#it's a miracle this case turned out decent

[koipepo]

Made a Woodkid phone case 🪵🍃 the silicone case has yellowed but i think it gives a neat old photography effect B⁠-⁠)

[thefanficmonster]

Beautiful Things

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader (Female)

Warnings: SPOILERS for Bridgerton S3 part 1, Minor Period-typical sexism

Genre: Romance, Rivals to Lovers, Fluff

Summary: They're both brilliant, and brilliantly stubborn. What a pair they'd make.

Benedict tends to thread through life without as much as a worried crease on his features. There are very few matters he doesn't take to lightheartedly. That being said, it came as quite the surprise the sharp current of uncertainty that ran down his spine when he found himself standing in front of the monstrosity of a building that is the Royal Academy of Arts on his first day in attendance.

It took him and his charm less than a week to woo and work his way through the crowd of ambitious up-and-coming artists. He's always been an easy person to converse and unwind with. That aura around him naturally draws people to him like a magnet. It is a miracle the man hasn't been hunted down by a debutant already.

Not for a lack of trying, of course. The young ladies of the ton, especially the ones who have been freshy introduced into society have had their sights set on him since he himself made his way into the rhythm of the ton.

Nothing's ever fulfilled him, though.

Being the child of a marriage filled with love that has extended long past the death of his late father, he holds love to a high standard. A standard no one has even come close to reaching.

Watching his siblings find that very sort of love his parents had is a bittersweet sight to observe. It leaves him filled with joy on the behalf of his beloved siblings and it gives him a sense of hope that eventually he too might find what they managed to obtain - not without obstacles, though.

On the other edge of the sword, however, is the never ceasing worry that the problem might be his. That his lack of seriousness bordering into blatant avoidance of the ladies of the ton is to blame for his unmarried status. Perhaps it may be his overly romanticized view of love which he'd like to believe isn't the case. He's seen love of that caliber blossom time and time again in his own home. There's no reason to believe that his turn won't eventually come.

That his standard won't eventually be reached.

Speaking of standards on a lighter note, this painting he's currently standing in front of is disappointing even his lowest requirements for a decent painting.

It is absolutely atrocious, he voices his distaste only briefly and only mentally, never one to voice such critique unless it is cushioned by a smile and a quick-to-follow lighthearted remark.

"It is absolutely atrocious." There is a sharp edge to the voice that does opt to voice the very same thought out loud with far less regard for the negative attention it might garner.

Turning his head to the side, Benedict can't help the smile that immediately tugs at the corners of his mouth.

There, a mere meter from him, stands the ever so cutthroat, no-nonsense, ambitious beast of a woman that is Miss Y/N L/N. A smile rarely grazes her features, her eyes are always icy with an emotion bordering into boredom and a stature that screams authority.

And bloody hell does Benedict enjoy himself in her company.

She is the only student in The Academy he hasn't yet swayed, nor does he believe that he ever will. There are too many walls around her for him to even attempt to start breaking them down. He believes he'll sooner die of old age than succeed in reaching whatever human emotions she might exhibit around people she doesn't dislike.

When it comes to expressing distaste, however, she's not at all hesitant to share it.

"Oh, show the piece some mercy, Miss L/N. It deserves the grace of at least a spec of your kindness." Apart from perfecting his art, one of Benedict's favorite hobbies these past seven months would most certainly be pulling on Y/N's strings. Although it hasn't helped him form anything close to a friendship with her, it has aided him on the mission to get to know her better despite her being a sealed envelope of a person.

"I unfortunately do not possess plenty of it, therefore I can not be generous with it." She barely spares him a look as she speaks. That has been the case for half a year with no progress.

Still, he's willing to weld at the wax until he can pluck and read the letter inside. It is, after all, the bare minimum. He'd at the very least like to make her time at The Academy slightly more enjoyable. Being the only woman in the arts department, she's been rather ostracized which is typically the best case scenario. On the far worse end of the spectrum are the manner-less and, quite frankly, brainless 'gentlemen' who vary from not being able to keep it in their trousers to putting down her and her art which far surpasses their own.

If only they had that aforementioned missing brain intact, they'd see they're not even a quarter of the artist Y/N is.

That is one of the few things Benedict does not shy away from proclaiming with his whole chest. Although well aware that Miss L/N can handle herself gracefully and sharply as always, he never misses an opportunity to put the filthy men in The Academy in their place.

"I believe you possess far more kindness than you let on. Though, I understand completely why you'd rather not show it. None of these lovely gentlemen are deserving of it." The inflection of his tone on those two specific words wins him a scoff from her tightly pressed together lips.

A small win. Baby steps.

"I hope you are factoring yourself in when you use general terms of such sort. I have no evidence you are any better than them." She says, subtly motioning to the crowd of self-titled art experts around the venue where their final works have been displayed for renowned artists to come and rate in precisely half an hour.

Benedict had recognized her painting the second he stepped foot in the ballroom like gallery of The Academy. Needless to say, it put the rest to shame. Even his own, he has no problem admitting that. The emotions relayed in the painting, each brushstroke, every color, every line - they pulled him in the second he laid eyes on it.

And no, he most certainly is not biased. He's a very objective man when it comes to art. It might be considered a conflict of interest, though, because to him she is art.

"Believe me, my lady, I would hate nothing more than to boast myself but I still do believe I stand out from this pleasant crowd. For, as I was told, mine was the only painting you gave a stellar review for."

Professor Hedingale, although a man in his late fifties with a rather intimidating exterior and a permanent frown etched into his forehead, is a major gossip. He has taken a great favor to Benedict for his warm nature and shared love of observing drama as it unfolds. That being said, it took him a total of three seconds before he informed his student of Miss L/N's surprising review. She had not given the other paintings as much as a second glance, opting to say nothing rather than tarnish them the way they honestly deserved.

Had he not been paying such close attention to each line of her face, he could've missed it. Luckily for him, he did not. That brief fleeting moment of surprise widening Y/N's did not manage to go by unnoticed.

"I have a very high standard for beauty and would never stoop so low as to give a biased and unjust review. If I find something abhorrent, I say so. If I find something beautiful, I'd never not compliment it the way it deserves." Benedict almost flinches when she turns to face him, establishing intense and quite entrancing eye contact. "I am not mean, Bridgerton. I am simply honest."

Words burn dry on his tongue, his breath dissipating in his lungs. Had she still not been facing him, he could have come up with a timely response. But something about her gaze being so focused on him has turned his brain to a pile of pebbles. Not a single thought is passing through his head other than a fact he's long established. In fact, he came to learn it the very first at The Academy. Every day since it has only been confirmed time and time again.

She's absolutely enamoring.

The moment dissolves with the loud bang of the grand doors to the gallery being pulled open, allowing in the crowd of world renowned artists that now hold the students' futures in their gloved hands.

Benedict is not surprised by the fact that all these critical artists are men. He's grateful no artist's name has been listed by the displayed paintings, otherwise Y/N would have no chance at winning their favor. Not objectively anyway. At least one would have undermined her because, although talented artists, that doesn't exclude them from being close-minded fools. And at least one would try to butter her up for a potential courtship.

Yeah, that's not happening

Upon getting a better look, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by a head of long blonde hair, undoubtedly belonging to a woman. A woman whose work he's become very familiar with knowing Y/N is quite an admirer of hers.

"Eleanor Easton." The name comes out almost breathlessly, barely getting past Y/N's lips.

Turning his attention back to her, he's rather shocked to see what the nerves have done to her. She's shaking like a leaf, all the confidence she typically exhibits has drained from her body into a puddle on the tiled floor.

"You should go talk to her, express your admiration for her work." It is more an attempt at vexing her than a suggestion but it's in no way bad advice. Even though Lady Eleanor doesn't look like she'd take kindly to the gesture, it would be a noble attempt.

"Are you mad?!" Y/N whisper-yells, her eyes wide in panic as she spreads open the hand-held fan she's carrying to provide a soft breeze to her extremely heated face. "I could never possibly do such a thing!"

"Why could you not? It w....oh, she's looking right at us....." Benedict has barely finished his sentence before he feels a gust of wind rush past him in a blur of sparkling fabric, lace and silk.

For a solid second or two, he's torn on what to do. Although his initial intention was to vex her, he's now worried she might actually be dissolving in a nervous frenzy and he can't let her tarnish months of work because of some jitters. He too would be a wreck of similar caliber if any of the artists he idolizes were to show up and he too would prefer someone snap him out of it.

So, he follows her out the wooden doors that lead to a maze of intertwined halls, the walls of which are immaculately hand painted. For a moment, he panics, worried he won't be able to find her on time in the chaos of intertwining hallways and painting rooms. But then, he remembers that he indeed knows her better than he thought.

He finds her exactly where he thought he would - standing in front of the wall painting he often finds her looking at in awe. She's never explicitly stated so, but he knows it's her favorite.

To say Y/N is not happy when she spots him would be an understatement, "Oh. for heaven's sake, can I not get a moment without you pestering me?"

He takes her words with an eye roll, "No. I am bringing you back in that gallery. You are going to stand tall and remain collected when they announce your painting to be the equivalent of the Diamond of the season. Do you understand?" He surprises himself with the tone of seriousness his voice has taken on.

See? He can be serious when he wants to be.

She lets out a frustrated sigh, vigorously waving the red fan in her hand in a pointless attempt to collect herself, "Bridgerton..." She closes her eyes for a second as to not spit everything she'd very much like to say. Still, she is a lady, though. "I am asking you to leave my sight in the next five seconds, for you are getting on my nerves."

With two long strides, Benedict minimizes the distance between them, passing the social boundary for respectful space and bordering onto a scandal if someone were to see them. He doesn't care, though. Most romances he's witnessed, if not all, began with a scandal.

Now it's his turn.

"Oh, is that so? Am I getting on your nerves, Y/N?"

"You're getting on my nerves, Benedict-" Her words come to a sharp end when he swipes the fan from her hand, halting the consistent motion. That seems to have been her last straw of composure, seeing as how the hand that formerly held said fan is now clenched in a tight fist and her eyes are squeezing shut. "You pesky, vex...-"

How rude of Benedict to interrupt the lady yet again, is it not? This time he does so by busying her lips with his own. He braced himself for a potential slap on the cheek before even leaning in but the impact never comes.

What he did not prepare himself for was her rather welcoming response, allowing herself to momentarily forget everything else and melt into the rhythm of the kiss. Melt into him. Her arms instinctively wrap around his neck while his hold her waist, fearful of her dissipating like a dream before his eyes.

It pains him that he has to end a moment of such culmination. A moment that the seven months they've known each other inevitably led to. However, they can always pick up this conversation later. For now, Y/N has credits to earn and a painting to be prized.

So, against his instincts, he pulls away.

"This isn't over." He says, his lungs catching up on minutes worth of air they didn't properly receive, "But for now, we have other matters at hand." With a tilt of his head, he motions down the hall - a clear insinuation.

With a similarly disappointed expression and an even more disappointed sigh, Y/N brings herself to nod. She reaches out to retrieve the fan from him which gives him the opportunity to sneak one more quick kiss just as a door opens further down the hall, rudely tearing them apart from one another.

Smacking him lightly with her fan, Miss L/N can't suppress the laugh that Benedict's smug prideful expression provoked from her. She accepts the arm he's offered her and allows him to lead her back the way they came from.

"What you said about beauty and how it should never go uncomplimented..."

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to say you're ravishing."

Another laugh breaks the illusion of her icy demeanor, "Why, thank you, Mister Bridgerton. Your painting was quite easy on the eyes as well. Professor Hedingale did not lie. I must say I'm impressed."

"Although I will accept the compliment, I'll have you know there's plenty you are yet to see. This is nothing. Prepare yourself to be truly impressed."

Giving his arm a subtle squeeze, she flashes him one last smile before they enter the gallery once more, "Doubtful."

That's the thing about rivalry, dear reader, it brings out the good, the bad and the beautiful.

The rest is best kept behind a close door, if you know what this author is alluding to.

[just-a-creep-babe]

Caught (NSFW)

(Creeps x Male! Reader)

Commissioned by @taboo-delusion tysm!! I really hope you enjoy 💖💞✨💖💓

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

BEN Drowned

When he first agrees to go for a snack run at the old abandoned gas station, he doesn’t expect it to be eventful

Despite being abandoned, the place is semi-regularly stocked by the proxies to use as a last-resort shelter and supply hoard in case anyone needs it

So it’s not like the building is used to seeing a lot of traffic, much less any kind of excitement

Which is why he never, ever in his undead life would have expected to walk in on what he does

Just barely half-concealed near the back of the store, BEN does a full-on double-take as he sees the newest member of the mansion naked, his legs spread and his cock hard and twitching as he pumps a gun in and out of his ass

It completely stuns BEN in place

He can't tear his eyes away from the shiny barrel rhythmically pounding in and out of the new guy's slick hole

With a low, whiny moan, he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back in sheer bliss, and it's like that's just enough to snap BEN out of it

He ducks behind a nearby shelf, the ghost of his heart pounding in his chest, and he prays he didn’t get noticed

When the faint moaning doesn’t subside, he realizes he’s probably in the clear

BEN counts down from ten to catch his breath, and then, with the adrenaline coursing through his system, he sneaks another peek

It’s filthy, perverted—a complete lack of respect and total breach of trust—but how could he not?

Acting on instinct, he whips out his phone, aims it at the pornographic scene unfolding just inches away from him, and hits record

Bloody Painter

It isn’t a particularly eventful night for Helen at first

Alone in the studio, inspiration just isn’t coming to him, and he finds himself zoning out in front of an empty canvas, hoping to get blessed with the miracle of motivation

When his phone buzzes, he initially doesn’t think much of it

It’s only when he opens it to a particularly interesting video that his lackluster night suddenly takes a turn

In a shoddy, poorly-lit building, the video cuts straight to the point with a guy squirming and whimpering, fully naked on the ground

He's fisting at his dick, whining under his breath, and at the same time, he's bouncing his ass against something dark and metallic

Squinting, Helen zooms in to confirm his suspicion; he’s fucking himself on a gun

If he wasn't so entranced by the sight, Helen might’ve wondered why the fuck this was sent to him

But his mind is suddenly blank, and the one thought he has left is who the fuck is that guy?

He racks his brain trying to think of anyone who might fit the description

And, suddenly, he realizes—that’s the new guy

The faintest hints of a smile ghost over the artist’s lips

He finishes watching the video, picks up a paintbrush, and brings it to the canvas

He gets the feeling that his next piece is going to be very inspired~

CandyPop

Candy generally doesn’t get too involved in whatever happens at the mansion

He gets along decently with some creeps, but he either doesn’t care about the others, or he’s grown to fully hate them over the years

Despite that, however, he adores meddling in other people's business

So when word starts spreading that the newest creep got caught and filmed jerking off with a gun, Candy just knows things are about to get exciting~

He asks around for a copy of the video, and right from the first watch, he's fascinated by the newest member

He can’t help but think what a good pet this creep would be to have around

Like, he seems kind of masochistic, a possible exhibitionist, and he likes receiving?

Sounds like way too much fun~

He watches the video an unhealthy amount of times, and although he isn’t welcomed at the mansion, he makes it a point to somehow meet this guy

The video gives Candy way too many ideas—which, for a demonic clown, is most certainly not a good thing

Unknowingly, it seems like the new guy's sexual habits are already garnering attention from some pretty dangerous entities

Whoopsies!

Clockwork

Clockwork regularly goes to that gas station

She likes the quiet solitude it offers, not to mention the weirdly cozy vibes and decent array of snack foods

So, naturally, when Toby suggests the snack run, Nat is one of the first to agree to join

She beelines it to her favorite spot in the building, the employee break room near the back, and as she approaches, she actually hears the new guy before seeing him

Is that… moaning?

Curiosity getting the better of her, she follows the sound

And right as she's about to stumble in on the big reveal, she's grabbed and yanked behind one of the nearby shelves

Instincts kicking in, she nearly punches BEN right in the face, but something stops her before she does

That look on his face

She pauses, notices the phone in his hand, and, combined with the sounds she's hearing, everything makes sense

Her face immediately flushes

Before she can stop herself, her eyes shift to the spot at the back corner, and, surely enough, she sees what’s happening

The new guy throws his head back, his body convulsing as he shudders and his cock twitches and throbs

He pumps the gun in and out faster, harder, like he’s approaching his climax

Before she can see anything more, before she violates his privacy any further, Nat spins on her heels and gets the hell out of there, too flustered to say or even do anything else

Dark Link

Like Candy, Dark doesn’t typically keep up with whatever the hell kind of nonsense happens at the mansion

So he only discovers the video when he's snooping through BEN’s files in an attempt to get the upper hand in their rivalry

As soon as he sees that video file, he knows he's in for a treat~

The guy, who he assumes must be a new member, isn’t too bad on the eyes to begin with

And when the video pans down to get a better view of just what he's using to jerk himself off, Dark needs to know more about him

He rummages through a few more files to find out more information on him, just for the fun of it

He honestly doesn't expect to do anything with the intel, but the deeper he looks into it, the more he wants to meet him

The more he wants to torment him

Technically, however, being on neutral terms with Slender means that he isn't allowed to do such things to members of the safehouse

So Dark realizes that he, unfortunately, will just have to wait for him to step out of the mansion's boundaries before trying anything a bit more... risky

If they do end up meeting, he plans on using the... intimate knowledge he has of him to embarrass him

And if they don’t meet anytime soon, he’ll simply have to content himself with replaying that video over and over and over again~

Eyeless Jack

Being more of an introvert, Jack doesn’t join the outing at the abandoned station

But as soon as everyone comes back, he can tell something is a bit… off

After cautiously asking around to find out what happened, he finally gets BEN to show him the video

And, let’s just say, Jack’s never been happier to have a mask concealing his face

He only lasts a few seconds in before telling BEN to turn that thing off

From an outside perspective, it probably looks like he disapproves of the creeps violating the newest member’s privacy

Which, to be fair, he does

But, more than that, he’s just really flustered about the whole thing

He doesn’t know how he’ll manage to face the new guy again

The next time they meet, Jack tries to act cool and natural, but he completely fumbles the bag and gets visibly flustered

If anything might tip the new guy off that something funky's going on, it's probably the way Jack acts around him from that point on

Homicidal Liu

Since Liu rarely uses the shelter of the mansion, it also takes him a while to find out about the incident

By the time he discovers it, chances are, the new guy knows he got busted, so most creeps are already in on his dirty little secret

It’s therefore a huge relief when the new guy initially meets Liu, and Liu doesn't seem to know about it

Their first meeting goes well, but, unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for Liu to find out about the video anyway

The difference between meeting the newbie normally and seeing how depraved he is when he's turned on is shocking

Next time he runs into him, it's almost hard not to gawk

Poor Liu gets too flustered trying to talk to him after seeing that side of him, so he inevitably ends up retreating into himself

Which gives just enough space for Sully to show face

And whew boy is Sully ever ruthless with the intel he has

They probably give the new guy whiplash if he wasn't previously warned about Liu's alter

As much as Liu was sweet and accommodating, Sully, on the other hand, takes pleasure in embarrassing the new guy until he’s squirming

He borderline starts degrading and dirty-mouthing him right then and there

And, unfortunately for the newbie, he very quickly becomes Sully’s new favorite plaything~

Hoodie

Also part of the gang going for the snack run, Hoodie has a sneaking suspicion it's going to be an eventful outing

Not necessarily because of anything, mind you—it's just a sort of premonition, if you will

And yet, even despite his intuition, it still catches him off guard when he hears that faint moaning coming from the back of the store

The sound leads him to BEN and Nat acting strange behind a shelf hidden off to the side

They don't notice him, so he stays just out of their line of sight as he peeks around the corner to the source of the quiet, shuddering breaths

And he absolutely can't contain that shit-eating grin on his face as he finds the newest member of the mansion unknowingly responsible for all of the agitation in the store

Fisting his cock, he quietly mewls and whimpers as he grinds his ass down against something long and hard that looks kind of familiar

Leaning in as much as he can without jeopardizing his hiding spot, Hoodie finally realizes what he's masturbating with

He’s about to pull out his phone, when Nat briskly turns and leaves

Right at the last second, he ducks out of sight, and when the coast is clear, he starts his own recording of the action

He doesn't know if he'll use it for blackmail, or just for his own... personal fun, but he figures it'll be useful to have, either way~

Jane the Killer

She originally hears the gossip about the new guy being an exhibitionist when she's out of town

When she returns to the mansion, Nat explains what happened, and Jane just doesn’t know how to react

He got caught doing what where??

She meets the newbie not too long after, and all she can think about while trying to make casual chit-chat is that she knows

She, for obvious reasons, doesn’t want to let on that she knows, and thankfully, her mask does a great job of concealing her expression

He doesn’t seem to notice what she’s thinking, and their interaction goes over pretty smoothly, all things considered

She gets the impression that he isn't a bad person, despite whatever kind of sexual habits he has, so she actually doesn't mind him

She's really not the type to kink shame, anyways

And so, after their meeting, Jane makes it a point to shut people down when they try to make rude or disrespectful comments about him

She hates bullying, and she's not afraid to stand up against assholes, even if she's alone in doing so, so she grows to become really protective of the newbie

She absolutely doesn’t let anyone tease him or make any kind of jokes at his expense

Whether he knows it or not, the new guy owes her big time for defending him so much

Jason the Toymaker

He’s one of the first “outsiders” to originally hear about it

He actually even gets his hands on a copy of the video

At first, he plans on using it for blackmail material as well

But as he watches through it, he can’t help but think how the new guy would make such a good addition to his collection of dolls

He could probably make him so nice and malleable, so deliciously obedient oh so easily~

And, really, he thinks, the mansion is already so full of creeps as is—would they really miss one measly little member?

Something about it—something about how pure and innocent, yet filthy and depraved the new guy looks as he fucks himself with a weapon in an abandoned gas station—it just kind of riles Jason up

And, being a very obsessive demon, it isn’t long before he realizes how badly he'd love to abduct the new guy and claim him

He thinks about all of the weapons he could use on him, all of the places he could test and push his limits to

It gives him way too many ideas

He makes it his goal to add him to his collection of dolls, and he’ll wait as long as it takes to get what he wants

Jeff the Killer

Jeff is minding his own business, for once, at the gas station during the snack run when he gets a text from BEN telling him to come to the back of the store

When he hears the faint moans and whimpers, he thinks BEN is playing some kind of prank

But boy is he ever wrong

He walks in on BEN sneakily filming the new guy, who’s bouncing up and down on a gun and panting like a depraved whore while he does so

Like most of the others, it takes him a second to process what he’s seeing

There’s no way he just walked in on that

He's too surprised to pull himself away at first, and when he snaps out of it, he realizes he's enjoying it too much to leave

He watches the whole show, even as the new guy starts moaning louder, even until his body starts shaking and his cock starts tensing and twitching as he approaches his peak

He can’t look away as the newbie throws his head back, plunges the gun as deep as it’ll go inside him, then cums all over himself in a sticky white mess

As he starts coming down from his high, both Jeff and BEN quickly sneak away to avoid being seen

And although Jeff doesn’t usually like newbies, he figures he might make an exception for this guy

Unfortunately for the new guy, however, Jeff's love language is bullying

And what he saw at that gas station is just perfect bullying material

And he doesn't plan on going easy on him just because he's new

Kate the Chaser

Since she’s antisocial, she’s hardly ever at the mansion, even despite being a proxy

She mostly just hangs around abandoned buildings, caves, half-decrepit huts in the woods—that kind of thing; and she feels very protective of those places

So when she senses a group of people wandering through what she’d consider her abandoned gas station, she makes sure to keep a close watch on everyone

She doesn’t actively see what happens with the new guy, but she definitely hears about it when everyone’s leaving the place

By overhearing bits of conversations, she's able to piece together what happened, and she develops a certain curiosity about the new guy

Kate teeters between states of consciousness, where, most of the time, she’s almost basically feral

But every now and then, remnants of her old humanity peek through

And hearing about this new guy somehow brings bits of her old self out, which piques her interest

It’s like a mix of curiosity and sexual fascination that has her sticking around to watch the new guy stumble his way back to the mansion

And even though she’d likely never confront him on her own, she secretly hopes that she’ll stumble in on him doing something like that again

Alas, until that day comes, maybe she’ll content herself with merely stalking him for now

Masky

Even though he and Hoodie are almost always together, he doesn’t join the group at the gas station

He needs to rest and recover, so he hangs back, but he immediately knows he missed out on something big when Hoodie comes back

And when Hoodie shows him the video, Masky's furious he missed out on it

Honestly, he gains some respect for the newbie for being so ballsy to pull something off like that

Unlike a lot of others, it doesn’t really affect the way he interacts with him afterward

He doesn’t get flustered, doesn’t tease or bully the guy about it, he doesn’t even mention it because, in Masky's opinion, it’s not that big of a deal

Really, all it does is make him more interested in seeing what other tricks the new guy has up his sleeve

He wouldn’t mind personally finding out about them~

Other than that, if he sees other creeps being excessive about their commentary towards the newbie, he’ll also shut them down alongside Jane

He figures it must suck for the poor guy, so he tries to minimize the damage however he can

Jane and Masky honestly kind of become the new guy’s lifeline after that incident

Nurse Ann

She also only hears about it much, much later since she usually stays off the grid

She’s masochistic, sadistic, and hypersexual, so she definitely gets having more… deviant sexual urges

Not to mention, with the sheer amount of strange people in that house, it really isn’t surprising that at least one of them would pull that kind of stunt

She doesn’t think too much of it as she goes about her work, but every now and then, she’s suddenly reminded of it out of nowhere

And she can’t help but think how fun it would be to use someone like that in her experiments~

So she keeps an eye out, and, similarly to Kate, she also hopes to have a random run-in with the new recruit

Honestly, she doesn’t even know who the new creep is or what he looks like—even if she did run into him—because they all look the same to her

But she knows that if she did get the chance to run into him, she also wouldn’t go easy on him

Honestly, Nurse Ann is definitely one of the more dangerous creeps, so garnering her attention is almost never a good thing

The new guy's unknowingly put himself in a lot of danger by attracting so many outsiders' attention

Offenderman

Oh, he absolutely adores hearing about this new creep~

He’s not technically banned from the mansion, but he’s on thin fucking ice, so he knows to be careful when he visits to meet him

Preying on people’s sexual urges is what he does best—it makes it all the easier to mold his victims into perfectly obedient little slaves~

So this new guy has him salivating at the thought of kidnapping him

Try as he might to be subtle about his intentions to whisk him away, Slender is, for obvious reasons, fully aware of what he’s trying to do

So new security measures are reinstated at the house, and the new guy is placed under extra protection

Which might be confusing to the new guy, since he doesn’t exactly know why he’s being so carefully protected

Why would anyone even care about a random newbie like him?

Even if he tries to ask Slender what the reasoning behind all the fuss is, Slender won't tell him because just knowing what Offender does can be risky

To counter the new safety precautions, Offender might try to bribe and manipulate creeps from the inside

And who knows; maybe one day, Offender will finally slip through Slender’s cracks and snatch up his prize~

Ticci Toby

Oh god oh god oh fuck

Initially the first one to suggest going for a snack run, he somehow blames himself for stumbling in on the new guy doing the dirty

He’s the first one to discover the scene, even before BEN walks in on it

And as soon as he sees it, as soon as he sees the new guy naked with his legs spread, squirming and whining with the barrel deep inside of him, Toby’s face goes red

He’s so close he can practically hear the slick sounds as he humps the weapon like a depraved little puppy

He’s frozen for a few seconds, too stunned to react, but once he comes to his senses, he immediately gets the hell out of dodge

But he doesn’t even make it all that far before he realizes—shit

There’s at least, like, five other creeps in here that might stumble in on him

He’s paralyzed in place as his mind races to figure out how to get everyone out without raising suspicion

But before he can think of a plan, BEN stumbles in on it and it’s all over

Not knowing what else to do, Toby practically makes a run for it because the secondhand embarrassment is too real

He comes face-to-face with Cody as he’s leaving, and when Cody asks what’s wrong, Toby blurts everything out before thinking twice

Needless to say, he’s insanely embarrassed about the whole thing, even though he’s not even the one who got caught

Poor guy can’t look the newbie in the eyes for a good few months after that incident

X-Virus

When Toby mentions a hideout off the side of an old highway, of course Cody wants to check it out

He thought it would be a nice, chill way to spend his evening, so you can just imagine his confusion when he runs into Toby, who looks like he just saw a ghost and is on the verge of crapping himself about it

Before he can even open his mouth to ask, Toby blurts everything out, and Cody is thoroughly stunned

The new guy is doing what? Here? Right now??

He can see that Toby is visibly shaken, so he does his best to calm him down

But the whole time he’s talking Toby down, all he can think about is how he wants this damn conversation to end so that he can go off and have a quick peek of his own

Like—it’s not his fault the new guy’s cute

And, surely, one quick little peek wouldn’t do anyone any harm, right?

Once Toby bails, Cody doesn’t think twice before going to the back of the store

A few creeps are huddled behind a shelf, watching the scene intently, and Cody gets his own spot to watch the show

He was already interested in the newbie before this, but now?

Oh, now he definitely wants more

Zalgo

The fact that he’s essentially the lord of the underworld, it’s nothing short of a miracle that news reaches him about a new sexually deviant creep

And at first, when the news does reach him, he honestly doesn’t care too much about it

Like, he’s basically the lord of sin—it takes a lot to impress him, even regarding sexual tendencies

It’s only one day, when nothing seems to be exciting him in the underworld, that he finally decides to investigate the new guy

What he discovers is actually fairly interesting, especially when he notices that other creeps and demons have developed an interest in him too

It means that the newbie might actually be more valuable than Zalgo initially realized

He gathers more intel on him, sending a few demons here and there to stalk him, all while remaining under Slender’s radar

And it, admittedly, is a long shot, but there’s a chance that this new guy might play a role in freeing the lord of the underworld from his imprisonment

He lays low for the most part, so it's not like the new guy is ever made aware of his presence, or even his existence as a whole

But the beginnings of a plan slowly yet surely start taking shape

Who knew such a small little mishap could cause such a stir?~

[zumek0]

draft 05; fushiguro, m.

↪︎ angst but very mild?, comfort, college/university au, no curses au, reader is very stressed.

↝ summary: megumi comforts you after you break down due to academic stress.

There’s a feeling of pressure on your chest, and a growing pit of despair in your stomach. You fucked up. Big time. Your teacher had given you a topic to make a presentation about a month ago and yet here you were, a week before your due date, not even having a clue of what the hell the topic was. As you stare into the google calendar tab open in your laptop you realize that not only were you supposed to present the topic in a week, but also turn in two different group assignments and an individual one. On the same day.

Almost mechanically you pick up your phone and open the messenger app. 

Megumi’s always been more of a night owl. His body is used to staying awake until sunlight threatens to spill over the horizon. He knows it’s not healthy but even if he tries to sleep at a normal, decent hour his mind remains restless. So he does what he’s able to: assignments, projects, pre-reading for lectures, reading books he enjoys or has been wanting to read, listen to music, make playlists with songs that fit the vibe of a very specific picture of you he has in his gallery, watch a movie, etc. 

It’s 11:56 p.m. when his phone starts vibrating over and over again. He can’t help the feeling of irritation that bubbles up inside him, thinking that Yuuji or Nobara are spamming the group chat with TikTok slideshows of “ask your friends which ‘blank’ are you!”. Although the feeling is immediately replaced with worry and slight curiosity when he sees it’s you who has been spamming him for three minutes straight.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices you’re texting with correct spelling, no emojis, no jokes in the middle of the conversation and capitalizing the first letter of every text. He reads over the messages you’ve sent so far to grasp an understanding of the situation. When he gets to the bottom of the chat, he gets up and grabs his shoes and keys while still paying attention to the still incoming messages you’re sending him.

You’re startled when you hear a soft knock at your door, stilling your fingers from expertly moving across the keyboard on your phone. Your eyes remain on the door while you wait for the sound to repeat itself, just in case you misheard or imagined it. Your phone vibrates softly on your hands, displaying a text from Megumi: “open the door”. You get up and do as he ordered. 

Once he’s inside your small campus room, he speaks. “Okay, now tell me everything slowly.” You do.

“… oh, did I also mention that I have two midterms that same week? And that quiz that we were supposed to present last week but the teacher changed last minute.” You can feel the headache creeping up your spine. You bring your hands to your head and rub your temples.

“And I know what you’re gonna say: ‘complaining about it isn’t gonna help you at all’” you make your voice sound deeper and more monotone to make it sound like his, “It’s just- It’s really frustrating. I don’t know why I can’t seem to just sit down and do things, like you do!”. 

He doesn’t say anything and you’re thankful for that. “It’s like—I know I have stuff to do, and I know it’s very important that I do it right. But I just can’t seem to ever find the motivation to do it. And then I’m left in spots like this one where I’m gonna have to pull a miracle out of my ass to actually turn in everything I have to turn in this week.” He listens to your rant patiently. Even rubbing your thigh when he notices your eyes crystallizing and tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes.

After sitting in silence for what feels like hours, he finally speaks. “Do you want reassurance or a solution?” “Both. More reassurance though.” You both move to make yourselves more comfortable. 

He’s sitting down in the floor with his back against the side of your mattress. One of his legs is bent and the other is stretched. Your head is now resting on his outstretched thigh. His long fingers find themselves running through your hair, an action that you commonly direct towards him whenever he finds himself unable to fall asleep while sleeping over in your room.

“I think you’re gonna make it out of this.” His voice Is soft, but assertive. “And yes, you have some awful time-management skills that we need to work on,” a snort leaves your nose “However last time you were able to give that other presentation while only having studied two days prior. If you try hard enough, everything will be okay. We’ll be okay. I’m gonna help you.”

You’re pretty sure the tears are running down your face at this point. You sniff tour nose. “Thank you.” Megumi leans down and gives your forehead a kiss. “But now, we need to get some rest. We both have early clases tomorrow. Well, today, technically.”

You get up from your position and make it to your bed. He’s hugging you while your head is on top of his chest. From this position you’re able to hear his heartbeat slowly lulling you to sleep.

can you tell i’m proyecting with this one? i literally wrote it at midnight. stress is eating me alive, so please excuse me if this seems like a self insert. i know people who are currently dealing with a lot in uni, so i hope this can help you if you’re going through the same.

—han

[stargirlfics]

B U T T E R F L Y

Joel Miller x Black Latina Reader

Summary: Sometimes the path to healing starts with a reminder of what’s been lost

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, death tw, child death tw, some TLOU spoilers but doesn’t follow canon, post-outbreak!Joel, angst, hurt/comfort, trauma and violence mentions, fluff, slow burn vibe, mutual pining

Word Count: 5.6k

My mind has been stuck on the butterfly imagery connecting Sarah and Joel in the show, and in the game too! I grew up hearing from my abuelita that monarch butterflies are symbols of loved ones who’ve passed and I thought that would fit well here! This fic explores grief and pain but also finding hope through it too 🦋

To be soft-hearted at the world’s violent end, that’s where you’d decided to make a home for your heart with all its fragile beating.

Doomed is what they all said you were, surviving the outbreak this long sooner or later came with a price and they had been right, but still, half out of spite, half out of needing something to hang onto, the tenderness of you remained.

Surviving was a miracle and most could go on just grateful to wake up another day, but you’d seen how void life was lived here in the ruins of a former world, and as doomed as it all appeared, you tried your best to find pockets of light where you could, fighting the urge to shut yourself away. 

Because maybe one day those pockets of light would be abundant where they were once scarce, maybe one day, if you kept yourself open to it, there would be a sign of a changing tide to let you know you were finally safe. 

How strange signs could be, in plain sight but unseen until your brain could catch up with what your soul was feeling, and rarely did they ever come without complexity. 

In your case, that complexity came with a stern scowl that belonged to one Joel Miller. 

The first whispers you’d ever heard about Joel were that he was grumpy, stubborn, and not the kind of man to be messed with. He was the muscle behind trades done in shadowed alleys here in the QZ, illegal substances, weapons, extra ration cards, you name it. 

He was intimidating to most people, even you; having a reputation for being a man of few words and an even shorter fuse would do that but you knew there to be sorrow there too, etched deep in the lines of his face, reflecting like moonlight in his eyes. 

You’d never spoken to him, not in all your time in Boston, always seeming to narrowly avoid crossing paths, but you often saw him from afar. In the town square, catching glimpses of him waiting in line to collect a job’s earnings or in the pit, hauling bodies to the acrid cremation pyres smoldering hot throughout the day. 

If you thought about it, that’s where you saw the sorrow most.

That old, faded bandana he wore over his nose to block out the stench of burning gave you the clearest view of his eyes; sad, angry orbs fixated on the task like it was penance for him. 

All those hushed whispers told you he wasn’t a good man, that he had hurt people to get what he needed, and that wasn’t a surprise, you’d seen it enough to understand the grim nature of the wasteland you were in, how people often turned against each other if they thought it meant they’d live to see another day. 

Maybe that understanding was how it happened that day, the first time you’d meet, something in your soul already well tangled with something in his yet neither of you knew it yet. 

You’d been expecting someone else at your door that evening, a friend of yours with a bag of good soil snuck in from the outside in exchange for a radio of yours that was in decent shape. 

Instead, you were greeted by Joel Miller, bag in hand, a frown already on his face as he explained the switch up, even pointing to a note on the bag in your friend's handwriting to vouch for him. 

His voice had caught you off guard, a low, gruff bass in his careful cadence, Texan accent making the words go down smooth. 

“Okay, no problem, she did tell me she wasn’t sure if she would really make use of it. You can step in if you want, I’ll just be a second.”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so trusting. 

That’s how people got robbed, taken advantage of, murdered and you weren’t going to get any sympathy from neighbors or any FEDRA soldiers in the area if something were to happen but despite that, and his reputation, you didn’t feel unsafe. 

Quite the opposite. 

Joel was certainly the grumpy type and you didn’t doubt he was capable of hurting you if he wanted but as you returned with the radio you found him just where you’d left him, his body filling your doorway in a way that reminded you of a guard dog. 

Something had caught his eye in the time it had taken you to walk back, gaze fixed somewhere behind you. 

It took you a second to realize what exactly he was staring at, eyes tracking him and following until they landed on the butterfly figurine hanging from the makeshift curtains of your kitchen sink window. 

Golden hour light warming the window had bathed the glass winged butterfly in its rays, casting fractals of color across the wall and the worn wooden floors. 

You studied his face for a moment then, a familiar kind of sadness reaching his eyes, the darkened circles underneath them a little more noticeable now. 

You wondered when the last time he got any proper sleep was. 

“I made it…” interrupting his thoughts gently you gestured towards the window when he looked at you in question, “La mariposa...took me ages to fit the glass and wire together right but I think it came out ok.”

He grunted in response, finally handing over the bag of soil when you noticed the slightest tremble in his hands. 

Oh…so he’d been caught off guard too. 

Something about your butterfly had shaken him up and you were curious, who could blame you for being tempted to cross what you were sure he would say was a line, but you pretended not to notice, trying to offer him some privacy, a second to collect himself. 

You’d appreciate it if he did the same for you in his place after all. 

The exchange was completed swiftly after, a palpable silence settling between you before he was leaving almost as quickly as he arrived, taking the fading summer sunset with him.

–

Joel barely slept that night, woken by nightmares again, a routine he was familiar with, haunted by the same old ghosts but it was different this time, the barbed wire around his heart digging in just a little extra, memories of her surfacing. 

Sarah. His Sarah.  

He didn’t realize just how long it had been since he was reminded of her this way, of what it felt like to be her father, shutting himself off to that years ago, unable to think about his life with her before because that pain was nearly unbearable. 

There is only after, the after in which she doesn’t exist, where he searches for her in his sleep and wakes knowing he won’t find her. 

Because he watched her slip away, had pleaded and begged to the skies to bring her back, had held her in his arms, hands stained red with her blood, and had to accept that she was gone and he was granted no time to say goodbye. 

Days turned to weeks, months into years and he had learned to operate on a certain level of numbness, just focused on surviving, never getting too attached, acting cold and angry, just a dead man walking. 

Until now, his chest nearly caving in with the truth that he was still breathing even after so long spent closed off. 

He wasn’t even sure why he’d considered your friend’s offer to complete the exchange at all, he knew he shouldn’t have, the radio you traded wasn’t in as great a shape as he would have liked, he knew that upfront and still begrudgingly agreed, not expecting to feel so exposed, so upended by a simple encounter.

That butterfly shining in the sunlight of your kitchen made his heart stop the second he saw it, flashes of memory surfacing, almost like his little girl was pulled to the surface of his skin again, like if he stepped inside he could reach out and she’d be there. 

A dreadful reality had washed that away after a moment, grief swallowing up the hope just as he knew it would, like it always had, but something was undeniably different this time for Joel. A difference that left an ache in his center. 

Because for those few fleeting seconds, he had felt alive again. 

–

The second time you met Joel was intentional, another bag of soil in exchange for some instant coffee this time. 

It was still early morning when he knocked on your door, quiet, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans and a sleepy kind of softness that you hadn’t seen before around the edges of his eyes which made you wish he didn’t look so inviting then. 

It wasn’t so hard to look at him as unapproachable as he made himself seem, he was handsome, the streaks of gray peppered in his hair and along his beard lending to his rugged look. 

“About the coffee, it’s not as strong as it could be but it’s the best I’ve got,” you handed over a jar, watching him open the lid and sniff its contents.

“That’ll do just fine.” 

Relief arrived at his approval, you gathered it’d been a while since he had any and you were glad your stash wasn’t a disappointment. 

You watched as he knelt down to set his backpack on the floor, stowing the jar inside and handing you the bag of fertilizer mix you had inquired about. 

It wasn’t long now before he’d be out the door again, these things were best kept short and simple but as you thanked him for the exchange and moved to store the bag with your other garden supplies, you noticed a moment of reluctance. 

Joel didn’t plan on lingering around now that you both had what you came for but then he was reminded of what he felt the last time he’d been in your space and his mouth was moving with the thoughts that were swimming in his head before he could bite back the words.

“That’s a good amount of soil you have, got some sorta secret garden FEDRA don’t know about?”

Suddenly you felt very silly for wanting to smile at his curiosity but also recognized the significance of him asking. 

“Something like that, yeah. I…actually found a spot of flowers growing through one of the QZ fences and I’ve been tending to it. It's no garden but the flowers are in bloom now, first time I’ve seen real butterflies in years.” 

You watched him perk up at the mention of real butterflies, furrowed brows hiding the flicker of emotion mere seconds later but it was too late, you’d seen it already. 

Up until now, your little patch of greenery had been a private endeavor. 

Something for you to put some love and effort in, and just a quiet, secluded place to be, to clear your head or be alone for a while, away from some of the chaos in the streets, and yet here you were, now, carefully asking him if he’d like to see it too. 

You thought just maybe, bringing him there would do him as much good as it had done you. 

And it’s there, in that moment when he says yes that you see all that hard exterior start to slip just an inch.  

It’s an inch you can work with. 

–

Early morning dew still clings to the soft blades of grass sprouting up near the fence line, the section where you’d been taking care of the vegetation noticeably more vibrant with color and growth. 

Slowly, you’d been replacing the dirt, had saved as many roots and sprouts as possible, taking care in replanting them, and from there, a shabby little makeshift garden bed had formed. 

This would be your third week caring for it and now Joel was trailing behind your steps to see it too.

His body language was tense like he couldn’t quite be sure you weren’t actually taking him to some secluded corner to ambush him, but you get it.

Being wary was smart, but you couldn’t lie that it was satisfying to let him take it in without explaining anything first, the tension in his shoulders easing, sagging when his eyes fell upon the dusky blue flowers and rich green leaves and vines growing up from the ground, searching for the sun’s nourishment. 

Joel couldn’t be certain whether it was the day’s first tendrils of summer heat making him feel warm or the fluttering orange and speckled black wings of a butterfly nestled atop a marigold. 

He glances at his wrist, at the memento that never leaves his side, a broken watch, and there’s a moment of clarity in the silence where Joel can feel it, all the shattered parts of him spilling out, and there isn’t any way he can catch it all, he’s already too late and he knows it. 

Panic works its way into his bloodstream, causing his hands to shake, not used to being so disarmed, so flayed open. 

His fingers curl into a fist, trying to steady himself, needing a moment to catch his breath, to process. 

And there you were, your gentle voice cutting through the noise in his head and that tidal wave of emotion. 

“They’re monarch butterflies, which means they’re special,” you’ve moved a little closer now, watching another one land next to its friend on the flower. 

“What makes' em’ so special?” Joel takes a deep breath and you do too. 

You thought for a second he might shut down and walk away, there wasn’t anything keeping him here after all, he had the coffee he came for and yet still took you up on your offer. That in itself was difficult not to attach yourself to immediately but there was no denying it felt good to know you’d earned maybe an ounce of his trust. 

“In Mexico, my abuela used to say they were a sign of the dead coming to visit the living, loved ones, our ancestors, the monarchs carry their souls to us. I think they’re good luck too.”

The smile working its way onto your lips is fond, sad, one you knew he’d recognize, the silent but shared knowledge of loss was a heavy burden to carry. There was no mistake about it, but being here, amongst your flowers and your butterflies made it easier. 

Orange and gold halos shimmered around the plant life softly swaying with the wind, your own features now warmed with the climbing sun, brown skin shining deeper under the light. 

Joel was looking at you now, following your words. The meaning of what you were both looking upon hitting him square in the chest when that feeling blooms behind his eyes again, that itch of something alive, something beautiful growing again amongst concrete ruins.

And it's there, standing next to you, watching you water the soil while butterflies float around you that he works out what that feeling must be. 

Salvation. 

–

After that morning, trading goods with Joel became a regular occurrence. 

Soil for another stash of coffee or a packet of seeds for a hunting knife in need of experienced hands, neither of you quite sure how it happened but eventually the trades became more like friendly favors to each other than practical transactions. 

Your ‘garden’ also became a frequent place for you both to go, so much so that on any given day you could bet he was there, a quick stop on his way back home, or in the morning before the day started, it became an unspoken shared refuge. 

Joel helped you fix up the makeshift garden beds when it became clear your tender care of the plants called for an upgrade and you were grateful for it, dismissive at first, not wanting him to feel obligated.

You could handle yourself around a hammer and a few nails but he insisted and you relented, the two of you knelt under the setting sun, working on the task together. 

It didn’t matter that it was closing in on curfew time, or that you didn’t really have anything to compensate him for his time because, the moment itself, the small inklings of trust building between you were actually far better. 

That’s when you started to see him nearly every day, sitting against bomb-scarred concrete, always facing those marigolds, the ones the monarch butterflies you’d told him about always flocked to. 

At first you kept your distance, knowing better than to pry. 

It was clear he’d been through a lot, most his age-if you were guessing correctly-had, old enough to have lived a good portion of their lives before the outbreak, the last witnesses of an old world. You wanted to respect that and as long as he was finding some sort of peace here, you were content. 

You didn’t mind his company either, he wasn’t much of a talker, but his presence was comforting and familiar and you felt safe with him near. 

Eventually though, keeping him at a distance became impossible, both of you stumbling through the uncertainty of what to say to each other yet not giving up on trying at the same time. 

And Joel had resisted too, had tried to keep his words short, always residing somewhere in between neutral and aloof but the more he watched you in your element, amongst the seedling sprouts and vines and moss, the more it made him want to talk.

It was easy to find his voice around you. 

You were soft-hearted, he could see that and it wasn’t easy to get used to the way you looked at him, like you cared, like you understood something about his brokenness right away, had let him sit here day after day watching the butterflies because somehow you knew it’s what he needed, but he didn’t mind the learning curve either. 

His usual annoyance and reluctance to speak about feelings couldn’t keep up this time surrounded by reminders of Sarah, coaxing the small part of him that hadn’t died with her out of its state of numbness, softening him again. 

‘You were never gonna do it for yourself’ rings in his ears. 

He’d never been much good at that, doing things for himself, and Sarah was always so clever about calling it out, even now, nudging him awake again after all these years. 

It’s why he decides to tell you when you ask one day, sitting next to him on sun-warmed stone. 

He merely came by to sit for a little while and clear his head and found you already sat in his usual spot, butterfly watching, your eyes telling your secret, that you had been crying before he arrived, his first instinct carrying him forward, to your side. 

He offered you some water, even sliced an apple in half to share with you, pleased with himself when he got a smile out of the gesture but remained as quiet as you were, wanting you to feel like you could just be. 

“Who do they remind you of?” your voice was small, unsure of how he’d react to the question, overexplaining in hopes it would make him recoil less, “It’s okay if you can’t talk about it, I understand. It’s just that…what I told you about the monarch butterflies, I really do believe in it you know, the people I’ve lost…they feel so close to the surface, like they’re watching over me and I think you feel the same.” 

Joel nods after a moment and you’re exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

It takes him a moment but he finds the words. 

“My daughter…her name was Sarah. They were her favorite, actually, since she was bout old enough to talk. I used to call her my little butterfly when she was a baby which, yeah, got real old when she started middle school but I liked to remind her anyways, just to see her roll her eyes at me. Just as long as she knew I loved her, you know, that I never stopped, not since the moment I held her in my hands for the first time.”

It broke your heart to hear. 

And it hurt him too, to speak about her and then remember that he had lost her, that twenty years had passed and he couldn’t remember what she smelled like anymore, and he hated the nightmares but without them, he was afraid of forgetting her face, her eyes, the coils of her hair, the sound of her voice calling out to him. 

It was only now that he was seeing how deep he’d pushed it all down, bottled up tight out of fear, and then somehow you’d entered his life, Molotov aimed straight at his heart, stunning him into remembering her the way she deserved to be. 

“I’m so sorry,” you extend all the comfort you can, knowing there weren’t any words that would ever make it right but you wanted to try anyway. 

“Yeah, me too. But you’re right, she feels close, and I know you’ve put it together by now but it’s why I’ve been sittin here every day, I see those butterflies and I see her, I remember her and it feels...good. I didn’t want it to; don’t really trust things that feel good but it does and I wanna thank you for that, for letting me have that.” 

He worries he’s said too much, or said the wrong thing, wanting to kick himself because he was never much good at words either but the sight of your lips pulling up into a small smile came as a relief. 

“She’s with you, Joel. And there’s no need to thank me, it’s been good for me too, doing all this. I think it helps.” 

He nods again, agreeing before asking you the same question, extending an opportunity to open up too; a big step when keeping personal histories to a minimum was the lay of the land around here. 

And it wasn’t easy, to talk about the things that hurt, baring your grief to Joel, and trusting him with it but you did and he had held it so gently, understanding it for what it was. 

Looking back you think maybe it’s there that things started to change, where your life and his started to merge. 

Sometime after that conversation you gifted him one of those glass winged butterflies like the one in your window, showing it to him one evening in the garden, earning you the first real smile you’d ever seen from him. 

It was after he told you more about himself, about Sarah, his brother Tommy, recounting happy memories; like the time he and Tommy surprised Sarah with her own soccer ball for her birthday one year, how he’d caved almost immediately the time she begged him to get her a polaroid camera, and you shared too, thinking on good times you’d had with the people in your life. 

It meant a lot to Joel that you spent time crafting the ornament, knowing just how deep the symbolism of it went for him. 

You were always doing that, looking out for him, planting tiny seed after tiny seed, slowly working your magic on him, ensnaring him deep, making him want to look out for you too. 

Under the fading sun again you sat with him, watching the marigolds, the calm, slow fluttering of wings, and it’s in that same spot that you find your hand in his for the first time. 

No words needed to be said, this was far better. 

A little while later you saw your gift hanging from the window in his living room, right next to the radio you had first traded him for.

The two of you had found yourselves escaping the heat here after some time tending the garden together, pulling weeds, clearing new soil of rocks and rubble, now sharing his couch, a rusty old fan that still somehow worked cooling the sweat prickling the back of your neck.

Curfew hour was nearing and you knew you would have to start making your way back home but Joel warned that he’d heard from a FEDRA officer he did trades with that they were patrolling the streets early the next few nights.

You knew why, it was hard to forget the hail of gunfire last night, a group of Fireflies going after a group of officers on patrol, a fight that neither one had won. 

Tensions in the QZ had been high all day since then and Joel suggested that you stay here with him for the night, saying he didn’t want you dealing with anything that might be going on out there.

He was being protective, a disapproving frown on that handsome face of his when you told him you didn’t want to intrude on his space but he was right, things had already started looking a little dangerous on your way back from the garden and you appreciated that he was trying to keep you safe. 

So you stayed. 

Curled up on Joel’s old, worn couch with a blanket that smelled like him tucked around you, the white noise of the fan still blowing and the knowledge that he wasn’t far, just in the next room over, carried you off to sleep.

–

One night had turned into two and then three and somewhere in the last couple months of summer that were left, you spent most of your days and nights with Joel. 

No label had been applied to whatever your situation was with him, you knew better than to ask, this all needed time, and you were okay with that, just content on holding onto this good thing with him. 

Because you liked being around, like sharing a space with him and sitting in the garden together, opening up to each other more and more every day. 

It was nice watching Joel come out of that hardened shell of his, watching him find it easier to talk about things, noticing him trying to live life more, not as reluctant to connect. 

Things were good, not to say that there hadn’t been bad days amongst all the progress made, there were plenty of them in fact. 

Days where old patterns became default again, stretches of nights where the nightmares returned, both of you trying to wade through it. 

When the aching of old wounds came knocking and the walls came back up again. 

You hated to fight with Joel when that happened, and you hated not being on the same page but he was so stubborn it wasn’t always easy to bite back your frustration. 

He had told you about his past, about the people he hurt in those early days and it’s something he wrestled with, believing in the goodness you saw inside him when all he could see were the bad things.

It frustrated you sometimes, how he preferred to shut himself off, to you, to Sarah’s memory because he felt like his hands were too dirty, too blood-stained to even try. 

“Que, no entendes?! Please, Joel! Stop trying to be something you aren’t. You think you aren’t a good man but bad people don’t get upset about being bad. Do you think you can just turn it off, the part of you that was always a good man, a good father? Well sorry, but you can’t, that’s who you are to your core, I saw it the first moment I met you and every time since then.” 

 “I’ve killed people,” his tone was mean, and venomous, another attempt at pushing you away. “Goddamnit, it’s not as simple as-”

“I get that! Look I know that you’ve done bad things but you’ve also spent every waking moment punishing yourself for it, do you realize that? All these years you’ve been paying your penance any way you can and I’m trying to tell you it’s okay live well, that you don’t have to torture yourself anymore because we have to try and make something out of all this pain.” 

It wasn’t easy to get him to see what you saw but you didn’t back down, even when it would have been easy to, Joel knew it too, guilt washing over him as you looked at him then, tears brimming in your eyes. 

“You’ve endured enough.” 

It’s those final three words from you that makes him ease up, a reminder you nudged him with often, that he could rest already, could make amends by making a choice to find the light. 

He lets you take some space from him, coming to find you before bed because he doesn’t want to fall asleep without fixing things. 

“I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair, talkin to you like that. You’re just tryna help my sorry ass and I haven’t thanked you enough. I’m gonna get better at that.” 

It’s the first time you ever hug him, noticing the tremble in his hands as he says the words, feeling the sincerity in his voice, unable to stop yourself from all but barreling into his arms. 

He’s still for only a moment before his arms wrap around you in return, the two of you bathed in moonlight, that butterfly still hanging in his window, pushing you towards each other again just like it had when you first met. 

–

Eventually, the day comes when the monarchs leave, the approaching fall and winter seasons carrying them to warmer places, a solemn change in what had been yours and Joel’s routine. 

The absence of the butterflies that had provided so much hope the last few months was felt, but the world was also a lot more open and wide now too. 

You no longer slept on Joel’s couch, you slept pressed against him now, and woke with your limbs tangled with his, a quiet partnership forming.

It scares both of you, knowing that you had grown to care for each other so quickly, knowing that was dangerous and reckless but also feeling stronger because you were a team. 

You think that’s why you make the decision together, one rainy fall evening when Joel comes home with a message from Tommy. 

They had gone through a rough patch recently, being apart from each other for some time and still not seeing eye to eye on Tommy’s choices but slowly, they’d started talking again and there was news that Tommy and the group he was with had gotten a hydroelectric plant that had once belonged to FEDRA up and running. 

There was electricity and a place to stay if you and Joel were interested, plus Tommy wanted you to meet Maria, said she did him a whole world of good and this was some of that good in action. 

It hadn’t been a hard choice to make even knowing how difficult the journey would be.

This was the chance you’d both been waiting for, and had talked about, a far off dream of running away from all the violence that was inescapable here in Boston, searching for something better out there, and now it was within reach. 

So you’d left your garden in the care of a friend you knew would understand its importance, and you bide your time with Joel, making deals, doing jobs, collecting and saving up supplies, and helping him map the way to Jackson. 

And then the day came when you left the QZ behind for good, watching the city fade away in the rearview mirror.

Making it to Tommy hadn’t been easy, there had been one too many close calls for comfort but the trust you and Joel had in each other didn’t waver, and here you were, finally on the other side. 

Settling in hadn’t been the easiest, especially for Joel, his guard still up but little by little, you both sank into a new way of life. 

You quickly learned how to ride a horse and hunt in the woods surrounding the power plant, even making friends with some of the families in the community. 

Joel had taken to things a little slower, but even he couldn’t hide for long, helping some of the men in the group with repairs on things that needed fixing, even cautiously attempting to make friends with you. 

Small pockets of peace started to open up the longer you stayed and the threat of raiders loomed over that peace at times, keeping everyone on alert for attacks but you all had Joel and Tommy now, always amongst the first to be out there protecting, defending fiercely.

You knew they wouldn’t let anything happen to you here.  

As spring arrived again you found a nice spot for a garden, pointing out sprouting flower buds to Joel one day, almost missing the fond smile forming on his lips, both of you knowing what this meant. 

You were happy here, and happy being with Joel, the two of you building a new garden together this time, until finally, as the chill spring breeze transitioned into summer heat and sunshine you were sat next to him like you had been what seemed like ages ago, watching the butterflies circle the flowers in bloom in what had become Sarah’s Garden. 

Joel made you a promise; to keep going for family, the family you, him, and Tommy were now. And you promised the same, not scared of how much you cared for the man by your side anymore.

It wasn’t perfect, the world was still rotten and the broken parts of you all were still raw, still healing, but this time her light was guiding the way through it and that made it all worth it.

---

A/N: When I saw that butterfly hanging in the window of his place in Boston I just couldn’t resist writing something about how he got it and here we are! This world is so dark and tragic and while this fic doesn’t change those facts, I hope it plants some gentle, hopeful little seeds of healing, because Joel deserves that and so do you as the reader! thank you for reading this, I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 💌

some tags no pressure! @inklore @allaboardthereadingrailroad @yelenas-lova @ozarkthedog @amethystwonders11 @blkmorticia @moreofem @eupheme @obiknights @tarrenterror25 @superhoeva @buckyhoney @plumbits

[nogenderbee]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕤 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕒𝕫𝕪 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ not a request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I couldn't hold any event for Valentine's this year because of lack of motivation so I just picked my favorites (or the ones I felt like writing atm) out of all groups and wrote different classic prompts for them! Hope it's also a decent celebration!

And happy being in love with someone, your pet or yourself! Whatever suits you haha

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff, TW: mentions of scars and scratching in An part, amnesia and mentions of coma and hospital in Rui's part

Affiliation with @virtualbookstore

✧ soul mates (scars show on both)

You weren't really the ugliest nor did you lack any charm. So you went through lot of relationships, but every single one had something wrong with them... They either only cared about looks and profits from your relationship, couldn't accept you as you were or you just didn't felt like they were the ones you wanted to spend rest of your life with.

Maybe it was nice to have experience in dating, but it was also disappointing with time... how hard can it be to fine your life partner? Do they even exist?

To forget about your worries, you went to your favorite cafe on Vivid Street, Weekend Garage.

"Hey An... some strong coffee please..."

"Woah! That's not like you at all! Are you alright? Don't tell my you had another break up..."

"Yeah, unfortunely I did... I'm starting to doubt there is person right for me... available at least..."

You added last part on purpose, since you always felt a bit warm around An and it wasn't necessarily thanks to the amazing coffee she could make. She was like your comfort space. We're you falling for her? Maybe. Did it felt like she cared more about her singing partner than you? Yes... And you couldn't blame her. She deserves more than anyone to be happy!

"Have you thought of using the soulmate method? It's enough if you scratch your cheek enough to make it a bit red and it'll show."

"Maybe but... I don't want to hurt my soulmate..."

"You too?! Yeah, I'd already check but I don't want to cause problems for them..."

"Well... would you be willing to do it with me? Just small scratch? I'd feel more confident with friend next to me..."

"You know what? Sure! I'll do it on left cheek and you do it on right. Remember not to overdo it, just a little red space!"

You both brought your nails to cheeks, shutting your eyes and gently scratching your cheeks gently. When you opened them, you saw An staring at you with small shock and both of her cheeks slightly red.

"Are you blushing...?"

"No. I'm actually not... But it may be the case too I guess... because if I am then... you're too..."

You looked at your reflection in the glass and did notice both of your cheeks slightly red. It was her! The girl you found too perfect for you for this whole time, being your soulmate!

You both smiled at each other as if you just as a miracle. It was her who finally broke the silence.

"How about I take a break and we can both calmly catch up? Coffee and cake on me!"

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@bleachtheidiot @badwhole @qxmmi - come get your star girl!

✧ love from first sight

Ichika was just hanging around in the music shop. She was looking through Miku shelve, looking for the newest album that recently dropped.

Though she couldn't find it even tho she looked through whole shop 6 times if not more! So she decided to approach a worker there with hopes of getting the album she came here for.

"Excuse me... I'm guessing you work here... Do you maybe have... uh..."

You turned around once you heard someone calling for you. It was long blue haired girl. She surely didn't lack any charms but you had to swallow the urge to flirt or ask for her number since you were during your work hours.

She couldn't make up any words, stuttering. You thought she's just shy and wanted to encourage her a bit.

"Yes? What may I help you with? I assure you I can definitely at least try finding your album."

She cleared her throat and tried fixing her composure. Sure, she was a bit shy on daily basis but when she saw you? It's like her words stopped at her lips and instead turned into pink hue on her cheeks.

"I-I wanted to know if you maybe have... Miku... albums... album! A... recent album. Miku album. Heh..."

She scolded herself in her thoughts for ruining her chances. She wanted to just grab that album and leave at this point.

"Ah, I think I know which one you mean! You have a good taste I just admit! Follow me, it should be somewhere in the corner area..."

Girl followed you while avoiding eye contact. Once she saw the album she wanted, she hesitantly grabbed it. She couldn't shake off the thought you also liked Miku... That's of course not uncommon but she was charmed by you from the beginning.

"Thank you. You helped me a lot... I'll... head to pay and... hopefully we can meet again!!"

After these words she rushed away. She couldn't believe how emberassed she was in that moment, she even said things that she normally wouldn't. Now afraid to come back because she might make things even more awkward, but on the other hand, she also wanted to see you again... And you did! You just didn't knew you both fell for each other at the same time and couldn't admit to it because of different obstacles.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @prsk-krow - come get your Miku lover!

✧ enemies to lovers

You and Ena were in the same art class and you were enemies almost everywhere when art came in the way. In classes you were always asking teacher who's drawing is better or which had less flaws. In media you were comparing your followers and likes count just to rub it into other ones face.

Though soon enough your competition changed into... wanting to impress another. You both felt the same but none of you knew about it. Too proud to admit it, you covered your desire to impress another with simply being a bit mean.

"Ha! Would you look at that! Your drawing is so much worse than mine!"

"Oh shut up!! At least I didn't made grass yellow like you did!"

"It's shade of green! Not yellow! It's you making composition mistake 3 times in a row!"

"And you messed up the lightning 4 times in a row!"

"And you have pretty face and I'm not mentioning it somehow!!"

"And you-!! Wait what..."

Both of you stopped in your tracks. Suddenly the childish fight was replaced by silence. She wanted to say something but her thoughts were filled with you complimenting her.

"Um... last photo you posted... it was... pretty..."

"(Last photo I posted...? Do they mean my selfie with night town in background?!)"

Brown haired girl blushed gently as she argued with herself what to tell. You weren't in the public eye so maybe it was alright to say something opposite to insulting for once?

"Well I... found a nice cafe I wanted to go but I didn't wanted to go alone..."

She put a strand of her hair behind her ear as she looked away. Now small blush appearing on your face as well... she've never spoken so softly to you before!

"And... what if we went there together?"

You looked up awkwardly, looking her in the eyes with small hope. It was rather awkward talk of yours since you're usually competing against each other and now you're both trying to ask another on a date without saying it out loud.

"Sure. I guess it's alright since... I can check it right away instead of waiting for others..."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @qxmmi @modyuki - come get your cheesecake lover~

✧ forbidden love

Shizuku was an idol and a model, and you were her manager. You had to look as friends because rumors would spread in blink of an eye and you'd loose your job, while she'd have to deal with not only new manager but also all the messages from her fans.

But both of you weren't friends, in fact you were dating for 3 months now and none of you felt even slightly bit like it's not working out!

"Y/N!! What are you doing here standing with head in clouds?"

You felt someone hugging you from behind and could only chuckle as you knew well who it has to be.

"Hey Shizuku. Are you done with your practice now?"

"Mhm! I thought we might visit a cafe nearby?"

"Well... are you sure? We both know we often tend to be affectionate and forget about other people... we can't just show off like that even if we'd want to..."

"Ah right... we could ask for to go cakes from there then and I'll make us drinks!"

"Hehe~ Sounds good to me. We can go to my place then and I can get blankets ready while you make drinks."

"Sounds perfect~!"

She immidietly hugged you tighter and kissed your cheek. It was obvious she was excited to start your little date, but so were you!

You exchanged one last kiss before you left without even letting your pinkies touch. You wanted to seem like just 2 friends on a hangout and ordering some sweets for movie night! Nothing out of the ordinary!

Your relationship wasn't even supposed to exist and it unfortunely was an obvious fact. But you didn't wanted to listen to any of it and made it real either way! You just kept it a secret from everyone outside of MMJ~

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @qwnelisa @miya-akane - come get your beautiful model~

✧ amnesia

Rui was an inventor not only for WxS but also for his own benefits. He didn't care much how dangerous the robots in his room are as long as he gets to have a bit of fun while making them and showing them off when they're finished!

Though one day... he let you come a bit too close to one of his robots... and now there he was. Coming to your hospital bed every day with one flower, now forking bouquet on your desk.

Today he came with no other intentions, to see his loved one asleep and tell them about the show he did at Phoenix Wonderland this afternoon.

"Hey love... I know I'm late but I just-"

He stopped in his tracks upon seeing you sitting up and your eyes open, accompanied with curious look. He immidietly ran up to you, taking your hand in his as he started to tear up a bit.

"You're awake! Oh I have so much to tell you... there's so much to catch up and-"

"Who are you?"

After these words his smile was wiped away. Did you forgot him? Doctors had told him you have small amnesia and don't remember few recent years of your live but... do you not remember him at all?

But your voice was gentle... you even brought a hand to wipe his tears away. He saw it as act of your kind personality but you... you found him so pretty you couldn't help yourself but admire him a bit. You had no idea who he was but you just felt so safe with him around...

"You're so pretty..."

He looked up at you, regaining small smark of hope. Your words gave him just the push he needed to realize that even if you forgot him, he'll do his best to make new pretty memories with you.

"And so are you, my dear... Will you let me take you to nice cafe after they let you out? I know for one you really like cookies there..."

You nodded your head, not even knowing why. He just felt so safe and familiar, you wanted to be next to him.

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@bleachtheidiot @yulikesminori @toyaswif3y @bl4cktourmaline - come get your crazy inventor!

[duke-is-the-shit]

Hello, Neverwhores. Since my post about the infection au got a decent amount of love, here’s a little temptation to keep the love going because I’m itching to share more

Hunger

Berenice was a girl with a healthy appetite, so it was weird when her body suddenly began rejecting food. It had started with small things, like gagging when she swallowed, but that was written off as a sore throat. Then, it shortly escalated into full-on vomiting whenever she took a bite. She couldn’t even stomach alcohol, which she was extremely salty about. The Misfits were beginning to worry for her health. Was she anorexic? Sick? Whatever it was, Eulalie was determined to find out, it’s what a best friend would do, after all.

“Hey, let’s go to Nurse Dolly, Berenice.” Eulalie suggested cheerfully one day. “Nurse Dolly? I don’t need her, Biscuit. I told ya, I’m right as rain.” Berenice said, crossing her arms defensively. “You don’t seem fine! You’ve been vomiting up anything edible this past week.” Eulalie argued. “Meh, just a bit of sick. I’ll get better in no time.” Berenice reassured her. “But-! Aren’t you hungry?! Nurse Dolly could inject the nutrients into your body so you can eat until we figure out what’s wrong with you!” Eulalie exclaimed, waving her fists. Berenice scoffed. “Nothing is wrong with me, darlin’. And getting fed by needles seems pretty creepy.” “Well-Well—Well, I’ll bring her here!” Eulalie said, exasperated. “Wha?! Hon, you can’t do that! She’ll tell the Deans about the hideout!” Berenice yelled. “I don’t care! I want you to get better!” Eulalie cried out, frustrated tears in her eyes. “Oh-Oh, c’mere, babe.” Berenice pulled Eulalie into a hug. “If it really means that much to you…I guess I can go get a little checkup.” Berenice sighs in defeat. “You will?! Oh, thank you!” Eulalie squeezes her tight. “Alright, alright. Let’s get goin’ before you crush my lungs.” Berenice chuckled.

“Agh, such awful structure. Seems not eating is already taking a toll.” Nurse Dolly said, her face in her trademark scowl as she examined Berenice. “Can you fix her?” Eulalie asks. “I’m not a miracle worker, but I’ll do my best. Now you, get to class!” Nurse Dolly orders. Eulalie, with a reassuring smile at Berenice, turns on her heel and leaves the infirmary. She hopes Berenice will get better soon. Berenice did not get better.

in fact, she only seemed to become worse as the days passed. She had started to become more hostile, and even tried to bite Nurse Dolly a few times. Every time Eulalie would try to come visit, Nurse Dolly would chase her away. Eulalie was really starting to get scared now. Was Berenice in real danger from her condition? Eventually, Eulalie became fed up with not being allowed to visit, and decided to sneak into the infirmary one night. She grabbed a bottle of wine to take with her in case Berenice was feeling well enough to keep it down, which would no doubt thrill her to bits. Eulalie crept through the halls, avoiding the whisps. God knows what would happen if she was caught. She got to the infirmary wing and contemplated knocking. What if Nurse Dolly was awake and heard her? But then again, it was very quiet on the other side of the door. Taking a deep breath, Eulalie knocked on the door and waited. No footsteps. No voices. Seems all clear. Satisfied, Eulalie pushed the doors open.

A scream tore itself free from her throat.

The infirmary was covered in red. Dead bodies of students littered the room, their faces frozen in terror. Eulalie’s eyes wandered to the body of Nurse Dolly, or rather, the creature perched on her stomach with its jaws on her throat. The wine bottle slipped from Eulalie’s grasp and shattered onto the floor, causing the creature to raise its head and look at her. Eulalie felt like she couldn’t breathe. It was Berenice. Her spectre had never looked more accurate to the books. She was covered in blood that obviously wasn’t hers, and her long, sharp teeth were slick with blood and saliva. Eulalie could only stare in horror as Berenice spoke, voice choked with shame.

“I’m sorry, Eula…I was so hungry.”

[rogloptimist]

when i first saw you, the end was soon

Primoz has been here before. He knows these hours like the back of his hand, he can trace the minutes like a signature, every second he has lived so thoroughly that simply moving through time is like walking home— until now. Until this. Amber tufts of hair. Gray eyes sharper than a scalpel. It’s as if he’s lived from birth knowing daylight, but for the first time in his life, has been shown a sunrise. Brightness is redefined.

He understands Icarus now. It was neither hubris nor stupidity that sent him barreling towards the ocean’s unforgiving waves, but the thrill of discovering a marvel you thought you already understood. If they put wings on his back and told him to fly, he doesn’t think he could resist the urge to touch a miracle either, whether or not it burned.

heeey guys i needed to perform an exorcism as assassin!rog + time loop!pogrog has been haunting my mind like i disturbed a grave so here it is?? non-summary fic is below the cut, you can read it here on ao3

Primoz comes to as his hand shakes off the dripping plaid umbrella in his grasp. His vision lags for a moment, the droplets seeming to scatter in slow motion before his senses snap into place like a rubber band pulled taut and released, and the world comes into abrupt focus. He’s standing in the middle of a concrete staircase, the gentle sunlight streaming through the rain-slick glass dome above him hitting like a punch as the warmth registers all at once. The sound of hurried phone calls, pattering rain, and intercom announcements rush into real time like a slow clock hand catching up with the second. He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking off the dazed feeling collecting in his temples. Three uniformed schoolboys bolt past him, cackling and grabbing at each other’s collars to pull themselves up the concrete stairs— he sidesteps as to not get trampled. On his wrist, his watchface reads 5:14:37 pm. About 15 seconds for his mind to connect stimulus to his body. Not a personal best, but it’ll do.  

His black loafers click rhythmically against the ground as he begins to walk down the remaining steps. The air is sticky with humidity, making his white dress shirt cling to him like wet paper. He appears to be decked out head to toe in corporate attire- a nondescript black suit utterly unsuited to the weather, mahogany tie tied slightly too loose, still-wet umbrella in one hand, and leather briefcase in the other. He hopes there’s a firearm inside-- or a knife, at the very least. With his luck, though, it’s likely manila folders full of legal jargon. He stops at the base of the steps and cracks the latch open to confirm his suspicions- nothing but stacks of papers in what looks to be a language he can’t even understand. 

That’s fine. He can improvise. He clicks the case closed and continues forward. 

A quick turn around a bricked wall reveals a few things he doesn’t like. First, more people. There are masses of people flowing up and down the stairway and through the small shops littered throughout the station. From the looks of it, it seems to be the beginning of an evening rush hour. He doesn’t like killing in a crowd- too many eyes, not enough space, and it becomes a pain to reach the target in the first place. The effort typically isn’t worth his odds-- even less so without a decently subtle weapon. 

Second, he’s inside of a subway station. Moving vehicles, particularly ones that he isn’t driving, add infinitely more variables to trailing a target. Not to mention it appears all the signs are in the script written all over the documents he’s lugging around- Korean, he thinks. Upon closer inspection, there are English translations underneath, but he’s still not pleased-- being unarmed on the job during a foreign country’s rush hour is likely a grand total of no one’s forte. He fights the urge to curse himself for taking work nearly exclusively in Europe for the last few years of his career. Panic makes him sloppy, and he can’t cover his own bet on an unsteady hand. As he approaches the turnstiles blocking off the remainder of the station, he swallows the beginnings of alarm creeping up his throat. He checks his pockets for a ticket, transit pass, a wallet- anything to get him onto a train legally, for the most part. Shockingly, he finds a crisp, one way ticket from Myeongdong to Apgujeong in his breast pocket. He lays the slip on the scanner, allowing himself a small sigh of relief, and silently crosses breaking and entering off his list of chores. Once through the turnstiles, he checks his watch. 5:18:57-- he has about 22 minutes. Time to pick up the pace. 

As he follows the signs directing towards Track 3, he melts into the crowd around him. This is where he’s most at ease: floating in his environments like shadow through liquid. Back at the agency, there was ongoing confusion and debate as to whether he was a control freak, or simply didn’t care. The answer? Both. Primoz craves a gamble-- but unlike most junkies, his obsession lies in carefully reconstructing the odds around his bet. The thrill comes from engineering the chain reaction, not the explosion itself. He likes to test himself. Controlled risk. An intercom announces that the train will arrive in 10 minutes as he rides the wave of people towards the glass-gated tracks, barely even corporeal. For his own schedule, he’s down to 19 minutes. He settles against a pillar and does what he is best at-- he waits. 

* * *

The train is utterly packed. Every time he thinks it’s about to empty as passengers flood out, just as many people (or inexplicably more) board the train for the next stop. He’s been wedged in between a little old lady holding a massive icebox and a college student who looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks for the last eight minutes- the latter of whom keeps nodding off and falling into Primoz’s back. As best as he can without pummeling anyone in his immediate vicinity, he checks the time again. One minute. He begins to scan the train car for signs of anything unusual. He’s curious as to how things are going to play out this time around- practically nobody has the space to move, and the train isn’t due to stop for an additional few minutes.

Or not. Suddenly, his body is jerked forward as the train grinds to a violent halt. The intercom buzzes to life over the rising wave of confused chatter- first in Korean, then Japanese, and finally English. “Due to technical difficulties with the vehicle, we are currently unable to depart from our current location. We apologize for the inconvenience and ask for your patience as we address the issue.”

Well. There’s his sign. Like clockwork (which, upon second consideration, it quite literally is), he spots a bright green and navy blue jacket slipping through the yellow car door in front of him. Primoz snaps into action. He begins pushing through the sea of bodies, apologizing as he squeezes through the mess of limbs and heads. Through the glass, he can see the back of his mark doing the same. Good, he thinks. Better if we’re both slowed down. He reaches the door and bursts through, just as the figure pops out the other end of the horde. Apologies forgotten, he bulldozes his way through the crowd and pulls the next car door open. 

This one lacks a window of any sort, and it takes him aback when he opens it to see the car is nearly empty. Green jacket is nowhere to be seen, and there’s about 6 people scattered around all looking curiously on guard. Seeing as to how they all draw blades or battering rams of sorts the moment he stumbles into the car, he can guess as to why. Stupidly, his first instinct is to check his watch and think, six minutes earlier than usual, giving an excellent opening for the nearest man to lunge. It’s only muscle memory that makes his right leg kick out towards his attacker. Luckily for both parties, however, at that exact moment, the train jolts into motion. “We apologize for the delay, and hope you have an excellent remainder of your trip!” the intercom chirps as both men tumble to the ground. Their eyes meet in brief and mutual mortification before the entire car jumps back into action. Various deadly objects begin flying at Primoz, and he barely has time to block a knife whizzing towards his face with the briefcase (if he had one, he would take a moment to thank his past self for not abandoning it in the station) and jump to his feet before the assaults redouble. He stands, slightly crouched, and six bodies descend upon him in a frenzy. 

As is commonly understood, the human body’s near universal response to immediate threat is to fight, flight, or freeze. However, it’s been in Primoz’s job description for nearly the last quarter of his life to reject all three. He is paid to turn the tables, to swallow his pounding heart, ignore the blood rushing through his ears, and instead become the threat. He has painstakingly trained himself to remain perfectly level despite an onslaught, transforming from a man tasked with murder into a perfectly oiled machine. He responds to each strike with surgical precision. Every punch is meant to crush a windpipe, every knife he disarms from an assailant he puts to good use against throats and arteries. There’s not a swing that misses, not a single movement that goes to waste. The briefcase also continues to be remarkably useful- he takes two of his assailants to the floor with a crushing bash to the head, and hears ribs crack when he swings it at another’s torso. The umbrella, not so much. The thing breaks in half upon impact, but the broken metal pole makes for an excellent stake to the eye. In the back of his mind, he savors the violence. This is as close as it gets to being home.

And as quickly as it began, all the movement in the car ceases with a finishing knife to the back. Primoz scans his work. Certainly not his best, judging by the amount of blood on the floor. He much prefers to be the instigator of a conflict; being caught off guard makes him messy. He purses his lips at the caved in skull near his foot. He’ll have to do better next time. 

Scratch that-- if he does well enough now, there won’t be a next time. 

After shedding his blood-stained jacket, he escapes to the next car over. Thankfully, no one seems to have taken heed to whatever they were hearing next door. Or the train has excellent soundproofing. Either way, he goes unnoticed as he does his best to compose himself while pressed against a wall. And as luck would have it, the train rolls to a stop at Apgujeong. He follows the flood of bodies out the doors as a cheery voice thanks him for his passage over the speaker. He looks around, and doesn’t see much that’s new-- more concrete tunnels and tiled walls.

Okay, he thinks. What now? 

By instinct, he looks at his watch. After no longer being able to rely upon basic truths of his environment, he has learned to live solely by time. He’s dissected the constant reiterations of the various worlds he is thrown into by the second-- although he may be in the middle of an abandoned amusement park one day, and a salt marsh the next, he has the patterns of events carved into the back of his eyes. If he doesn’t know how disaster will strike, he sure as hell knows when. 

Which is why it is deeply disconcerting when he looks down and the analog face reads 6:02:19. Again, ahead of schedule. By about 11 minutes, in fact. The initial onslaught after the first moment of crisis ends at exactly 6:13:29- no earlier, no later. Never. He looks around, feeling as if he’s forgotten a limb on the train. He scans the space for anything suspicious, but sees absolutely nothing. Are there things embedded in the walls? Drones? Once, the loop put him in some sort of space station where an army of microbots swarming through the vents and cracks between metal plating bore through his skin and crawled through his lungs. He particularly hated that one. He finds an empty plastic seat nailed to the wall and pretends to go through his briefcase as he eyes the woman who he momentarily thought was staring right at him, before she began walking in the opposite direction. He shuts the lid much harder than necessary. He’s been thrown off his rhythm-- he feels like he's been blindfolded and told to steer a bike off muscle memory, he-- he sees something. In the corner of his eye, a flash of green and blue darts up the stairs. Recognition blares like an alarm bell as he begins sprinting in pursuit, subtlety utterly forgotten. 

The figure weaves through the crowd, deft as a pianist’s hands. Primoz silently thanks whoever it is he’s chasing for choosing to don the most crass of greens on their shoulders that morning. The oversaturated windbreaker sticks out like a sore thumb, his eyes locking onto it instantly. The two are nearing the stairs heading up to the busy street above when the target suddenly takes a sharp right turn away from the exit, and Primoz briefly loses sight of them. In a panic, he follows in the general direction. Fortunately, the individual quickly returns into his line of sight. Unfortunately, they’re now inexplicably on the other side of a set of turnstiles. Primoz pats himself down for any more tickets, or perhaps a slip of cash that he missed earlier, but no such luck. Not that he’d have the time to buy a new pass anyway, though. He looks at the green and blue-clad torso getting smaller in the distance, then at the attendant assisting a young tourist at the ticket station next to the turnstiles. He mutters a quick apology and leaps over the metal bars, hardly hearing the shout of surprise and ensuing multilingual demands for his return as he runs forward and disappears into another crush of people. 

The pair snake their way through the station at a distance as if connected by bungee cord. Every time Primoz tries to get closer, someone stops directly in front of him and blocks his way, every time he’s on the verge of losing the trail, a path miraculously opens. They make their way through the concrete halls like this, bouncing around equilibrium, until they arrive at Track 5. 

He skids to a stop just as a few stragglers board the closing train. The glass doors separating the station from the tracks are nearly shut, and Primoz thinks he finally has his moment, when the figure sharply dives toward the leftmost door, just barely making it inside. Primoz on the other hand, isn’t quite fast enough to bridge the gap from the turn in the tunnels to the departing vehicle. Astonished, he watches as the train begins to inch forward. The figure turns around and meets his gaze through the glass. A young man-- barely in his early twenties, with a shock of spiky honey colored hair and slate gray eyes. He cocks his head at him, slightly, then the train snaps into its full speed. Primoz almost thinks he sees him smile as he disappears into a blur of color down the dark tunnel. The last thing he notices about the train itself is a large ‘131’ printed into a white circle on the doors of his mystery mark’s car.

That was the door? It’s hardly six!

Flabbergasted, he checks his watch. For a moment, he sees nothing but black screen, until the white digits begin to flash erratically. He watches the pixels jump across the small, rectangular face before they come to a stop, reading ‘83:29:41’. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he feels like he remembers the six digits from somewhere, but he can’t quite place it. He stares at the empty tracks, dumbfounded, heart pounding from the chase. 

“What the fuck?!”

He has just enough time to hear his voice echo on the tiled walls before, hours ahead of schedule, everything goes black. 

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 5: Not Afraid of a Little Blood

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: When an incident occurs that leaves Lucy horribly embarrassed, Tommy has to find a way to reassure her that a bit of blood is of no consequence to him.

Word Count: 3,876

Notes: Warnings for depictions of menstruation, menstrual blood, and smut including period sex.

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Lucy woke up in a haze, her eyelids heavy and her head feeling groggy and like it had been stuffed full of cotton. She groaned softly, brows pinching together while she turned her face against her pillow. 

Or, well, technically Tommy’s chest. That she was using as a pillow.

How could she still be so tired? They’d actually managed to go to bed at a semi-decent hour last night. The exhaustion clinging to her made no sense. 

She cracked an eye open in irritation, taking in the darkness of the room. 

Oh, that was why she was so tired. It was still the middle of the night.

Shifting a little to get more comfortable in the narrow bed she and Tommy were squished in in his room, she frowned again as her brain became aware of a dull, all-too familiar ache in her lower abdomen, radiating from the spot just below her belly button and throbbing within her lower back. 

Her eyes snapped out, mouth parting in silent horror. 

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no…

She wasn’t due to start for at least another week!

Reaching down, hoping that by some miracle she was wrong and perhaps just had a stomachache–though she already knew in her bones that wasn’t the case–she slipped her fingers to the knickers she was wearing under one of Tommy’s undershirts that she’d stolen to wear to bed. 

A little whimper of mortification left her at the sensation of sticky wetness already soaking the gusset of her underwear. There was wetness from the blood on the sheets beneath her as well. 

For a moment she lay frozen, unsure exactly what to do. A large part of her was tempted to just borrow in on herself in shame. Or perhaps find a nice hole to crawl in and promptly die of embarrassment.

Tommy’s arm twitched around her, and she froze, staring up into his face with wide eyes. His features were relaxed and peaceful, small snores emitting with the steady tempo of his breathing.

She felt her bottom lip pout and start to tremble with unshed tears. He was going to be so mad at her.   

Probably disgusted too. She would never forget when she was a young, self-conscious teenager and she first started getting her menses; how her brothers Elliot and Patrick had shrieked when they saw her miserably trying to wash her bloodied sheets in the mornings. How they’d told her she was gross.   

It would’ve been one thing if they were at her flat, in her own bed, and it was her sheets she’d just wrecked. She probably still would have felt the urge to run away and hide out of mortification, but at least it would have been her own property she’s massacred and not his.  

She needed to get out of this bed. Before she caused even more horrendous damage. 

Once she was certain Tommy wasn’t about to wake up, she moved slowly, inching her way out from under his arm, keeping an eye on him to make sure that he didn’t rouse. He was such a light sleeper, it made it incredibly difficult for her to be able to even sneak out of bed to use the loo in the middle of the night without waking him. 

Finally sitting up, she nudged the sheets slowly off of her. Eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room and able to make out a little more than just dark, shadowy shapes, she bit her lip, and looked down to properly assess the damage. 

A horrified gasp left her lips before she could stop herself. 

Oh, it was so much worse than she had initially thought. Her knickers were destroyed, a dark, wide-spreading stain marking the sheets below her. There was even a little seeped into the back of the shirt she was wearing. 

Hot tears immediately started to roll down her cheeks, the combination of mortification, hormones, and fear of just what Tommy was going to do when he saw sending her hurtling into near hyperventilation. She buried her face in her hands, trying to stifle her little whimpers of humiliation. 

“Lucy?” 

An agonized whine left her throat at the sound of Tommy’s voice, then rustling beside her as he sat up.

“Sweetheart?” his large hand rested tentatively on her shoulder. “Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?”    

God, I wish this was a nightmare, she thought miserably, shaking her head. 

“Then what’s wrong?” his hand slid down to rest between her shoulder blades, carefully rubbing circles into her back. 

She lifted her head to stare at him miserably, sniffling. 

“I’m sorry.”

His brows pulled together in confusion. “For what?” when she didn’t respond, he let out a quiet, puzzled laugh, leaning closer. “Lucy?”

She shrank in on herself, cramping stomach roiling with nerves. To buy herself time, she wiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand. 

“I didn’t mean to…I swear I thought…” she had to pause to sniffle. “I thought I had another week to go before it started. Usually…usually I can tell that it’s going to start soon. I don’t…I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry…” her voice broke when she started to cry harder. Tommy’s hands gripped her shoulders, turning her to look at him, expression filled with nothing but concern.     

“Luce, whoa, whoa, wait, what? What are you talking about, love?”

She clapped a hand across the lower half of her face, fighting to get herself under control and failing miserably. The realization that the violent spasmings of her sobs was causing her to bleed even more intensely than she already was added a sudden shock of franticness to her already spiraling emotions. 

“Lucy? Lucy, hey, hey,” Tommy was trying to cup her face and draw her in closer to him to comfort her. “Love, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” when another whimper left her lips, he reached out to push a curl back behind her ear. “It’s okay. You can tell me, eh? It’s alright.” 

“I–” she took a deep breath. “I bled all over your sheets, Tommy.”

For a moment he looked confused, until she scooted a little on the bed so he could see the stain under her. 

“Oh.”

She whined, burying her face in her hands. “I’m sorry–”

“Wha–? Hey, no, no, it’s alright, eh?” he gently pried her hands away, features relaxed and somewhat bemused. “You had me worried there for a second,” he pecked her forehead. “I thought something bad had happened.” 

She stared at him, stunned, brain short-circuiting a little at the general lack of significant reaction that she had been expecting. “You’re not mad?” her voice was quiet and timid. 

Tommy let out a bewildered laugh, shaking his head. “No, I’m not mad.”

For some reason, that too made tears well back up into her eyes, and his expression softened. 

“Oh, love, c’mere,” he reached out to coax her into his arms, but she tried to pull away, shaking her head and trying to move around him to get out of the bed. 

“I need to get up before I make it worse–”

“No, come here,” he pulled her into his arms, giving her a squeeze and kissing the crown of her head. “It’s okay, I promise. Not a big deal. I’m not upset with you,” he rubbed her back. “Eh?”

She nodded weakly into his chest. 

“That’s my girl,” he kissed her temple. “Right,” he leaned back, cupping her cheeks, his voice still soft and gentle. “Go get cleaned up. I think Polly or Ada keep some things in the cabinet under the sink if you need them. I’ll take care of the sheets.”

She instantly started shaking her head, mouth opening. “I can–” 

Tommy shut her up with a quick kiss before she could continue protesting. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry about it; just go get cleaned up.”

Knowing that it likely wouldn’t do much good to argue with him considering he’d already made up his mind about it, she nodded. He loosened his grip on her, letting her climb out of the bed and awkwardly shuffle for the door, trying to keep her legs together as much as possible to keep from dripping onto the floor. She poked her head cautiously out into the hall, checking to make sure there was no one lurking around who might spot her before darting down the hall to the little washroom at the end of it. 

Once the green door was shut with a soft click, she latched both hands to the rim of the sink’s basin, head bowed forward, dragging in deep breaths to try to calm herself. When she finally looked up at herself in the mirror, she was met with a mess: her cheeks swollen and splotchy with red, eyes bloodshot. She ran a hand through her hair to try to tame it, not accomplishing much. Distantly she heard the creak of feet on the stairs. Probably Tommy going to fill a bucket or basin with water from the one of the sinks in the kitchen or washroom downstairs. 

With a sigh, she sat down on the edge of the tub in the far corner, and set about assessing the damage.  

In the bright light of the washroom, it wasn’t actually nearly as terrible as she’d initially thought it to be by touch and blurry night vision alone. Her knickers were more or less ruined, but they seemed to have contained the damage a little better than she’d originally assessed. And only a tiny bit had leaked through onto the back bottom part of the shirt she was wearing. 

She winced at a particularly nasty cramp that gripped her lower abdomen, taking a moment before rising again to plug the sink and turn on the cold water. While the basin filled, she set to work rifling around in the cabinet under the sink, finding the sanitary napkins stored there and pulling one out. 

She mentally struck herself for not bringing a change of clothes with her. The napkin wouldn’t exactly do her much good until she did. 

Dropping the napkin back where she found it, she rose to turn off the tap and sat back down on the edge of the tub.

She considered going back to the bedroom for some fresh knickers, but she wasn’t entirely ready to have to face Tommy again quite yet.

With a small groan, she dropped her head into her hands. Despite his reassurances, she was still so completely and utterly mortified she half hoped that the ground would just open up and swallow her whole so that she wouldn’t have to face him again.  

She sniffled, nose still a little stuffy from crying. 

Ugh. Not only had she bled all over the place, but then she’d cried on him like a fucking idiot. 

A soft knock tapped on the door. “Lucy?”

She just whimpered in response. Probably too quiet for him to hear. 

Another knock. “Love, are you okay?”

When she still didn’t answer, the door opened just a crack so that he could peak in. When he saw her seated on the tub with her head in her hands, he stepped hastily into the room, closing the door behind him.

“I brought you some clean clothes.”

He set the folded white undershirt–another one of his–and fresh pair of underwear down, taking a seat beside her on the rim of the tub. His big hand smoothed out across her back. 

“Lucy?”

“I want to die,” she mumbled into her palms. He chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

She dropped her hands, letting his arm pull her closer to his side until her head was resting on his shoulder. “I’m mortified.”

“Don’t be. Those sheets and that mattress have seen way worse.”

“How bad was it really?” she asked.

“Not terrible. I left them to soak overnight in a basin of cold water in the washroom downstairs. Reckon that the stains will come out completely, actually…What?” he asked at the look she gave him, then chuckled. “This isn’t my first time having to get blood out of fabric, you know.”

She snorted a little, face turned to half press into the crook of his neck. Tommy’s cheek landed to rest on the top of her head. 

“You really thought I would be mad at you?” he asked after a moment, voice quieter. Lucy shrugged. 

“I dunno,” in hindsight, perhaps it did seem a little silly. He was never anything but gentle and sweet with her, after all. “My father and brothers could be really mean, when I was a teenager,” she added softly, hoping that would be enough of an explanation. Tommy’s arm tightened protectively around her shoulders in reaction.    

“Fucking idiots. Don’t listen to a word they said,” he grumbled, lips brushing her forehead. “It’s gonna take a lot more than a little blood to scare me away,” she smiled to herself at his words, snuggling closer, then winced as another cramp seized her. Tommy squeezed her. “Hurts?”

She nodded. His palm slid down to her lower back, massaging careful circles into it. The warmth from his hand and the soothing movements were nice. “That helps.”

He hummed, continuing the massage for a few more moments, then pecking her temple. “I’ll let you finish getting cleaned up.”

“‘Kay. Thank you for the clean clothes.” 

He just smiled softly, kissing her head again before standing and slipping quietly out the door. She stared at the door after he’d disappeared behind it for a moment more before moving, a tiny smile pulling at her lips before she stood to get cleaned up and changed. When she finally found her way to the bedroom, Tommy had already put a fresh pair of sheets on the bed, sprawled out lazily on his back and smoking while he waited for her. When he saw her, he smiled, turning to put his cigarette out in the ashtray on the nightstand and drawing the sheets aside so she could get in. He raised an eyebrow when he saw what was clutched in her hand.  

“What’s the towel for?”

She looked down at the white fabric. “For me to lay on. In case I leak anymore during the night.” 

“Mm,” he hummed in understanding, one arm folding behind his head as he watched her climb over him to settle back on her side of the bed, spreading out the towel there before laying down. She yelped when Tommy promptly rolled over, laying on his side and engulfing her in his arms. Without her permission, a startled giggle left her lips, peering up at him from where her head was resting on his chest. He purred, stroking her cheek and smiling to himself.

“What?”    

“You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

She felt her cheeks flare with bashful warmth, burrowing down into his pectorals. “Shut up,” she mumbled into his warm skin, his laugh vibrating against her cheek. Her lower belly was still aching intensely, but being pressed up to him like that helped soothe it somewhat. He was so warm, it was not unsimilar to holding a warm water bottle to her stomach. 

“You alright?” one of his hands found her lower back again, massaging those soothing circles. She nodded weakly.

“Just cramping.”

“Bad?”

She nodded again. No use in trying to keep it from him when he could so easily read her like a book. 

“You know…” he started, then stopped. She peaked up at him curiously to find him staring at the wall, frowning. Like he was debating in his head whether to actually utter what he was thinking. 

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “It’s just…I might be able to help you, if you wanted…”

Her brows furrowed. “How…?”

He caressed her face gingerly. “Whenever Greta’s cramps were particularly bad, we found that…orgasms helped to ease them.”

Her eyes widened. Despite the pain, a little flutter of arousal stirred between her legs.  

“You don’t have to,” he added hastily. “But if you wanted to try it…” his lips quirked up. “My services are available.”

She giggled a little in spite of herself, reaching up to trace the shape of one of his sharp cheekbones. “Won’t it make a mess?”

“That’s what the towel is for, love.”

Humming in contemplation, she considered the offer. The cramps in her stomach would make it difficult to get back to sleep. If he really could offer a bit of relief from them…

And then there was the pool of arousal that his suggestion had already awoken in her, inner walls twitching and clit throbbing at the suggestion. 

“If you really would be up for it…” she started, and saw Tommy’s eyes light up a little with excitement. “I’d like to try it.”

The second the sentence had passed her lips, his mouth was crashing down onto hers, deep, open-mouthed kisses nearly making her swoon as he rolled on top of her in one fluid motion. 

“Careful,” she whispered softly, even as her hands slipped up his shirt to start inching it off of him. He raised his arms so she could peel it off the whole way and toss it to the floor, his hands balancing on the mattress near either side of her head once it was off. 

“I’ll be so careful with you, love,” he crooned, kissing her again.      

Together, they quickly removed the remainder of each other’s clothes. Tommy’s warm hands skimmed cautiously over her breasts, mindful of how sore they currently were as he cupped one gingerly in his palm while they other hand continued to travel further south. A flare of self consciousness passed over her when two of his thick digits swiped experimentally at her entrance, collecting some of the wetness, both from arousal and blood, there. But Tommy didn’t balk. Didn’t even bat a fucking eye as he set to work very slowly and gently fingering her, thumb rubbing her clit steadily while he slipped one finger into her, working her over until he deemed her warmed up enough to add a second. 

Lucy moaned at the welcomed intrusion. Everything seemed to be more sensitive, his steady movements sending her head spinning. 

“Tommy…” she whimpered, walls squeezing around his fingers. He groaned, quiet and low in his chest.

“Feels good, love?” at her nod, he kissed her, swallowing one of her moans. “Can’t be too loud, don’t want the others to hear…”

She bit her lip, fighting to suppress her noises. Tommy nudged her cheek with his nose. 

“Think you’d be up for something a little bigger than my fingers? Hm?”

“Yes,” she nodded desperately, gripping tight to his shoulders. Tommy hummed, withdrawing his fingers, wiping them on the towel spread out below her. She inhaled sharply at the feeling of his thick erection bumping against her inner thigh before he lined himself up, nose knocking hers, warm breath fanning out across her cheeks. 

“Ready?”

She angled her head, lifting it to kiss him. “Yes.” 

When he entered her, he glided in with almost zero resistance, large cock pushing in and splitting her open until their hips were flush together.

They gasped into each other’s mouths. Lucy’s legs had wrapped around his waist, one hand still clutching his shoulder while the other gripped his back. He was cradling her in his arms, face close enough to hers even after they stopped kissing and just rested their foreheads together that she could’ve counted the freckles dotting his cheeks. 

He shifted a little inside of her, groaning with lowered lashes that raised quickly to assess her face. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?” 

She shook her head; quite the opposite, actually, with his cock pressing right up against her most sensitive places. He kissed her cheek, beginning to move over her, slow and gentle, cupping the side of her face. As his hips rolled steadily into her she moaned softly, head tipping back against the pillows. He grunted, and had her mind not been so hazy with pleasure she might’ve been embarrassed at the wet squelching sounds of their coupling.

Tommy was everywhere: above her and inside her, thumb rolling over her clit, arm around her, forehead resting on hers. His groans each time he bottomed out inside of her were low but impossibly deep, his chest vibrating with them where it was pressed against hers. 

Always so sweet with her. Always so loving and gentle. So often going out of his way to do things for her that he knew would make her smile. Eager to take care of her any time she needed him. 

“I love you so much,” she whispered, cradling both sides of his face. His eyes widened a fraction, a guttural moan leaving his throat. She felt his cock twitch and throb inside her. 

“I love you too,” his voice was hoarse, an octave lower than usual, and it made her insides just about turn to jelly, walls squeezing around his cock as her orgasm became imminent. The room was filled with the combined cacophony of their pleasured sounds, bed frame rattling a little with each slow, deep thrust. 

“I’m close–” it came out as a desperate plea, back arching slightly off of the bed as his cock hit that spot inside her that made her see stars. 

“Yes, come, Lucy,” Tommy started to kiss her neck, lips ghosting over the shell of her ear. “Come for me, sweetheart, come. Let me help you, baby. Let me make you feel better.”

With a tiny cry she only managed to keep half muffled, she buried her face into his shoulder, muscles locking down on him and straining with the force of her orgasm. He growled pleasantly, hips bucking a few more times before he stilled, following her right over the cliff with a strangled groan that sounded suspiciously like her name. His cock throbbing and twitching as it emptied generously into her.   

They laid slumped together like that for a good long while, Tommy peppering kisses along her neck and shoulders while she stroked carefully through his soft, dark hair. Finally he raised his head, giving her a sleepy smile.

“Feeling better?”

She blinked, only then remembering their reasoning for all this in the first place. Shifting her hips a little experimentally, she was struck with the realization that the pain in her lower stomach had retreated almost completely. 

“Actually, yeah.”

He chuckled at her moderate surprise, kissing her nose. “Good.”

They both winced as he pulled out of her, and for the second time that night she found herself awkwardly shuffling to the bathroom to clean up. When she returned to bed it was to find that he’d replaced the towel spread out on the mattress with a clean one.

“C’mere,” his arm looped around her waist, pulling her back into bed so that she was resting on his chest. They were both still naked, save for her in her underwear and sanitary napkin. He hugged her close, tipping her head up so he could kiss her sweetly. “Try to sleep, love.”

She nodded, snuggling closer. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Tommy shook his head, smiling gently, eyes soft and loving. “Nothing to thank me for, love.”

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[evolutionsvoid]

The Eintykara are beloved insects, due to their ties to Ichor and the wondrous miren they create. They take flesh and fluids to make their nests, and slowly convert it to golden miren and malleable corpse wax. These products have a wide range of use, and many people clamor to get their hands on them, but sadly, there is often not enough to go around. Eintykara hives take a lot of resources to construct and they require a somewhat steady supply of flesh and fluid to keep churning out the goods. Even then, it takes a long time for a sizeable nest to form and the constant demand means that supply is often quick to run out. Add to that the value of this product, and what people would do to get their hands on it, and you will see why very few outside of the Church can maintain an Eintykara hive. The Church of Divine Wealth has entire wings and temples dedicated to these golden insects, built and kept safe for decades, if not centuries. They have the space, the resources and the security to ensure everything remains perfect. But most of their miren and corpse wax is used internally, never leaving the halls of the Church, while what remains is "given" to certain supporters who are very charitable with their "donations." So common folk struggle to get a decent amount of miren or corpse wax, and are often forced to use shoddier imitations or lesser versions, like ear wax. Tomb Harvesters can offer some at the right price, but these costs are often greatly inflated and the miren that comes from it is tainted with anguish. So many villages outside of the Church's reach try to create their own source, and often they fail. But sometimes, nature is able to provide. Sometimes the people may witness a miracle, as the Eintykara show why they are the insects bound to Ichor and life. 

The creation of Bugonia is one whose process is so complicated and so rife with failure that it is seen more as a miracle than an act. Some may try a hundred times and fail, while another may only do it once and succeed. Some folk simply prefer to leave the "ingredients" of the process out and hope that nature and random chance will grant them incredible luck. In most cases, it calls for cow, who is to be sacrificed in a brutal fashion and buried or locked away. Time and various other offerings are required, and if all goes well, a species of Eintykara will find this corpse and breathe life into it. Rather than taking bits of this dead flesh back to a hive, they turn this carcass into a living hive, bringing it back from the dead to serve as home and protector. What emerges from the process of Bugonia is a rotted beast filled with bug, wax and miren. Given new life, it will seemingly return to its past of grazing and living as a simple cow, though its diet now leans more omnivorous. What it eats is what fuels the Eintykara hive within, and the busy little bugs quickly convert bloody cud into glorious wax and miren. While fools would call it an abomination, many praise this golden dripping bull and see it as a bringer of fortune and plenty. 

Any village would sacrifice nearly anything to have a Bugonia bull amongst their livestock, as they are walking producers of miren and corpse wax. These animals are given preferential treatment and are guarded fiercely. Thankfully, the living hives are quite calm and peaceful as long as the food is flowing, content to act like any other cow. But if the hives are left to starve, they will have their host grow violent and voracious, goring and devouring anything to fuel their needs. Owners of Bugonia can train these animals if given enough time and food, and eventually they will learn who to trust and who to kill. A creature like this is highly prized, and thieves will come in droves to nab a golden calf like this. Villagers will fight and so will the bull, using powerful horns and angry swarms to devastate any who dare threaten it. And those who perish to its horns and hooves will be fed to the beast, so that their sinful flesh may be purified and turned into that sweet golden miren. 

The presence of a Bugonia bull can easily be noted by the wandering flight of Eintykara collecting food near farm fields and the buzzing, droning moo that comes from its rotted throat.       

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"Bugonia"

Wow, this turned out way more detailed and complicated than I originally imagined, but bugonia is a perfect thing for the world of Fall of Ichor. So I made it for that, and also because I am losing ground on the bugonia front! I once had two out of six, and now I am dumped down to only one?! Impossible! Unacceptable! I must up my game, I must make more bugonia! Go my minions, help me ruin Google search even more! I shall have it all!

[nterini]

In Defense of Hira - A textbook case of C-PTSD caused by Childhood Abuse and Neglect

In a lot of the shows that I watch, especially with teens or young adults relating to trauma, or any genre really, there’s always a playful question on my mind: where are their parents? However, at this point in show, it’s becoming so much more apparent that the lack of support Hira received growing up, is fundamental to the way that he sees himself and his position in the world around him. So much so that as much as I want to joke about Hira being as dense as a stone wall, I find myself becoming increasingly uncomfortable in how much my own trauma and reactions to isolation mirror Hira’s.

Symptoms of complex PTSD

Feelings of worthlessness, shame and guilt.

Problems controlling your emotions.

Finding it hard to feel connected with other people.

Relationship problems, like having trouble keeping friends and partners. (Source: NHS)

How was Hira Traumatized?

He was left to his own defenses at an early age and had to fend for himself. Just because they provided him with a house and money for food doesn’t mean they took care of him. He was also bullied for a speech impediment and isolated by his peers as a result. He’s probably never had anyone listen to him closely or had close emotional or physical relationships in his life. Extended periods of neglect in childhood and then more intense isolation later on is extremely damaging.

Trauma manifests differently. Before therapy, it was really difficult for me to wrap my head around the fact that I wasn’t actually invisible to friends and family. It took a quite aggressive and embarrassing event, (now funny and touching really) for me to understand that if I deviated from my own patterns or if I disappeared or didn’t contact people for hours that people would actually miss me or think about me. I went out and watched a movie after an event, and told one person through text. After the two hour movie, I turned my phone back on and found 30 missed calls. My mother had informed me that she had called the police and that the principal had formed a search party for me. My face was plastered all over Snapchat by my classmates.  I was mortified by what I believed to be a waste of resources and time on my behalf. Such a loud display of love and even then all I could think about was hiding away and making myself smaller. I wasn’t even decent enough to acknowledge the pain, worry, and fear they felt at the thought that someone they loved went missing. It took multiple years later: a very a tentative mother and aunt, very involved teachers, mentors and friends plus therapy for me to stop feeling like a ghost. To get out of my own head and stop trying to fade in the background as a coping mechanism. After being abandoned by his mother to live alone in a house so she could be with the family she wants, after being isolated by his classmates for having a stutter all throughout high school, only one person knocked loudly enough at the door attached to the fortress Hira built in his mind to cope with his trauma. Kiyoi.

That mental fortress is why Hira is alive today. It kept him safe when he had to sleep in the dark alone as a young boy when he had to cook his own meals. His social ineptitude is due to years of isolation and degradation by those around him. He wasn’t deemed worthy enough by his own mother to be taken care of. Yet Kiyoi loves and sees him. Kiyoi says his name and holds his hand and kisses him and suddenly Hira is solid mass. Not a shadow on the wall or the useless child not worth keeping. He becomes slightly more than nothing. In Hira’s mind he becomes a pebble. Sigh. Well it’s a start. But it’s not enough. It’s gonna take a real miracle for Hira to overcome years of trauma and see himself as a human being. I believe in him though. He’s so brave. No like really though, some of the shit he says is so cringey it takes real guts. Kiyoi is not going to give up on Hira anytime soon he’s too much of an exhibitionist for Hira and a freak (endearingly). Also, Hira is obsessive and intense, so they’re a perfect match.

He just needs proper counseling and a bit of time. I’m rooting for them.

[wheels-of-despair]

The Taming of the Crow Pairing: Koner x You Summary: A lady of the Free Folk spots a scared little crow on a snowy mountaintop… of course she's bringing him home. Contains: A wildling with a gift, a crow who's ready for the cold embrace of death, switching POVs, unexpected (and misinterpreted) kindness, being tied up but not in a sexy way, possessiveness, brat-taming, whipping, teasing, sickness, nursing back to health, miracle cure, accidental cuddling, dreams about dead men with blue eyes, comfort, happy endings for both the Koner and the story itself. Words: 9k [Part One: 4k / Part Two: 5k] Do Not Interact, youths and ageless blogs, or you will be blocked.

Koner had never been so tired in his life. He knew he should try to escape, but he felt the wilding woman watching him. Perhaps he'd just rest a bit… gather his strength… formulate a plan…

He didn't know if he'd slept for minutes or hours, but he didn't feel her eyes on him when he woke. His head hurt, his nose was stuffy, and his entire body ached. And the cold. He hadn't been properly warm in years, but everything was colder north of The Wall. If he ever got back to Castle Black, he'd spend the rest of his life fantasizing about stealing a horse and riding as far south as south goes. Or perhaps stowing away on a ship bound for somewhere in the deserts across the sea. Anywhere but here in this frozen nightmare.

He turned as quietly as he could and saw that her eyes were closed in her big pile of furs. Good. He looked around for anything that might help him break free, and his eyes landed on the sharpened stick she'd used to roast their dinner. That would do. He reached forward to pick it up with his bound hands, slow and quiet, glancing at her again to make sure she hadn't moved. She hadn't.

With his tool, he turned his back to her and lay on his side - just like he'd fallen asleep - so that even if she woke, she couldn't see what he was doing. It was hard work, but as soon as his hands were free, the knot at his feet would be no problem. He'd steal some of her clothes - knock her out, if he had to - slip through the village disguised as a wildling, and make a mad dash back to civilization. He worked quietly and steadily, seeing no real progress but a slight fray in the rope, but he tried as hard as he could to saw through it anyway.

"What are you doing, Little Crow?"

He sawed faster.

"Put it down, Little Crow."

Frantic now.

"If I have to get up and take it from you, you'll be sorry."

He hacked at the rope like his life depended on it.

The woman groaned. She was on him in seconds. She ripped the stick from his hands, set it aside, and kneeled in front of him. She grasped his chin and made him look at her.

"What did I just say to you, Little Crow?"

He spat in her face.

Did this little fucker really just spit on you? You slapped him in the face. You thought you were past this. Hadn't you had a decent conversation over supper last night? You saved him, you fed him, you offered him a warm bed, and this is the thanks you get? He glared up at you with fire in his eyes and a handprint on his cheek.

"Alright, Little Crow, we'll do this the hard way," you growled. His eyes sparkled with fear. Good.

You put your hand on his shoulder, and he twisted his neck and tried to bite you. You slapped his face again, grabbed him by the arm and the hip and rolled him face-down. He tried to wriggle away, but you placed a knee on his back to hold him still.

"You'll stay still if you know what's good for you," you hissed, reaching for the stick he'd tried to use to cut his bonds. You swished it through the air and brought it down on his arse. He jumped from the impact. A thin red welt appeared immediately.

You brought it down again, and again. He struggled as you painted a fresh coat of stripes on his still-tender rear. You suspected that he might be able to take you, if he were well-fed and rested and unbound, but that's not the case today. He'll learn. He may have chosen the painful route, but this little fucker will learn.

When he finally cried out, you stopped. And then you felt horrible for the state you've left him in: Whimpering on the floor with a crimson backside. You really did want to help him. You'd saved him from having his head cut off, for fuck's sake. But he just kept fighting.

You expected him to fight back a little, to be honest. It's no fun when they give in without a fight. But now? After everything you'd done for him? And at this hour?

You silently returned to your bed, facing away from the crying boy by the fire. You couldn't bear to look at him.

This woman could give his mother a run for her coin in a beating-his-arse competition. He hadn't been reduced to sniveling like this since he'd been caught napping instead of washing wool in the barn. He hadn't been able to sit proper for a week after that ordeal.

He eventually turned himself onto his side and curled into a ball. He wished she would just kill him already. As if it weren't bad enough that the wildlings had captured him, killed his brothers, stripped him and paraded him through the village naked and bound, and beat him several times… now they were making him think about his mother.

His head hurt almost as much as his arse. He closed his eyes, unable to take the flickering of the fire lighting up the inside of the tent any longer, and began to drift off. Maybe the Gods were feeling merciful, and he'd wake up dead.

"Little Crow?" He opened his eyes a sliver, some time later, just enough to see that the wildling woman was kneeling in front of him. "Are you alright?"

He closed his eyes and groaned. How long had it been? Why did it feel like he'd been dropped from the top of The Wall?

"I'm trying to help you, Little Crow. Why are you making it so hard?"

She reached forward to touch a lock of his sweaty hair. He shivered. Her hand moved to his forehead.

"Are you sick, Little Crow?" He sniffled in response.

"What hurts?" she asked. "Aside from the obvious."

"Everything," he croaked, squeezing his eyes shut. He could still see the flickering light of the fire through his eyelids. His head was throbbing along with it.

"Are you cold?"

"M'always cold," he mumbled.

"If I cut your feet loose, do you promise not to run?"

As if he had the strength to move at all.

"Answer me, Little Crow."

"I won't run," he whispered.

And just like that, the rope binding his feet was gone. But he was too tired to stretch his legs, much less try to escape.

"Come on, up you get." He opened his eyes just enough to see himself pulled to his knees with her assistance. And then he heard another voice.

"Anything to report?" a female voice asked. Too high-pitched. Each word felt like it was stabbing his brain.

"No dreams, just a sick crow."

"D'you need anything?" For you to stop talking, shrill creature.

"A fresh bucket of water, if you don't mind?"

"Sure!" One more word of this and his head would explode.

"Come on, Little Crow," the wildling urged again, her quiet voice much more tolerable than the other one. "That's just Lendis. She brings me things so I don't have to deal with people. Or maybe it's so they don't have to deal with me."

She didn't lead him toward the bed, but to the tent's entrance. "Where are you taking me?" he whined.

"I need you to see something." She opened the flap, just enough for him to see out of, and he was hit by a blast of cold air. "You feel that?" He nodded. "It's warm today. The sun's out. Do you see all those people?" He squinted into the blinding white and saw wildlings milling about. More wildlings than he could count. He nodded again.

"Every single one of those people are trained to kill crows. Even the little ones. From birth, we are taught that you are the enemy. Even if you were to somehow make it through them, you'd never survive the cold." She closed the opening, and Koner was plunged back into darkness. She put her hands on his shoulders and turned him to face her. "I'm the only reason you're still alive, Little Crow. If you want to stay that way, you better start listening to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he croaked. He'd agree to anything if she'd just let him sleep.

"Alright." She untied the rope around his hands and tossed it to the side. "Now get your arse into bed and let me take care of you."

Just like a man; completely helpless the minute he gets a stuffy nose.

Your freshly untied crow let you put an arm around him and walk him to your bed. Even let you lay him down and cover him up and stroke his hair for a moment, while you waited for your water.

When Lendis came back with your bucket, you pulled out a roll of herbs and started making tea at the fire. You just wanted to ease his aches and let him sleep for a while. Curing him completely didn't seem to be in your best interest just yet. You'd save that concoction for emergencies.

When it was finished, you poured the tea into a cup and let it cool. You brought it to the bed, where the crow was snuggled up beneath the pile of heavy furs.

"You still alive, Little Crow?"

He whined, and you tried not to laugh. All men are the same, be they Free Folk or Crow: Big babies. All of them.

"Drink this, it'll make you feel better."

With great effort, he dragged himself into a half-sitting position and reached for the tea. You're not sure if it's because he was shivering so much, or because he wouldn't open his eyes more than a squint, but he tried twice to reach the cup and missed. He didn't try a third time.

You set the cup down and slid in to sit behind him, putting a leg on either side of him and letting his back rest against your chest. He was so weak, he didn't put up a fight. His head lolled against your shoulder. Maybe you should've gone for the miracle cure after all. You reached for the cup and brought it to his lips.

"Drink." He started with a sip, then gulped down the entire cup. "Well done, Little Crow," you whispered into his ear. You set the empty cup aside, wiggled your way out, and laid him back down.

He was snoring before you covered him back up.

Hot.

It was so hot.

Koner opened his eyes and felt sweat sting them. He was soaked. He couldn't breathe. Why was it so fucking hot?

He wiped the sweat from his face and tried to remember where he was.

Right. Beyond The Wall. Captured by wildlings.

Where's the woman? He squinted into the dark tent, scanning for her. She wasn't here.

She'd left him here, alone, in her bed, covered in furs that were burning him. He kicked them off and felt instant relief.

But it wasn't enough.

It was then that he realized he was untied.

But he didn't want to run. He didn't have the strength. He just wanted to cool down.

Koner rolled over onto his stomach and tried to crawl to his knees. He was so weak. How long had she let him sleep? How long had it been since she fed him?

With great effort, he rose to his feet and stumbled toward the tent's entrance. All he needed was to feel the cold air. He'd open it, and he'd cool down, and everything would be alright.

He opened it and recoiled as the sunlight blinded him.

But the cold air felt so fucking good.

He needed more.

He took a step forward, and then two. The crunchy snow beneath his bare feet sent a chill up his burning legs. It was wonderful. He needed more. He needed to lie down in it.

And then something hit him in the back of the head, and he fell forward. Into the snow. He closed his eyes and spread his arms and let the cold wash over him as everything faded to black.

"Stop!"

You'd turned the corner just in time to see the guard you'd left at your door hit your crow in the back of the head with the blunt end of an axe. The boy crumpled to the ground, face-first and still naked.

You rushed to his side and saw the bloody spot where he'd been hit.

And his sweat-matted hair. You'd noticed he was warm when you left to go relay a dream about men climbing a wall of ice, but he wasn't this warm. You thought you'd be back and ready to take care of him before he woke; your meeting with Norryn must've taken longer than you thought.

"He tried to escape!"

"He's burning up, he was trying to cool down!"

You didn't know this for a fact, but you'd be damned if you let anyone think your crow was trying to escape.

"Help me get him up," you ordered.

The guard set aside his axe with a grumble and picked up your crow like he was nothing. The man dropped your crow on the bed with a grunt, then stomped back to his post.

You picked up a bowl, went outside to fill it with snow, and returned to your crow's side. You left the entrance open and let the fire die down. You packed a tight snowball and placed it on the bump left by the axe, then wrapped a bit of snow in a cloth to cool his face, his neck, his chest. He moaned quietly at the sensation, but didn't open his eyes.

That's when you decided to break out the miracle cure.

You left his side to make the tea, and returned to him with a cup of steaming liquid.

"Wake up, Little Crow. I need you to drink this."

"Too hot," he whined.

"Drink it, Little Crow. It'll break your fever."

"Don't want it."

"If you drink it, I'll get more snow and cool you down again."

He made a half-hearted attempt to rise, then flopped back down onto the bed like a fish.

"Do you need me to hold you up?"

He nodded, his bloodshot eyes pleading.

You helped him up and sat behind him again, letting him lie against you as you held the cup for him. Interesting how he could make it all the way outside, but not lift a little wooden cup.

After he drained it, you set the cup aside. You'd planned on laying him back down and going to get the snow you'd promised him, but instead of moving forward so you could rise, he leaned back into you. You looked down in shock, thinking he'd passed out… but he turned his head and nuzzled his forehead into your neck.

Well that was an interesting development.

The first thing Koner noticed when he woke was that his head didn't hurt so badly anymore.

The second thing he noticed was how warm he was. Had the wildling woman decided to boil him alive after all? Was he in some giant human-sized pot? If this was boiling to death, he supposed it wasn't a bad way to go. It actually felt quite nice.

Then he noticed a strange weight around his waist, and curiosity dragged him out of his sleepy fog. He opened his eyes and saw the fire still blazing. He lifted the fur that had been pulled up to his neck and looked down at his bare body.

There was an arm wrapped around his middle. He slowly turned his head to look back. It was the wildling woman. He was literally being held captive by the wildling woman. Before his brain could process his situation, she inhaled deeply and moved closer, splaying her hand across his belly.

"You awake, Little Crow?"

He tensed, but didn't answer.

"I felt that," she chuckled. "How's your head?"

"Better," he mumbled, knowing he'd been caught.

"Good," she said. "And the rest of you?"

He hadn't thought about the rest of him. Last night - was it just last night, or was it weeks ago? - his whole body had ached. But now, stretching each limb to test it, he was surprised to find that his pain had subsided.

"Better," he said again, a little more confident this time.

"Good," she repeated. "Are you hungry?"

His stomach growled beneath her hand, and she laughed. He could feel her body shake against his. He hadn't been this close to another person since he left home, where he was still sharing a bed with three younger brothers. This didn't feel anything at all like that.

She released him and stretched with a groan. He watched her step over him and approach the fire, stoking it and moving buckets and bowls around. He made no move to join her, content in just lying there and watching.

Soon, she brought him a bowl of something steaming. It smelled like nature, and fire, and comfort.

"You think you can manage, or would you like me to feed you again?" She smirked. Vague memories of her holding him rushed back, and he blushed, sitting up to take the bowl from her.

He drained the soup in record time, ready for more. He looked at his empty bowl, and then at her, not daring to ask. She understood.

"Soon, Little Crow. It's been a while since you've had real food, you should take it slow."

He sighed in disappointment, and she took the bowl back to the fire. She stoked it again, and the flames lit up her eyes like an animal in the night. But he wasn't afraid. Not anymore.

He tried to stifle a yawn, but she noticed.

"Still sleepy, Little Crow?"

He nodded, and she smiled at him.

"Sleeping is healing. Go on, lie back down, you can have another bowl of soup when you wake."

Koner didn't need to be told twice.

The next time he woke, she was sitting by the fire with a heap of something in her lap. She was bent over it, struggling to see in the flickering light, and her hands moved quickly. Was she… was she sewing? Did wildlings sew?

"Are you sewing?" he croaked, licking his dry lips.

She jumped in surprise and dropped something into her lap. She reached for it and held up what looked like a large needle in one hand, and then… the pants that the jagged-toothed bastard had cut off of him in the other.

"Thought you might like to wear clothes again someday," she winked, tying off the thread. "Unless you're still set on being eaten. Don't think you'll need clothes for that."

He scrunched his nose at her, and she laughed.

"Ready for more soup?"

He nodded eagerly, and she filled his bowl again. This time, he came to join her… still trying to cover his bits with his hand.

"Here you go, shy maiden," she teased, holding out his freshly-stitched trousers. He pulled them on gratefully. "Stitching's not great, but it'll do for now."

"Thank you," he mumbled, plopping down on the floor next to her. She handed him the soup, and he held it below his nose and inhaled deeply before taking his first sip.

This bowl was even better than the first.

He slurped away happily as she started stitching his cloak.

"We'll get you a new one of these soon," she began. "Black's not your color anymore." She glanced up to check for a reaction, then back down at the cloak when he didn't give her one. "If you're feeling up to it, maybe we could take a walk tomorrow? You've been cooped up in here for days."

"Am I your prisoner?" The question fell from his lips before he could stop it.

She put down the needle and looked at him. "No, Little Crow."

"What am I?" he asked cautiously.

"What do you want to be?"

He had to think about it.

"I don't know," he finally answered.

"Did you like being a crow?" she asked, returning her attention to the cloak in her lap.

He hated it. Everyone was surly, all the time. It was hard, and cold, and lonely work. The officers frequented the Mole's Town taverns, but if anyone of Koner's rank had been discovered breaking vows and consorting with whores, they'd be sorry. He'd have been better off staying at home, letting his mother make him miserable.

"No," he mumbled.

"Then why do it?"

"Needed work. Thought it'd be easier in the Night's Watch."

"How?"

Why did she keep asking questions he didn't know the answer to? He had to think about this one as well.

"The Night's Watch only has one enemy."

"And who would that be, Little Crow?" She put down her needle and gave him a hard stare.

He looked at her sheepishly.

"Do you still see me as your enemy?"

The realization came as a great surprise to him, but he didn't. She'd saved his life, fed him, nursed him back to health, mended his clothes. She'd only hurt him after he'd hurt her. He suddenly felt quite guilty about being such a nuisance.

He shook his head. She cocked hers and smiled.

"What's your name, Little Crow? We've been fighting each other and your fever for so long, we've never really been introduced."

"Koner."

"Koner," she repeated, taking her time with each syllable. He quite liked the sound of his name coming from her lips.

She introduced herself, and he repeated her name back to her. She appeared to like the sound of him speaking her name, too.

You woke with a gasp.

Dead men. Dead men everywhere. Dead men with icy blue eyes. In the mountains. Definitely in the mountains. But which ones?

"What's wrong?"

You shushed the boy lying beside you and tried to focus on the mountains. No sun; just snow swirling around hundreds of bodies.

"Are you alright?"

You reached out and clamped your hand over his mouth, trying to remember the dream.

Three sets of jagged peaks that looked as though they might slice through the clouds if they dared to drift too low: The Widows.

"I have to go," you mumbled, hopping out of bed and pulling on a heavy coat. "Stay here."

You rushed out into the cold night air to relay your dream to Norryn.

When you returned, your little crow was waiting for you with a curious expression. You dropped your coat and crawled back into bed, resisting the urge to snuggle close and let him warm you up. You laid on your side, and he turned to face you. Your faces were inches apart.

"I'm sorry," you said. "When I have dreams, I have to remember them as best I can as soon as they're over, or else they get lost before I can report them to Norryn. And if I have no dreams to report… then what good am I?"

He looked at you sympathetically.

"What was it about?" he asked.

You'd only just convinced him that you weren't going to eat him, no way you were going to tell him about the army of dead men tonight.

"Nothing you need to worry about," you smiled. "Go back to sleep, Little Crow."

You closed your eyes and saw the icy blue orbs of a dead man staring back at you. Your frightened green eyes shot open to meet a pair of warm brown ones.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I don't want to go back to sleep," you admitted.

"Me either," he said. "Feel like I've been sleeping for a month straight."

"It was only a few days," you assured him, "and look at you now. Bright-eyed and gulping down soup by the bucketful."

He narrowed his eyes, and you smiled.

"What was your life like before you became a crow?" you asked curiously.

"Boring," he answers, looking irritated. "Father raised sheep. Mother raised children. Same as everyone else."

"Your everyone else is different than my everyone else," you reminded him. His face softened.

"It was boring work. Honest, but boring. You feed them, you shear them - remove the hair - you use what you can and sell what you can't. When I wasn't tending sheep, I was looking after my six brothers and sisters."

"Six?" you asked in surprise.

"Three boys and three girls."

"And you were the oldest?" He nodded. "Does that mean you were the favorite?" He barked out a bitter laugh.

"My real mother died giving birth to me," he said slowly. "Then my father married her sister, so he wouldn't have to take care of a screaming baby on his own. He never admitted it himself, but they both blamed me for it. She reminded me every day."

You wanted to hold him so badly, your arms ached.

"I left eventually. Became a guard at Winterfell. Lived in the barracks and even earned a little coin. It was nice for a few months, being on my own, having a little respect… then I went home to help with the shearing, and by the time I came back, the castle was in ruins. The only things left were ashes and flayed men."

"What are flayed men?" you asked.

"People who've had their skin peeled off."

Your eyes widened in horror.

"They do it while you're still alive. Until you're dead, or it's all gone."

"And you thought we were the savages?"

He reached for your hand beneath the covers and squeezed it.

"I didn't know where else to go; the family I served was all gone, and everyone other house seemed to be at war with each other. I was afraid I'd be seen a deserter, and the same fate would await me. I couldn't go home, so I went north to join the Night's Watch. My family probably thinks me a coward for running away. Or thinks I'm dead. I don't know which is worse." He swiped at his eyes, and your heart hurt for him. What person with half a brain wouldn't be afraid of getting skinned alive?

"You're alive."

He blinked at you through tears threatening to fall.

"You're alive, and you're free," you continued. "You're in a warm bed, with a full belly, in a place where no one gives you orders or peels the flesh from your bones. You have a chance to live your own life, the way you want to live it." You paused to swallow, throat suddenly dry. "You don't have to stay with me, Little Crow. But if you do, know that I'll always take care of you. I'll fight to my last breath to keep you safe. I swear it."

His tears spilled, and you reached out to cup his cheek. He turned his head and kissed your palm. Your heart swelled at the sweet gesture, and you leaned forward to give him a real kiss. It started with a light peck, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he kissed back with hunger. You reveled in the taste of his lips, salty from the tears he'd shed. He pulled you closer, and you felt the stiffness behind his pants press into your thigh. He tried to subtly grind it against you, and you smiled into his kiss. Sweet, desperate boy.

You pushed him onto his back and hopped on top of him, straddling his waist and looking down into his dark eyes with a grin.

"You ever been with a girl before, Little Crow?" you asked with a twitch of your hips.

"Just a Winterfell whore," he groaned, digging his fingers into your thighs. You took hold of his wrists and pinned them above his head, and his eyes widened.

"And what did this Winterfell whore do to you?" you asked curiously.

"Used her hand. And her mouth. For coin."

"You've never been inside a girl before, Little Crow?" You smirked.

"No," he hissed, bucking beneath you in search of friction. You tightened your knees around his hips to hold him still.

"Then I must warn you, Little Crow," you said, looking down at him sternly. "Once you've been with one of us, one of them will never be able to satisfy you."

"Please," he begged, chest heaving. You let go of his wrists, and they came to hold your face, pulling you back down to meet his lips. You smiled into his mouth as your fingers fumbled with the laces of his breeches. He'd never think about trying to escape from here again when you were done with him.

Heaven was between a woman's legs.

Koner laid stunned, on his back, trying to catch his breath after a fourth round of the most incredible thing he'd ever experienced.

The wildling woman lay next to him, watching him with her head propped up on the palm of her hand. She traced her fingers over his bare chest, still slick with sweat. It was an exhausting activity, but well worth the effort.

"What are you thinking about, Little Crow?"

"Every decision I've ever made."

She chuckled. "Why?"

"It led me to you."

"Aww," she cooed, leaning over to kiss his forehead. He'd kill a man for a chance at one more kiss from her. He couldn't believe that this woman, who he'd only just met, already had him wrapped around her finger like this.

Instead of letting her return to her previous position, he chased the feeling of her lips. He turned onto his side and rolled closer to her, burying his face in the valley between her breasts. She held him to her, and kissed the top of his head. He would never tire of this.

She stroked her hand up and down his back, and he melted into her. No one had ever touched him like this before. No one had ever taken care of him, or fed him, or held him, or kissed him, or showed him such unbelievable pleasure. For the first time in his life, he felt like he belonged somewhere. With someone.

And then, a thought occurred to him.

"You said you saw me before."

"Hm?" she hummed into his hair.

"When we first met, you said you saw me before. In a dream."

"I did," she confirmed, scratching lightly at his scalp. If she kept this up, it'd put him to sleep before he got an answer. He pulled out of his comfortable position to look into her eyes.

"Was it true?"

She smiled at him in a way that made his heart flutter.

"What would you prefer, Little Crow; that the gods decided our fates for us, before we even met? Or that a lonely dreamer saw a scared little crow shivering on a mountaintop and thought that one day, they might learn to love each other?"

He furrowed his brow and thought about it for a moment.

"Would you like to know what I think?" she asked. He nodded. "I think that you're mine." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "And I'm yours." And then his nose. "And that's all that matters." She gave him a soft kiss on the lips and pulled back to wait for a response.

Koner considered this too, and a grin grew on his face.

"Come here, Little Crow," she smiled, holding her arms out to him. He wrapped himself around her and sighed happily into her warm skin.

She was right. This was all that mattered.

[paarthurnax59]

"Soul Of Liberty"

Chapter 4

Warning: angst and Swearing 

note: readers dress

      By a miracle or the grace of Chuck, Dean managed to get into the building by showing his fake badge. Yeah, he knew a guy in New York that can forge good fake IDs. He quickly went to one of the custodian closets and changed into a tux and stuffed the rest of his stuff into his duffle bag. He slicked back his hair and looked at the mirror, knowing he looked decent enough to pass as a guest. 

"Now or never, Winchester." He said as he left the closet and checked to see if anyone was around. He walked up the stairs to where party was being held. He found where the large crowd of well-dressed right people walking into one of the largest rooms in the museum. He stood straight and act as if he was part of the rich crowd. It was easy to act like a stuck-up wealthy bastard after all the times that he and Sam had to go undercover for a case. He grabs a glass of champagne when he was offered and shooed away the waiter. He stuck to the shadows as the party was lively. With a classic band playing and laying a lot mix of jazz and blues playing. Finest food being served and bright lights shining the entire ballroom. He scanned the room to try and find his target when a voice appeared behind him.

"Looking for something, tiger?" Said a feminine voice that made him turn around, now seeing a beautiful red-haired woman in a red silk gown that made him think that he was looking at a real-life version of Jessica Rabbit. He took a good look at the woman and realized that this was none other than Natasha Romanoff, Also known as Black Widow. The Avengers' best infiltrator and spy and former assassin. 

'Oh shit.'

'Told you this wasn't a good idea.'

'Shut up! Do you ever stop talking?!'

"No, not really just watching." Dean replied and hoping that she would leave him be. He knows for a fact that Natasha was a spy and could read him like a book given enough time. He doesn't need to have his cover blown and ruin his plans. 

"I see, just enjoying the Perks of being a Wallflower, handsome?" She flirted and Dean smiles back at the woman. If he weren't about to expose one of her teammates to her, He would have enjoyed the attention he was giving Natasha. 

"So far, I am, gorgeous." He flirted back.

"The name is Natasha, Natasha Romanoff." She sticks out her hand and for Dean to grab and shake it. Dean offers her his hand in return.

"Clark Harrison, pleased to meet you." He gave her a fake that he often used for cases shook her hand with a little bit of hesitation. 'Dean, relax don't blow your cover.' Dean then let's go of Natasha's hand and draw his attention back to the dance floor. 

"Well, Clark. You want to dance?" Natasha offered and Dean took her hand as they both walked to the dance floor. The two danced for a while as Dean continued to search the room for (Name). 

"So, Clark. What made you come all the way to New York? Business? Pleasure?" asked the red-haired woman while Dean glanced around the room for (Name). 

"A bit of both, actually." Dean admitted. He saw (Name) and some what they would call in the hunting world, 'unfinished business' and believe him what he's planning on doing would bring him a lot of pleasure.

"Guess you can find a bit of both I suppose?" Dean continued to look around the room in search of his target. He's got to act quick, or his cover is going to be blown. Suddenly, the music stops, and everyone turned to the stage of the event. 

"Excuse me. Excuse me everyone!" Said the familiar voice of Tony Stark everyone focused their eyes on where the ostentatious billionaire was speaking from. He was wearing a classic black and white tuxedo and standing where the band was playing. "First of all, I like to thank everyone for coming tonight to help raise funds to benefit aiding people around the world effective by hungry and poverty. Your donations will help greatly to those effected by war and disaster and we cannot thank you enough. And I speak for all of us when I say this The Avengers thank you for your aid." He raised his glass and the rest of the crowd followed. "However, that's not the reason that I am up here! I know this is charity event, but I honestly just couldn't help myself! It has come to my attention that we have a birthday today and had to take the opportunity to embarrass her for it. I'm her uncle Tony after all." the. They crowd cheered with their wine glasses in the air, for the soon to be revealed birthday boy or girl. "I would like for this said person to come right up and let us sing in celebration of the day that she came out the birth cannel." Tony said and people chuckled at his inappropriate joke and other's just shook their heads. Dean looked around the room, still trying to look for his ex-wife. 

And speaking of the devil and she appears. 

"(Name) (Last name)! Come on down, Game of Thrones! and say a few words!" Tony exclaimed and then the stage shined on Dean's left direction and saw (Name) shining right in the middle of the dance floor with Steve with his arm around his shoulder, trying so hard to hide her face from embarrassment by cover her face in Steve's chest. Dean watches her shake her head probably saying she don't want to go up there. Which is rich considering what an attention whore she really was. She couldn't stand not having Dean's attention for one second and make him drop everything just to spend time with her.

She tried to run away but sudden a large, blonde-haired man, who Dean recognized as Thor picking her up while laughing his ass off throwing her on his shoulders. The Thunder god he carried her to the stage with Steve laughing seeing his girlfriend being carried like a sack of flour as Wanda and Vision stood next him. Dean quickly slicked away from Natasha as her eyes were on (Name) being carried to the stage and smiling. Dean scowled while looking at Black Widow clapping for his ex-wife.

'Let's see how long you'll be clapping when I'm done, Ms. Romanoff.' Dean thought as he slips away into the shadows in order to get to (Name). he just had to stick to the shadows and remain hidden from sight, until he can get (Name) lone and confront her. 

Thor Finally reached the top of the stage with (Name) and plopped her next to Tony as the stoplight shined on the two of them. Tony then gave her the mic and hugged her muttered a happy birthday to her. (Name) took a deep breath and raised the mic closer to her glossed lips and smiled.

"Thanks, Uncle Tony." She chuckled now zoning her eyes onto the audience of the wealthy and power looking at her. "First, again. Thanks so much for your donations and generosity for helping the needy and less fortunate around the world. I can't tell you how much this means to me. Personally, I mean." She said as the crowd listen intently of what the heroin was saying while Dean just zoned out, only waiting for her to get off stage. He doesn't need to be hearing her empty of words of fake empathy. "As someone that had grown up in an orphanage, I didn't have anything. No home, no parents, no family-"

"No heart? No Conscious? Or a human soul?" Dean muttered under his breath as he heard (Name)'s speech. Boy, did he want to gag at her being so fake. Yes, it's true she grew up with nothing, and did not have an easy life by any means. However, Dean and Sam were the ones that took her in and gave her his heart wholeheartedly and she stomped on it. He gave her a home and a family, though it wasn't a literal home. Living in a new motel every week or having to sleep in the Impala wasn't exactly appealing or even stable. At one point, he wanted to stop hunting and just build a life with her. Have a home together and have a family. But she ruined it, no! She demolished it. Now, she was trying to do the same to the Avengers and to her beloved Captain. All because she wanted to live out some insane fantasy of being America's sweetheart and the arm candy of Captain America. Just so that she can be the one on top after their divorce. 

"It was hard. Really hard not knowing who you really were. nothing but a name. I was just dumped on the doorsteps of some orphanage in Kansas. No, I can assure you that I am not Superman or anything. Though, being able to fly would make my job so much easier." She jested as the crowd chuckled and laughed at her reference to pop culture. Dean for some reason thought that last bit was quite funny and smirked. "But the worst part of that was how alone I was and how lost I was. The only real family I had was with my best friend who I grew up with in the orphanage. She had passed on when we were in college at Duke at nineteen and I ended up dropping out. Sense then, my life was a mess, and I didn't think I could ever come back from it. Until I met Steve Rogers and the rest of the Avengers." She continued and Dean could swear he saw Steve blushing at him mention. Dean again felt like he wanted to vomit. "I have usually kept a lot of my past a secret, that is well known. Only my teammates know the full extent of it. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Not all of it, sweetheart." Dean whispered, knowing full well there is no way that she had told them about her life as a hunter (and a terrible one at that) and was also married to him and cheated on him.

"So, at my lowest point, I had met Steve and he basically became my rock and my center for the foundation of my recovery. He was the first to take a chance on me, to train me and has not left my side sense. Many accuse us of being long lost twins at birth. I mean do I look like a hundred-year-old plus woman to these people?" The crowd burst into laughter at another joke. "But, seriously. All I want to say is that even though I love everyone on the team, I would not be here today celebrating another birthday, without that old geezer down there. I wouldn't be who I am today without you. All of you. I love you and I'm proud to call you family." (Name) then ends her speech by hold a flute glass up in the air with the mic still in her hands. "Cheers, to friends, family and second chances." 

"CHEERS!" The crowd hailed as they drink from their glasses. Dean then drinks from his own to not draw attention and blend in. He placed the glass on a nearby table and moved a bit closer to the stage. He noticed that (Name) was about the exit the stage giving Dean a chance to corner her. When suddenly Tony came back up and grabbed the mic from her and spoke once more. He really wished he would be able to punch Tony right now. 

"Lovely speech, Game of Thrones. Really touched my robotic heart. However, before you all go back to dancing, I just want to give one last opportunity to humiliate my girl just a little bit more. Bring it out, Stann!" Tony exclaimed and an old white guy in dark glasses in a waiter's uniform came out with a large delicious looking chocolate cake with the amount of candles that matched (Name)'s age. Dean watches as she hugged the man that delivered the cake and the old man hugged (Name) and muttered a happy birthday to her. "Alright! On my mark! One. Two. Three!" The crowd began to sing "Happy Birthday" to (Name), making Dean think back to the time that he and (Name) celebrated her birthday together as married couple for the first time. 

"Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. As good as this cake looks, it's still not going to be as sweet as you." He said as he held out the cake to her and she gave him the biggest smile.

"Oh, Dean. You didn't have to do that." She muttered softly as her eyes lite up after her husband had took the time to make her a cake.

"Yes, I do, (Name). I love you and I wanted to show that everyday for the rest of my life." He said as (Name) blushed and covered her face.

"That's a big commitment, Dean. Hope you are up for it." She laughed still feeling flushed at her husband's charming gesture.

"I plan on it, Sweetness."

"If only you held up your promise, sweetness. You promised to love me and be faithful to me until death do us part. I'll never forgive you for breaking your vows and for breaking my heart. I loved you with all I had, and you broke it. I won't let you do that to anyone else. Not even to captain heartthrob." Dean pulled out his gun and his demon knife, ready to fight his former love if he had to, maybe even kill. Yes, if it meant exposing (Name) for her fraudulent public persona. He watches (Name) leave the stage after she blow out the candles and unfortunately, she disappeared when the old, white guy in glasses started cutting the cake and distribute it. With the crowd was distracted with their gluttony, Dean hunted for (Name). finding no success, he decided to go outside of the ballroom and to the hallway. He took a deep breath and placed his hands on his head going down a hallway filled with exquisite statues.

"I'm in way over my head, right now. Every time I find her in a crowd, she disappears in the last minute." Dean gasped trying to get away from the crowd of rich snobby pricks that would never experience a day of what Dean lived through. The hunter was about to go in when he noticed on the he sees the white-haired young woman he was hunting down walked out from the ballroom. Before (Name) could notice him, Dean hides behind a pillar, hoping she wouldn't see him. He hears footsteps fade away through the echo of the hallway. Dean looks around and could see that (Name) was gone. He walked away from the pillar that hid his frame. He quietly walked down the hall and to the corner and saw (Name) looking up at some of the artwork hanging on the walls, looking like she was lost in thought. 

Dean got a closer look at her and never really realized on how beautiful (Name) truly was and how much she physically changed since he last saw her. She looked like an eternal, shining star casting her light among unworthy mortal men. The woman's white, starlight hair shone like the full moon on a clear, cloudless night. her (S/c) skin was clear and free of any blemishes or scars, making her look ethereally flawless and don't get him started on her figure. Though she was wearing an A-line gown, Dean could see just how fit she had become. It was slimmer, curvier, and toned than when he last spoke to her, when he called her fat and ugly. Her midnight blue gown made her appearance the ever more radiant and her perfectly even make up made her the ever more immaculate. He finally got close enough to notice that she was wearing what looked like a golden neckless shaped like a star with a diamond in the middle. Her new boyfriend must have given it to her he thought, scrunching his nose up in repulsion at the thought. Even Maria whom he praised and dangled in front of (Name), mocking he that she will one day be his new wife, paled in comparison to what his ex-wife looked like now. He never thought she could look this good, this regal.

The longer Dean kept looking at her, the more he kept thinking of the night of their first date together. He remembered how beautiful she looked that day. In truth, Dean had always thought (Name) was stunning, even when they were dating. However, after what she had done to him that ended their marriage, she became the ugliest person on the planet to him.

It was a crisp fall evening when Dean had come and picked her up from Bobby's when she stayed there. 

"I'll get it, Bobby!" She called from the other side of the screen door as she turned the knob and revealed herself wearing a long-sleeve green sundress with white flowers and holding a denim jacket for the cool air. Her (H/c) hair was braided up and curled in a way that showed off her lovely neck. She wore only little amount of make-up that brought out her own natural beauty. It still made Dean's heart skip a beat when he saw her.

"Wow, you look fantastic sweetheart!" Dean gasped looking at his lovely date for the evening. 

In all honesty, Dean was more nervous about taking (Name) on an official date for the first time. He never had been truly formal with a girl and taking her out like a real man. He had always been the kind of guy that would just spend the night and leave in the morning. That was only because that was the only thing could give the women in his life. Dean didn't believe he was relationship material, due to the life he lived. But after meeting (Name), he felt taking a chance on trying for one. 

"You look pretty great yourself, Dean." She replied back looking at the handsome hunter with that charming devilish smirk of his that made her face turned beet-red, especially when he was wearing that leather jacket. The couple were interrupted by an old man popping out of the door glaring at Dean.

"Remember Dean, no funny business. She's a good girl and doesn't deserve to be a notch in your-"

"Bobby, relax. It's not like that. We're just going to a dinner and a movie and we will back around 12 o'clock." Dean said with a nervous grin. It was almost like his whole cocky demeanor changed when the older hunter emerged from his doorway. 

"Make it 10, son. No later." Bobby retorted with his arms folded to his chest. Ever since (Name) became a hunter, he had taken it upon himself to be a surrogate father to the young new huntress. Though he had known Dean for much longer, since his childhood, he more protective of (Name). Mostly because of how much of a ladies' man he is. To help ease the tension, (Name) stepped between the two men.

"Bobby, give him a break. Tell you what? I will be back by 11 tonight? No later okay?" She suggested and waited for the old man to answer. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Alright, you win, sugar. 11 o'clock, no later. Got it?" He pointed at Dean and the young man comedically and anxiously game the old man an thumbs up. 

"Got it, Bobby." Dean agreed and (Name) walked up to him and grabbed his hand and happily sprinted to Dean's Impala. It was the best date Dean ever had.

As Dean's memories distracted him, he then hears even louder footsteps come out from the ballroom and saw Steve Rogers coming out with two plates of cake. The hunter watched the couple as (Name) grabbed a plate from Steve, smiling at him. Dean's emotions rapidly changed as he saw the pair converse, growing angrier as he watched Steve put his arm around her shoulders. She giggled as he kissed her on the head in an extremely affectionate way. It made Dean realized the reason that he was here. He was here to expose the monster that his ex-wife truly was. A cold heartless, dishonest cheater that no man would love, and he was going to end her little charade tonight, be any means necessary.

As Steve walked away from (Name), Dean then took his opportunity to walk up to, with his gun in hand. She had her back turned as Dean walked closer to her slowly and quietly. He was only a few feet away from (Name) when he finally spoke to her for the very first time in nearly four years. 

"(Name)." He coldly uttered to her loud enough for her to hear. He noticed her flinch as her breath hitched, making Dean smirk watching her squirm as she turned around slowly. He could have sworn that her beautiful (E/C) grew twice their size when she laid eyes on him. Her mouth dropped as she had forgot how to breath.

"Dean?" She whispered in absolute and utter disbelief that her ex-husband was standing right in front of her. Dean did nothing but smirk as (Name) shocked expressing didn't faulter as she gawked at him. 

"Darling, it's seems you and I need to talk."

[obliqueblade]

Desert Duo- Superhero AU Chapter 2

Chapter 2 Is finally here! (cross-posted on AO3)

Cute Guy’s POV 

Cute Guy was sure Hot Guy had a death wish. The proof of this statement? 

He had absolutely no survival skills. Truly it was a miracle he had lived as long as he had. If Cute Guy had the time, she’d spend weeks researching just how in the world Hot Guy had managed to keep himself alive. Honestly, though, even if they did have the time, Cute Guy was not sure if the possibility of Hot Guy having clones was low enough for them to feel comfortable running the experiment. Knowing Cute Guy's luck, that would be the case, and that was frankly a world too horrifying to imagine. One was enough to give Cute Guy nightmares, there was no need to bring more into the case. 

“Hot Guy! Are you immune to instinct or just that crazy,” Cute Guy yelled sitting up on top of Hot Guy. Why on top? Well, circle back to ‘Hot Guy had no survival instincts’ and as a result must be tackled sometimes out of danger. Now would it have been possible for her to keep them safe without having to tackle them out of the way? 

Potentially, yes, but that was not the point. 

Cute Guy is now sitting on top of Hot Guy. No, she wasn’t… stuck on that fact, it just happened to be the truth. Nothing more to note. Most certainly not something that was taking up a decent portion of her attention. Nope, not even with him smirking up at him, with strands of his brown hair escaping the tie at the base of his neck.  

She rolled her eyes as Hot Guy stared up dazedly, before moving to get off. As adorable as Hot Guy could be, Cute Guy was not really looking for another photo op from the press. She had been made fun of enough for the first time, and while Hot Guy most definitely got into more heat for it, Cute Guy could not allow his flock any more ammo against them. He could already hear the chortling of Mumbos laugh now. 

Although, the first one had been extremely cute, and Hot Guy was extremely fun to mess with, seeing as how easy it was to turn his cheeks red-

Shaking his head, Cute Guy banished that thought. 

Nope, nope, nope. His heart was already spoken for, and besides, she wouldn’t be like those fans who couldn’t separate the person from the job. Nope, she liked their tentative partnership as it was, and did not need to make it any more difficult later. They could stick with this casual flirting and nothing more for the foreseeable future. 

“Hey, I’ll have you know I’ve never had any issues before you started joining me,” Hot Guy stated playfully throwing a hand up to be lifted off the ground. Cute Guy smiled, grabbing hold of the hold and lifting him before pulling his face closer in the same movement. Hot Guy’s eyes darted back and forth between Cute Guy's eyes and his mouth, Cute Guy noticed. 

“Are you saying you get distracted by me, Mr. Hero?” she asked tilting her head, letting her pink wings lift her up to get closer to Hot Guy’s now burning face. Hot Guy’s eyes darted wildly as he blinked up at her. 

“Umm,” Hot Guy started eloquently before Cute Guy laughed releasing his hand and moving back. Maybe the reason Hot Guy had survived as long as he had was just due to the fact that he was adorable. 

“It’s okay Mr. Hero, I am Cute after all,” she giggled and winked behind her heart-shaped glasses before turning away and back down the alley ignoring the sputtering frozen hero. As adorable as he was though, Cute Guy was determined to continue to mess with him. Balance the universe and all that. 

Originally, Cute Guy had been handling the massive mobs appearing in Upper City on her own, before Hot Guy appeared claiming he was there to help. As adorable as it was, the ‘help’ seemed to come from Cute Guy making sure the hero didn’t get them both blown up. If Cute Guy had not already despised the Hero Association, she would definitely be questioning their judgment in not only allowing Hot Guy to be a hero, but the number 1 hero. 

“Hot Guy, are you really meant to be helping right now or did you just miss me?” she called back while aiming one of her pistols at the creeper that had steadily been making its way toward the two. 

“Can’t it be a bit of both?” 

Cute Guy rolled their eyes before turning and firing at another creeper further down the alley. As cute as it was, the situation was less than ideal. Creepers were best fought from a long distance, or at least in the open. It was bugging Cute Guy slightly though, that rather than perch somewhere and shoot down into the alley where it would be safer for Hot Guy, the hero had decided to march straight into the alley. There were a few reasons that they could have decided to do this, the least likely is that he wasn’t aware of what creepers did. It was basic knowledge that creepers exploded if you got too close and as self-destructive as the hero had proven numerous times over the years, he wasn’t that dense. So then why? 

The alley that the two had found themselves in was dangerous. Long, narrow, and with a dead end right behind them. If they weren’t careful they could get boxed in and cause an explosion. An explosion with this many structures around, so closely packed together would cause major destruction in the nearby areas. Cute Guy could only hope that there were some heroes nearby who had evacuated the nearby citizens. 

“Well, Mr. Helpful, unless you can figure a way to get out of this alley you’re not going to be much helpful to anyone,” Cute Guy pointed out gesturing to the four more creepers that had started their way. Hot Guy smirked pulling an arrow from his quiver and aiming down the alley.

“Oh please, I’ve got this,” Hot Guy stated assuredly before firing down the alley, hitting one of the creepers. Dropping his bow slightly he turned his head to wink up at Cute Guy. 

“See, totally hande-” 

“Get down!” Cute Guy yelled lunging at him and pulling him back just as the creeper exploded. The blast sent Hot Guy and Cute Guy hurtling down the alley. Immediately, Cute Guy's back erupted in pain, burns scouring up his back and shoulders. Wincing as the blast ripped several feathers out of place, and searing the rest. Hot Guy slammed into the dead-end wall hard, and Cute Guy grimaced at the sound of the impact. 

Behind the buildings croaked ominously, as a deep rumbling began behind Cute Guy. Hesitantly, Cute Guy spared a glance back as the buildings' groaning increased. Alarmed, Cute Guy raised their wings, wrapping their arms tighter around the dazed Hero. Ignoring the immense pain that shot through her wings as she did so, Cute Guy pulled Hot Guy close and began to shakily fly up to get out of the fallout area.  If they stayed where they were, they’d be crushed to death. Wouldn’t exactly be their finest moments, though Cute Guy wasn’t sure if it would breach Hot Guys 10 ten ‘not finest moments’. 

If Cute Guy allowed herself to go out that pathetically, she’d never hear the end of it. 

With every flap of her wings though, they seemed to grow more and more unsteady and weak. There was no doubt that straining them as much as she was was only going to worsen them in the long run, she pushed the thought aside. Right now, this was their only way of escape. Focusing her gaze entirely on the sky above thorough, Cute Guy resolved to ignore the pain. Hot Guy stirred slightly in his arms, and if Cute Guy had any faith in the Old Gods, she might have sent a prayer begging that the hero remain still until they could get out. 

But she knew better than to rely on them. 

Pieces of the buildings began to rain down, and Cute Guy groaned at the extra strain of having to dodge the crumbling projectiles. Quickly dodging left, Cute Guy focused entirely on plotting a course safely out of the debris field. Carrying the unconscious hero, and trying to navigate the now extremely hostile environment was proving more challenging than Cute Guy had wanted the day to go. Ducking underneath a rather large part of the building, Cute Guy's eyes widened as they realized they were running out of places they could go, more and more of the building pieces were falling in larger sections. 

Glancing down ensuring the hero was still in fact unconscious, Cute Guy weighed the odds. As the pieces grew closer, though Cute Guy knew there was no other choice. While risking their own life was something they had no qualms doing, they wouldn’t risk Hot Guy’s. 

Closing his eyes momentarily, Cute Guy reached deep within himself tugging at one of the numerous threads within him. Threads that she hated, and suppressed more than anything, no matter how much they demanded to be seen. To be used. Opening his eyes, he was thankful for the pink-tinted glasses that hid his eyes. He knew it would be obvious up close, and the eerie purple glow she knew her eyes were giving off would raise alarms within the Hero Association. 

Alarms that Cute Guy would rather they not be aware of. 

Without loosening her grip on Hot Guy, Cute Guy glared at the falling pieces, slightly pushing them away to create a wide enough gap for Cute Guy to shoot the two of them through while bringing her wings close to her body. They shot through the gap, clearing all the debris as they did. Relaxing slightly, Cute Guy aimed them to the closest stable rooftop preparing for a nasty landing. As they crashed into the roof, the grasp Cute Guy had on Hot Guy loosened and the hero went rolling several more yards in front of Cute Guy before coming to a stop, still unmoving. The hero's back was to her, and Cute Guy ignored the many doubtless scrapes now littering her elbows and knees. 

Cute Guy herself raised herself to her hands and knees, finally suppressing the powers within herself, before raising her head to check on the hero. Shaking her head and determinedly not checking on her wings, Cute Guy crawled over to the hero to ensure he was still breathing. Rolling him over from his side to his back, Cute Guy placed two fingers on his neck, only relaxing when his pulse still beat strongly. 

Letting out a breath, Cute Guy didn’t realize she was holding, she sat back on her haunches and stared up at the sky. Relaxing his wings, proved to not help all that much, but still Cute Guy refused to check. Knowing nothing good would await them by looking, they were more worried about how Jimmy was going to react to his wings. That would not be a pleasant welcome home. 

“Ughhh,” Hot Guy groaned intelligently, raising his hand to his head before squinting one of his eyes open. 

Cute Guy stared down at him, unimpressed. 

“So in my defense, I did not know that they could do that,” Hot Guy defended covering his eyes with his arm. Cute Guy almost wanted to laugh at how quickly the hero knew why the stare had been leveled at him, but more than anything Cute Guy was glad the hero didn’t seem to have sustained any brain damage. No more than he already had at least. 

 Instead of issuing a response, Cute Guy just laid down on her stomach next to the hero. 

“Can’t exactly fault you for not knowing. It’s a new “feature” they added to them in the Lower City.” Cute Guy mumbled, angrily remembering how only a few short months prior the newer versions had emerged. Countless citizens had died before people had figured out how they were different from the original, and even then the destruction they had caused was limitless. 

Immediately, Hot Guy shot up, “What do you mean a “new feature? How do you even know they’re in Lower City?” 

Dumbfounded, Cute Guy stared over at the hero. 

“What part of avian did you miss? Of course, I know what happens in the lower city.” Cute Guy started plainly. And to be fair, what kind of question was that? All hybrids, at least with the hero's knowledge were on the other side of the wall. Cute Guy should be the only exception to that rule that Hot Guy would know about. Hot Guy fixed him with his own unimpressed stare. 

“Well, obviously, I know that, but how do you know like recent stuff, if you’re on this side of the wall? You’d be seen immediately if you were crossing the walls repeatedly.” 

Cute Guy only laughed, before sitting up themselves. Of course, that was the theory the Hero Association had come up with to explain how Cute Guy was getting into the city. At least that meant that her secret was still safe. 

“Well I obviously don’t cross every day, that would be a lot of traveling, but I have my ways to get back and forth, Ways I’m afraid, Mr. Hero, I will not be sharing right now.” Cute Guy explained laughing slightly. No doubt whatever Cute Guy told Hot Guy would make its way back to the Hero Association. While they would no doubt eventually uncover her identity, Cute Guy wanted to cause them a bit more trouble before then. She, after all, still had work to do. 

“As for your second point, there have always been new features added to the mobs on the other side of the wall. Upper City has just gotten lucky it has such a … dedicated Hero Association to protect them,” Cute Guy practically spat out. Hot Guy winced at the clear hatred in the vigilante's voice, and Cute Guy almost felt guilty. It really wasn’t Hot Guy’s fault what the Hero Association had done, and he had no real way of knowing regardless. Still, sometimes her resentment leaked through that understanding. 

“You really don’t like the Hero Association do you?” Hot Guy asked hesitantly.

“It’s a mutual thing” Cute Guy answered immediately, not fully ready to delve into just how they mutually hated one another. Sparing a glance over at the hero though, Cute Guy quickly added, “You’re not too bad though,”. 

Immediately, the hero brightened at the compliment. 

“Awee see I knew you liked me!” Hot Guy exclaimed lunging at the vigilante, throwing his arms around them to pull them into a tight embrace. 

As the hero's hands brushed over his wings and back, Cute Guy let out an involuntary yelp as the pain seared through him once again. They had almost been able to forget about the burns and feathers she had gained during the explosion. Hot Guy immediately jerked back, rescue mode engaging, before turning the vigilante slightly to inspect why she had yelped in pain. 

Cute Guy watched Hot Guy’s face drop as he inspected what was doubt a gnarly sight. Belatedly, Cute Guy wondered if she should have just left immediately after ensuring the hero was in fact alive. 

“That bad huh?” 

At the question, Hot Guy’s eyes darted to Cute Guy's face, and even behind the tinted visor, Cute Guy could see the guilt and worry in his gaze. Brushing the hands off of her shoulders, Cute Guy rose to her feet. 

“Wait, Cute Guy, we need you to get you to a -” Hot Guy started, scrambling to his feet to chase after the retreating vigilante. Before he could continue though, Cute Guy cut him off. 

“To where? A hospital? There’s no hospital in this entire city that would treat a hybrid. There are too few hospitals on the other side of the wall, with far too few supplies for me to justify going there either. So no, Mr. Hero, this is where I bid you adieu,” while it wasn’t fair to snap at the hero about the situation the world was in, Cute Guy couldn’t help the remark. 

“But it’s my fault! Please, I know someone who could help you. They won’t ask any questions,” Hot Guy pressed, still following her as she walked toward the edge of the roof. Guilt raced through her as she regretted the comment. Maybe they wouldn’t, but there was no doubt that the Hero Association would be watching the both of them extremely closely. While they wouldn’t be able to harm Hot Guy, associates wouldn’t have the same luxury. They’d use them as a bargaining chip, and when the deal went through they would kill them regardless. Cute Guy just couldn’t justify that risk, not to one of Hot Guy's friends. 

Sighing, Cute Guy sighed before turning her head to stare at the hero. 

“Hot Guy, it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault, I made the decision to pull you out of the blast range. I know it looks bad, but it’ll heal up in no time.” Cute Guy assured before turning back to face the roof's edge, reading herself to raise her wings and attempt to fly. The pain reared its ugly head once more, but Cute Guy held in her wince, not wanting to give the hero any more reason to worry. 

“But if I can at least help,” Hot Guy kept up, grabbing onto Cute Guy's pink cropped sweatshirt sleeve. Cute Guy had to admit, that while she admired his spirit, he was almost as stubborn as she was. 

“But nothing Hot Guy. I know the Hero Association is watching you, and I don’t want to put you in a difficult spot,” Cute Guy replied, prying the hero's hand off of her sleeve, before lifting herself into the air and out of reach. 

“I would never turn you into them,”

Surprised, Cute Guy spun in the air to face the hero. 

Hot Guy stared up at her, defiance in his eyes. Smiling slightly at the sight, Cute Guy turned away once more. It was that very fire that had pushed Cute Guy to act now of all times. 

“I knew you were a true hero,” she said softly before launching herself further into the sky and away from the stunned hero. 

Flapping her wings and going as fast as she dared, she raced through the sky at near-breakneck speeds, unsure of just how long her wings would be able to maintain their weight. She knew she had to make it to one of the passageways to Mumbos before they did so. 

Still though, despite the pain of the day, Cute Guy was glad to have run into Hot Guy. 

Mumbo and Jimmy, however, might have different ideas about it though. 

Sighing as one of the alleys that held a passageway came into view, Cute Guy resolved themself to no doubt an endless bereavement from the two about her recklessness. It would be a difficult night for all of them, and the next day of work wasn’t going to be any more promising either. 

It was a lecture he was used to hearing at least. 

[sunderwight]

Aziraphale falls during the Job minisode.

God knows what he did and the scales tip a little further in that direction, and between that and the flaming sword incident, well, it's enough. Aziraphale loses angelic privileges and becomes a demon.

But the thing is, during the war between Heaven and Hell, the Fall was this big dramatic (traumatic) event. Hell was created for the Fall, so the realms were torn asunder and reshaped, and all of the angels who fell slammed into the burning raw essence of their new home like falling stars, because of the sheer scale of the event going on.

For Aziraphale, a lone angel already on Earth (already halfway there), it's a lot less spectacular. He just sort of trips and falls into one of Hell's upper lobbies, midway in his conversation with Crowley.

Crowley being Crowley, he naturally goes after Aziraphale and manages to convince whatever unfortunate demon is on arrivals duty that Aziraphale has pursued him to the bowels of Hell as part of an epic duel, and then easily convinces the lower-ranking demons that they should scurry off and get help from somebody stronger rather than interfere. Then he whisks Aziraphale back up to Earth, concocts more fiction about it to cover their asses, and no one's the wiser.

No one is the wiser. Except, of course, for Aziraphale and Crowley.

The thing is, Hell's not a nice place. Working for Hell isn't a nice job. It's definitely not the kind of job that someone like Aziraphale wants. And, cultural attitudes being what they are, well... demons are not terribly merciful to their fellows, and that's among the lot who rebelled and fell together after fighting on the same side of a war. A fallen angel like Aziraphale? Who didn't take their side? Who fought for the other team, and probably kicked a decent amount of demon butt while doing so? They're not going to be nice to him, and that's an understatement. If Hell gets their claws into Aziraphale then he's never going to see the light of day again, probably.

Crowley puts it plainly to Aziraphale, who is scared and uncertain and so agrees to just... not say anything. To anyone. About this development.

It turns out, Heaven doesn't really have a means of telling when an angel has Fallen either. Like you'd assume that alarms would go off or that records would at least update, but in the former case, no, and in the latter case, turns out the angels need to be aware and updating the records themselves. Since nobody knows, no steps are taken, and nothing happens. Aziraphale is extremely stressed out the first time Gabriel stops to do a check-in, certain he's been found out or that he'll be smote or at least that now someone will be able to tell.

But, no. Gabriel can't tell. The meeting goes like normal. He keeps getting order from Heaven, and even gets a commendation for using fewer miracles. And since Hell's a bureaucratic mess and they don't even have Aziraphale on their books, they can't tell where some of their extra miracle energy is disappearing to either.

Aziraphale thinks about confessing anyway. After all, it's God's Will, right? He's supposed be punished. At the very least he ought to get caught.

But what if, Crowley suggests, what if there's a reason he hasn't been? After all, God definitely knows. She could tell whoever, whenever. Just a quick word to the Metatron, oh by-the-by, that angel Aziraphale's a demon now. Yeah, shun him, and all that. But She hasn't.

Maybe this is a chance for Aziraphale to do an even better job of thwarting Hell than he could have done before. Using Hell's own power against them! Maybe there's also something to be said for not being affiliated with Heaven anymore either. Couldn't hurt to just keep going along with it, right? See where it all leads?

So somehow that's what Aziraphale ends up doing. Going along with it. Heaven gives him jobs and he does them. Hell sends Crowley to thwart him and they tweak the Arrangement to suit them even earlier on, and with even more frequency and flexibility. Neither side catches on, or even suspects that there's something to uncover.

But Aziraphale knows. Always. He's a Fallen Angel. He's a demon, just like Crowley.

Except.

Maybe that doesn't have to be permanent. Maybe that's why God hasn't done anything further, why Heaven still doesn't know, or acts as if they don't. Maybe there's a way for a Fallen Angel to rise back up again, and if that's the case, perhaps the point of all of this is for Aziraphale to actually do it.

Not only that, maybe the point of Aziraphale doing it isn't just to redeem himself, but to bring someone else along as well. Someone who fell during the first Fall, who might think they are unforgivable but maybe shouldn't really be an evil demon at all...

[shadesofblades]

Aoki Usa: The Black and Blue

(All of Aoki's updated lore as of JUNE 2024, up until SB. I already had this up on his ToyHouse page, but decided to post it here as well. This post is very long with lots of text. Includes characters owned to @midnightmagicks and @briar-ffxiv! This lore is just the basis of his story, meaning all RP is intertwined somewhere within)

The Quiet Child

Aoki was born by the name "Dagne" in the Skatay Range in Southern Othard. The quiet Viera child was raised by the women of the tribe until he was brought to the harsh frozen forests atop the mountains. As a young adult male of the tribe, he was expected to train and become a strong protector of the land. He was eventually tasked to guard the forest from outsiders, even if he did not wish to. Dagne had a hard time living up to the expectations of his tribe and often neglected his duties to paint or enjoy the splendors of the forest. One might say he had his head in the clouds.☆

One fateful day, this negligent protector was attacked by intruders. Too scared and violently outnumbered, Dagne allowed them to pass through in exchange for his own life. The intruders entered the sacred home of the Viera and wreaked havoc. The trees burned, the snow melted, the sight was a horror that will forever be engraved in Dagne’s memories. The outsiders were dealt with, but not without the loss of a few fellow Viera. One of these people was Dagne’s father. And this guilt will forever be carried in Dagne’s heart. Without a second debate, Dagne was banished. His crime was negligence, and in turn destroying sacred land and the the lives of fellow kin.☆

Shared Paint

Forced out of his original home, the nameless Viera left the south to live in Northern Othard, barely a backpack filled. The harsh lands were very unkind to the young adult, but by miracle he made it to the edges of the lands where Xaela ruled. Physically weak and unable to proceed, the nameless thought he would die in these strange lands. But fate shined down on him as he was found by an older Xaela man, Jebei. He was strong and fatherly, bringing the withered Viera to his home and caring for him as he recovered. Jebei called this boy Tuulai, meaning rabbit in his native Xaela tongue.☆

Tuulai had a hard time adapting to the environment, but stayed with the man and his tribe for a decent amount of time. The people of this tribe, the Hotgo Tribe, loved Tuulai. They integrated him into their culture quickly, expressing he belonged with them naturally as they shared the same hair color. They taught him many things about living the vagrant lifestyle and about Xaela culture and language. He even learned different designs of face painting and what they meant. Tuulai began to love this new life, feeling a true connection with the people and the land.☆

There was not much he could do, but Tuulai tried to repay everyone in different ways. Sometimes, this meant stealing from other tribes or travelers to the Steppe. One of these endeavors brought the little thief into a dire situation. He had taken it upon himself to steal something valuable from a visitor, perhaps something too valuable. And more, this was the wrong person to steal from. Caught and captured, Tuulai was forced to repay a new debt. Tuulai never got a chance to say why he left or simply goodbye to the Hotgo. He never said goodbye to Jebei.☆

Kaizoku Branded

Stealing from a pirate will get you employed. Or in Tuulai’s case, enslaved. As a consequence of stealing from a member of the Kyoi Pirates, Tuulai was captured and forced to work under their flag. But he needed a better name to fit in. Rabbit was too cute, no he was a cockroach to them, a gokiburi. G was their little thief, using him to sneak onto other ships, or steal whilst on land. The crew forced him to get tattoos to be a true part of the “family” against his will. He complied with little resistance as he had no strength against them. His time with these pirates was difficult and abusive, giving birth to the nickname the Black and Blue as he was blue skinned and always had bruises.☆

Everyday was a nightmare. He had no idea if he would be given food or water some days, other days he was forced to wear a ball and chain. He was constantly pushed around and even was forced to get his own hands dirty. The poor Viera never wanted to take a life. But there were moments of secret triumph. Using the thievery skills of the very pirates he served against them, G had saved the lives of children and animals by setting them free of their cages. Though he was never caught, he would often be a punching bag for the captain’s frustrations.☆

Later on in his servitude, G made a single friend aboard the ship. Sakiko was a Raen Au Ra with beautiful silky black hair and stunning green eyes. She could hold her own in a fight, even matching the strength of the captain. Whenever she could, Sakiko would bring G extra food and water if he was not allowed a sufficient amount. She would stand up for him when the others were hitting him. She made sure he was safe and accounted for if they went on missions together. And she was the Shinobi who helped him escape the Kyoi Pirates.☆

*G is Japanese slang for cockroach, aka gokiburi.

Hidden in the East

Sakiko was aboard that pirate ship in order to infiltrate them and spy on their trading routes. Once she saw the shackled Viera, she hurried to wrap up her mission to help him escape. She gave the man a place to live within her own home in Kugane, but even more importantly, she gave him his new name. Aoki, like a beautiful blue tree. Even to this day, he resonates with this name and claims it as his own. Aoki could not properly expose his identity around the city as he was still hiding from pirates and authorities alike. He was her little secret, protecting and teaching him. The two of them grew close over time, and started to get intimate. Aoki’s first romantic love blossomed with Sakiko.☆

During this time, Aoki learned the way of Shinobi from his lover as she was properly trained and worked as a formal ninja for a family of power. As a man who always tried to repay his debts, Aoki sought to put his training to good use and began to steal valuables as a means of repaying Sakiko. She found out about these stolen goods and promptly scolded him to stop lest he get caught and sentenced. Yet he did not stop. He simply tried to hide that truth from her. Of course she eventually found out. They had an abrasive argument about how the way of the Shinobi should not be used for selfish gain. They sourly disagreed.☆

It only took but a night. Perhaps he didn’t listen to her, or perhaps he was so angered by the discussion. But his carelessness allowed him to be noticed by the wrong people. Aoki was caught in the streets by some thieves associated with the Kyoi Pirates. To his aid once more, Sakiko found him and saved his sorry ass. Misunderstanding that Aoki had been attempting to steal again, she cut all ties with Aoki right then and there.☆

Killer in Kugane

Living with no house to call home, Aoki made due on the streets of Kugane. Thankfully, he had been in the city long enough to know the ins and outs of it, as well as being fluent in the language and mannerisms. He became good at scouting out a place to sleep for the night, like small alcoves or abandoned buildings. He learned to survive in a metropolis without a proper job or home. He learned how to wrap himself in ways that could hide his Viera features. As theft was the only thing he knew he was good at, he relied heavily on it to survive. He would steal and burgle without being caught and without leaving a trace.☆

One fateful night, Aoki got a bit too ambitious as he attempted to steal from a wealthy trading family. As he sneaked around the home, he was unexpectedly caught by a personal guard of the family. Aoki panicked and, in this last resort effort, accidentally murdered the man in front of one of the family’s children. Aoki had no choice but to leave the city as wanted posters were plastered to its walls.☆

Back Seaward

So he escaped via the sea, sneaking onto a ship heading westward. No longer could he be part of this eastern world which so violently kicked him out. The journey upon the ship was long, and Aoki was not fully prepared for its length. While trying to steal food, he was caught red handed. Yet to Aoki’s surprise, for the first time in his life, he was treated with undeserved kindness. The crew greeted him with open arms as they were all a mixture of reformed pirates and thieves. The journey turned from a lonely struggle to an exciting adventure with many stories and shanties. It was actually enjoyable for Aoki. The sound of violas upon the drunken sea. But he was warned not to come back to the east if he wanted to keep his head. Aoki still keeps in contact with a few of these ex-criminals from time to time as they make for good contacts in Limsa Lominsa.☆

Mist Within (ARR)

Eorzea, a land unknown. From his first stop in Limsa, Aoki traveled on the downlow to the Shroud. He stayed in Gridania and was encouraged to become an adventurer for profit. Which he did for a time, but also found theft a much more profitable business. And so the Viera never learned and history will always repeat itself. He was caught by an Elezen Knight named Seraph, but instead of turning the little thief in to the authorities, the knight brought him to the Conjurer’s guild. There, he was forced to stay with and learn from the Conjurers and Mages, almost like a community service. Aoki was grateful for not being in a prison cell, but still felt he had lost his freedom. However, he learned he was surprisingly good with controlling his aether in this way and actually enjoyed it. Staying within the forests, learning from the earth, giving back to nature. Aoki loved his time here- though he would never admit it. If the Viera ever strayed from the path of righteousness- or simply tried to skip town, Seraph would somehow always be there to bring him back.☆

As much as he denied it, Aoki enjoyed his time in the Shroud. While cities had their benefits, he much preferred the quietness of the forests. He spent much of his time with nature, tracking through parts of the Shroud many others could not or would not go. On one of these ventures, Aoki found a secluded cabin that he took shelter in from the rain. But a home wasn’t the only thing he found here. With hesitant surprise, he met a half-Elezen who lived here named Briar. It took a long while to lower his defenses, but eventually Aoki became good friends with this other man. He often visits and even may call this place home.☆

Snowflake Memories (HW)

Eventually, Aoki made his way up towards Coerthas. Chilled lands gave him great physical comfort and tremendous mental pain. It was too much of a reminder of so long ago, of his homeland back in the mountains. Even still, he began to visit time and time again. Perhaps it was sweet longing, perhaps it was self punishment. He avoided any Elezen Knight he could, but even in this place- or especially in this place, Seraph found him. Their bond seemed one sided, but Aoki was very grateful for the blonde knight.☆

It was rare that Aoki went into the actual city of Ishgard, though he picked up a job here and there from their boards when he needed the cash. He witnessed the discrimination here, and ran away from any obvious scuffles. This was not his business, not his fight to fight. Until the day he saw a Xaela woman injured in the street, this struck a chord in his heart. He silently gave the woman his attention, tending to her wounds with amazing magical prowess. She did not even get his name before he left.☆

Aoki overheard current events through tavern talk and passing conversations. This is where he learned of the ever increasing struggles in the East. Worry and fear grew in his heart so naturally, his mind making the worst of scenarios. He thought of the Xaela tribes at war. He thought of the horrors of trafficking he witnessed through the Ruby Sea. He thought of Sakiko. He had to go back. Somehow, he had to go back. It was his debt to pay.☆

Debt (SB)

Not a single soul in Eorzea knew where Aoki went. Only the seafarers that took his coin saw him last. He virtually disappeared. He was on a mission to help the frontlines. Aoki had a debt to pay, even if it cost him his life. It was better for everyone he knew to never know what happened to him. He was ready to give himself up.☆

With great haste, Aoki found the leader of the resistance in Doma as they stood to fight for all of the East and its people. He sought to fight as a shinobu against the Garlean Empire as a way to protect the east from further destruction. He was deathly efficient at his job as an assassin, but took huge risks that others would have objections against. He was reckless, but he did not care for his own safety to begin with.☆

Aoki got to visit the Steppe a number of times. He could speak with the tribes there with ease, but found resistance when asking about the Hotgo tribe. Eventually, he found out about the truth of their brutal demise and was devastated. He visited the last place they called home and began digging like a madman. Eventually, he found a single piece of broken jewelry that bore decals native to the Hotgo. A keepsake from a people who saved him long ago.☆

It was unclear if learning of the Hotgo tribe’s fate inspired Aoki or not, but he became less reckless and more cunning with his strategies. He continued his path with the shinobi and helped dismantle the Empire’s grasp on the East. He took little downtime after this and immediately headed back to Eorzea, no honors and mentions for this solitary man. Once back in Eorzea, Aoki sought out friendly faces. Many of them turned sour at the sight of him, even Seraph who had put so much trust in him. There were friendships gravely lost because of his selfish recklessness, but deeper bonds for it as well. He returned to Briar’s home in the Shroud with anxiety, to be greeted with a warm welcome he did not deserve.☆