taste. It led Dean to sip his as well.

He immediately made a face at the bitter, strong taste that razed across his tastebuds. He was used to the burn of alcohol, but this was just gross.

That’s when he caught that look on your face—a small smile as you gauged his reaction.

“Refreshing,” Dean quipped. And dry as hell.

“You want a beer instead?” you asked.

“Definitely,” Dean nodded, looking up at Liam. “Heineken, if you please.”

“That I can do.” The other man quirked a smile. “And for you, miss?”

You tapped on the rim of your wine glass. “A glass of this please. Thank you.”

“Absolutely,” Liam replied. “I’ll bring those shortly.”

Dean watched you with a smile. You caught him at it and smiled back questioningly.

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.”

He liked the way you carried yourself. Smart and classy, without being a snob. Confident and sexy at times, while shy and freakin’ adorable at others…

Damn, Dean thought. He liked you. He did.

And he didn’t want to admit it, but that kind of scared him.

AN: Hohoo, so believe it or not, this is just part 1 of the first date! The rest is to come in the next chapter. But how did you like this so far?

Next Time:

You watched him curiously as he shrugged out of his jacket. He wrapped it around your shoulders, like this was some kind of Hallmark moment.

Heh. Can’t believe Meg had it right, he thought, as he caught your blush.

“Thanks,” you said softly.

“Can’t let you catch cold in this little dress,” Dean reasoned.

He gently tugged you in closer by the ends of his jacket. Once again, his gaze was drawn to your face, your eyes, and finally your lips. You still held both ice cream cones between you two, but he could be careful enough to sample something else.

He started to lean in…

Keep Reading: PART 4

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

[skaterboyfriend]

What do Sams parents think about your Farmer?

oh i just have so many thoughts. sorry for using your question to ramble on but my god there's so much to say! thank you for the question, a more in-depth answer under the cut, but the tldr:

jodi heavily relies on the farmer for all sorts of things- all to which the farmer obliges out of pity for the woman. the farmer sees themselves in jodi- the potential anxiety and regrets they could've faced if they stayed in the city, resulting in their future being set so that not even they could change it, no matter how much they tried. jodi and the farmer are close for the first year of their stay- vincent looking up to them, sam finding a friend within them - they found a home under jodi's roof and out of the farmer's gratefulness for that, they continue on with sending fresh fruit to jodi's, babysitting vincent, keeping sam company!

kent, upon coming back to the valley, for some reason finds comfort in the farmer, possibly due to their familiarity to a comrade he had a brief meeting with during his time in the military- they had saved his life and that was that- he never had the chance to thank the stranger properly and hasn't forgotten them since. obviously, at first, he's closed off and denies any warmth towards the stranger, but over time, he considers them a close friend. the two frequently take fishing trips together, the farmer getting him to open up and come to terms with his past- and future!

🍎 jodi 🍎

upon arriving to the valley, naturally the farmer was hesitant on meeting all the various faces around town- they were already so so SO busy with playing catch-up for the spring season on the rotting old farm. they knew robin with her sympathy towards the young farmer and her help on the farm, they knew lewis who they had been in correspondence before even moving to the valley- but other than that, they knew little else about the villagers that had lived here. before long, two young faces popped into view, introducing themselves as jas and vincent, the youngest in the small village. the farmer always loved working with children and would love to have a child when they are ready- they were always kind to the kids and offered fresh fruit plucked from trees and taking them on foraging adventures. the farmer regularly dropped off the kids to ensure they make it back home- in their head, they were slightly irritated that the parents would allow their kids to just. walk freely? which would be completely unsafe if they were back in their home city- but they supposed things were different here. still, they would never forgive themselves if something happened to jas or vincent on the way home from their farm, so they began walking the young ones home. once, vincent's mother happened to be leaving the house- she had a checklist in her hand, probably about to run to pierre's for some necessities. the farmer had finally gotten to introduce themselves and jodi was appreciative for their kindness shown to her youngest. she offered dinner they stay for dinner and they accepted!

the two became close over time through vincent always begging the farmer to come over and jodi's cooking being very enticing. the farmer noticed the sadness in her eyes, the dark eyebags, the tapping fingers, the signs and yawns. she never seemed to get enough sleep, she always was working one way or another... one time, the farmer had decided to save a basketful of blackberries for jodi as a thank you for all the dinners she's made for them when they were too busy with the farm to eat properly- the farmer walked in and was met with sam rummaging through the fridge. he was looking for some snack before heading to his shift at the library and had accidentally knocked over a carton of eggs, it spilling all over the just-cleaned floors. jodi had heard the commotion and began yelling, upset he'd be so careless to drop the eggs- they were already so tight with money as is and vincent only eats eggs in the morning- anything else makes him nauseous- what will she cook up for him in the morning before school now? sam apologizes and offers to pick up some from joja, not seeing the big deal as to why his mother blew up. jodi tells him to just go to work, she'll clean up and swing by joja afterwards. she apologized to the farmer, asking them to forget all that. as the farmer helped clean up the cracked shells from the floor, jodi began to cry. the farmer naturally felt empathetic towards the woman but couldn't offer any words that that moment. there, it had clicked that jodi had so much on her shoulders that even one mistake can spell her doom- as if she felt the need for the living room to be so perfectly aligned all the time to distract her from the reality that her entire house is sinking, the foundations having collapsed a long time ago. some nights as the farmer pours her another glass of their strawberry wine, she talks about her life, how she fell in love too hard too fast and now she's stuck with a boy who looks too much like a man she used to know and a heart that's been broken for decades. she expresses her desire to do things differently if she could go back- after a while, she'd apologize, saying it's just the wine talking. she loves her boys and she loves her husband. she loves them. she has to.

upon the infamous ex-soldier arriving to the town, she comes to the farmer for frequent advice- while the other women of the valley can offer condolences and sympathetic glances, jodi didn't want to feel the embarrassment of her inner circle of close friends to know she doesn't love her husband anymore. but with the farmer, she is willing to gamble that they can lend a listening ear and keep her secrets. she describes her annoyance that he's stuck at home, avoiding all conversations, restless at night... but her sadness that he can't find it within himself to talk with her, to tell her what is going on in his mind, as well as his disconnect with their children. he needs something to ground himself to and jodi fears she herself isn't enough- because just as she doesn't love him anymore, he doesn't love her. they of course mutually respect each other, they want to parent vincent together, but the intimacy that they once had as high school sweethearts is simply not there anymore. the farmer suggests he finds some sort of job or hobby- perhaps getting him out of the house, distracting him from his worries and past- it can help ease the transition back to his family. and so there it started - jodi would plant a seed in kent's head that he should look for work; hey, that new farmer always complains about needing some help around the land... why don't you go and ask them for a job?

🎖️ kent 🎖️

he arrived to the valley with little notion how things were nowadays- last he's heard, the old man was still the farmer. kent almost expected to see him rocking on that rickety old chair set on the porch, smoking some nasty smelling cigarette- instead meeting instead a young feminine farmer. he was quite shocked- after all, he hadn't spent much time here in the valley, coming in for the feast of the winter star every few years and maybe vincent or sam's birthday if he had the chance- he hadn't many friends in town. he did find himself closer to the old farmer out of all the townsfolk, due to his own background in the armed forces, having to live with the same demons that plagued kent. the young farmer had offered their condolences- they didn't know their grandfather but can tell from kent's sorrow that he was a good man and wished they had met him. kent apologized as well and left in a hurry. there was simply something about the new addition to the town that felt familiar to him- perhaps their likeness to their grandfather, perhaps something else...

it didn't take long for jodi to convince him to get out of the house, away from her- at least, that's what it seemed like to him. and of course, he felt the same; he hated the way he couldn't dare breathe around those who are supposed to be his family, as if he doesn't deserve to live such a picturesque life, eating a meal with them all;, holding hands with a lovely woman, playing catch with a laughing child... with all the bloodshed he's seen, all the crimes on his back, such a reality felt out of reach ... she told him that the farmer makes good money, having ran the farm for over a year now- they could do with some help now that their operations have expanded to artisan goods and cattle raising. kent knew nothing of what farmwork entails, but knew he's good with structure in his day, with some sort of agenda where he can mindlessly work to give him SOMETHING to do. the next day, he walked over to the farm.

the two worked separately for the first few weeks- the farmer seemed to disappear for hours at a time, off to the mines, to calico desert, within their own house... kent remained outside, either fixing up fences or tilling land. one afternoon, he sliced his hand while chopping wood, the blood warm, trickling onto the ground. he gripped it tight with his other, wondering whether he should bother the farmer with such a trivial thing. he could walk over to the clinic... his choices were stripped away when the farmer gasped, telling him to wait right there as they grabbed a first aid kit. they sat him down on the porch as they cleaned his wound. and it felt like time stopped as the precision in their eye, the way their hands touched his, it all reminded him of something ... the farmer was a healer in nature, a grower of life, planting saplings that turned to towering trees, seeds to SWEET PEACHES. years ago, he had been wounded on the battlefield and for some reason, a nurse took pity on him and cleaned up the gash in his side. he was in a feverish dream the entire time- the blood loss, the infection setting in... he only remembers a vestige of their face, a semblance of their voice, telling him he will be okay. and he was- he lived through it all, thanks to the nurse that was there that day. they must've left as soon as everyone was fixed up, heading off to some other desolate camp in need of medicinal magic. he never got to thank the person who saved his life, but here sat a person with the same voice, telling him he'll be okay. when their eyes met his, he couldn't help but crack a rare smile that took the farmer by surprise...

the two became closer and closer with every passing day spent together. kent swapped stories about his life overseas and the times he felt human- sharing mangos with strangers trapped under a large tree during a rainstorm, locals offering cultural delicacies despite them occupying their land, children looking up to him with large eyes, almost scared, but more intrigued... just as the farmer'd share their boring mundane life in the city [a man literally died in front of me, and no one did a thing. literally not a thing. / really? not a thing? / nope. / huh. hehe... / are you LAUGHING?] it hadn't been missed though, the way kent seemed to stick around longer, opening up more, finding reasons to head over to the farm, to talk with the farmer... naturally he tried to suppress any thought that leaned towards seeing the farmer as anything more than a friend, a co-worker... but their face seemed to haunt him at night, lowly thoughts surfacing that got him out of bed, a flush to his face as he tried to drown out his desires with cold water. of COURSE he knew any type of romantic feelings he might harbor for someone other than his wife, for this farmer far younger than him, with such a kindness in their soul that they could never reciprocate towards a man with his past- he KNEW that it was all some sort of escape, some sort of way to cope with the world around him. he could never break his wife's heart in such a cruel fashion- jodi waited an eternity for him to come back, raising his children, suffering alone- to throw it all away? yet he couldn't bring himself to leave the farmer alone, continuing to work besides them, enjoying their company, sharing a PEACH like a vicarious kiss, suppressing his feelings.

one particular day, kent headed over to the farm as per the norm, finding the plot completely empty- it dawned on him that the farmer mentioned they were heading up to the desert for some goods and would be back later that afternoon. he had nothing better to do than stick around, have vincent over to come water plants [kent did it all, vincent played with the worms squirming in the dirt]. it was getting late and kent began to worry- he sent vincent home but stayed put, awaiting the farmer's safe return. he finally saw them stumble in, proudly flaunting a backpack full of god-knows-what mysteries from the calico but all kent could focus on was the huge gash upon their exposed abdomen, speckled with shrapnel on their side. they dismissed all his worries with a wave of a hand- they've had worse. he follows them inside the small kitchen, helping them with the first aid kit. the farmer would wince and grunt, prompting the ex-soldier to stop them mid-way and take over. the farmer then realized just how intimate he is with wound dressing- the way he went through the motions of digging out the small fragments of translucent gel [it was so bizarre he thought to himself- he'd pick them out like pieces of steel but upon setting it on the table, it reverted to a soft slime]. whatever arcane matter the farmer was getting into, all that ran through his mind was how it could've been worse. so much worse. as he bandaged their waist, he gruffly stated they shouldn't do such dangerous things- he never wanted to dress a wound again. they laughed his worries off, saying it was all worth it… for this! they held up an iridescent gem, the colors reflecting across the walls of their small kitchen, the sunlight's reflection almost blinding. they began rambling about the properties of the item they held with such pride- how it grants the wearer luc and fortune, how it is rarer than the fabled stardrops itself... with the farmer's eyes fixed on the gem, the prismatic shard between the two's faces, kent took their wrist, moving it slightly away, his own face coming into focus. with a shaky breath, he stated he could not care less if god itself was buried within the rock- he couldn't bear if something had happened to them. and with such a confession, he continued to finish dressing their wound as the farmer put down the gem, it looking rather dull now when compared to the man before them.

hehe i sort of went insane with this... i have honestly so many thoughts LOL while yes sam has my heart, i have a very special place for broken men who hate themselves so much they can't cope with loving anyone back. kent has such a profound sadness that results in him pushing away his own family because he believes they are better off without him... like umm i want him badly LOL i definitely get jotaro kujo vibes from him - just some dad who wants to keep his family safe but the best way to do so is to be far away from them, fighting battles so they don't have to. i personally headcanon that kent was forced to enlist because of money issues, believing it would save his family from homelessness - and it did, but he lost his youth for it. and he'd do it again, just for the sake of his children, but he too, like jodi, wishes things could be different. anyway yeahhh... i'd really drop everyone in the entire valley for him

[mintchocolatechipnut]

bakugou cooking for his crush

Okay I just had the cutest idea: Bakugou falling for a classmate that's a really good eater. One day she stumbles across his food in the common fridge without knowing he cooked it. She steals a bite and is smitten with his food. And Bakugou, having seen the whole thing, becomes smitten with her.

Note: How this idea came about I have no clue... I just remember writing the entire thing on my phone at my grandparents’ house and really having fun writing it. To be honest, I don’t have the best grasp on Bakugou’s character, but I tried... For all my fellow food lovers out there!

Tags: more tooth-rotting fluff (the domestic kind), attempts at showing character development through cooking, Bakugou’s tough love (but of course, you’re here for that)

Word count: 3.5k

So I'm imagining that Bakugou likes to keep his cooking skills on the down low, because who knows if idiots like Kirishima and Kaminari show up and start whining at him to cook them food, and he doesn't want to be teased as being 'domestic'

He doesn't think there's anything wrong with cooking since he's able to take care of himself and his health, but if his squad saw him in the kitchen in his apron he wouldn't ever be able to live it down

That said, he brings his freshly cooked meals into his room and opens his windows so the smell doesn't linger, and he stores his leftovers in the deep recesses of the fridge where no one would ever think to look, not even food thieves

Luckily or unluckily for him, you were no ordinary food thief.

Bakugou is on his way downstairs because he's feeling peckish and wants to heat up some of the leftovers of his favourite dish, so imagine his shock and anger when he sees you and Sero poring over the blue Tupperware housing his food

Before he can take a single seething step, though, you've already spooned a bite into your mouth

His eyes widen, and now he's really mad that an extra like you had the audacity to eat his food

But then you let out a near inhuman noise, and it sounds… intensely satisfied?

'Oh my god, who cooked this?' Unable to contain your excitement you're shaking Sero by the shoulders, lips drawing up in a contented smile. 'This is the best thing I've ever tasted!'

For some reason, Bakugou's not so mad anymore. Obviously because for an extra like you, at least you had taste

But something about the pure joy in your expression made Bakugou feel… guilty that he was going to stop you

It's absurd because if anyone should be feeling guilty, it's you

As he's thinking this, the snap of the closed Tupperware brings him back to his senses, and all of a sudden he's fleeing the scene so he's not discovered

He's even more bewildered because there's no reason for him to be running away, and he hates running away

But somehow he felt a bit awkward and… embarrassed after hearing what you had to say about his food

With that he decided that he'd let it go once, and maybe seal his container a bit tighter

But he's sorely mistaken the next morning at the breakfast counter when you begin gushing about his food once more

Remember when he thought that you should've felt guilty for eating his food? There's not an ounce of shame in your words, though.

You tell the story of your tastebuds' meeting with heaven when you and Sero found a container full of something inside the fridge, and out of curiosity, you decided to take a peek

'I didn't mean to eat it, I swear I didn't! But it just looked so good, and I could imagine how it tasted… but boy did it taste so much better than that!'

Bakugou's left reeling at this praise, and there's an uncomfortable feeling upsetting his stomach as he tries to wolf down his cereal, trying not to think about how your words made his ears burn

Then the punchline: 'If we have a guy in our class who cooks like this, I'd marry him in a heartbeat!'

Bakugou nearly spits his milk

Luckily no one notices, and are instead calling you out for your food thievery or watching your animated hand gestures

On his walk to class, Bakugou has no idea how he feels about this; he just wants to banish it to the corners of his mind so he wouldn't have to waste time thinking about something that shouldn't have mattered so much before

Right before he steps into class he's met with a flashback of your smile when you ate his cooking, and suddenly a plan pops into his brain

…

You show up in the kitchen the next few days, wanting to see if the 'blue Tupperware man' struck again with his fantastic dishes

More often than not, you're met with disappointment, but your eyes light up when you see the familiar blue sticking out in your vision when you open the fridge one day

You're shocked to find a note attached: 'To Y/N: I know you've been eating my food. You can only have a bite of this, but not one more. Don't think I can't tell if you do, I WILL know.'

You're all around mortified, though you realise you really shouldn't be: practically everyone heard your declarations of food thievery that day

But the last line drove home the fact that the person who cooked this was here, and was indeed a student

The first thing you do is scan the area behind you for any immediate signs of life, in case the chef had been watching you

But when nothing turns up, you shrug, and rub your hands together in excitement

You swear you could hear stifled laughter, but the lure of the food in front of you was too much to overcome in favour of an investigation

As you eat and, once again, fail to be disappointed, Bakugou's eyes are trailing your face

There it is: the same expression, if not even better than he remembered, that you put on when you ate good food

And suddenly, Bakugou wants to see that expression more

The next few times a similar note addressed to you accompanies every meal, but when you tried to reply you wouldn't get an answer back

Then one day, the notes just stopped. You felt sad for a while, but then perked up when you saw the contents of the Tupperware, containing some of your favourite ingredients

From then on it was a given that you could eat from the blue Tupperware, and not more than three bites

You still cringe at the stinginess, leading to Bakugou muffling his chuckles every time

He doesn't come and watch you eat every time, because it's creepy, for one thing

But sometimes he'd be in his room, just knowing that you'd be tiptoeing down the stairs in anticipation of what's in the fridge, and a small grin would tug at the corners of his mouth

He'd also made it clear that no one else would attempt to try his food. Once Kaminari tried to sneak a bite, but when he opened the container the stench of rotting beans knocked him out

Bakugou cackled as he dragged Kaminari back to his room, but not before switching out the containers with the one meant for you

He's also quick to throw anyone who's out to discover him off the scent (ha)

Besides doing so in the literal sense, as with Kaminari, Bakugou makes sure to stay out of everyone's radar in the kitchen, and even goes as far to put your portion in a separate pink Tupperware, with your name on it

Yeah, no way would such a sappy move be from blasty boy Bakugou, right?

You'd been playing this game for a few weeks now when you just can't take it anymore

Bakugou awakes one morning to discover a text message from you in the group chat:

'To the person who always leaves me food (aka blue Tupperware!!), please PLEASE show yourself! I really want to get to know the person who makes such wonderful food!'

He felt his heart swell, and he's painfully reminded of your first words of how you'd marry him for his cooking

He's grateful he's blushing alone in his room

At this declaration in the group chat, however, more and more 'investigations' are popping up

Deku is a particularly difficult person to distract and Bakugou hates it

But so far he's been keeping it together, all he has to do is stick it out a bit longer

That's when Mineta of all people tries to impersonate him

Bakugou's infuriated when he's checking on you one night and you fish a note out of your container

'What's this?' you muse aloud, and begin reading it out aloud, much to Bakugou's benefit, 'Meet me behind the dorms tomorrow after school. I'll show you who I am.'

Bakugou knows it's definitely not him who wrote it, but he can't stop the rage arising in his chest when he sees your eyes light up in excitement

Who is this impostor and when and where would they like their ass being whooped?

Bakugou decides once again to investigate in his usual ninja fashion that he's perfected from watching you

He follows you to the back of the school discreetly, where you bounce on the balls of your feet in impatience

Suddenly a familiar purple head emerges from the bushes, and Bakugou has to physically restrain his palms from crackling

'Mineta?' He's happy that your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of him, but he's suddenly left reeling when he has an introspective moment about why he's been playing this game all along

He felt too afraid to face you. Too afraid to show his domestic side, and too afraid to come clean and say he cares. He knows he doesn't have the best personality in class, but he really wants your impression of him as ‘blue Tupperware’ to stay untainted and pristine

What would you think, then, if you discovered that your mystery chef was the abrasive, antagonistic Katsuki Bakugou, who didn't seem to have an ounce of empathy for anyone? Even worse, would you believe him even if he told you?

More than what it would do to his reputation, he realised that he didn't want you to see him in a bad light at all.

However, he's also mentally kicking himself because now bastards like Mineta can come and impersonate him

However, the words that leave your mouth makes him still

'You're the Blue Tupperware guy? Prove it.' There's a challenging smile atop your lips as you stare down Mineta, who falters from his previously smug swagger

'What do you mean? I cook you food, you love it. That's all there is to it, right?' A derisive laugh leaves you.

'Then tell me the names of the dishes you've made for me.' Mineta stands stock still, trying to comprehend what you've just asked of him. The beads of sweat now trailing down his neck don't escape your notice.

After some painful stammering and guesswork, then a beat of silence, you sigh. 'I kind of thought this would happen.'

'However, if it really honestly had been you, I wouldn't be mad. Because if I knew you were the one cooking with so much care and love, I'd still thank you for the meals.'

Bakugou's head goes blank. His hands begin sweating uncontrollably, and he's brought back to his senses when he hears his palms pop.

As he controls his quirk he's desperately trying to make sense of what you just said, but only one word rings out clear and true in his brain.

'Love'.

And suddenly he's trying not to grin at your epic shutdown of Mineta, trying not to feel his heart flutter when he pictures your multitude of expressions in all their glory, and trying not to remember the feeling of when he'd lie in his bed at night, the last thought he has before he drifts off to sleep being 'what should I cook next?'

He's in love with—

The sounds of footsteps coming in his direction shake him out of his reverie and he all but dives behind a pillar as you march off, leaving Mineta in the dust

Before the purple-haired pervert can leave, however, he's suddenly held up by the collar of his shirt, eyes wide before a murderous red gaze

'Try one more thing with her and I'll make sure you don't wake up the next day.'

…

From then on, Bakugou's mood lifts considerably.

Not only is he confident Mineta wouldn't rat him out (all he has to do is shoot him a glare), but he's eternally proud of how you stood up for him

Speaking of which, can he take your words you spoke to Mineta that day to mean that you wouldn't at all feel uneasy with whoever Blue Tupperware was, as long as you knew it was really him?

Now he's stuck with thinking of ways to shoot his shot

Little does he know that chance might come sooner than he thought…

One day he's running late because his work studies ran overtime

He'd planned to make something a little more complicated and out of his repertoire, though it may take him longer than usual

Though when he'd discovered what you liked to eat through your conversations with friends and what you ate in the cafeteria, he didn't mind, couldn't mind the extra hassle at all

It's not a difficult recipe, but he knows that it'll be dinnertime soon and that'd be dangerous

He looks at the clock, noting the twenty minutes he has before the first students come trickling into the common room. You won't be here until thirty minutes after. So he locks himself in the kitchen and gets to work

(yes I now know it doesn’t make sense for him to not be discovered in the kitchen during dinnertime, so let’s just say no one usually wanders in because all the meals are usually laid out in the common room when dinner rolls around)

He's smiling as he spoons the freshly cooked food into the Tupperwares, letting it cool for a bit as he washes up

But when he turns around holding them in his hands to put into the fridge, he freezes

There you stand in the doorway, eyes wide

'... Bakugou?' Damn, he would've relished the sound of his name on your tongue if you hadn't been looking at him like… like that. 'Are you Blue Tupperware?'

As much as he wants to laugh at the stupid nickname, he knows how straightforward and sharpshooting you can be with your words and intentions. And so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is:

'So what if I am?'

A beat of silence, then two. And suddenly your face morphs from bewilderment to pure joy, maybe even purer than when you eat his food. God bless his eyes that could bear witness to that moment.

'It's you!' you exclaim and a laugh as hearty as your appetite leaves your lips, and he's just awed, amazed. 'Thank you for the food!'

…

The immediate aftermath was everyone gaping at the both of you as if you each grew two heads as you ate from your respective containers

Sitting across him, you ask, 'Well… why did you do it?'

He’d imagined that you’d ask something like that, and he’s prepared an answer for it, but the eagerness in your smile, along with every other eye on him, prompted him to instead blurt:

'To… to stroke my ego and shit.'

Everyone goes painfully silent except for you, who leans back and laughs, 'As expected of you, Bakugou! But either way I get to eat really well, so thank you!'

You've been saying thank you for a while now, but what he can't get out of his head is that you expected him to be all narcissistic about cooking you food for his own selfish reasons? Man does that hurt.

But somehow, the others buy it too (which just really goes to show how much of a jerk the class paints him out to be), and the case of Blue Tupperware is solved

Now all that's changed is you pop in occasionally when Bakugou's cooking, and there are nights where you eat together

Oh, and the fact that he now knows you can’t cook for shit

You’ve tried to help Bakugou cook before, but at the time he'd felt as if he was in for a very rude awakening

However you are a god at cooking instant noodles of any shape or kind, so much so that when he misses you (or craves you lol) he eats instant noodles

Then again they'd never taste quite the same as when you cook them asifkajdks

When he actually confesses it's when you, out of the goodness of your heart, ask if you can help him out once more

He always finds himself giving in btw

But then you burn another pot and it's tough not to get frustrated

He's under stress, the weight of his sweat on his brow coupled with his ever growing feelings for you leads him to have even less of a filter on his mouth

'You obviously suck at this.' he says, noting your sad puppy eyes and willing himself not to surrender. 'Just let me do it.'

'But I feel bad that you're always cooking for me, and all I do is enjoy it.' You're biting your lip now, and it's all Bakugou can do before he starts thinking about what it'd be like to push you against the sink and kiss you senseless.

'Nonsense. It's enough that you enjoy my cooking, so let me do it. Let me take care of you.'

That last part did slip out, as denoted by the look on your face

'Wow,' again your straightforwardness comes into play, 'that sounded like a confession right there if I've ever heard one!'

Before he can stop himself—'do you wish it was?'

'Huh?'

'A confession—do you wish it was one?'

He watches your cheeks go tomato red and you purse your lips

'Do you wish that I wish it was?'

Aw, now you just playin

'I'm not hearing a no.'

'Neither am I.'

And then you nerds proceed to stare each other down in a palpable silence, the only sounds being the bubble of the soup in the pot before you

Who confesses first?

'Dumbass. I like you.'

You instantly beam, and you jump into his arms, even though you're dangerously close to the fire. Bakugou blanches, then draws you away from the stove

'Oi, watch it! You could get hurt, idiot,' but you're too focused on the way his arms had naturally wrapped around you to keep you safe and shielded

'You'll protect me, won't you?' you say, smushing your cheek against his chest. Bakugou sighs and places a hand on your head soothingly

'You bet I will.'

Bonus scene! “And that's how your father and I got together,” you say with a smile, as your four year old son bounces excitedly in your lap, while your six year old rolls her eyes at the amount of times you've told this story. “Yeah, we get it Mom.”

Your son has a different take on it though. “Start again! Again, again!” You let out a sigh mixed in with a chuckle at his insistence, but just then the wafting aroma of shrimp hits your nose. You close your eyes as you feel footsteps coming closer, and the warmth of your husband leaning in close to you as he sets the table leaves you giddy.

“Okay, that's enough storytelling for today,” Katsuki grumbles, placing the shrimp pesto on the table. Your daughter instantly perks up at the sight; she might not be as good an eater as you are, but she has a particular fondness for pasta. “Yay! It's pasta time!”

You set down your son in his chair as his eyes gleam at the feast in front of him, then walk up to your husband. 'Thank you so much, babe,' you relish the sight of Katsuki's ears, previously stained red from listening to your 'story', turning even redder.

“If you really want to thank me, there's something you need to do,” Katsuki mutters in a low voice, his gaze surreptitiously looking down at himself. You follow his eyes, and immediately burst out laughing.

“You're wearing it for us!” You'd really like to capture a photo of him in the 'Kiss the Chef' apron you'd gotten him for his birthday last year as a gag gift. Could Katsuki turn any redder?

“Shut up! Who burned my other apron the other day, hmm?”

This time you blush. “Maybe it was an expert ploy to get you to wear this,” you laugh, and before a snappy retort can leave his lips, you're smothering them with your own mouth. “Love you.”

You embrace him, arms lazily reaching for the apron strings in order to tug them undone, but your husband is pulling you in too, hands on your waist as he tucks your head in the corner of his neck so you can't see him or hear his next words too well. But you hear them nonetheless.

“I love you too.'”

[unokins]

No Truth Left - part 3

CW: Violence, body malformation

Link to Archive

Not even a second of deliberation and Chie ran for the caves. The collapsing house was a certain dead end. At least she could hope for safety in the twisting tunnels. Her lungs burned and legs ached as she stumbled past the cave's mouth.

A jutting rock caught her foot. Chie fell with a hard thud, hands scraping on the black stone. The squelching pattering and inhuman grunting grew louder. 

The ground in front of her dropped away to a steep, almost vertical slope. Darkness veiled the descent. If she jumped and broke her leg- or worse, her back- Chie glanced behind her, and a thick shadow stretched across the ground outside. 

"Oh God, oh God." Chie pulled herself behind a box, drawing her knees up. She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, as if that would protect her.

It's following your footprints. The masculine derision rang in her ears and Chie's eyes snapped open. Who kept talking!?

No one else hid nearby, but the mud from her shoes stamped the ground, advertising her position like a giant, pointing arrow. The stench of rotting fish rolled off the figure as it approached. 

Even if you ran deeper into the caves, it'll follow. It knows your smell.

"Please, help me," Chie tried to say but the words stuck in her throat. All that escaped was a feeble whimper. Tears stung her eyes. She was going to die.

If we want to survive, you need to act. See that bottle? To your left?

Chie's head twitched, eyes alighting on an empty beer bottle. Its bottom had broken off in jagged pieces. Slowly, she nodded.

Pick it up by the neck. And get ready.

"I- I can't." Fear gripped Chie with icy fingers, nails digging into her muscles and freezing her to the spot. Her arm twitched uselessly.

Foreign frustration hit her like a sucker punch. Chie squirmed against it. If you don't fight back, the best you can hope for is a quick death. The voice growled animalistically, words reverberating in Chie's head. And I'm not letting your ineptitude kill me. Now pick up the fucking bottle. And get. Ready.

The shock of the rage, of feeling it like a writhing parasite from within, jolted Chie into grabbing the bottle and lifting it up, holding it awkwardly like a club. The alien emotion faded, leaving Chie with her own fear.

There you go, it purred sardonically. When I say go, jump up and attack it.

"How? What do I-" A foot slapped down in front of Chie.

It didn't look like something out of a horror movie. The horror movies she watched with her roommate didn't come close to capturing the grotesque- had never elicited such a visceral fear response from her. 

The foot was bloated like a corpse's, mottled blue and green scales bulging at irregular intervals. The skin under was a ghastly gray, dark purple veins threading across it. Instead of nails, chipped, black claws adorned the webbed foot and scraped the ground. As the thing shifted its weight, water oozed from between the cloudy scales like puss.

Go!

She forgot how to breathe, couldn’t pull her eyes from the horrific foot. Even as it loomed over her. Closer. A long, webbed hand reached for her.

Damn you, girl!

Chie's legs reacted without her. Her knees snapped straight, rocketing her up. Gripping the bottle tight, she squeezed her eyes shut and screamed as she swung it. Shattering glass filled her ears, echoing through the cave, and the creature screeched in pain. A crack, a thump. Chie stood there, arm raised, entire body shaking. She gripped the broken bottle like a drowning woman held a piece of driftwood. Something wet dripped down her arm.

You need to open your eyes.

"Just-" hoarse, caught in her throat. Chie coughed. "Just tell me what happened."

I can't if your eyes are closed.

That made no sense. Chie didn't move.

Open your eyes now. Whoever was talking was losing their patience. And try not to faint.

Chie opened one eye a fraction of an inch and immediately turned her back to the creature, head spinning. "Oh my god, oh my god." Her body shook uncontrollably. "What is that? What- what's-"

A nice hit. Think you got it across the jaw.

Staggering to the crate, Chie placed the broken bottle on top and sank to the ground, back to the monster. She gripped her arms, trying to stop the shaking. Black stone. Mundane. Normal. She stared at it blankly, ignoring the purple blood that stained her hand. Breathe. Breathe. Calm down.

What are you doing? Move.

"I-" Chie clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. "I don't know- I mean." She took another breath. "Who are you? And where are you? I-"

One thing at a time. The voice stopped yelling, at least. I only remember two things about myself. My name is Maverick Hunter, and I'm being chased.

"By who? Or... what?"

I just told you. That perpetual annoyance seeped into the words. That's all I know. Can't tell you who or why.

“Sure.” Calmer now, Chie stood and turned to search the cavern, purposefully avoiding the fish-like thing lying on the ground. "So where are you?"

I'm in your head.

"Excuse me." That was ridiculous. Telepathy, seriously? Was this an elaborate prank? Was some LARPer wearing a super realistic fish costume? Chie scoured the cave for hidden cameras. 

I was attacked by whoever is chasing me. When I came to, I was looking out from your body and your eyes.

"This is insane," Chie said, hand to her forehead. "I'm going- I've had a breakdown. That's it." She didn't think she had a family history of Schizoaffective disorder, but work had been super busy lately and combined with the memory loss, maybe she just needed a good psychiatrist and some medical leave.

You're not crazy. You can't explain what's lying on the ground with crazy.

Chie's weak excuses soured in her stomach. 

"I'm leaving," she said, shaking her head as if to clear the voice from her. "It was not nice meeting you, Maverick."

Chie took one step forward and froze. The feeling in her legs vanished and she was numb from the waist down. Her legs shook, muscles expending extraneous effort. But try as she might, Chie could not move forward.

Now you listen to me, you stupid little bitch. Maverick's voice was low, straining, and hinted towards boiling anger. I have come too far for you to turn back now. I may not have the energy to control you fully right now, but I sure as fuck can stop you.

Chie strained her back, forcing herself to move. Her shoulders twisted and her arms reached forward, but her legs remained petrified. "Why can't I move?!"

Because I'm here! Stuck inside your weak little body, and it's time you accept that. Now do as I say, or I'm going to hold you here until that thing wakes up. And whatever horror you're subjected to? I will happily watch. 

"How are you- Why are you-?!" Chie cried. This was impossible. This was impossible! 

Because I need to know why I'm like this, why I'm being pursued. And as long as we're stuck together? They're after you by association. Your friends. Your family.

Chie flinched. Who were these people to do this? She- this couldn't be real. She couldn't-

The monster on the floor gurgled. Chie's resolve faltered.

Maverick was gentler when he spoke next. We can't afford to turn back. There are answers here we need to find. Okay?

Chie nodded numbly. "Okay. Okay- I- I can. I can do this." Like a rubber band snapping, Chie's legs jolted. She fell forward, twisting to regain her balance. The thought of falling on that thing was horrendous. 

Maverick sighed, energy spent. Go through the crates over there. 

Why, Chie wondered, did a disembodied voice need to sigh? Thoughts whirled together incoherently but Maverick was right: unexplainable things were happening to her. They needed answers.

She removed the crate's lid and dug around inside. Flashlight, rope, beer, snacks, pocket knife, a small backpack, more beer. What kind of person had bagged cookies and peanuts but no water?

Oh, that's perfect! Maverick's glee when Chie picked up a large army knife was worrisome. She set it aside as she filled the backpack with food and supplies. Once done, she slid it free from the sheath, and held it up for Maverick.

Okay, take that knife and kill the fish monster.

"Excuse me?!"

It's the only one that knows we're here. Killing it will buy us time until the others-

"There are more?!"

-find its body. If it's alive- Maverick's voice grew low again, and Chie could almost feel hands on her shoulders as if he held her still. -it won't be long before it warns the others and the Devil's Reef is swarming with them. I won't tell you again. Kill it.

Chie couldn't bring herself to look at it. And Maverick expected her to kill it? She had sobbed when she accidentally ran over a squirrel last year. To deliberately kill a living thing? One that was unconscious? Even if it had attacked her-

Chie. Maverick said sharply. 

>Kill it >Spare it

[immortalcoelacanth]

Between the Walls, Chapter 5: Turtles, Bees, and Hybrids in Between

*drags self out of hole and drops chapter*

God this was a struggle to write with school but here we are! Clocking in at either the second or third longest chapter I've ever written for a fic! Please forgive me if there's any spelling errors!

... I didn't help that every time I opened the doc I use to work on this it kept opening up to the chapter that involves Dream XD

Word count: 9016 (yes, you read that right)

Summary: Tubbo sets out to reunite with Tommy, Tommy makes a new friend, and a ghost unintentionally makes their reunion harder. 

“Where did you take Tommy?!”

“Keep it down, kid, or else you’ll get in trouble!”

“I don’t care! Where is he?!”

For the past several days, Tubbo had been trying to figure out where Tommy had been exiled to. He had interrogated practically all the other borrowers who had been involved in kicking his friend, his brother, out of the only home he had ever known.

All the borrowers other than the one responsible for actually taking him to where he was exiled to, that is. Fortunately, finding the woman had not been all that hard since he knew the… wilder borrowers tended to stay near either the front gate or the market when they were trading items they had managed to scavenge. After asking around the market to see if anyone knew where she was, made tougher by the fact that he had no clue what her name was and only had a vague description of what she looked like, he had eventually been told that she was last spotted at the front gate.

Which led to the current predicament with Tubbo facing one of the borrowers responsible for his friend’s exile. His hands were planted on his hips as he glared the woman down, refusing to let her pass until she answered his question.

The woman placed her head in her hands and sighed loudly. “Listen, I can’t. I can’t tell you. I can’t take you to him. I can’t do any of those things since I’d get in so much trouble-”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Tubbo spat, the pure venom and anger in his voice causing the other borrower to recoil. “And I’ll do whatever I have to so I can see Tommy again! So, uh…”

The anger on his face faded, turning to sheepish embarrassment. “What’s your name?”

“Sara.”

“Alright, Sara,” The venom was back, albeit not as strong as it was before. “I won’t rest until I’m with Tommy again, so you had better tell me where he is! Or else!”

Even with his unusually angry demeanor, Tubbo doubted his threats would be taken all that seriously thanks to both his unfortunately short height and typically meek demeanor. He had never been all that good at standing up for himself and fighting back, Tommy had always been more confident and headstrong, willing to stick up for him no matter what.

He missed Tommy, so much.

It was like there was a piece of his heart missing. His very soul seemed to ache with each passing day and, even though some of the adults in Borrowton were a bit nicer to him, their warmth failed to chase away the cold feeling that had engulfed him. He needed Tommy, needed to see his best friend again and make sure he was okay, and he would do whatever was needed to accomplish this goal.

No matter how weak or scared he was.

“Alright, alright.” Sara sighed as she held her hands out. “How about this. I can’t take you directly to him, but I’ll drop you off nearby and point you in the direction you need to go. That sound good?”

Tubbo immediately nodded his head, his previously aggressive stance relaxing as relief flowed through him. “That would work! Can we leave now? Soon? By the end of today? When do you think-”

“Holy crap, one thing at a time.” The older borrower interrupted, looking more than a little annoyed at the sudden bombardment of questions. “Luckily for you I was gonna leave soon anyways. Just let me get all my supplies packed up and then we can go. You’ll probably want to get some stuff for yourself as well.”

Perhaps it was a bit naive of him to not question her further, drill her on why she had changed her mind so fast, but he was too caught up in his excitement to think about anything other than his reunion with Tommy. He quickly nodded once more, already thinking about what he would need to get from his… house.

Not a home, it was never a home.

“Then get outta here! I’ll meet you at the front gate.” Sara insisted as she shooed Tubbo away. “Scram before we both get in trouble!”

“Y-Yeah, and thank you!” The younger borrower called out as he quickly ran off, stumbling in his haste to reach his destination. He did his best to stick to some of the darker, more hidden paths so he could avoid encountering anyone else lest they see the hopeful look on his face.

Borrowton itself was not at that large, but it was tall. The settlement had originally been built underground before reaching upwards and connecting with a tree that grew above it. Roots had been carved to form staircases and ladders stretched down from the higher levels. There were also wood and rope pathways that connected each of the towering structures, allowing people to use them to easily cross over to other towers, or simply sit on them and rest while taking in the scenery.

He and Tommy had frequently sat up on these pathways, staring down at the ground that was so very, very far below them, or use it as a chance to annoy some of the borrowers who walked underneath them.

Fishing rods were perfect for stealing hats, and other interesting looking items.

Shorter, more typical houses also littered the ground. They were some of the oldest structures in the settlement, made long before some of the borrowers who founded this place decided to get a bit more creative and inventive with their building. And it was in one of these old, dilapidated houses that Tommy and Tubbo lived.

Well, it wasn’t really their house. It was more so a place that they had permission to live in, since no one else wanted to take them in or offer up their own place to stay. A blatant rejection by their community, but Tubbo had learned to stop caring about that a long time ago.

The second he reached his destination, he flung the door open, raced inside, and quickly closed it behind him.

“Okay, okay. Get the important stuff and don’t worry about the rest.” Tubbo mumbled as he quickly scanned the dark interior of his house. He didn’t bother to light any of the lamps and instead opted to grab a backpack and start filling it with supplies. Tools, food, some bottles of water, and building supplies were all quickly shoved into the bag, haste taking priority over organization.

Of course, with his speed and intense focus, the borrower was bound to slip up and make a mistake somewhere. This manifested in him accidentally smacking into one of the walls near the staircase that led up to the loft, knocking it loose and causing it to slide to the side-

Revealing their hidden stash of items.

Tubbo froze as he caught sight of the worn-down jukebox that had been shoved into the corner of the cramped space. The wood was chipped, he could recall the splinters he had to help get out of Tommy’s hands on multiple occasions, and the varnish had long since faded entirely.

And yet, even with all that damage it still sounded amazing.

He smiled gently as he reached out and carefully patted the top of the jukebox. This item had brought them both so many happy memories, moments of joy without having to worry about anything else. It was undoubtedly the most important item the duo had, a title shared only by the two discs that the borrowers had kept hidden from the community that had shunned them.

Such rare items that could only be found and never replicated were priceless and would have immediately been used to handle all sorts of vital trades with other settlements, but the duo did not care. The discs were theirs, and that was that. He knew for a fact that Tommy would never give them up, and he wouldn’t either.

Tubbo reached around the jukebox and carefully removed the thin, wooden container that had been hidden by its bulky frame. He quickly opened it to check and see if the items it contained were still okay. The two discs, Cat and Mellohi written on both of them to help identify which was which, immediately greeted his worried gaze. They were both perfectly fine, no scratches or blemishes to be seen, and the borrower let out a relieved sigh.

Even if he couldn’t bring the jukebox with him, at least he could give Tommy the discs once they were reunited.

The case was carefully added to the backpack, some items placed on top of it to hide it from sight, and Tubbo took one last look of the closest thing to a home he had ever known. From the low hanging ceiling and the loft that housed both of their beds, to the tiny kitchen Tommy had set on fire more than once, the house was just as worn down and broken as they were, but they had lived their best life regardless.

Discarded like the trash everyone thought they were, left in a rotting home and ignored, but he and Tommy had come out all the stronger in spite of it.

A quiet, near inaudible voice whispered that he should set the house ablaze, turn his past to ashes and rise out of the destruction that had caused, confident and victorious. To leave a remainder that they had failed to break him, break his spirit, but he quickly ignored it and instead shouldered his backpack.

No, it would be better to disappear without a trace and show them how insignificant they all were to him. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction in letting them know how badly they had all hurt him. How close they had gotten to their goal.

So, Tubbo turned and left his old house behind. The door was carefully shut and he patted it, knowing it would be the last time he saw this place. It was bittersweet, leaving like this, but he knew this was the right path forward.

He had to see Tommy again.

He would see Tommy again.

With that thought, that promise, in mind he quickly ducked back into the darker alleyways and slowly but surely made his way to the front gate. Occasionally he would have to stop and wait as other borrowers, and the occasional guard, passed him by, but he ultimately managed to reach his destination with little difficulty.

He immediately spotted Sara after making his way up the hill that connected the gate to the rest of Borrowton, having internally panicked the entire time about being seen. It looked like the guards were busy with something else, probably patrolling parts of the dark forest for any items dropped by mobs, which meant this was the perfect time for his departure from Borrowton.

Using up the last of his energy, he sprinted the rest of the way to the older borrower, dropping to his knees beside her as he took a moment to catch his breath. It was a moment that was quickly interrupted as Sara snagged the back of his shirt and dragged him towards the collection of shrubbery that surrounded the front gate, hiding it from sight.

And in turn hiding both Tubbo and the other borrower from the guards.

He let out a yelp as he was finally let go, dropping flat onto his back while Sara crossed her arms and tapped her foot in annoyance. He glanced up at her and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could start talking she turned around and disappeared into the foliage.

Taking that as his sign to follow her, he quickly pushed himself upright and raced through the last bits of greenery that helped hide Borrowton. Shoving through large leaves, and nearly getting smacked in the face by a twig, he burst into the warm sunlight that peeked between the trees.

It was weird seeing the sun, but it was even weirder seeing the large fox that must have been patiently waiting for them, bags full of supplies scattered around it. The life he lived was not a sheltered one, per say, but he rarely got the chance to leave Borrowton and really experience the world around him. He had always been good working with his hands, and the adults all told him that he would grow up to create things, to build and help their home. Whenever he asked about Tommy, about what his role would be, he had only ever seen disappointed frowns and the shaking of heads.

Like they had given up on him before trying, deciding he wasn’t worth whatever effort they were willing to give out.

“This is my fox.” Sara explained as she patted the animal’s flank, unintentionally snapping Tubbo out of his memory filled haze. “He’s gonna be our ticket to getting you to your friend, so you better be nice.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be extra nice!” He assured her as he got up and made his way over to the fox. Once he was close enough, he scratched behind the fox’s ears, grinning at the happy noises the animal made. A contemplative look crossed his face, and he decided to voice his question. “Does he have a name?” “No? He’s just a fox.” Sara stiffly replied as she started tying the bags to the fox’s sides, attaching them to the near invisible harness the animal was wearing. “And everyone knows he’s mine, so he doesn’t need a name.”

“Oh…” Tubbo mumbled, appearing downcast before perking up. “Can I give him a nickname, then? Something I can call him?”

Though she seemed incredibly confused by his question, she hesitantly nodded. “Yeah? I can’t really do anything to stop you.”

“I’ll call him Squeeks then!” Tubbo beamed. “Because he sounds all squeaky, but spelled differently! Uniquely!”

As if agreeing with Tubbo’s decision, the newly named Squeeks let out an excited squeal and bumped the young borrower. He laughed and continued to love on the energetic creature as Sara finished up their preparations.

Time seemed to both drag on and race by, and before Tubbo knew it the other borrower had finished packing up and was already climbing onto the fox, with him following behind a moment later. The fur beneath his hands was nice and fluffy, as soft as Squeeks was, and served to be the perfect distraction that stopped him from noticing the little whistle Sara let out.

“Time to go!”

That was the only warning he got as the fox started dashing between the trees and emerging into a large, open field. He winced and lifted a hand up to block the harsh rays coming from the sun. It was so… so bright out here! And all the blue-

“Is that an ocean?” Tubbo gasped, jaw dropping in surprise upon seeing the massive body of water that was apparently situated not that far from his old home. “We live near an ocean?!”

“Lived, in your case, and yeah.” Sara answered, quickly glancing back at the younger borrower before returning her eyes to the horizon. “Water and borrowers don’t really mix, so it’s more of a restricted area.”

“Well that’s a dumb rule.” He huffed. “How else are we supposed to get used to water if we aren’t around it? It just doesn’t make sense!”

“Rules don’t tend to make sense, and enjoy the scenery while you can since we gotta go pretty far inland.” The older borrower said before falling silent and focusing on making sure the fox was headed in the right direction. There were several times where Tubbo opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask a question, but ultimately remained silent and instead opted to watch their slowly changing surroundings.

It gave him plenty of time to think, too. Think about where he was going and what he was going to do, and ask himself some questions that he knew would go unanswered.

Questions about humans.

What did a settlement of humans even look like? He had only heard about the occasional town, knew there was one close to Borrowton, but he had never been allowed to visit it. Too small and dangerous for borrowing, apparently. Would this place be like that one? Small and difficult to find a good hiding spot? What about the humans?

Would they be as cruel and cunning as he had been told, or would he find a human who was nice and wouldn’t kill him if he was spotted? He had so many questions, and the time for their answers would have to come much later…

“Here we are.”

The sound of Sara’s voice snapped Tubbo out of his thoughts and he straightened up, eyes landing on the collection of structures ahead. Some were made out of wood, others out of what appeared to be different kinds of stone, and there were sprawling wooden paths that stretched out in all sorts of directions.

It was… intimidating to say the least.

He had no idea how long it would take him to try and find Tommy. There were so many spaces a borrower could hide in. From the buildings themselves to the various trees and shrubs that could easily be used as a hiding spot, practically everywhere had the potential to house a borrower to some extent. And this was only a portion of what he would need to explore.

Tommy could be anywhere if he found him at all.

Tubbo nervously swallowed as he slid off of Squeeks, the fox immediately started nuzzling his back and nearly knocked the poor borrower over. He let out an awkward laugh, mood lightening just the slightest bit, and turned his attention to the affectionate animal.

“It was nice meeting you, Squeeks.” Tubbo said as he scratched at the fox’s ears and got that signature, laugh-like noise in response. He didn’t see how Sara’s eyes narrowed in annoyance, and it was only when she loudly cleared her throat that he looked up at her.

“And thank you for your help, Sara!” He hastily added. “I’m grateful, truly! I don’t know how I can repay you-”

“Don’t worry about that since this is the last time we’ll see one another.” She interrupted, her face rather blank and betraying none of her emotions. “So, forget about any of that and just live, alright kid?”

“Mhm!” Tubbo quickly nodded. While he wasn’t all that fond of leaving on such a note, debts were a powerful thing after all, he knew there was nothing he could say to change her mind. All he could hope was that working with her didn’t come back to bite him.

Maybe… maybe he and Tommy could stay here. There was always the chance that they could turn this place into their new home, a place they could live in without having to worry about being bothered by other borrowers. Of course, there was still the challenge of finding food, a good source of water, and actually building their home, but that was something they could work on over time.

Yes, that was it! He would build a temporary base, find Tommy, and then work on creating their own home!

With a plan in mind and hope filling his heart, Tubbo waved once more to Sara and set off on his mission. Dashing between the undergrowth and other forms of cover to keep himself from being seen by any humans, or dangerous animals, that might be nearby

Sara sighed softly to herself as she watched the younger borrower vanish from sight. It was so strange knowing that this was the second time she had done this, abandoning a child to some horribly doomed fate, but at least Tubbo had a better chance of surviving then Tommy did.

She let out a quiet snort and shook her head. It was highly unlikely he was still alive thanks to his temperament and what she knew of the Blood God. It wasn’t that she thought he was a bad person, but his habits and choices were… dangerous. It would have been all too easy for him to expose Borrowton to outsiders and humans. He never seriously considered what the consequences his actions would have when something went wrong, how selfish and immature he was.

He was nothing more than a threat to all the borrowers he interacted with, a threat to their way of life.

Good riddance.

                                                   xxxxxxxxxx

Warm sunlight shone down on the lonely cabin sitting in the middle of the empty tundra. The light brought with it an unusual warmth, making it the perfect day to spend some time outside gathering resources or fixing up the cabin.

Which was exactly what Technoblade had decided to do.

After repairing the damage that he had dealt to the porch, ignoring the borrower who had followed him outside and immediately started teasing him, the hybrid had decided to spend the rest of the day working on Carl’s stable. The least he could do was improve it so that way the horse would be comfortable in the harsh chill of the tundra.

Surprisingly enough, Tommy had trailed after him as he went from place to place using his own secret passages to keep up with the hybrid. It was fascinating being able to see the hidden doors that had previously gone unnoticed by him, and he was relieved to know that the property value of his home wouldn’t be going down.

Nothing was worse than having a bunch of holes in your house that made it look like it was infested by mice.

Still, the amount of ingenuity required to make something so simple yet complex, even if he had been taught how to do it before, was immense. Hell, if it wasn’t for naturally loud Tommy was, Techno doubted he would have ever found out about the borrower and all the passageways he had made. So, he ended paying more attention than he expected to Tommy when the borrower started making a pathway that connected to the top of Carl’s stable.

A bit unsurprising since he seemed to be very fond of the horse. He wasted no time in pointing out how much Carl seemed to like him, although Techno personally thought the horse was fairly apathetic towards Tommy’s attempts at friendship and only used it as a chance to get carrots from the borrower.

Carl was definitely the smartest being on the server, hands down.

Plus, he was immensely amused as he watched Tommy struggle to hold each carrot up, the vegetable practically the same size as the borrower. It was only through sheer stubbornness and willpower he was able to lift the thing in the first place.

And the occasional nudge from Techno that helped him keep his balance when he tipped back too far. Fences weren’t the safest of places to stand on, of course.

All in all, the day was turning out to be surprisingly productive and peaceful, even if he had to deal with listening to Tommy ramble on and on about whatever topic entered his mind. Techno was surprised to find himself actually listening more than he thought he would, occasionally chiming in with his own point or teasing the borrower. It was a welcome change after the excitement of freeing Carl.

A change that he knew wouldn’t last. Peace was an unfamiliar concept to his family, chaos was naturally drawn to them. Funnily enough, it was a trait that Tommy seemed to share. Speaking of the borrower…

“You’re just jealous that Carl thinks I’m better than you!” Tommy teased, smugly smirking at the hybrid, who just rolled his eyes and shook his head. “He knows how great I am!”

“I just think it’s pretty funny that you don’t realize your greatness,” Both the term and the heavy sarcastic tone had Tommy’s smile turning into a disgruntled frown, but Techno wasn’t done yet. “Is resulting in you getting exploited by a horse.”

“He’s not exploiting me!” The borrower objected. “We’re buddies! Best buddies! For someone who’s so smart with all his fancy words, you don’t seem to get it!”

“Oh, trust me, I get it completely.” Techno drawled, sparing a quick glance over at Carl. For as challenging as it was to pinpoint the horse’s emotions, he didn’t miss the cunning gleam in Carl’s eyes.

Suddenly, a screen popped up beside the hybrid. Tommy jumped back in alarm, nearly falling off the fence he was perched on. Fortunately, Carl quickly helped him resettle himself with a quick nudge and an exasperated sounding snort, as Techno turned his attention to the messages he had just received. Messages from Philza.

Shit.

He cursed under his breath as he began tapping away at the screen, ignoring the curious looks thrown his way by both the borrower and the horse. “Fuck, I forgot about Phil.”

“The fuck is Phil?” Tommy immediately asked, running along the stable’s fence as he tried to keep up with Techno’s strides. “And what’s with that screen thingy? You sending messages to any girls? Looking for any local hot women in the area?”

Naturally, his questions went unanswered as Techno continued mumbling to himself, something about bees and farms, leaving the borrower more than a little annoyed. Not wanting to be left behind, both literally and in terms of the conversation Techno was having with himself, he quickly came up with a plan to keep up. A plan that relied on a rapidly closing window of opportunity.

So, Tommy made his move.

He did not bother trying to get the hybrid’s attention and instead sprinted towards the end of the fence. The moment he reached the edge, he bent his knees and jumped.

For a moment, pure fear filled him as he lunged through the air, refusing to look downwards and instead remaining focused on grabbing onto the swaying braid in front of him. He could feel his heart pounding as he got closer, and closer, until-

His hands made contact with pink hair and he immediately held on as tight as he could. He crossed his ankles, locking his feet together, as he took a moment to catch his breath. He felt all sweaty and jittery, the lingering hints of adrenaline running through his veins. Once he finally felt calm enough to move, and his hands stopped shaking, he slowly started climbing up the long braid.

At this point, Techno had made his way into the cabin and was rummaging through the chests. He was completely unaware of the borrower climbing up his hair until he felt a particularly harsh tug at the back of his head followed by the sounds of Tommy cursing.

“What the fuck, man?! You nearly left me behind!” The borrower exclaimed as he heaved himself over the edge of Techno’s crown, flopping into the pink hair. He could still feel his heart racing from both the dangerous climb and the terrifying jump, but he also felt badass.

He knew of no other borrowers that could brag about such an achievement and, despite how out of breath he was, he found himself smiling as he lay sprawled out on top of the hybrid’s head.  

“Sorry.” Techno said, sounding not at all apologetic as that screen appeared once more. “Figured you could use the exercise with those twiggy legs of yours-”

“And here he goes again! Big, scary Blade acting all mean and stuff! Gotta keep up that tough guy act!” Tommy grumbled while waving his hands in the air dramatically.

He heard Techno let out an amused snort at his antics, making a grin appear on the borrower’s face. There was something satisfying about seeing a positive reaction to his antics for once instead of being scolded or told off. For as dangerous as the hybrid could be, Tommy had developed some trust towards him.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to make Techno suffer for almost leaving him out in the cold. Revenge was in the cards, and he refused to miss this chance.

“... You know it’s okay to look up hot old men in your area too right-”

Tommy’s grin grew as he heard the strangled wheeze escape the hybrid, and he threw his head back and cackled. Flopping back into the soft, pink hair he rolled around as he laughed and nearly smacked into the crown surrounding him.

“You’re horrible, and your jokes are cringe.” Techno grumbled. “Phil is my-”

What words could properly describe the connection forged between them? A pact sealed in bloodshed, violence, and a level of comprehension that far exceeded anything he had ever known in his life.

The look of understanding in Philza’s eyes. A grounding voice, a source of stability in a crimson sea of death and loneliness.

A mentor, a savior, a-

“... Dad.” He finally settled on, figuring it would be the easiest way for Tommy to understand what he meant. “He’ll be here, soon.”

“What?!” The borrower squawked, his previous amusement fading and quickly being replaced with dread. He stood up, gripped the edge of the crown, and looked down into Techno’s face. “Y-You have to tell me these things! We’re roommates! And you have a dad?!”

“To be fair, he was supposed to visit a couple days ago, but then Carl happened.”

“That doesn’t explain anything!”  

A brow was raised at the shout, Techno easily picking up on the anxiety that made the kid’s voice crack and left him trembling. It was bizarre seeing Tommy so openly terrified, and at the thought of meeting Philza no less.

Philza Minecraft, who had the unfortunate habit of picking up any homeless kid he found on the street and giving them the shelter and support they so desperately craved.

Even if he occasionally left for long periods of time...

His ears twitched, the distant sounds of Wilbur’s shouts and Phil’s pleas for him to calm down ringing in his head. He glanced upwards, eyes meeting the wide, terrified stare of the borrower, and felt the neutral look on his face soften. He didn’t like the idea of the kid being scared, in general and of Phil, and it just felt… wrong.

It felt wrong for Tommy to be afraid of anything. For his arrogance and loud nature to become so quiet and muffled. To see that spark in his eyes dull.

“There’s nothing you need to be worried about-”

“Easy for you to say!” Tommy interrupted with a scoff. “You’re you! You’re all tough and mehmehmeh look at all these swords and potions I’ve got! You don’t have to be worried! You don’t have to be scared! You…”

His words trailed off with a sigh and he braced himself against the edge of the crown, eyes shutting. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to be scared of everything.”

No, Techno didn’t know anything about what it must be like to live at such a diminutive size, although he was familiar with the fear and struggle of trying to survive.

Scorching hot air, bubbling lava. Frantic running and a gold sword clutched tightly in his hands-

Perhaps that familiarity was why he found himself speaking up, repeating the words that had been spoken to him years ago.

“I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The declaration that had slipped out of Techno left the duo frozen and silent, each contemplating the meaning behind his words. While the hybrid was mentally berating himself on making such a claim, not that he couldn’t easily fulfill it, the borrower’s eyes snapped open and he looked down, meeting Techno’s gaze once more. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, and spoke up.

“... Really?”

He hated it, hated how childish and weak he sounded, but at the same time he craved reassurance and wanted to know that he would be okay, that everything would turn out okay.

He just wanted to know that he’d be safe.

Techno nodded, unintentionally jostling the borrower around a bit as he struggled to figure out how exactly to word what he wanted to say. Eventually, he settled on a simple. “Yeah, really.”

A moment of silence passed, then two, and then-

“Okay,” Tommy relented, letting out a quiet sigh and nodding. “I trust you, Blade.”

“Wait over here for now. You’ll warm up to Phil pretty quick.” Techno suggested with a knowing tone in his voice as he plucked the borrower off the top of his head and carried him over to the table. Even as Tommy scampered across the surface to duck behind a book he had left out, fear and uncertainty clear in the kid’s eyes, he knew those feelings would vanish soon enough.

Phil had a way with people that he could never hope to comprehend, a skill that had come in handy when they had first met all those years ago in the scorching heat of the Nether. A skill that had equally come in handy when a grungy child carrying a broken guitar had been found rummaging through the trash.

Instinctively knowing how to soothe them and their worries, to calm their fears.

So, despite the anxious looks that were sent his way, he walked over to the front window and waited.

Tommy honestly had no idea what he expected Phil to look like. Techno had given him no information whatsoever, the prick, and the only thing he knew was that Phil was his dad, which meant they probably looked similar?

At least he now knew that he had gotten one of his first jokes about Techno right.

Simply put, it was only when he caught sight of the short, blond man entering the cabin that he realized Techno was adopted, or was most likely adopted. They didn’t seem to have anything in common based on their appearances, other than the fact that both of them looked to be fond of capes since Phil was wearing a long, black cape that stretched towards the floor.

Funnily enough, it was pretty stiff for a cape. There was none of the cool flowing he had grown used to seeing, but maybe that was because of the cold.

Anything would freeze out in the open tundra, including capes.

However, his assumption that Phil and Techno were both just cape obsessed fashionistas was quickly proven false when the newcomer’s cape moved. He heard something that sounded like the rustling of leaves on a windy day and watched in awe as the cape seemed to expand and open up, breaking into two separate parts-

Wings.  

“You’ve got wings!” The borrower exclaimed, ducking out from behind his hiding spot and pointing at Phil. Both hybrids, assuming Phil was a hybrid of some sort, immediately turned to face him. He was more than used to Techno staring at him, all analytical and like he wanted to figure out everything about the borrower, but Phil was-

Different.

Where Techno’s eyes were cold and hard, Phil’s carried a warmth and softness within them. Even the smile on his face was gentle and, for some reason, helped soothe the lingering anxiety Tommy felt. It was a look he had seen addressed to many children back at Borrowton, but never to him. From that expression alone, he immediately knew one thing.

Phil wouldn’t hurt him.

“Hello there.” The winged hybrid greeted, taking a step closer to the table but still keeping his distance. “Didn’t know someone got a roommate-”

“Infestation.” Techno quickly corrected with a snort. “I didn’t put out an add or anything. Roommates suck.”

“Aw, it’s okay to feel lonely, Tech-”

Tommy watched as the duo started bantering back and forth, Phil continuing to tease Techno while the other hybrid responded in kind with his own barbs and jests. It was weird seeing him be so openly social, and for once in his life he found himself speechless.

That is, until Phil’s eyes landed on him yet again.

He didn’t stiffen up, nor did he try to hide from the winged man’s gaze. He instead held it and waited to see what would happen next, immediately being surprised when Phil sent him that same gentle smile from earlier.

“It’s nice to meet you, mate. I’m Philza, but you can call me Phil.”

“Tommy.” He mumbled, voice barely loud enough to be heard.

He felt so out of his depth in this new situation, everything was moving so fast and he had already possibly befriended someone else? The kind look in the winged hybrid’s eyes certainly made it seem like he cared, which would imply that friendship was not far off, right?

“So, is he joining us?” Phil asked, turning to Techno and in turn missing the confused look that crossed the borrower’s face.

“Joining? What’s going on?” Tommy piped up, his curiosity helping him find his voice. “You two going out somewhere?”

“Phil and I need to make some farms.” Techno explained. “A bee farm and a turtle farm, but we need to gather the resources first. I wasn’t planning on you tagging along, but you can if you don’t bother Phil.”

Asking Tommy to behave was out of the question, he understood how excited the kid could get and in turn how forgetful and unobservant he could become. The bare minimum he could hope for was for Tommy to reign in his excitement just enough to stop him from bugging Phil and distracting him.  

Like he expected, Tommy’s eyes lit up in excitement and he eagerly nodded. “Fuck yeah! We headin’ out now? I can go grab my stuff-”

“The sooner you get ready, the better.” Techno interrupted as he shooed him away. “So, scram and get ready.”

As Tommy rushed into the nearby borrower hole that he had thankfully made the day prior, his excited rambling cutting off not long after he disappeared from sight, Techno pointedly ignored the smug look Phil sent his way.

“So, adoption-”

“Eugh, cringe.” Techno immediately interrupted, not wanting the conversation to progress any further. “Taking in an orphan? Providing emotional support? Couldn’t be me.”

“Nice to know what you think of me.” Phil quipped. He let out a laugh when he saw the concerned, almost horrified, look that crossed his adopted son’s face. “Relax! Relax, it’s just a joke, mate.”

His amusement faded and his smile took on a more concerned edge as he looked Techno over, eyes landing on the familiar blood red cape. “You’re more high strung than usual. Did something happen?”

“You mean aside from the nuisance that invaded my home?” Techno dryly retorted. “And I’m…”

Lie, lie, lie-

“... As good as I can be.” He answered, voice growing quieter. A quick inspection of his father had him noticing the dark shadows under Phil’s eyes and how dull his feathers were compared to their typical luster. “You?”

“Eh, I’m holding up.” Phil shrugged. “L’Manberg’s been busy, keeps me busy too.”

The look of disgust and annoyance that crossed Techno’s face got a laugh out of the other man. “You still got something in mind for them, mate?”

“A plan, and some trips to the Nether.”

“Nice, tell me if you need anymore help-”

One of Techno’s ears twitched and he glanced over at the borrower hole, a clear sign that their conversation was finished for now. Together, they both watched as the cover to the hole was moved and Tommy stumbled out of it, a bag now slung over his shoulders.

He looked… relatively unprepared compared to the two armor wearing and weapon carrying hybrids.

“Is that everything you need?” Phil asked, frowning slightly as he took in the simple bag Tommy was carrying. “No tools?”

“... I have my axe? My grappling hook?” The borrower hedged as he picked up a rather shoddy looking stone axe that had been attached to his belt. “Dunno what else I’d really need, old man.”

Already seeing Phil starting to get all concerned parent thanks to the look on his face combined with the fluffing up of his feathers, Techno decided to jump in and spare Tommy from the mother henning that was about to happen.

… He also stubbornly ignored the faint ache of his heart, unintentionally recalling how Wilbur had given Phil that title and teased him relentlessly with it.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got him covered.” He interjected while striding towards the chest at the edge of the room. “Armor’s still a struggle, but I finished something else up.”

“Armor?” Tommy visibly perked up and stared intensely at Techno’s back. “What armor?”

“Your hypothetical armor.”

The borrower’s jaw dropped while Phil looked more than a little interested, stepping forward and glancing at the chest that was being rummaged in. Techno ignored the both of them until he found what he had been searching for.

Straightening up and facing the duo, he presented the item he had been working on. “I was planning on giving this to you later, but now works too.”

It was a needle. A simple needle forged out of some dark metal that looked wickedly sharp to the touch. It was the perfect weapon for someone Tommy’s size, and the borrower carefully accepted it as it was passed to him. He could see his reflection staring back at him in the carefully polished metal.

Why…

“If you stab yourself I’m taking it back.”

“Wh-I won’t!” Tommy shouted, quickly looking up and glaring at Techno. “I know how to use this! We’ve been practicing-”

“And we’ll keep practicing until you stop tripping over your own feet.”

“Fuck off!”

The winged hybrid let out a contemplative hum as he inspected the weapon. “Why not try enchanting it as well? Fire aspect could be helpful.”

“I’m not giving him something that’ll let him burn down my house, Phil.”

“I bet he would’ve done that by now if he really wanted to.” Phil chuckled while shaking his head. “And you know what I mean. A bit of pain won’t scare everyone off, but some fire could help with that.”

The unspoken a needle can’t pierce through all armor and fire might deal more damage.

Techno remained silent as he thought the suggestion over before eventually nodding. “Alright, I’ll look into enchanting it once we get back. We’re far enough behind on those farms and we need to get them finished as soon as possible.”

“How about you go and get those turtle eggs while I take Tommy to find some bees?” Phil suggested, smiling to himself when he saw how excited the borrower looked. “Gives you a break and splits up the work so we can get it done faster.”

“You sure you can keep up in your old age?” Techno teased. “Make sure you don’t hurt your back.”

The wing that lightly smacked his side along with the exaggerated eye rolling made him feel both warm and cold. The familiarity of the gesture bringing back fond memories, and reminding him that those moments would stay memories no matter what.

That there would always be someone missing from their family, even with the husk that had been left behind.

He could see that lingering grief in Phil’s eyes, too, recalling times that had long since passed. An unspoken agreement passed between the duo, a promise that neither would mention the tragedy that had struck their family while Tommy was around.

Their grief was not something they wanted to share, nor did either of them want to dampen the excitement he clearly felt. So, Phil kept smiling as he replied.

“It’s been a bit, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

                                               xxxxxxxxxx

“THIS IS FUCKING AMAZING!!!” Tommy shouted, his voice quickly lost to the wind whipping around him. He heard Phil chuckle above him, and the borrower’s smile grew.

After practically begging the winged hybrid to take him flying, Phil had agreed with some conditions. The first was that Tommy was to be on his best behavior, no trying to jump out of the man’s hands or anything crazy like that. The second was that he couldn’t distract the flying hybrid, but conversations and the occasional excited exclamation was okay. As for the third…

He had to stay warm.

Part of Phil’s cloak had been wrapped around the borrower, blocking out the glacial gale. Gloved hands carefully cupped Tommy close, keeping him tucked against the winged hybrid’s chest. It was surprisingly cozy, and more than once he had zoned out and found himself unintentionally cuddling up to the man carrying him, listening to the steady beating of the powerful wings that made him soar through the air.

He wasn’t as warm as Techno was, but he doubted anyone could match the amount of heat he seemed to give off.

He was more than a little surprised at how quickly he had come to trust Phil, especially in comparison to Techno. While it had taken him some time to warm up to the pig-like hybrid, an experience that he was certain had been mutual, with Phil there had been an almost instantaneous feeling of trust he felt towards the winged hybrid.

It was honestly terrifying when he actually thought about it, how willing he had been to literally put his life in the hands of someone he had met only minutes ago, but at the same time it felt…

Right.

Like a puzzle piece sliding into place, the same feeling he had felt when Techno protected him oh so long ago. It wasn’t something he could explain with words or rationalize in any way. It just… was what it was.

A feeling that left him more hopeful than he had felt in years.

The sensation of descent that left his legs tingling and his stomach flip-flopping was enough to shake Tommy out of his thoughts, and he looked over the edge of Phil’s hands to see the snow covered ground slowly approaching them. A couple careful flaps of those massive wings slowly lowered them until Phil’s feet were resting on the ground.

“We have to do that again!” Tommy said, looking up and sending Phil a wide, excited smile. “It was awesome! And fast! Way faster than I thought an old man would be-”

“Alright, alright, settle down.” The winged hybrid chuckled. “We can’t do that with the bees-”

“Fuck the bees! Them and their queen!”

“But, we can always go flying again later.” Phil continued, fighting to keep down the laugh that bubbled up at Tommy’s words. “Probably not today though. Farms need to be made and all.”

To the borrower’s surprise, instead of being put down on the ground like he assumed, Phil lifted him up to his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment before carefully climbing over and situated himself among the folds of clothes and the side of Phil’s neck.

The man wore layers, and Tommy instinctively wrapped the outermost one around himself, unconsciously letting out a soft sigh as the heat sank back into him. He missed how the wing behind him was raised up higher, blocking out more of the brisk winds.

Phil knew he’d get a cramp at some point, but the last thing he wanted was for the tiny kid to freeze. His clothes weren’t made for the cold, something he’d have to look into later, and it was obvious Tommy had lived somewhere much warmer before ending up in Techno’s cabin.

Yet again, the man found himself wondering what events had led to Tommy winding up in the tundra. Had he gotten lost? Been separated from his family somehow? He didn’t know how much Techno knew about the kid’s situation, and resolved to ask about it once they got back.

Fortunately, it didn’t take all that long before they stumbled on some bees that had been buzzing around in the near empty tundra as they struggled to find flowers. The occasional hive could be spotted between the spruce trees as well, making this the perfect spot to abduct some bees.

The next several minutes were filled with the sounds of cheerful conversation as Phil slowly gathered up the bees and collected their hives. Tommy spent most of his time asking the hybrid about his wings and flying, while the borrower answered several questions about his own people. The answers were never too detailed, of course, just generalized explanations that wouldn’t risk exposing the location of Borrowton.

Despite the conversation bordering on some rather heavy topics, such as Tommy’s obvious lack of home and the fact that he had never heard about hybrids before, weird since he had met two before he had encountered any humans, they were able to steer it away from any risky questions.

In no way did Tommy wish to discuss the pain he had endured back in Borrowton, nor did Phil want to go into the injustices and discrimination that hybrids faced on a daily basis. Both topics were better suited for conversations much later down the line.

Unfortunately, even with his efforts to avoid talking and thinking about his old home, and the best friend he had left behind, the subject reared its ugly head eventually.

Caused by none other than a bee, of course.

It had been an especially curious bee out of the bunch they had gathered so far that spotted the borrower tucked away under a layer of green fabric. His hair had probably caught its attention, the bright blond extra visible thanks to the green surrounding him. Tommy laughed as the bee drifted closer, nearly bumping into him as it tried to inspect him. It was so large, and absolutely covered in fuzz. There had always been something about seeing bees that never failed to cheer Tubbo up-

Tubbo...

A sharp, agonized noise escaped him. Guilt surged through him as he slowly leaned away from the bee, scooting backwards and taking shelter behind Phil’s neck. He felt the man stiffen up before shooing the bee away.

“Tommy, you alright?” Phil asked, voice quiet so he didn’t accidentally upset the borrower further. “Did something happen? Did you get stung?”

“... No, it’s fine.” Tommy replied, pressing the fabric wrapped around him to his face. He could feel the chill that the tears slowly streaming down his cheeks brought on, but he refused to acknowledge them. “M’fine.”

Sensing the sudden melancholy that had taken over the borrower, the winged hybrid decided it was time to leave the snowy tundra. Carefully holding the leads in his hand, he trudged through the snow as the bees buzzed around them. “Let’s get back to Techno and see how many turtles he’s got left.”

“Got left?” Tommy repeated, mood slightly lifting at the change in topic. “You mean hatched?”

“Not exactly, mate. You’ll see what I mean when we get back.” Phil said while gently smiling at him. It was a smile that was shakily returned with one of Tommy’s own before fading a moment later.

The trip back was far more silent than the flight had been with the borrower making no jokes, nor commenting on their surroundings, and Phil not pressing and asking what was wrong. At least he didn’t have to worry about being interrogated and being forced to explain his feelings.

Explain Tubbo…

Returning to the cabin and finding Technoblade patrolling the perimeter of the turtle farm was enough to make that smile return to Tommy’s face and, when the hybrid started freaking out after the tiny turtle disappeared in a pile of snow, the laughter he let out was almost enough to make him forget about the ache in his chest.

Almost enough to distract him from the feelings of guilt that would haunt him for the rest of the day.

Tubbo.

I’ll come get you soon.

I promise.

                                                  xxxxxxxxxx

“This should be the place.” Tubbo quietly mumbled to himself, carefully hidden from sight. So far, he had barely been able to explore much of the expansive… town? City?

Whatever this place was, with all its structures made out of strange materials, it was massive, incomprehensibly large, and it made him worry all the more about how hard it would be to find Tommy in this mess of a place. To make matters worse, multiple times he had been forced to hide as people made their way across the paths.

All heavily armored and carrying shields, swords, bows, or axes.

This place was dangerous, very dangerous, and the sooner he found Tommy and got out of here, the better. The risk of being found was way too high, and what would happen to them after they were found-

No, he wouldn’t think of such things. Wouldn’t dare to think about the fact that Tommy could be dead, dying all alone-

Despite his efforts, such thoughts consumed his waking mind and permeated his subconscious. Ever since Tommy had first been forced out of Borrowton, Tubbo had not slept. Sure, he napped occasionally, but every time he shut his eyes he could not stop himself from imagining what could happen to Tommy when he was out there, all alone. It ate at him, even when he was awake, and left him far less mindful of his surroundings than he normally was.

As such, he was completely unaware of the figure looming over him until it was too late. Distantly, he noticed something blocking out the sun, a shadow falling over him, and it took him a moment to realize that the shadow was not shaped like a cloud-

He whirled around, terror filling him as he saw a pair of grey hands reaching for him, sunlight somehow streaming through them and making them seem… ghostly, as if they were not really there. He quickly stepped backwards, tripping over his own feet, and dropped to the ground. He cringed as pain raced up his wrists from his hands making impact with the ground, but he ignored it and scuttled backwards.

Unfortunately, he was far too slow to escape or find any sort of shelter to escape the towering being that had cornered him. Just as those hands closed in around him, he heard a cheerful voice ring out above him.

“Hello, friend!”

                                   xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Did Phil end up spending an unfortunately short amount of time with Tommy? Yes, but that's fine. He'll be spending plenty of time with another borrower in need of emotional support!

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH20 (FIN)

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: Angst but also teeth rotting fluff

WC: 4111

A/N: This is the end guys. I hope you had a blast reading it as much as I had fun writing.

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​​​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST 

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

Y/N wakes up to the sound of her alarm. It takes her way too long to realize where she is. 

She opens her eyes and takes a look around. Her room kind of looks small compared to the room she called her own in Dean’s apartment.

Today is Monday, which means that she’s supposed to go to work and she kind of doesn't want to. She hasn’t heard from Dean. He didn’t text her, nor did he call. Maybe it’s over before it’s over. Maybe today, he’ll say that she can get out if she wants. He and Sam have the evidence and they can build up their case around it. There’s really no need for him to fake it with her anymore.

Yesterday she had to go out and buy clothes because all her stuff is still at Dean’s, and she didn’t want to go there. She spent the rest of the day in her bed, buried in her novels. It would have been relaxing if she hadn’t  thought about Dean so much.

She’s so nervous about meeting him again that she has had an awful night’s sleep. She’s nervous, when it should be easy. He’s her boss. She’s his employee. It should have always stayed like that, she realized. She should have never let them talk her into crossing the line. 

Her anxiety peaks as she takes the subway to the office. She feels nauseous. It doesn’t help knowing that her period is a little late too. She hopes that she’s not pregnant. She’s been taking her pills regularly. It shouldn’t be a problem and honestly, she doesn’t need to add it to her pile of worries. 

Arriving in the office, she sees that Ruby’s already there but it’s awfully quiet. She sits down and starts her computer. 

“Psssst,” Y/N hisses at Ruby who’s engrossed in a paper.

“Oh, hey! How was meeting with the parents?” Ruby grins.

“Sam didn’t tell you anything?” She frowns, wondering why Dean hasn’t updated Sam on what happened. On how she walked out of there and left him behind to hole herself up in her own apartment. 

Ruby shrugs, “No?”

“Ruby, I’m late.” She says, because she wants to get that off her chest first. 

Her friend raises her eyebrows and she sees that Ruby’s eyes travel to the clock, “I’d say your early, Dean’s not even in yet.” 

“No, I’m late!” She hisses, her eyes widen as she tries to get Ruby to understand. 

Ruby’s mouth forms an ‘O’, “Ooooh, shit.”

“Yeah,” She sighs. 

“How many days?”

“Three.”

“That’s nothing, right? Maybe it’s the stress? You’re under a lot of pressure.” 

Y/N knows that Ruby’s just trying to cheer her up, “Yeah, maybe.” She says and types in her password.

“Lets work, alright, we can think about it on our break. I can go get a test for you. Now, I want you to distract yourself with work or else you’ll go mad.”

“Yeah, okay,,” She tries to smile at her friend. The last thing she wants is for Ruby to be worried about her and Ruby’s not wrong. If she throws herself into work, it’ll definitely help distract her mind from all of the things that’s making it hard for her to breathe.

When her computer starts up her email box begins to fill itself. She sees that she has an unusually high amount of emails. Half of them are from Dean. Sent during their fake honeymoon. She wonders why, as they were practically together all the time? 

She opens up the first email.

Saturday, [00:24AM]: I’m sorry that I’ve upset you.

Saturday, [01:12AM]: Do you think I’m crazy when I tell you that I can’t fall asleep without you next to me?

Saturday, [05:21AM]: You’re the cutest crankiest person I ever laid eyes on.

Saturday, [08:31AM]: You fell asleep right after take off. I’ve taken a picture of you. Sorry not sorry. 

Saturday, [09:23AM]: You’re sleeping again. You really do need a lot of sleep, don’t you? Or maybe it’s because you’re too nervous of flying. I’m sorry I didn’t even ask if flying would be okay for you. I never took it into consideration that you might not like flying. The thought had never crossed my mind. I’m trying to help you through it, though.

Saturday, [11:42AM]: You’re cute when you’re all giddy about being here and I’m happy that you let me bring you here. Can’t wait until I can show you our room. I have a feeling that you’ll like it.

Saturday, [01:12PM]: You didn’t need to ask if you can take a dip in the sea but you still did. That’s what I like about you. You don’t take anything for granted. 

Saturday, [02:57PM]: For god’s sake, you fell asleep on the lounger. You’re going to get sunburned!

Saturday, [04:32PM]: You’re still distracting me. But I kind of like it. Maybe I’m a closet masochist.

Saturday, [09:22PM]: You know what I absolutely love? I fucking love how you taste, how you want me to fuck you harder. How wet you are for me. I love how you look when you’re laying on the bed, spit slick and pink all over.

Saturday, [11:46PM]: Jesus, you’re laying there, pink pussy in full view. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.

Tears start to pool in her eyes but there’s more. 

 *

 Sunday, [11:21AM]: It was nice waking up to you beside me. I can get used to it. Would love for it to happen every morning.

Sunday, [03:42PM]: You really love snorkeling, don’t you? Don’t even want to get out of that water. You’ll be sunburned if you’re not careful, baby.

Sunday, [08:23PM]: You fell asleep before room service arrived. I had to take a picture. I don’t think you know how much you affect me.

 *

 Monday, [03:12AM]: I woke up thinking you’re not here, but you are. 

Monday, [09:34AM]: You locked yourself in the bathroom because I woke you up. Definitely the crankiest person ever. Wonder why you think that I’m the grumpy one here.

Monday, [02:22PM]: I’m working inside and you’re distracting me again. Stretching yourself half naked on the lounger. It’s not really fair. 

Monday, [11:43PM]: Would you think I’m crazy when I tell you that I have fallen for you? Because I think I have. More so than I already had.

Yeah, those are definitely tears that streak down her face. She tries not to make it obvious to Ruby but she has her nose buried in the paper, so she should be good.

 *

 Tuesday, [11:43AM]: You woke me up with a smile. I’m the happiest when I get to be inside you. I urged you to send a picture to Ruby. But in reality, I want her and Sam to see it too. Little do you know that I already have many pictures of you in my phone. By the way, I love how you get wetter when I talk dirty to you.

Tuesday, [12:01PM]: I think I might love you. 

Tuesday, [01:59PM]: Gearing up for my conference call but all I can think about is you in the pool.

Tuesday, [03:44PM]: I’m hearing your moans while you get massaged. This is torture.

Tuesday, [05:02PM]: I can’t stop myself from showering you with affection. I hope you don’t mind.

Tuesday, [07:23PM]: Waiting for you to come out of the bathroom. You take your sweet time but I don’t really care about it anyway. I’m sure you look stunning whatever you wear or put on your face. Prettiest thing if I ever did see one. I don’t know how I can make you understand that this is real. This is all me, and all of me wants all of you.

 *

 Wednesday, [02:11AM]: You looked absolutely stunning tonight. I’m sorry that she pulled your brother into this. That was never my intention. I was never going to hurt you or your family and I’m doing my best to help you protect him. And I try my best to protect you, too. You know, you managed to calm me down. I don’t know how you did that, but you did. I remember hearing your faint voice in my rage. And when I turned around, it’s only you that I saw. I told you that you’ll be able to go back to your old life soon. That’s true. I don’t want you to think that you can’t. I’d just prefer if you’d stay, but that’s not on me to decide. 

Wednesday, [03:02AM]: Yeah, it’s definitely love.

Wednesday, [05:34AM]: I’m up because I’m partly nervous about meeting your brother.

Wednesday, [10:27AM]: You looked so peaceful in your sleep. I might have taken another picture. You asked if we can stay in bed a little longer and honestly, all I wanted in that moment was to cancel everyone and stay in bed with you.

Wednesday, [03:11PM]: On my way to go fishing with Jack. He’s a great guy. I like him a lot. He reminds me of you. 

Wednesday, [07:18PM]: We’re back. We talked things through. He’s very protective of you. We both are. He knows how I feel for you. That’s all I want him to know. I want him to work at the company, he’s more than qualified.

Wednesday, [11:18PM]: Currently waiting for you to wash your face and come to bed. I love seeing you happy. It literally makes my day. Some might call it love. I think I do too.

 *

 Thursday, [02:24AM]: Can you tell why I’m always waking up in the middle of the night? Mostly it’s because I have to make sure that you’re still here. I meant it when I said that Jack could live with me. I hope that by that time you’ll still be living with me too. I’d love that, because I love you.

Thursday, [05:52AM]: I don’t know how I should feel about the new development. It means that what we have will be over soon, doesn’t it? What if I don’t want it to be over? Would you be game?

Thursday, [06:31AM]: I’ve made a decision. I want to keep you a little longer. Even if it’s only for two weeks. I know that I told you that you can go back into your old life. It’s because I’m a coward and can’t tell you the truth. If I had my way, I’d keep you forever but you make your own decisions.

Thursday, [10:34AM]: I lied about getting back and building a case. It’s only partly true. I want to take you to my parents, I want them to understand that there’s nothing fake about what we have. I want them to get off my case so I have one less thing to worry about. I’m sorry if that sounds selfish.

She has to pause to blow her nose. Ruby still doesn’t notice that she’s sobbing, because she’s on the phone now.

 *

 Friday, [04:21AM]: You’re still here. Thank god.

Friday, [04:21AM]: I love you.

Friday, [02:11PM]: I watch you splash around with Jack and Ruby. I can get used to seeing your genuine smile more often. I want you to be happy. You deserve everything good in your life.

Friday, [06:44PM]: You’re getting ready in the bathroom. I’m sad we’re going home tomorrow. I want you. I want you so fucking bad. 

 *

 Saturday, [03:03AM]: We’ve made love but I’m up and I want more. I want to stay inside of you. I want to show you how much I love you.

Saturday, [07:10AM]: The alarm has already gone off twice. I couldn’t bring myself to wake you up. I don’t even care if we’ll be late. It’s good like this. Waking up with you in my arms.

Saturday, [10:32AM]: You’re talking with Jack. I like that. I like to see you happy. Like to see him happy. It literally makes me happy seeing how you two treat each other. Jack knows that I only want the best for you. I hope he doesn’t tell you what we talked about, though. Because we would both have to kill you if one of us does.

 *

 Sunday, [02:01AM]: That backfired, didn’t it? You left and I didn’t hold you back. Not because I don’t want to. It’s because I don’t want you to think that I haven’t given you any options. I don’t want you to think that you’re not allowed to walk away, even when we have a contract. I want you to know that you can get out any time you want. I don’t care about the Amara case anymore. All I care about is for you to be happy. 

Sunday, [04:33AM]: I can’t sleep. You’re not here.

Sunday, [10:28AM]: I don’t want you to think that me not calling you is because I don’t care. I do. But I want to give you the space you need, even if it kills me.

Sunday, [08:47PM]: It’s weird around here without you.

 *

 Monday, [03:49AM]: I’m still awake because I don’t know if I should go into work. You probably don’t want to see me, so I’m taking the day off. Don’t worry about me. I’ll see you on Tuesday.

Monday, [03:51AM]: If you see your emails when you get to work, you’ll probably think that I’m crazy. It’s just… I’m not really good at expressing my feelings, and it’s especially hard when it comes to you. I get tongue tied and my heart does somersaults. I know that it’s unlike my work persona but that’s just how I am. That’s why I’m sending you emails, hoping that I can get you to understand how much you actually mean to me.

Monday, [04:00AM]: I wish you were here.

Monday, [04:01AM]: I love you.

 Y/N’s full on wailing and even Ruby notices it now, how can she not?

“Babe, are you okay?” Her friend stands up and walks over to her, sees her screen with all the opened emails and reads some of them, “Oh my god, the boss is such a fucking sap!” They both have to chuckle.

Y/N fishes her phone out of her purse and thumbs over a number, “Tell me what he told you, Jack. I need to know!”

Her brother sighs on the other side, “Fine, but don’t tell him I told you!”

“I won’t,”

“He made sure that I understood his feelings for you. That it was never a fake marriage to him. He was just too nervous to ask you out and when that thing with Amara happened, he saw it as an opportunity to do the right thing. He’s thinking about marrying you for real if you want that in your future. But I told him that he had to get my blessings first — which I gave him by the end of the finishing trip.”

“Jack!”

“I’m sorry. He’s good, Y/N. You know how I’m always overprotective and I was with Dean, too. But his intentions are good. He told me how you met. He knows every little detail. He could even tell me what you wore that day. Dean knows more about you than you think he does. Hell, he knows more about you than I do!”

“Well, then he’s a stalker.” She scoffs.

“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what’s good if it hit you in your face.”

“Did you talk to Ruby?”

Jack laughs, “I don’t have to talk to Ruby to know that about you.”

“Okay, thanks, Jack.”

“Anytime, sis. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

She hangs up and stands up from her chair to look at her friend, “Ruby?”

“Yeah, I can manage here. Go get him!”

 *

 Dean’s on the terrace, his hands on the railing. He’s already dressed in trousers and a button up shirt even though he has taken the day off. Old habits apparently die hard.

She slides the door open quietly.

“I was wondering if you’d show up,” He says and he turns around, rests his lower back against the railing. He’s not smiling.

Y/N walks closer, takes off her suit jacket and leaves it on the ground, feeling hot from running here. She already took off her shoes by the door. She’s sure that she’ll have blisters tomorrow. 

His eyes are on her as he watches her clutching the railing next to him. She’s looking out when he’s looking towards his penthouse.

“How could I not?” She says after a long while and she hears him exhale. 

“You’ve seen the emails.”

She nods, “I have,”

Dean turns around and moves behind her, places his hands on either side of hers and presses his body closer, caging her in. She feels him lowering his face, feels his lips on her throat. He kisses her and leaves them there. Her heart’s almost exploding.

“I don’t know how much you’ve heard before you left,” He’s talking about the dinner at his parents' place, she knows, “If you’d have stayed and listened longer, you would have heard me telling them that even though it’s fake, it feels fucking real to me. You would have heard me telling them that I wanted to ask you out properly and they would have to accept that I want you. That we were going to get an annulment and maybe one day I’ll get to pop the real question,”

“Would you want that?” 

He chuckles, “More than you know. I’d love for you to come back and spend the next two weeks here until this is all over. And after that, I’d love for you to stay. But also I’m not holding you back. If you want out, I’m gonna tell Sam to release you out of the contract.”

She turns in his grip and wraps her arms around his waist, places her cheek on his chest. Dean’s heart is beating as fast as hers.

After a while, she looks up at him, stands on her tip toes and kisses his cheek. 

“I hope that means that you’re coming back,” He smirks at her. 

“You want me to come back.”

“I’m lonely when you’re not here. I want you to move in, for good, if you want. Come on, tell me what it takes for me to get you to come back.”

She thinks about it. It would be too soon to move in with him and right into his room, no? She raises her eyebrows, “I still want my own room.” 

“It’s yours. You can have all the rooms you want.Maybe you want a room for your novels?” He’s laughing and she punches his chest.

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, “I want to take Fridays off occasionally because I want to see Jack more often,”

He purses his lips into a thin line and grins, “Granted,”

She looks at him, squints her eyes.

Dean chuckles, “Come on, what else? We’re negotiating. I like that,”

“Okay, when I say I want my space, you gotta give me that,”

“Of course,”

“No making fun of my books.” She’s pouting.

“I would never. At least not anymore.”

She looks at him to see him holding in a laugh.

“I don’t want you to treat me different to the other employees,”

Dean frowns, “You contradict yourself, because you basically just asked me for Fridays off.”

“That’s different,” She grins and he throws his head back to laugh, and she adds, “I don’t want you to wait for me every morning, because I don’t want to start as early as you do.”

“That, I can do. Try to be quiet so as not to wake up cranky — got it.” He winks, which earns him another punch to the chest.

“I might be pregnant,” She drops it like it’s fucking hot and Dean’s smile disappears. She goes on before he can utter a word, “And I know that you don’t want kids so I don’t even know what to think of it.”

Dean’s brow meets in the middle of his forehead, “Who said that I don’t want kids?”

“You? When you were telling it to Chuck and Naomi to excuse my outburst.”

He breathes out a weak smile, “That was just that, an excuse,” He kisses her forehead, “I would take full responsibility if you are. Maybe I’m hoping that you really are? Would it be bad?” 

“Well, yeah? I’m not ready yet.” She gestures wildly with her hands.

Dean pecks her lips, smiling before he digs around in his pants, goes down to his knees and she’s full on frowning.

“Do you wanna marry me, for real?” 

“No, Dean,” She says but she smiles, “I don’t want that. At least not yet.”

If Dean’s surprised by her saying no to him, he doesn’t let on. He stands up, takes her hand and slips the rings back onto her finger anyway because they’re still pretending for the next two weeks. His arms come around her and she hugs him in return, pressing the side of her face against his chest, listens to the staccato beat of his heart, “I won’t stop asking, though. You know I can be persistent.”

Oh yeah, she knows that. She buries her face into his shirt, breathes in his scent and mumbles, “Why do you want to marry me for real?” She has to ask. She’s too curious now.

“Because,” Dean holds her a little tighter, kisses the crown of her head, “You deserve good things and I wanna be one of them.”

She chuckles, “Jack told me what you talked about.”

“And he didn’t kill you?” Dean squints his eyes at her. He looks comical, it makes her smile, and then he adds, “That’s not what we agreed on, dammit, Jack!”

Dean’s laughing and she punches his chest, “Is it true that you know every detail of how we met?”

“Yeah,” He moves to kiss her forehead when she looks up, “When I told the reporters on our first social outing that I fell for you the moment you bumped into me, and I told you later that I fell for you when you smiled at me? That’s all true. It took me a week to go into that damn coffee shop, always backed out before I got to the door so many times. And then, when I finally found the courage and stepped in, you greeted me with a smile. However, the smile disappeared when you saw that it was me.”

She grins at the memories, “I was scared that you want me to pay for your ruined suit. I don’t have that kind of money,”

He chuckles, “That’s okay. I was going to ask you out then, but I chickened out. So instead, I offered you a job, thinking that if I’m too nervous to ask you out, maybe I can have you close and see you every day. Your smile is addictive. I thought that I was going to work on my courage in asking you out. Or maybe I thought that seeing you every day might put me off, maybe I thought that I’d see a side of you I don’t like, but that never happened. I liked every fucking thing about you. It had been a year and I still hadn’t asked you out.”

Dean lowers his forehead to her shoulders and her hand goes up to stroke his head.

“You’re so good with words, how come you couldn’t?”

“Because,” He looks up again, kisses her, “I had such a huge crush on you, and every time I was around you, I was angry at myself for not being able to ask you out.”

“‘S that's why you were so grumpy all the time?”

He lets out a huff of air, “Yeah,”

“You’re the worst,” She smiles.

“I know,” Dean says, “But I’m much more confident now,” He kisses her again. His lips feel familiar on her own, “What do you say. Reckon you can skip work for the day? I’m taking you on a date, I heard you like aquariums?”

Y/N really does. How does he even know?

Frowning, she looks at him, “I don’t know, my boss can be a dick sometimes. He probably won't give me the day off.”

Dean grins, licks his lips before they curve into a big and wide smile, he kisses her forehead, her nose, her lips, “Baby, I’d give you the world.”

FIN

EPILOGUE

[t-lostinworlds]

Extra (Tom Holland)

A/N: What is this? I have finished something? Me?? posting?? A FIC? WHAT? Is the world actually ending!?!? I think I’m funny but I’m not, clearly. Glad to be out of my writing rot tho aha. Hope you guys like this one!

Pairing: Tom Holland x Singer!Reader

Summary: You get a sweet but very extra surprise on your birthday nearing the end of your show.

Warnings: Fluff and my usual typos

Word Count: 5.5k+

Masterlist in Bio

-:-:-:-:-

The sound of your phone just going off uncontrollably was what woke you up, and you were completely sure that it wasn't your alarm.

You squint your eyes at the bright glare of the screen, a huge contrast to your still dim hotel room. You literally had just woken up hence why the curtains aren't open yet, it's still a bit too early after all.

Flicking the ringer on silent, birthday greetings and messages from friends and families were still flooding through, your phone now vibrating instead of your loud ringtone, giving your ears a break.

As you read through and responded to all of them, you couldn't help but feel a little down after you realized you haven't seen his name yet.

Of course you feel grateful for all the sweet messages everyone has sent you, your heart is melting from all the love. But there's that slight disheartened feeling that you can't seem to shake, slight worry that your boyfriend might have forgotten about your birthday.

You haven't heard from Tom since yesterday morning, which now makes it almost a full day. After he texted you that he was going to be doing a lot of stunts and is probably going to be super busy, he then just disappeared, not even slipping in a text good night. You did let it pass though, because he might have been quite knackered after the shoot.

Message to Tom: Good morning bub <3 Just checking up on you since you haven't read or replied to any of my messages at all. Hope you're okay and haven't injured yourself Thomas. I really miss you a lot and I love you loads x

Your frown could only deepen as you hit send, still no response nor any sign that he's got your messages whatsoever.

Normally, it wouldn't really be a big deal but the last you've seen him in person was three months ago. He was busy shooting the third installment of Spider-Man all while doing a few projects on the side. And you, well, you're touring around the world.

You could be patient and blame it on the time difference why he hasn't greeted yet, but he's just behind a couple hours. Tom has made it a habit of always greeting you at midnight no matter what and where, he's just cliché like that, and it was definitely passed midnight in New York.

God, you sound so much like a whiny and ungrateful brat, but you can't help it, you just miss him so much.

Maybe you've gotten so used to always spending your birthdays with him so the first time that you're celebrating it from different parts of the globe, it does makes you sad.

You did try to make ends meet, but a week before today, he's brought you the news that he can't fly out due to conflicting schedules with some of the actors he's working with, and that it's critical that he's there on the day. To be the leading role of a gigantic movie, asking a few days off is never that simple.

On the other hand, you have a show today and tomorrow, so flying to him isn't exactly ideal either. You understand of course, you are sort of in the same line of work, but still, it doesn't make you feel any less gloomy.

With one big stretch, you placed your phone back on your side table as you slowly got out of bed, opting to go and take a shower to then head down and meet the crew for breakfast.

Maybe you'll hear from him later in the day.

* * *

It was late in the afternoon and still not a single word from Tom.

You were growing worried because it was so unlike him to be very cut off and silent.

Did he lose his phone?

You tried to contact Harry—who's with Tom currently—but he too wasn't responding. Everything was just off and odd altogether, the tiny pit in your stomach only growing bigger the more you worry and think about where your man is.

"Have you heard from Tom?" You asked with furrowed brows the moment Molly, your manager approached you on stage. Your hand found its way to fish your phone out of your pocket to check it for the umpteenth time, but still, no sign of him.

You were finishing up your final soundcheck before you were off to a mini get-together—snacks and drinks included—with some of your fans. It was your alternative to a meet and greet because you'd rather hang out and have real conversations with them than the whole quick snap and go.

She shook her head at you all confused, a slight glimmer in her eyes that you didn't quite catch. "Uh no, why?"

You sighed. Tom doesn't really contact your manager unless its important matters, so you don't even know why you're asking, maybe you've just grown desperate to hear even the smallest thing from him, just anything. "Never mind. Is it time?"

"Yeah, they're all waiting for you."

You simply nodded as you followed her off stage, handing the guitar over to your guy on the way.

Walking through the hallway, you kept your head down, eyes glued to your phone as you respond to more messages from people, but also checking if Tom has come back from ghost town.

You were aimlessly following Molly to wherever room or space they set up the get-together in, just watching her shoes and never looking up from your device. That, until you heard a few shuffling of rushed feet and a door being slammed shut.

"What was that? And what's in here?" You asked, eyes now trained on a door of what looks like another dressing room. Molly continued walking, so you kept following but with your gaze still glued to the door, curios as to what's going on inside because you definitely can hear a bit of ruckus.

"Oh just the staff, that's one of their rooms." She answered casually, not even bothering to give you or the room a glance.

"Is it weird if I just go inside and say thank you? Would that be too... intrusive?" You pondered, halting in your tracks as you contemplated on knocking. You just wanted to extend your gratitude for all their hard work, but you aren't sure if they were comfortable with you suddenly just strolling in.

"It's not weird at all hun, but you've got a schedule." She smiled at you sweetly, nodding her head towards the direction of the get-together.

"Oh right, yeah, let's go."

You gave the door one last look before turning on your heel to follow Molly once again, up until you reached another space covered in curtains. And the moment your bodyguard pulled it open, wide smiles on faces greeted you as they all sang in tune.

"Happy birthday to you!"

You laughed as you shyly shook your head at them. Warmth coated your whole body in an instant as love and pure adoration radiated off of the space, off of your fans.

You did as much as wave your fingers in the air as they sang, serving as a conductor because for the number of years you've been on this earth, you still have no idea what to do when people sing the birthday song to you.

* * *

"I can't thank you guys enough for being here with me tonight. You guys have been so incredible, you always are." You breathed out as your voice echoed throughout the whole arena. You looked at the thousands of people who came tonight to see you perform with a proud grin, their energy never wavering as they sing your songs back to you from each melody to lyric.

Adrenaline was pumping through your veins as you tried to catch your breath, taking the water bottle off of the floor and lifting it up to your lips to have a quick drink.

"Now, give me everything you've got for this last song alright?" You spoke into the mic once you've rehydrated.

"Wait, wait. Don't you guys agree that Y/N is killing it tonight?" Your pianist, Sara, interrupts, the crowd cheering in agreement at her input. "And judging by today's occasion, I think we all owe her a little song." She added, earning a hearty laugh from you as you brought the mic back to your lips.

"You guys don't have to—"

"Happy birthday to you!"

The song was played no matter your protest, Sara leading the crowd as she plays the tune on her keys, the rest of the band following suit.

Your laugh bounced off the walls as you stood there in complete awe. It was a beautiful sight to see, the crowd all singing in unison, lights up in the air as they pour all their heart to the simple yet special song. The song still filling you up with joy and warmth despite having heard it countless of times for the whole day, and the fact that all these people were there for you? It was definitely the icing on the cake.

"Thank you so much you lovely people, y'all are making me emotional. And they say the best way to spend your birthdays is with the people you love and the ones who love you, and they were absolutely right. I'm so blessed to have you guys tonight, because I do love you all very much." You stated fondly the moment they finished with a loud cheer, a hand placed right atop your heart as you feel it grow ten times its size.

"Y/N, we've got another something for you." Sara spoke before you could even get another word out, hand gesturing towards the large screen right behind you.

"Oh god, is this mission make Y/N ugly cry today?" You laughed, turning around just in time too see the tour artwork turning pitch black to then be replaced by a huge countdown.

5... 4... 3... 2... 1...

The crowd roared in delight as Mr. Niall Horan joined with Lewis Capaldi appeared on screen, large pints of Guinness on hand with their arms around each other as they give you their birthday greeting.

"Happy birthday Y/N! But since we're halfway across the world, we'll be there with you in spirit. Also, Lewis and I decided to celebrate anyway so cheers to you and have an amazing day." Niall chuckled as he lifted his beer up. "I'll make sure to have a good drink for you Y/N! We miss ya and we love ya!" Lewis added with a cheeky grin, and you couldn't help but shake your head at the two with a big smile of your own.

You've worked with them both on a few songs, and both were the funniest yet sweetest gentlemen you've met in the industry, especially when you put the two together.

Both of them emptied their glasses as they bid their goodbyes, Niall's loud laugh echoing throughout the arena when Lewis spilled before they disappeared on screen.

The crowd went even louder once Shawn Mendes' pretty face appeared on it next, sporting his usual bright smile as he gave you his short but sweet greeting. "Happy birthday Y/N! Wishing you all the best in life since you deserve all of it! Can't wait to work with you again soon! Have fun on your birthday honey!"

You shook your head in disbelief. An amused smile was plastered on your face, still unable to fathom that a few years ago you were a huge fan of him. And now you can say you've worked with him, even call him a friend. Funny, how the universe works.

Alessia Cara came up next with a smile, wide and bright, you're heart melting to see one of your greatest and closest friends. She's just a pure and kindhearted soul, a rare beauty. "Hey there you lovely and amazing woman! Happy birthday! I miss hanging out with you a lot but I shall see you soon! Keep conquering the world Y/N! I am so proud of how far you've come and you deserve every bit of success that comes your way. Again happy birthday! Have an amazing one and I love you!" She blew you a sweet kiss and waved you goodbye, tears already brimming in your eyes at all the love and appreciation thrown your way.

Next were Zendaya and Jacob Batalon, who you've grown close with through no other person than Tom. Both were clearly on set sitting on directors' chair in their characters' outfits. Both looked a little tired but they still greeted you with wide smiles nonetheless.

"Happy birthday Y/N!" They screamed in unison. "We wished we could be there with you to celebrate your birthday but you already know how these things go." Z pouted, Jacob copying her as well and you couldn't help but giggle. "But soon when we get a break we will catch up and celebrate your birthday." Jacob added with a knowing grin. "Anyway! Duty calls so enjoy your birthday and have great one! We love you!"

Then friends and family came up on screen, ones who you've missed most having been away from them for so long and that's when you felt your heart ache a little. Happy tears were brimming in your eyes as each of them shared their lovely messages, saying how proud they are for how far you've come. And when those words come from the people who you truly care about, it means the absolute world.

The next person to share their video message didn't help with the tears either, a hushed sob escaping your lips the moment you saw his familiar face.

The crowd behind you screamed at the top of their lungs the moment Thomas Stanley Holland appeared on screen, handsome face sporting that sweet and charming smile as he sat in his trailer wearing his Spider-Man suit.

"Hello darling. My love, I'm so gutted that I'm not there so celebrate your birthday with you. If I could teleport myself by your side right now, I would in a heartbeat, but anyway, happy birthday sweetheart!" Tom exclaimed joyfully, grin all beaming and you couldn't help but miss him even more.

"Oh, where do I start? Well, I can start by saying how proud I am of you, so so proud of the gorgeous, powerful, strong and successful woman that you've grown to become. You've worked so hard to get where you are today and it fills me with so much happiness knowing that you're out there traveling the world and doing what you love the most." The crowd cooed at Tom's sweet words, your heart was already melting at the seams as more tears threaten to spill, and he wasn't even done yet.

"You deserve the whole world if not more with how kindhearted and compassionate you are. And gosh you make me feel so happy and loved. I feel so lucky to have someone like you in my life, I can't even begin to describe to you exactly how much, and if I tried? Then we'd be here for hours on end. And lastly—because I'm being called to set right now, if I wasn't I'd be talking about how amazing you are some more—I am truly, madly and deeply in love with you Y/N. You are my world and I hope I make you feel loved every single day, because you truly deserved to be."

"Tom they're waiting for you."

"Yeah, just one more minute." Tom calls out to someone off shot before his eyes landed back on the camera, staring straight at you through the screen with a guilty smile. Guilty because it pains him that he's not there with you. "I love you dearly, and I miss you so much. I'll make it up to you I promise. Once again, happy birthday to my beautiful girl and I shall see you soo—"

All of a sudden the screen went static, Tom's words being cut off as you heard nothing but white noise. Then everything just went black, the whole arena dark as the night as gasps of surprise and screams of panic echoed throughout its walls.

Tell everyone to stay calm Y/N, we're fixing things up.

Your sound guy spoke in your in-ear. You nodded despite the fact that they probably can't see you due to the darkness. Turning back around to the audience, you spoke into the mic. "I'm sorry guys, just technical difficulties. Just stay in your seats in be calm, the lights should be back on in a minute."

And as if on cue, the crowd screamed as the power turned back on. However, after a few seconds, they turned unusually rowdy, too rowdy for it to be only that reason. Slowly you got the feeling it wasn't only because of that, judging by the volume and power of their cheer, and by a few fans pointing at the stage as if they're seeing something you aren't.

For a split second, you met eyes with Molly who was right by the side of the stage. She had that all-knowing grin on her face as she pointed towards something behind you.

Confused, you turned around, jumping in sheer shock when you were met by a hanging, upside-down person dressed in a red and black Lycra suit, face all covered with a mask making the identity of the person pretty much unknown.

Your heart beat quickened as you stumbled back on your feet at the sight of the person, your brain registering it back to a specific boy—one who you saw on screen minutes ago wearing the exact same outfit—even if there was no confirmation as their face wasn't even shown. Your whole body was trembling from surprise, excitement but also worry that it might not be who you think it is under that mask.

Emotions were all over the place as you stared right at upside-down, masked-face of Spider-Man who held a birthday cupcake in hand.

"No, no, stop, please, is this a prank?" You croaked out, shaking your head as tears started to escape your eyes, question a must because you're having a really hard time believing what you're seeing.

It's been a long day, you just really wanted to make sure that what's happening is real and not just a figment of your imagination. You had to make sure that it wasn't the desperation of you missing your boyfriend painting pictures in your head. Not only that, but to really be sure that it's actually him under that mask.

"Guys! Don't even play! Please don't get my hopes up. That's a stunt double right?" You asked into the mic as you looked at your band and the rest of the crew for answers, who gave you nothing but wide smiles. You just feel like it would be too good to be true, and you really don't want to face disappointment if it wasn't him.

On the other hand, out of all the things they could have done to prank you, why would they choose this? It's a bit cruel to prank someone on their birthday now doesn't it? Especially when it involves playing with their emotions?

Unless, it's not a prank at all and you're getting way too ahead of yourself.

Mr. Spider-Man beckons you over, finger pointing at your hand to which you held the mic. With tears already clouding your vision, you moved closer slowly.

Reaching a close enough proximity, you had one hand over your mouth to silence your whimpers as the other lifted the microphone up to where Spider-Man's mouth is supposed to be. And the moment he spoke, you've lost any sense of control over your emotions or your sanity, his voice just too familiar for it to be someone else's.

"Why don't you take off the mask and find out yourself darling?"

You shook your head at the upside down boy as joyful tears streamed down your face, shaking hands lifting up to hook your fingers on the edge of the mask, pulling it down and removing it fully to reveal the face of the man you love.

"You sneaky bastard." You laughed tearfully, Tom only grinning at you all proud, his face now turning redder as the seconds pass by, being upside-down and all.

"Happy birthday sweetheart." He chuckled, offering you the cupcake, which you took gladly, balancing it with the mic on your hand. You were unable to form any more words as you stared at Tom, still unable to believe that it's actually him, and that he's here, in the flesh.

The crowd started to chant the word "kiss" over and over, making you throw your head back in pure laughter.

"We should do the kiss." Tom wriggled his eyes brows at you, mischievous smirk in play and you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling at your boy. But still, you gave in anyway as you cupped his face softly, your heart skipping a beat at the feeling of his warm skin against your palm.

You brushed the tip of your nose with his with a hum, moving closer until there was no space between you two as you captured his lips in yours, all while trying to manage the whole upside-down situation.

Tom sighed in pure satisfaction to finally feel your lips on his after months of being deprived from it, your touch making him feel like he's floating, which says a lot given the fact that he was already hanging mid-air all while being upside-down.

The kiss didn't last long though, too many prying for you two to cherish the moment. The crowd, on the other hand, cheered in amusement at the extremely cliché but sweet gesture, you and Tom giggling between the kiss at the loud support.

"Okay, I'm actually getting dizzy now." Tom laughed once you pulled away, hand gesturing for you to move just a little bit farther, and when you did, he flipped himself right-side-up with ease. A few guys then rushed on stage to help him with the wires, and once they were off, Tom turned to you with a sweet smile, face coated with wholesome contentment to finally see you in person again.

"You're actually here." You whimpered, fresh tears wetting your cheeks some more once he stood right in front of you.

"Aww darling, come here." Tom cooed with a soft chuckle, arms wrapping around your frame as he held you close to his chest, pressing a sweet kiss on top of your head. You couldn't contain your sobs as you buried your face on the crook of his neck, the smell of his perfume filling you up quickly and it only made your grip around him tighten.

You just miss him so damn much, and to actually have him here on your birthday, to be holding him so close after months, it was making every fiber of your being emotional.

"I haven't missed your birthday, not a single one, ever. Why would I start now?" He whispered against your hair, swaying you from side to side in a comforting manner, a soft sigh coming out of you as you felt your heart grow with even more love for this man.

"I still haven't decided if I hate you or love you for doing this." You giggled with tiny sniffles, pulling away to get a proper look at his handsome face, the face that you'll always be glad to see. Hate because he almost gave you a heart attack and for making you worry about him for being gone for a day, and love because, well, he's here now isn't he?

Tom only shot you a wink. "I'll tell you all about it later." He says, hand reaching down to take the microphone from you.

"Hey everyone, I'm Spider-Man." The crowd roared at that, Tom laughing in pure glee, all proud of his choice of words as he slings his arm over your shoulder and pulled you to his side. "I just want to thank you guys for supporting this amazing woman right here. I've been watching the show from the very start and you guys have been incredible."

Tom turned to look at you lovingly, smile coated with delight and adoration, voice layered with nothing but certainty. "I love this woman a lot, so thank you for making her dreams come true and for making her happy."

With just that, you were able to conjure even more tears as you looked at Tom all adoringly with a small pout. The boy stared at you with just as much love, cooing at your reaction as he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

How have you managed to get so lucky?

"Right, I'm done crashing your show so take it away my love." Tom finished as he handed the microphone back to you. Giving you one last warm squeeze and a peck on the lips to match, Tom was then waving goodbye to the audience and disappearing side-stage to watch the rest of the show.

Taking in deep long breaths, you turned to the audience with a laugh. "Okay, wow. Mission Ugly Cry is a success then. I haven't see him in months okay I couldn't help the tears."

"I wasn't expecting that at all as you can probably tell by my reaction. How am I supposed to top that now?" You rubbed your temple in feign worry, the audience cheering you in mere support.

You were still sniffling from all the crying along with your throat being little dry. And you were thankful for waterproof mascara otherwise you would've looked even more horrifying.

"God I'm such a mess, can I have some tissues please?" You asked, looking around the crew for help as you attempted to wipe off the tears with your fingers.

Instead of the staff, Tom ran back out with a box of tissues and a bottle of water in hand, making you shake your head in utter hilarity at how corny he is. You couldn't hold back your laughter when he handed you the box of tissues, pulled a couple pieces and held his fingers under your chin as he wiped your tears for you, all gingerly as if he was retouching your make up. After that, he opened up the water bottle to help you drink, then fixed your hair up jokingly and squeezed your nose playfully right after.

Once he was done with, he gave you a chaste kiss on the cheek, waving one last time at the crowd before returning back to side-stage.

"My new assistant everyone." You joked, keeping your eyes on your boyfriend with a grin you can't seem to wipe off. Tom mirrored your expression as he gave you two thumbs up in support for the last song, and with that you turned back to the crowd with a deep, satisfied sigh.

"Right, let's go out on a high note."

* * *

"Absolutely killed it." Tom praised, engulfing you in a warm embrace the moment you got off stage, a soft thank you coming out of you as you squeezed him back.

On your way back to your dressing room, You kept each other close, his arm slung over your shoulder with yours around his waist as you walked through the hallway.

"I'm not leaving your side by the way. I missed you too damn much and I'm not going to waste any second by being a little far from you." Tom shot you his best puppy dog eyes combined with a cute pout, a sweet giggle escaping your lips that made Tom's heart melt ten times over. "Well, I'm not complaining."

It wasn't that long of a walk from the stage to your dressing room but you had time to kill, so you turned to look at your man with a curios glint in your eyes.

"Tell me how you've managed to pull off this extremely over-the-top surprise? I mean, you could've just showed up in my dressing room and I would've cried just as much." You pointed out. Not that you didn't like what he did, you loved what just happened, every second of it, but you cannot deny that what he did was as extra and cliché as one can be.

Tom shrugged with a chuckle, "I know. But I wanted it to be special, you deserve nothing but. And you've got to admit, dangling upside-down in the middle of the stage during your show, all while dressed as Spider-Man is pretty impressive. Plus, we did the kiss. I'd say it's an amazing birthday surprise."

"It is amazing. I just happen to forget how extra you are sometimes." You teased. "I am, but you love me for it." Tom retorted back with a smirk, causing you to roll your eyes with soft laugh.

"Yeah, I do. Thank you so much bub, you always make my birthdays memorable." You sighed, wrapping both your arms around him with a smile full of gratitude. Tom planted another kiss on your forehead, a bright smile on his lips to match yours as he hummed. "Anything for my angel."

"Now, details Holland."

"Right, managed to pull some strings a a week ago and was able to ask few days off, so the whole conflicting schedule wasn't entirely a lie but it wasn't as serious as I made it out to be. Flew out last night right after the shoot. I couldn't handle just lying to you which is why I didn't respond to any of your messages in case I slip up. I'm sorry about that love."

"And then out of nowhere I thought how awesome it would be to pop up as Spider-Man in the middle of your show and do the famous kiss, so I asked Marvel a favor and thank goodness they let me borrow the suit. Called Molly to tell her about my plan, she helped quite a lot. Arrived here earlier this morning, did a test run with the wires and all that while you were still back at the hotel. Changed into the suit to then wait for the time. Oh! And if you actually looked up from your phone earlier down the hall on your way to your get-together, the whole surprise would've been ruined."

You gasped as you smacked his chest lightly. "That was you! I knew something was up." You felt really played, knowing you could've seen him if you did as much as peek up from your phone. But then again, it would've ruined the whole thing, and you really don't want to change anything that has happened today, so you're glad you didn't.

Tom could only laugh at your reaction, giving your pout a sweet peck before continuing. "The video messages were planned a long, long time ago but we made a few edits at the end of my bit to make it dramatic and here we are now."

And just as he said those last words, both of you now stood in front of the door of your dressing room. If there's one thing you always tend to be surprised about Tom, it's his impeccable timing.

"You are something else Thomas." You gushed, referring to today's escapade and just in general. You really are so lucky to have someone like him in your life, so thoughtful, caring, kind and just all around amazing.

You don't really know what came over you but the moment he opened the door to your dressing room and are your way inside, just knowing that you two were finally alone, you grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him down, crashing your lips on his as you pushed him back against the door, closing it shut in the process.

Tom chuckled lowly at the sudden change in mood, hands taking home on your waist as he relished the taste of your lips, one he's missed so bad.

The thick fabric of his suit was starting to irritate him for he just wants to feel your skin on his fingertips, especially after so long of not having to touch you. It got on Tom's nerves even more when he felt it grow even tighter than it already is.

And when you started to nibble on his bottom lip as your hands inched down his body slowly, Tom groaned, pushing you away gently, just for a little room to breathe. "Darling, it's very uncomfortable, borderline painful when I get hard in this suit, you know that." He grumbled, brown eyes a shade darker as his grip on your waist tightened.

You giggled, recalling all the times you've teased him whenever you came to visit him on set. "Hmm, let's get you out of it and go back to the hotel then."

Tom's bottom lip got caught between his teeth at your suggestion, your insides churning as he looked at you lustfully, a deep rumble erupting from his chest when he said,

"We definitely should. After all, this isn't the only surprise I have in store for you sweetheart."

-:-:-:-:-

Like & Reblog if you enjoyed and let me know what you think! <3

[spooky-activity]

Just a little update on Cassandratopia 2: Electric Boogaloo (Or as it stands in my Google Docs folder rn, A Helping Hand). I’ll put it under the cut cuz it’s kinda long. 

I just wanted to say that I’m still planning on actually doing it, despite all evidence to the contrary lol 

I did Cassandratopia in a haze of graduating from college(where I was studying animation) and just having ended my first dnd campaign as a dungeon master (which went 3 years!). I was fishing around for internships, but since the pandemic had just kicked off I wasn’t having much luck. So I had a lot of creative energy that wasn’t getting channeled anywhere, and a lot of free time when I wasn’t applying to places. Which is how I did 4 pages a day several times per week. Which was insane. 

As it stands, I’m running 2 dnd campaigns(one meets weekly, the other every other week or so), and just scored a full-time internship at a video game company! The campaigns I’m running are a homebrew open world, which, for those of you who aren’t too familiar with dnd, is a metric fuckton of work to prep for each session because I have no idea what my insane friends and siblings are going to try and do every time we play. 

Anyways all this to say that my storytelling itch is kinda. Sufficiently getting scratched atm and I have a lot less free time. I’m still plucking away at the setting/refining the story of A Helping Hand, but it’s largely on the backburner. Cassandratopia was also, uh, like the first story I’ve ever told in any sort of format besides the give-and-take of dnd, so... I’m not used to having so much control over the narrative. Oddly. I’ve never thought of myself as much of a writer of stories; my main focus is character animation, so someone else is usually writing the stories I’m telling anyways, which is super cool with me. Honestly I’m surprising myself with how much I want to tell this story, which is why I’m still sure I’m doing it. Just. Slower. Than Cassandratopia got done. 

But I’ll share a bit of the lore I’ve been cooking up! Specifically about Zhan Tiri and The Drops. The story will be told in an extremely dnd type setting, because that’s the kind of narrative I’ve told before and am comfortable telling: hard magic rules, neat fights, scary monsters, a dash of eldritch horror, and huge emphasis being put on magical artifacts(kinda like in the show!). Here’s some stuff that’s basically locked-in. 

Zhan Tiri

Zhan Tiri is one of the many Demon Lords of the Abyss. She’s kind of a mashup of two of my favorite Demon Lords, Zuggtmoy, the Lady of Rot and Decay, and Pale Night, the Mother of Demons and Queen of the Night(with just a dash of Hannibal Lecter because who doesn’t like helpful, polite, manipulative-ass bitches lksjflkja;fj). Her domain sits almost exactly between the Sundrop and Moonstone, largely being the new growth that comes from death, and the endless cycle of life and death. Places where her influence is strongest includes the cracks in... Well anywhere really, from society to the planet’s shell, where metaphorical or physical rot could grow; musty, mostly ignored places where something could fester. Iconography related to her would include endless mazes, fungi, grasping skeletal hands, and rotting/blooming corpses. Her spores can animate corpses, which she likes to use as mindless minions when she doesn’t feel like sending one of her Acolytes. She shares a scrap of her power with those few mortals she likes. She appreciates ambition and the desire to Grow to be bigger than what you were to start with, as those are qualities she herself possesses. 

Incredibly intelligent and merciless to those she deems her enemies, her main thing is pulling the strings from the shadows and seeing just how far she can push people to act with as little prompting from her as possible. She does, however, have the power to kinda bulldoze her way through things if she needs to, but she doesn’t like to because where’s the fun in that? 

She first gained interest in the Material Plane when a Wizard with too much hubris from said Material Plane(Named Demanitus) contacted her trying to figure out more information about The Drops and how to control them. After indulging him for a bit, she started preparing to make a summer home on the Material Plane because it’s New and Fun here and Wow These Mortals are Really Fun to Mess With! And some of them she even genuinely liked! Demanitus then realized his mistake and locked her away in Pandemonium for what he hoped was forever, but turned out to be only around 1,000 years, due to the efforts of her followers. Her little stint in Pandemonium magnified the more... Chaotic aspects of her personality, so now she wants to cover the Material Plane in blooming mazes of fungal crops that she can break people with at her leisure. 

The Drops

The drops are two semi-sentient pieces of one original artifact, whose original purpose was to be a tool of creation for the gods. Which, through some great calamity(still deciding that one), got sundered and settled into the two basic aspects of creation: the nearly unlimited well of life-energy which organizes stardust into planets, cabbages, and kings, and the “you gotta crack a few eggs to get an omlette” destructive force which breaks down what the sundrop makes so that it can make more. 

The main goal of the drops is to reunite. I would want to as well if I was ripped in half! This manifests as a... General tug in the direction of the other drop. A desire in the host to Go That Way. It can be resisted, and even ignored for a bit, but it’s always there. Like being hungry if starving wasn’t a danger. Just a bit uncomfortable if you aren’t going That Way, but ignorable. 

Both drops generally try to be as helpful to their wielder as possible, as originally they were a tool of creation to the gods. They are innately obliging. They’re also REALLY UNSAFE FOR MORTALS TO BE MESSING WITH. The Sundrop is a little safer because the most it can do is kinda. Overcharge you into something distinctly not human but still alive, and King Fredrick was lucky he made the Sundrop into soup before giving it to Arianna. But King Edmund got his wholeass arm blasted off for touching the Moonstone. 

The Sundrop

Best I could whittle it down, the Sundrop has power over life energy, like the sun’s light. It also has power over the energy derived from geothermal activities, so deep sea creatures Are Not Immune To The Sundrop, which was a funny thought that crossed my mind that they could be, but that will likely never come up anyways salkdjf;ljsf It is, in its basest form, Growth and Progress. 

It’s a little sentient, but very much entrenches itself into whoever is holding it at the time. Like another mind looking through your eyes and seeing what you see/feeling what you feel while still retaining a bit of individuality from the host. It’s not... Parasitic because it’s in its nature to give, but it’s generally pretty firmly attached to whoever is holding it until they die( which isn’t usually for a WHILE. It ’infects’ a new host when one dies, usually a plant near their grave...) or until a solar eclipse. It wants what they want, but it’s very fussy so they have to ask it for power exactly correctly(like singing an incantation every time you want to heal someone, or doing a Ritual involving lots of very specific ingredients, Celestial Alignments, and Secret Words) or it won’t listen, like an orchid dying if the ph balance is off in the soil by a little bit. But it’s generally pretty intuitive to use, because it wants what you want and (as long as you ask right) is willing to help. 

Anyways basically under the influence of the Sundrop you get a few things: 

Basically limitless energy coursing through your body while you’re in a place with sunlight, which equates to rapid healing, mostly, because every cell in your body is being supercharged with free energy. Never getting exhausted in direct sunlight. (If Rapunzel lived in a place that was sunny 24/7 like near one of the poles she wouldn’t have to sleep like. until it started to get dark in the opposite half of the year. Then she’d have to sleep like a regular human being)

You stay at your prime, or if you are past it, revert to your prime. Someone who is holding the Sundrop, or who has regular access to the Sundrop’s magic can’t die of old age or illness. They have to be hurt beyond the Sundrop’s ability to heal or have it taken away from them. 

The ability to share this rapid healing with others (if you ask right)

The ability to freely draw on the raw, near-limitless energy of the sun to shape into things like cool-looking energy blasts (only if you ask right) 

The Moonstone

The moonstone has powers over varying levels of destruction: from destroying things by ripping them apart/ to Not Letting Things Be Destroyed(also known as protecting) by freezing them in indestructible rock. Like the moon, it can ‘reflect’ a bit of the sundrop’s power, so it can kinda provide energy, albeit a lot less than the sundrop can provide. It’s the inevitable march of The End of All Things, fertilizing the fields of time with the ashes of the old so the new can take root. 

The Moonstone is a bit more in the dark(pun intended hehe) when it comes to bonding with someone, it can only try to figure out what is going on based off the emotions of its wielder, and through anything directly touching the Black Rocks. Because of this it’s... Kinda dumb? It tries to do things to help(Like shooting red fear-rocks to try and scare away whatever must be scaring its wielder so badly) but often fails spectacularly at helping. 

Under the influence of the Moonstone you get: 

Mortals get Neat Body Armor that’s actually just you being turned into a rock! They are very fragile! They need to be protected! The best the Moonstone can do to try and preserve you is to Stop All Destruction by.. Pausing all bodily functions indefinitely. Rocks don’t need to eat, sleep, or breathe, and almost nothing can destroy you if you’re solid Black Rock. The weak reflection of the Sundrop’s energy keeps the host animated, but they’re not exactly alive anymore. Like cryostasis. Wounds (if any) acquired in this state won’t be a problem because they’re not messing anything up, because nothing is technically working in the first place, but they will be a problem when you’re not protected in this way anymore. It’s a cosmic ‘I’ll deal with that later’ button, essentially. 

Like the moon, the Moonstone can reflect the light of the sun. It uses its rock crystals to do so, which can even split the sun’s power into different shades, like a prism. Essentially, different colored rocks can mean new and exciting power sets. 

Blue Lightning! The Moonstone can reflect the Sundrop’s power, so it also has access to pure bursts of energy, even if it is weaker and colder. 

The Moonstone is very helpful, but usually has no idea what you want. ‘Asking’ the Moonstone for more control over its power in the same way you would Ask the Sundrop for more power reminds it of the perfect bond it used to share. The Moonstone’s incantation deepens the bond between wielder and Moonstone in such a way that it actually knows what you want from it, giving you near perfect control of its powers.

*This is kind of just a side note of the Drops: While the Moonstone is weaker than the Sundrop in an head-on fight, it could hold its own if it were on the defensive. Redirecting the power instead of trying to overpower and such.

** Cass made of rocks means I get to draw her skeleton :) not in every picture that would be fucking nuts and way too much work alskjdf;lkjs;fv