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#maybe this is what Fairy intended

yandere-sins · 11 months

Note

can you do a male siren with a reader who loves the ocean and spends as much time as she’s able to there? maybe she’s at the beach for a week long vacation and manages to catch his eye and then she mentions in passing that she’s sad to leave the beach and go back to work and it makes him upset so he just takes her?

oh, and if it’s not too much, could you make the siren a softer, more worshippy/delusional yandere?

Thank you for requesting! Enjoy! ^-^

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content, Mermaids/Siren, Mentioning of sharp teeth/claws

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Your time with him was magical.

Not a surprise, considering he was a creature straight out of a fairy tale, and you were the human he chose to spend his time with, making it a fantasy romance. Everything felt unreal when you were with him, but you preferred to call it magical.

In the deep violet of his eyes swirled waves of adoration, unfiltered and untainted by doubts or worries. Time was of no concern to him, and he spent his days as he pleased with no responsibilities nagging or occupying him. There was no societal norm he had to conform to, nothing but his own self-preservation to care for. If he was hungry, he hunted. If he wanted to lounge in the sun, he'd find a nice ledge. And if he wanted to play, he found an activity he enjoyed.

He was different. And as much as you wished you were too, you'd never be like him.

Frankly, because you couldn't live most of your life underwater. Next to him, you felt like you could barely swim even though you spent all your childhood by the ocean. It's why the sight of such a strange creature only mildly concerned you, intriguing you even more. Coming home after living in the city for way too long, you felt like this encounter might have been destiny. As if to remind you where you truly belonged—by the ocean.

But your responsibilities were already clawing at your back, whispering in your ear that tomorrow, you'd be gone and forget about this strange but positive encounter. Tomorrow, you'd return to the dull life of your 9-5, yearning for the ocean you couldn't afford to live closer to. Reaching out your hand, you intended to push some strands of hair that had fallen into your unusual friend's face behind his pointed ears, but he caught it before you could smooth the strands back, nuzzling his face into your palm. It wouldn't fit even if he tried to put all of him in this little palm of yours, offering himself on a silver plate (or, well, your hand). He'd been a creature of no words, but the grandness of gestures came to him easily.

He had no reservations about rubbing his face against you, purring as he pushed it into the crook of your neck, listening to your heartbeat before putting his head in your lap when you let your feet dangle over the edge of the stone you sat on. When you two went out for a dive before, he'd swim up beneath you, lifting you back to the surface and letting you rest on his chest as you two floated through the water, his arms embracing you so you wouldn't slip off. And the night you spent camping out... it had been unforgettable. You couldn't forget the fervent kisses pecked all over your body, burned forever in your mind. The way he held you as he made love to you like no one ever would. His hands enveloped you, explored, and his tongue followed, making you feel as if his desire for you swallowed you whole, pushing you to unknown heights before he pulled you into the cool waters with him, his body warmed for once by yours as he held you, floated with you until you fell asleep in the warm summer night.

It was like the ocean itself loved you, and you trusted him.

A bit too much, even.

You had no way of knowing his intentions. Of understanding what was truly going on behind his violet eyes. Did he even understand you at all? You had been pouring your heart out to him for days, spilling all your secrets, desires, and fears. This week passed you by in the blink of an eye as you spent way more time out here with him than with your family at home. Even if he didn't understand a word you'd been saying, you already knew you'd miss him and the ways he could comfort you without so much of knowing what was going on.

"I'll leave tomorrow," you muttered softly, his closed eyes shooting open at the sound of your voice. His gaze was monopolizing, drawing you in, unable to look away. These violet eyes would haunt you in your dreams and nightmares, that much you knew. Living with him was impossible. Living without him just as much.

Letting out a small chirp, you put on a smile for him, knowing that latest when you wouldn't return here, to the hidden ledge you found, he'd come to understand. You had to be strong for both of you. Show him that it was okay. That you'd be okay. If he cared for you, it would help him let you go. Your life wasn't all bad, but it were times like these when you dreaded having taken a job so far away from home. One where you'd earn money to support yourself and your family but be lonely all the same with no friends or lovers or strange creatures that embodied more of both of them than anyone had ever before to keep you company.

But he was smarter than that. He could see right through you and read your emotions like a book. You wondered briefly how he learned to be so perceptive of humans. Still, when he pushed himself out of the water, his face just inches from you, you closed your eyes, banishing all these thoughts in favor of his kiss. It was crazy to think how scared you had been of his sharp teeth when his lips were so soft and plush, gently pressing against yours before allowing his tongue to dip out. He tested the waters, nudging your lips as he asked for entrance quietly, and you let him in for a taste that left you breathless.

You wondered what you tasted like for him because all that flooded your senses was sweet and alluring, his saliva not one bit salty or fishy as one might expect. When he allowed you to take a deep breath, your whole body relaxed, his arms supporting you as he laid you down on the stone, his lips wandering from yours down your throat, tongue lapping at your skin around your shoulder, kisses being planted on your collarbones.

Was it wrong to indulge? You wondered, tensing up briefly before feeling his hands slip beneath your shirt. They were still cold to the touch, but soon, as he pushed them higher to your breasts, they warmed up. After the night you shared, you knew you didn't need to wear clothes. Nudity was not something he cared for unless you two were getting frisky, and he welcomed it then. Still, he let out an approving chortle, the sound vibrating from his mouth against your skin as he found you bare beneath your shirt, not bothering to wear a swimsuit as if you had anticipated this. Maybe you had. Hoped, at least, so there would be one more memory of him to take back with you.

His touch was gentle. Kind. But the friction of his different skin texture and the webs between his fingers made you arch your back just as much. You could already feel the sticky wetness between your legs that had emerged right after the intense kiss, clearly discernable from the water that dripped from his body. The scales on his tail rubbed deliciously against your inner thighs and pussy, and you wrapped your legs around him, seducing him to move even more.

You helped him get you out of your shirt, his sharp teeth coming dangerously close to your nips as he breathed against them. These thrills of dangers seemed to only arouse you more, your nipples hard against his prodding fingers, the claws on the tips of his hands pressing moan-enticingly against your tits, dragging over your skin with careful, deliberate confidence that he wouldn't break it.

Leaving a trail of kisses down your body, you were nearly about to climax just from that. But stubborn as you were, you didn't want it to end yet. You wanted this moment to go on forever and ever, if possible, so you drew out your own pleasure even though you were gasping and trembling. Slipping below, you felt your merman's hands grip the pitiful shorts you wore, pulling them down with him. You didn't care if he discarded them or put them to the side in that moment; the shame of having to go home butt-naked was something that didn't cross your mind.

All you could think of was his hands on your legs, spreading them wide open to fit his head and body as he plunged forward. There were a few tender kisses to be left on your inner thighs, the thrill of his teeth grazing over your skin before he directed his attention towards the main attractions. You couldn't help but sink your hands into his soft, slick hair as he pushed his whole face against your cunt, your legs wrapping around his head as you felt the deep inhale he took, making his back rise and fall. He did it three times, reveling in your smell as if you were a body of water he wanted to drown in. Then, his tongue couldn't hold back.

Had you not been so busy with your own pleasure exploding all over his eager muscle, you would have been able to watch the mesmerizing show of jittery fins erecting and splashing in the water. Gills that opened to the fullest as your taste spread in his mouth, his eyelids that fluttered in awe. All you did perceive was the guttural groan vibrating against your cunt, shaking all throughout you from the tip of his tongue slipped inside. It was the one thing that reminded you of his otherworldliness, his voice making your body quiver as you became a puddle in his hands.

You came undone with no time to warn, only a gasp and moan, fingernails scratching over his scalp while he held your legs tightly closed around him, the sounds of slurping and satisfied chortles coming from your core. Every sound he made was like a punch to your pleasure, squeezing every last bit of it out of hiding again, even after you came. His tongue was a winding, desperate, but eager pleaser, surprising you every time again that it sunk in with just how far it could reach and how much wider it spread you the deeper it got. The tingle of its tip as it lapped at all the sensitive spots you liked having caressed so much was nothing compared to the fullness of your entrance, blocking any fluids from leaking past him.

When you got close again, you managed to lift your upper body, looking down at your strange lover. His gaze rose to meet yours, lips parting to reveal your soaking cunt in between his smile. You knew if you let him, he'd live down there, drunk on your juices. Even so, he slipped his hands higher, gripping you by the waist to support your lower back as he plunged his thick tongue as deep as possible into you, sending you over the edge with no warning.

Though it felt like falling, you knew he held you. He ensured no harm would come to you until your shaking and moans subsided, and he helped you lie back down.

"I'll miss you," you whispered, drunk on pleasure, as he came to hover over you. Kissing him felt so right, especially after the incredible orgasms you just had. Your merman reciprocated eagerly with no hesitation, the sounds of your lips even drowning out the crashing of waves around you. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay with you here forever."

"Then don't," he suddenly said, and your body tensed, hearing his voice for the first time. Or not. You weren't sure if you even heard it. You barely saw his lips move, the sound echoing in your brain. Alerts went off in your body as you found your mind unable to focus on anything else but the words spoken, even your breathing stopping briefly while you could not think.

"No... No, I can't... I have to go back. I have to..."

"You don't have to if you don't want to. You can stay here with me. We can always be together. Forever."

Rolling to your side, your body convulsed as his voice penetrated your brain. Every inch of you prickled like it was stung by little needles, but your head was off the worst. Pushing the voice aside was nearly impossible, its echo even stronger than when he spoke to you initially. Even with your hands clasped over your ears, you couldn't make it stop repeating itself, over and over.

You were human. You knew you could never live like him. People were counting on you, responsibilities waiting. You were neither spontaneous nor crazy enough to just throw it away and live out there, surviving... how? You two could never live in the same environment together. It was a bad idea. A baaad idea--

"I know a place where we can be together. I will bring you there. I will decorate it, feed you, and be with you. You'll never lack anything, be it protection or pleasure. It'll be home. We will be family. I will watch over you as your belly swells with my seed, and you will play with our children. You'll never be sad again. Never worry. I promise. It'll be what you always wanted. You told me you wanted to find peace. You shall have it. I make you happy. I love you. You love me. You won't leave me. Never."

Every word felt like another needle being shoved into your brain. It was excruciatingly painful. All you wanted was for him to stop, but at the same time... The longer he forced you to listen, the more you enjoyed the feeling. The shivers it sent down your spine and the pain that made you forget all reason. You didn't even notice how your body grew limb, drool dripping from your lips while tears ran down your cheeks.

All thoughts circled around what he said, and strangely enough, it began to sound very convincing. He did make you happy. You did love him... somehow. You'd never leave him. Why would you? Where would you go other than to be by his side? You wanted to go to this place he spoke of. Have him feed you and decorate your home for you. You wanted to bear his children, be a family with him. Love him. Be loved by him. Have him lick your cunt every night and make you forget. Forget... what? Everything. Everything unless it was him.

"Let's go," he purred, picking you up from the stone ledge and resting you against his chest. "Let's go home."

"Yes," you blubbered, your head falling back as he licked the fluids off your face, your mouth wide open and awaiting his tongue to slip inside, which he did even before the wet around you two could touch you. Keeping your tongue down, he placed his over yours as the ocean enveloped you, his gills flaring wide, air flowing into your mouth to breathe. You two sank further and further, too far for you to see or hear. But his skin against yours remained warm, his embrace tight, his kiss supporting you below the ocean's surface. And as the powerful strokes of his tail carried you two far, far away from the life you had known, from everything that was important to you, all you tasted was the sweetness of his kiss. All while more words echoed in your head, his voice repeating them over and over while his eyes stayed fixed on you, the violet swirls hypnotizing you.

I love you. Mine. Forever. Mate. All mine. I love you so much.

#mermaids #mermen #yandere mermaid #yandere mermen #yandere!mermaid #yandere!merman #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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obsessivevoidkitten · 4 months

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Sweetest Nectar

Yandere Sundew Plant Man x Gender Neutral Luna Moth Fae Reader CW: Noncon, no pain, drugging, aphrodisiac nectar, lured in, bondage, reader done gets violated by the tentacles, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, reader rides that dick like a cowboy, making out, french kissing, general yandere behavior, seed oviposition Word Count: 1.4k (Comm I got late last night. Wrote half before 5am this morning and the rest tonight. The name Lasio comes from the sundew subgenus Lasiocephala. Hope you all enjoy <3)

The only sound you could hear was that of the wind as it whooshed by while you fluttered without a care in the world through the purple sky. Partly cloudy, a nice breeze, no bothersome humans in this realm at all. A lovely summer evening in the realm of the fairies.

You were a luna moth type fairy. Your large pale jade wings and antenna serving as a dead give away. Not that it mattered when you were away from the land of the humans. When you were on Earth you could easily disguise yourself though, so it was never a problem. But here you were totally free to be as nature intended.

You flitted between the great flowers, many as great as trees, collecting various types of nectar to feed on later. You went at this task for a couple hours before deciding to feed on your spoils in a nice clearing near the crystal creek.

After a nice day fluttering all about it was nice to sit down and begin to relax. You sipped from one of your many vials of nectar and enjoyed the birdsong all around you. It was so peaceful here. A true paradise. You tried to spend as much time as possible here, avoiding the human world as much as possible.

With a heavy sigh you willed yourself up and readied yourself to collect more nectar and maybe some pollen for tomorrow. It took much to sustain you. It seemed you were in luck. As the wind shifted, before you even took to the sky, you caught the alluring scent of nectar.

It was the most alluring floral scent you had ever experienced, there was probably quite a lot of fresh high quality nectar. Your antennae were twitching like crazy and even though you had just had a snack you had to wipe away drool from your mouth because you were salivating so intensely.

You leapt up and began flying towards the wondrous aroma at once.

It didn’t take long for you to find it. A long vine with lovely red globules of nectar. You tried to collect one but found that they were quite a bit sticky. Terrifyingly sticky… no matter what you did you couldn’t get free. What’s more you found yourself wrapped in the vine the more you struggled.

Soon you found yourself covered in the sticky goop, its heady aroma practically drowning you. Your head grew dizzy as a heat pooled in your crotch.

Just what was this stuff?

You were stuck for a while longer and found yourself actually grinding into the sticky vine that held you, you knew you should be trying to think of a way to escape… but you were so horny… you needed to cum so bad. It was all you could think about. Your antenna vibrated with agitation at your inability to get yourself off in your current predicament, with your hands held uselessly at your sides.

Once you started to cry it became evident just what mess you had found yourself in exactly.

A man stepped out of the brush. A plant man with long sticky tentacles sprouting from his head and another mass of them branching out from his tail. They were green at the base, transitioned into a lemon yellow, and were tipped with the red globules you found yourself ensnared in.

Due to your drug-like effects of the sap you had been coated in you did not even realize the danger that you were in.

“Ah~ Pl-please help! I need help. Stuck.” You kept fidgeting. You needed to touch yourself so badly!! You couldn’t even put together that this man standing before you was the one who had trapped you in the first place.

“Of course cutie! I’m your new boyfriend, Lasio. And I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I didn’t help you out~”

You did not even question what he had said, you were just too needy by that point.

At Lasio’s whim the sticky nectar became slick and slippery, but before you could get your hands to your aching crotch the vines of his tail wrapped around you tightly and drew you closer. You whimpered due to being denied the use of your hands but it quickly turned into a moan as the tip of one of the vines dipped into your pants and rubbed you thoroughly.

It pressed and massaged your entrance and you cried and begged for more. He was inclined to oblige you. The slippery appendage slid into deeply, coating your insides with the potent fluid that had already made you lose control.

You writhed and squirmed in pure sexual bliss, more stimulated than before.

But Lasio didn’t stop there, he brought your squirming form close and stilled you with a touch, his hands holding your head steady as he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped past your lips and caressed your tongue before exploring your mouth. It was dripping with the same sweet substance that had covered your body and been deposited into your hole.

You sucked at it eagerly as you moaned softly. You absolutely couldn’t get enough.

When Lasio withdrew his tentacle like vine from you you were ready to cry in protest. It left you so empty and hollow. So needy to be filled up. Then you saw why he had removed himself from you. His cock was fully erect. It was bright yellow with a sweet looking bead of amber nectar dribbling out.

There was nothing you wanted more in this world than to be plowed by your brand new boyfriend. And there was nothing in the world that Lasio wanted more than to sink his cock into you and fill you with his seeds.

Lasio sat down on a soft patch of grass. He grabbed you gently with one of his tails and guided you over to him then pulled you down into his lap.

You understood what he needed and sat down on his cock, your well lubed hole taking him just as perfectly as his cock filled that void in you. You steadied yourself with your hands on his muscular green pecs. Your antenna twitched and lightly touched him as he grabbed your hips in his strong hands.

The sensation was indescribable as you moved yourself up and down on his prick, riding him and doing most of the work in your desperation for release. With a dazed and far away look you stared at him but you weren’t really paying much attention to anything other than the physical sensation of impaling yourself on his dick.

Lasio pulled you close and nipped at your lip gently then pressed his lips against your passionately. Reveling in the feel of your soft lips against his had him almost as intoxicated as you were.

You rode his cock until you were simply too spent to keep moving. You had already cum several mind shattering times by that point but even in your exhaustion you were no less desperate to continue making love with your wonderful partner.

“You’ve done so well for me, let me take over now my sweet moth.”

Lasio, priding himself on being the very best boyfriend ever, would never deprive you of your needs. He grasped your ass firmly and thrust into you over and over. You melted into his chest, body pressed against his with your face nestled comfortably into his neck as he thrust into you. This entire time he hadn’t yet came but he was getting close, his movements gradually became fast and sloppy as he chased his own release.

He grunted and his spasming cock flooded you with more than just semen but also many small literal seeds. The feeling of his dick twitching inside you made you squeal before going limp against him. Finally you felt sated as you wrapped your arms around Lasio and kissed him lovingly.

“Mmm, I bet you’ll grow my seeds just as well as you took my cock~”

Of course you would! You’d happily bear your lover’s children. As many as he needed you to! For once an insectoid fae had tasted of the sundew man’s nectar and then got themselves seeded by him their love for one another would be eternal.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #monster boyfriend #yandere x reader #yandere monster #gender neutral reader #male yandere x gn reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere plant man #My OCs #My OC Lasio #yandere scenario #yandere scenarios

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moiraimyths · 1 month

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Howdy, fateful friends! Are you an artist or illustrator with an interest in visual novels?

If so: Moirai Myths, creators of the visual novel The Good People (Na Daoine Maithe), are in need of guest artists! More specifically, we're looking for up to two artists to help us with the content graphics ("CGs") for Maeve and Shae's upcoming routes. All of the details will be listed on our application form (linked below), but here is the gist:

This is paid work with 20-30 business day deadlines per piece!

Complicated revisions in the post-sketch phase are compensated!

You will be prioritized for future guest artist opportunities!

You will be featured/credited on Moirai Myths' website and in the game itself!

Sound interesting? If so, apply here:

Click under the cut for some F&Q 👇

Who are you? (I'm new here!)

Hi! We're Moirai Myths: a small, newish visual novel company based out of Canada. We're making a game inspired by mostly Irish mythology, which was funded on Kickstarter in 2023! Our game's got fairy politics, a diverse cast, a Gaeilge-to-English translation tool, and routes that can be played either romantically or platonically! Also horses. An ungodly amount of horses, really.

If that odd pitch sounded intriguing, perhaps you'd like to play our demo! It's free on Steam & Itch.io.

Why are you looking for guest artists?

When we originally launched our Kickstarter, the plan was to have our three in-house artists collaborate on the CGs in the same way our header image was. However, we quickly realized that adding CGs, even if they're done collaboratively, onto the existing duties of our artists was a tall order. Add to that the departure of our original sprite artist (who has since been replaced by our graphic designer), and we determined that having our in-house team work on CGs was simply not possible if we still wanted our first release to happen in 2024. So, rather than omitting CGs or adding them in at a later time, we came up with the idea of hiring guest artists. Overall this means our CGs will be a bit more varied in terms of art style, but we like to think of this as a positive! NDM's development will take a number of years to complete in full, so we hope our CGs will allow us to feature a lot of artists either within the VN/indie dev community already, or artists who aspire to work in gaming and are looking for entry positions.

How long will applications remain open for?

This application will be open until Sunday, March 24 at midnight (EST)! If we intend to extend past that deadline, we'll make an announcement about it.

I can't apply right now. Will you look for more CG guest artists in the future?

Definitely! As mentioned, NDM will take a while to develop in full, so this is by no means your only opportunity to apply. That being said, we suspect we're going to end up shortlisting a number of artists over the course of this application period, and we intend to keep a list of all the runners-up. So, even if you won't be able to participate this time, it might be a good idea to apply anyway just to remain in our contacts! Either way, this will not be the last time we have apps.

Will you be looking for guest artists outside of CGs?

Maybe! We already have two guest artists (Nefukurou and Madi Funk) working on sprites and CGs respectively, so it's always possible that we'll have other artistic needs later down the line. Likewise, we may also reach out to past guest artists for future work with us, whether it's on this game or something else!

You say we need to sign an NDA. What does that entail?

The non-disclosure agreement essentially means you will be legally unable to publicly disclose any confidential information you become privy to as a result of working with us. This would include personal information about the developers, as well as spoilers from the game itself. In addition do this, you will be expected to sign over the IP and copyright of any artworks you produce for us.

Can I still use my artworks in portfolios, even if I don't own the copyright?

Yes! We'd only ask, if your portfolio is a website, that you wait to do so until after your art has been made public by us, either on our social media or via the publication of the game. Our first release is anticipated to happen later this year, most likely mid-autumn.

How do you guys feel about AI? Do you intend to use it, or would you ever train an AI off of the artworks whose copyright you own?

No.

Making a game is expensive and time-consuming, but AI is no replacement for human artistry. We fundamentally believe that any advancements in AI should be used for the purpose of giving people more time to make art, not take away opportunities for it. Moirai Myths will never, ever use AI or train an AI off your work.

***

If you've got any more questions for us that we didn't think to include here, feel free to send us an ask!

#the good people #na daoine maithe #ndm #visual novel #interactive fiction #otome #english otome #amare #amare game #visual story #visual storytelling #romance game #otome romance #romance visual novel #dating game #dating sim #moirai myths

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cupids-chamber · 1 year

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— I'M GONNA LOVE YOU, RIGHT TILL' YOU HATE ME GENDER NEUTRAL READER

IMAGINE: Yandere!Twst cast, dreaming of the MC, before they ended up Twst, and even though they searched for them, they couldn't quite find them... now that they've found them.. they can't seem to let you go.. how would they feel when they've learned that there are more competitors for your love.

A/N: I'm gonna call this the dreaming of you au! I have some plans for it.. I had to split this in part, because of tumblr's fucking word limit.

SAVANACLAW / HEARTSLABYUL / DIASOMNIA / OCTAVINELLE / SCARABIA + IGNIHYDE / POMEFIORE

He couldn’t recall when the dreams had first started, it was quite suffocating.. Looking back, he was tired of the same dream over and over again, yet it changed.. Slowly, he watched you growing up along with him, it was as if his dreams mirrored your own life.. And at one point, he believed that these vivid dreams held some meaning, there had to be a reason why he’d keep seeing the same person over and over again… At one point, he even started to believe that you were his.. Someone meant for him.. And as he grew older, he couldn’t help but search for you, wanting to validate his thoughts and imagination, which has gotten rather out of hand over the past few years.

He didn’t even consider that others would have taken interest in you as well, ‘did they see you in their dreams as well?’.. The thought would have driven him wild, had he not been patient thus far, he might have truly lost himself then and there.. However, if he had waited this long, then it wouldn’t have been difficult to wait a bit longer.. After all.. He knew you a lot better than you know yourself.. He just needs you to realize.. That you’re his.. and he is yours…

YANDERE!MALLEUS, The first meeting he had with you, felt like another dream.. He couldn’t help but wish that it was a reality, but he quickly came upon the realization that you could see him, and that this was in fact, not an intricate dream.. Whether it was a blessing or a curse that you were here, he couldn’t help but let his enthusiasm slip through his composure and create cracks in his behaviorisms. He gazed at you in a soft endearing manor, that was sure to waver one’s heart, he knows you much better than you had expected, you couldn’t help but find it odd, that he could just tell how you felt, and conclude what certain mannerisms had meant, how you would fiddle around when you were anxious or growing impatient.. You should’ve been concerned.. But Tsunotarou was your dearest friend.. And of course a dear friend would know of your feelings.. wouldn’t he..?

YANDERE!LILIA, Lilia didn’t have something so unexpected happen to him in quite the while, he had seen someone in his dreams, upon his move to NRC, maybe it was the change in climate getting to his head, or his age finally catching up to him.. Well if that was the case, he surely would have realized sooner. His dreams consisted of someone, a human.. And overtime, as year one passed and year two slowly approached, Lilia had started harboring and developing a sort of interest in this little human.. One who was not of this world, but much far away in fact.. He couldn’t help but grow more and more intrigued by that revelation.. He didn’t plan on doing much, despite being more than capable of doing so, he was captivated by you.. Yet he knew better than acting upon desire towards you.. Until of course he saw you here at NRC.. if you were so near.. Why should he stop himself.. He had no reason too.. and he didn’t intend to either.

YANDERE!SILVER, Silver had always been one to dream of a sweet and caring relationship, when it came to the aspect of love, even during childhood, not having much of a couple that he saw growing up, he didn’t quite have a label or definition on how someone should love, and he doubted getting his fathers advice would help, so when he had seen you in his dreams, he paid no mind.. He had given you a charming dream even, “Mrs. Fairy” it was rather odd calling you a miss, while you were most likely his age or younger at the time.. He never really interacted with you, finding it more or less peaceful watching you from afar, you were majestic.. and amazing.. He analyzed everything you did, with great fervor, he couldn’t tell as a child, but as he grew.. He knew that he had fallen for you.. The aspect of love in a foreign sense felt ever so foreign to him, yet he couldn’t help himself from falling for someone as charming as you.. So it was to no dismay that he had fallen for you.. Someone as charming as you deserved only the very best.. And when Silver first laid eyes on you in person, he felt as if he had fallen for you all over again, mumbling under his breath about how all the more amazing you were in person, he could’ve sworn he saw an angel, but once he had come to realize, others were hindering in his perfect romance, he had decided to take on a different approach, after all.. This was his fairy tale to tell and create.

YANDERE!SEBEK, Sebek didn’t know how or why he was dreaming of you, to be quite honest it ticked him off more than causing him any sort of pleasure or comfort, yet over time.. He found himself falling for you.. It wasn’t explainable, in fact he couldn’t recall how he had fallen for such a lowlife such as yourself.. Sebek felt awful for loving you, yet he wanted to keep you his at the very same time.. But you were a fragment of his imagination no less, he’d feed himself these useless words of comfort, thinking they’d hinder his thought process and undo the threads of love that so tirelessly binds him to you, he despised you and yet wanted you, this human.. From a dream no less! Too look at him.. Only him.. And yet.. you.. you.. never did. He had hoped and prayed that by entering school, he’d busy himself enough to forget about you and your ever so disturbing existence.. If you ever did truly exist.. Yet his hopes were in vain when he saw you.. With another.. well that wouldn’t do.. no this wasn’t what he wanted.. nor would he tolerate such disrespect from an insolent human such as yourself!

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gargyshmub · 1 year

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DELTARUNE; Gargy's Fairytale Theory

So, lately I've kind of had an itch in the back of my mind about DELTARUNE, more specifically the secret or hidden bosses in the game and a little correlation they all share. I'll try to keep this under 100 pages but i promise nothing (tee hee hee)

If you've played the game to the extent you're looking at a tumblr blog dedicated to it, you're probably familiar with the character's jevil and spamton. These are the two characters coined by the community as "secret bosses", since you have to stray away from the games intended path to find them (in most cases.)

When you defeat spamton in his 'NEO form', a neat little song will play with his dialogue "a real boy!", this is a nod to the fable/fairytale "pinochio" I'm sure everyone's familiar with. It's a story about a doll that comes to life in search of becoming 'a real boy'. This corrilation made me realize there are A LOT of similarity's between pinochio and spamton. The strings, his regular form being a mockup of a doll, even his goal to become "big", its almost like becoming a 'real boy'. He knows he's not 'real', and just like at the end of pinochio, he too becomes renewed (reneo'd).

This made me wonder if the other secret boss, Jevil, represented something other than the Joker card. Then I realized whenever he was hit in his fat empty head it actually sprung out like a jack-in-the-box. I initially discarded this since it wasn't really a fable or fairy-tale, but if you do some digging you'll find it actually is!!!@! back in the 1400's somewhat, the jack in the box was originally named 'The Devil in the Box', essentially it's a story about a man who trapped a devil in a boot in order to save a village in france at the time, kinda like that one story about the court jester who got locked away by his magician friend in order to save their kingdom (haha. hahahahha. thats from deltarune. hahaha.) just to run home my point, jack-in-the-box; Devil in the box. Jack; Devil. What way could you fuse them together? Dack? Jackil? maybe some other 3rd way that has some importance to Yea thats right you know you've always known its Jevil.

Obviously, in deltarune fashion, its easy to overthink most elements in the story. Granted, toby will make an entire 2nd game about a hypothetical character you've never met but no you've only ever POSSIBLY met through a 1/100 chance door where he'll show you his asshole and then disappear into a million pieces, but yea, it's easy to make certain correlations that aren't even really there. In this case however I'd say that there's one more correlation that seals the deal that makes this theory WORTH theorizing.

Yea gaster. even though he's not even technically a character yet, every piece of information regarding him seems to lead people to believe he's not only the narrator at the beginning of the game, but he's also the 'man' behind the tree (since the way you find 'his sprite' in undertale is almost exactly similar ['theres a room in-between, theres a room, in-between']). I'm assuming you know what there is to know about gaster so im not gonna go into it, so onto the correlation.

I've read before someone talking about how gaster represents easter eggs in video games, not only physically (egghead) but metaphorically (the way you find him, his implied involvment with the secret bosses, the fact he gives you an '''''EGG''''' when you DO find him). Well if he is technically involved with the secret bosses, wouldn't that make him a fable too? I'm here to tell you he is. he is HUMPTY DUMPTY from SECOND GRADE FAIRY TALE PLAY.

I've already gone over his physical and metaphorical symbolism relating to eggs, but the story of humpty dumpty is also very, haha, hahahaha, hahahhahahaha

Humpty dumpty sat on a wall (The Core)

Humpty dumpty took a big fall ("Fell into his own creation")

All the kings horses and all the kings men (Who did gaster work for again?)

Couldn't put Humpty together again ("He was shattered across time and space")

What could this mean? for the future it means that if this theory is right, EVERY secret boss we meet is gonna represent not only a lightworld object, but an actual FAIRTY TALE, a FABLE. I mean, how many fables are out there. I know theres one in particular, one that the game is named after, one that has to do with an ANGEL. an ''''ANGEL'''' with ''''TATTERED WINGS''''''.

but then again idk

EDIT: ALSO LITTLE MISS MUFFET THINK ABOUT THAT UNDER-HEADS LITTLE MISS MUFFET SAT ON HER TUFFET

Last edit: also this has no grounds as an actual theory but uhhh that mf that made the Undertale RED boss fight got hired on the team. Huh. I wonder what Red was a reference to. Huh.

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triflesandparsnips · 6 months

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Lot of takes going around the internets about certain "deaths" in the ofmd season finale, so, uh-- guess it's time for me to try and lose some followers on tumblr dot com with

Some Thoughts on Why I Am Not Particularly Bothered or Concerned about Izzy's Apparent "Death"

Laying the groundwork first...

1. Narratively speaking, Izzy's been a dead man walking since the start of the season. Babe shot himself and got a rebirth-- but he still definitely intended to die. Every minute he was still around was borrowed time.

Did he have to die? Maybe not. I know I could've written a version of the show where he didn't. But then that would be my show-- not theirs. I can't know exactly what themes, bugbears, bête noires, catharsis, or artistic Vibes are driving that writers' room, and until the credits run on the finale of the third season, none of the rest of us can either.

2. Izzy spent the season being in a liminal state-- and there's nothing in the story saying that he can't continue doing that. Izzy spent the season having one foot in one space, one hoof in the other, and himself halfway through the door, a chimera of mirrored things right up to his "death": pirate and ship, hard and soft, old ways and new, etc etc. But "the gravy basket" is a weird little liminal space between life and death, a place that both Ed and Buttons have found (and returned from) before. We don't know where Izzy "is" right now-- he could be there.

(tbh, I wonder how much poor feeling we'd be having about all this if we'd gotten a final tag of a blue-washed Izzy staring down at a bowl of soup while helplessly saying "but this isn't gravy, what the fu--")

3. I think there is an unfortunate belief that "it's not real unless you see the body" is a universal -- or perhaps inarguable -- "fact" of storytelling. But it's not. It's just a bit of narrative shorthand that got popular, and now we're too ready to fall into the trap of believing the inverse is true too-- that if there is a body, then there must therefore have been a "real" death.

This season has spent quite a lot of narrative time and effort telling us that its story is using a different model, with different shorthands; specifically, that magic is real, that there is at least some kind of existence after death, and that the dead can be resurrected.

And that brings me to the meat of why I'm not particularly bothered or concerned about what, at this stage of the story, could still very well be just a minor setback--

4. This whole show, and particularly this season, is a fairy tale. It's a story that works with fairy tale logic and tropes, and it's in conversation with other fairy tales too, ones that the OFMD audience is likely to know well enough to spot their narrative beats in action. So "Pinocchio" gets mentioned a lot? Cool-- the audience applies what is commonly known of that story to this one ("a real boy", the mirror-opposite being a puppet with no nose, etc), and finds some Cool Shit. Then they're primed to keep looking for fairy tales, even unnamed ones, in case there's another little nugget of reward-dopamine for finding a connection.

So the fact that we saw a mermaid? Suddenly, I personally am noticing "Little Mermaid" motifs all over the place. That Ed was in a "sleep like death" -- after fucking around with a spinning wheel -- until his prince came to wake him? Well fuck, man, that's Blackbeard playing "Sleeping Beauty" for us all.

And bringing it all back to a "dead" Izzy Hands... when I add up a "dead" body surrounded by a bunch of laborers mourning the person who nominally kept their living space nice AND who was wanted dead by an authority figure for the crime of being the "better" version of what that figure wanted to be...

...well fuck, idk about the rest of you, but to me that all adds up to Izzy's story being Snow fucking White. Waiting for someone to come pull the bullet poisoned apple from his body so he can live again.

5. This is a second season. Of three. And Izzy Hands is the writer's favorite chewtoy, so there is lots of time, space, and incentive to bring him back. If there's a third season, we have a pile of ways he could be brought back over the course of hours of literal viewing time and possibly months of in-narrative time. That's ages.

And the solutions don't have to be difficult! For instance, we still have canonical hallucinations from Stede-- that's one route. Or fuck it, we could have Izzy's (very solid-looking) ghost be the embodiment of their being haunted by the Sea, that would work too.

And even barring all that-- his grave is right there with our heroes. The ship is out there hunting down his murderer. Even if you're happy he's dead... bad news, friend. He's all over the third season landscape. (uh oh, it's GNU Izzy Hands)

But those are just a few options that leave his body rotting but his character still alive. I happen to think we could all dream a little bigger, darlings. For instance:

A. You cannot tell me that these writers, on this show, with these actors, would not absolutely go all in on a zombie-esque hand thrusting out of the dirt mere hours after burial. Look me in the eyes and tell me Con O'Neill wouldn't pull off an entire digging-out scene only to end with himself panting beside the hole, looking around, hearing Ed and Stede being weird in their haunted hut, and wearily say, "Are you fucking kidding me."

B. Don't like zombies? Want to stay closer to the Snow White vibe AND introduce a love interest for him? One hyphenated word: body-snatcher. Gotta dig those bodies up fresh for the Definitely Historically Accurate anatomists of the time! But oh, says this New Guy, this corpse is-- wow, it's weird that they buried him with a rose and really amazing makeup and a truly extraordinary number of whittled whales, plus what's with that horsey leg grave marker, this guy must've been fucking fascinating, man, I wish I could've met him-- --at which point Izzy's hand shoots out and chokes the guy half to death and the lads come tumbling out of the house and ta da, mission accomplished, Izzy resurrected in 5 minutes or less with his horsey leg conveniently beside him and an entire season for himself and everyone else to Deal With It, amazing, fantastic, no notes from me.

C. Come to think of it, there is genuinely a non-zero chance that the crew just. Fucked up the burial. I mean... even though I was just arguing why we shouldn't see it as Law, we didn't actually see the body. We saw a grave. What did they bury him in? Was it a box? Was it some canvas? Did they definitely pick up the right one when it was time to bury him? Or did they maybe carefully make him an ahistorical safety coffin just in case a cat demon came to bother him and his corpse wanted to make a fuss about it, y'know, very common, could happen to anyone, and Frenchie just so happens to have Blackbeard's old collar bell right here--

6. Here's the bottom line, imo: The only thing that would keep Izzy really actually dead and completely removed from the story is a lack of narrative time and space-- and we have plenty of both. Stories are like Lego. If you've got enough time and you're willing to play with pieces from a whole lotta different sets, it's not hard to put the same elements together in different ways to get new, exciting configurations. It's why I'm actually rubbish at predicting exact details of stuff-- there are a lot of ways something could go, there are infinite doors out of problems the narrative seems to throw at us, and no two people will come up with the same thing because we're all different.

That, to me, is one of the big ways I personally enjoy and engage with stories. And it's why I genuinely can't be fussed about Izzy's death, not when we're only two-thirds through the story as a whole; observing someone setup and then try and execute a complicated narrative trick is my jam.

But my way of engaging with all this is by no means the best or only way. How we all interact with art, and what speaks to us, is extremely personal. If how this season and Izzy's death went just didn't work for you, that's okay. I'm sorry it wasn't the story you wanted it to be. That blows.

I just know I can't say yet that it didn't work for me. I won't know until I can take in the entire picture, just as I can't judge a finished Lego set by the one piece I step on midway through construction. I can see different ways Izzy's death/rebirth could absolutely work, but will the writer manage it? I dunno.

But I'm willing to wait and see if the stupid puppet can pull it off.

#will it be the content or the length that causes the unfollows?#WHO CAN SAY #but every day is Unfollowing Amnesty Day #farewell and be free #our flag means death #our flag means death s2 spoilers #our flag means death seasons 3 rampant speculation #izzy hands #engaging with stories #and curating your own experience #(but for real - I had to stop myself at just the few possibilities I gave for a resurrection)#(real talk if you ask me for more I can just-- come up with more)#(it's my party trick)#(for very certain kinds of very nerdy parties)

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holybibly · 5 months

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Divine Rosa ❢ot8xreader❣

❣ Pairing: yandere!otx8 x reader ❣ Genre: Dark Romance, vampire au, angst, horror, yandere au, smut ❣ Summary: The moth always pours itself into the flame; what a pity that in the end it burns out. After the tragic death of her sister, MС tries to find answers to the questions she left behind. This leads her to a gated cottage town known for its luxurious rose gardens. In addition, there are also these mysterious men who manage all the affairs in the city. Too sweet, too helpful, too intrusive, and too in love. ❣ WARNING: only!18+ Themes of death, suicide, severe depression, stalking, blood, yandere behavior. ❣ Disclaimer: I don't support yandere behavior, stalking, or religious imposition. Themes include violence, obsession, possessiveness, and emotional or psychological manipulation. This book is intended solely for entertainment purposes.

English is not my native language, so if you see any mistakes, please let me know.

Published on AO3 like FleurRi

❣ Prologue: Roses scarlet like blood ❣

Every story has a beginning: a magical, inexplicable moment—an elusive contact between reality and dreams. When thoughts emerge from the edge of consciousness, a stream of colorless letters appears on the parchment of our fate, eventually becoming an event. Life's intersections, fragments of various plots, are continuously repeated, lost, or deliberately forgotten. They are like unwritten melodies; the echo of their angelic voices follows us through life, like the bright tent of a wandering circus that incessantly makes noise. is full of tinsel, and raves with dreams.

There are millions of them. No. Billions, like the sleeping stars, sway peacefully on the sky-blue wire; their scattered light tells the wayward souls the way in the velvet folds of the night's darkness. These are our memories. Some are dazzlingly bright, as fresh as summer breezes, while others are barely flickering, covered in the marble ashes of time and a diamond crumb of emotion. And they all live so far away and at the same time prohibitively close together, there, in the labyrinth of the underground sky and on the endless roads of the blood rivers, where it is impossible to find them: in our memory.

Just as a pebble thrown into the ocean sinks into the murky depths, so does memory. Drowning into the viscous muddy depths without a bottom, in that rich and uncharted area that we call “oblivion,” it sinks in time. And few of us have been given the opportunity to preserve living images of memories of the feelings we have ever experienced: to drown in the bittersweet water of sorrow and joy; to fill our consciousness to the brim, like a vessel with golden honey, with the feelings of pain and keen passion, and to die. Die happy. The greatest privilege of all.

Seconds, minutes, days, and years—colorful fragments of time; sharp crumbs scattered under our feet. Unlike us, those who plunge into eternal sleep, our memories that have insidiously dissolved in ink in our blood will not disappear. They fear death, flee from it, and hide in the thick of the earth that blossoms with fluttering glass, forget-me-nots and drunken petunias that, in their intoxicating happiness, kiss the eyelashes of the blind God. You hear them whisper, “I’ll never forget you…”

My story begins with an innocent question that I’m sure you’ve heard more than once: “Do you like roses?”

Once upon a time, I would have answered, "Yes, I love roses." But, as it turns out, all our words are followed by consequences, and small rosy spikes can be much more dangerous than they seem at first glance, just like in the fairy tales that we were told in childhood. You know, there are things that we might call fatal: people who decide other people’s lives as long as they reach out to them like they're God. And then there are the flowers, which keep the mysteries tenebrous and ancient. I'm almost a hundred years old, maybe more. I should start my story right now; this is the perfect moment.

I will tell you about who I once was and who I am now. I will tell you about love, which is akin to obsession, and the death of her faithful friend. I will also tell you about the people, ghosts, or maybe illusions that were around me. They were with me once… Now, there are others, but they’ll be in my story later. They will come into my life with a chorus of angelic voices; the sound of a heavy autumn downpour, and the pretentious solemnity of death. Yeah, they’ll be there, though, if you think about it, they were always there, from my first breath to my last breath, by my side. But I’m forgetting what’s important. I have to tell you about the roses, and only about them.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

Mina's long hair shimmered like luxurious silk under the early morning light. Bloody strands fell in curled doll curls onto her bare shoulders, as if in Baroque paintings. The lush blossoms of white roses woven together in her hair made her look like the ancient Greek goddess of spring. Her appearance has always been astonishing, blatantly perfect rather than real, but that was sometime in the past. Now she was like a pale ghost of herself, a blurry reflection on a black surface of water on a moonlit night. The only thing that reminded her of her former beauty was her hair, which remained perfectly groomed and scarlet, like blood. Oh yeah, there are still roses. These flowers… there was something unnatural about them, something otherworldly. Each petal was painfully perfect, as if made of satin. But the flowers were real; they were alive and breathing and too demanding. It seemed that just because they wanted this, Mina could wear them in her hair. It was their choice, not hers. “Do you like roses, Rosa?” · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

This is the moment when my life changed forever. If I had known that this innocent question would be the beginning of my end, but can this be called the end? Would my answer have been different?

I’ve thought about it a thousand times. Over and over again, I played this scene like a broken record, crossed my answer out of the script, wrote a new one, and made comments and footnotes, but… But the answer was the same. I couldn’t change anything; it was destined. Much later, when I fall asleep in a warm bed, I will feel a gentle kiss on my closed eyelids and hear San’s angelic voice whisper in my ear that fate is never wrong. That they would find me or that I would come to them does not matter; in the end, we would still be together in life and in death. In eternity.

I’ll come back to that later, I promise. In the meantime, I’ll continue. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

“They’re beautiful, Mina, but I don’t like them anymore.” I sounded terribly rude from the outside, and I could see Mina’s eyes filled with tears, as if I had slapped her.

“But Rosa!” Mina reached out her pale arms to me. “Look how perfect they are; don’t you care about their beauty? Doesn’t your heart beat faster when you look at them? O Rosa, these flowers are special; they never wilt.” She shook her head, as if confirming her words. “Yeosang gave them to me before I left” Her long, thin fingers reaching for the white rosebuds in her hair. “I want to give you one.” Hooking the flower, Mina gently pulled it out of her curls and stretched it towards me. I didn't have the desire to accept her gift; something in her behavior and her voice caused me anxiety. And there was this name: Yeosang. It wasn’t the first time I heard it, but it was a long time ago, and I still remember that Mina mentioned others with that name: Hongjoong, San, and Mingi. They sounded familiar to me as a song once learned by heart. She pronounced them in a special way: with a gentle intonation and an exciting euphoria. As if it had been repeated countless times at the same completely new to her. All I could hear was the echo of that song, which came along with those names in the conversation. It was an ominous echo, like an impending, inevitable storm. Mina was still holding out a rose, and I looked at her hands. Arms with a faint web of blue veins that looked like dried stems of faint flowers. For some reason, I came up with the idea of sirens holding out their hands to pirates while their voices led them into the welcome embrace of death. Did they look like Mina’s hands now?

I remember these hands weaving long pearl threads into my hair during festivals. I remember the feeling of intertwined fingers as Mina led me down the dark corridors of my grandmother's old house. I remember them gently wiping my tears when I was rubbing my feet until I bled in ballet class.

I remember the touch of those hands… I know him. These cold fingers that so carefully hold the snow-white flower no longer belong to my sister. Their touch changed, becoming foreign and distant, as did the mysterious land where these perfect, never-fading roses grew.

Didn’t that sound like a fairy tale? Just in our history, there has been no magic mirror, no Queen-Witch whose crown shines like a star, and no apple full of poison, but there is a coffin of shimmering crystal, and a prince that sleeps in it. Of course, there are also roses—thousands of roses.

“Rosa” Mina turned to me again. “Please take them; you will surely love them. Just try to feel them…”

She put a flower in my hands. The drops of nectar froze on the wax petals, and the first rays of the dawn sun made them sparkle like diamonds. “This variety is special.” Her voice sounded soft. “It's called the Deva-Rosa. I want to show you where they grow. It’s so beautiful. I want you to come with me, Rosa. We’ll be there together, you and me.” Mina smiled dazzlingly, but something was wrong with that smile. The once-sensual kiss lips were painfully curved, the corners awfully lifted, like the forever-frozen smile of a Venetian mask, and the warm pink shade was gone.

I was always jealous of her lips. They were so tender, plump, and enticing. All her features attracted attention, but it was her lips that made Mina's beauty unique.

She shone like the sun, easily becoming the center of everyone's attention—a beautiful white swan. The main heroine of the story.

Then there was me, only a shadow of her perfection—gloomy and pale as the moon, the complete opposite of the burning heat and the sexuality of my sister. Unlike Mina's, my features were not sensual and breathtaking; no, they were old-fashioned, like those of a porcelain doll. I didn’t find myself ugly or unattractive; just ordinary. One of a hundred million. The classic tragic heroine of a Gothic novel, someone like me, doesn’t make it to the finale.

Now looking at Mina, I can no longer see her life; her fire has almost been extinguished, leaving embers smoldering. And only her hair, like a burning sunset, was the only bright spot in her appearance. They crimson her white dress like blood rivers in the snow.

“Rosa, come with me.” The touch of her hands was icy and gave me a nasty shiver. It wasn’t Mina anymore. “Let's go, please. We can admire roses together. We can be together, Rosa. Remember what we promised each other when we were kids? Forever.” Mina leaned towards me with her whole body, completely trespassing into my space, and with her intimacy came the suffocating, sugary smell of roses. It was a thick, enveloping aroma that instantly sat in the lungs. I thought that if I breathed it in deeper, these strange, unnatural flowers would sprout in my veins, intertwine with my bones, and create a new home for themselves in my body.

“No!” I exclaimed, pushing Mina away from me. “I don’t want that, Mina. I don’t want you or those freaking roses in my life.”

Suddenly on my feet, I took a few steps away from the pale Mina, who was staring at a rose that had fallen to the ground. Her posture was as vulnerable as that of a wounded animal, and her limp arms reached for the flower, which, surprisingly, began to darken and fade, touching the ground. In her eyes, once radiant with happiness and dreaming, stood tears, and her lips began to tremble. It was as if a child whose beloved toy had been mercilessly abused had fallen to her knees, picked up a dying bud, and, in despair, pinned it to her lips.

“How can you be so cruel, Rosa?” Mina whispered, her lips gently touching the petals. “You hurt them; it breaks their heart. Can’t you just accept their love? Accept the roses?” She continued to kiss the petals.

“What are you talking about, Mina? Whose love should I accept?” I asked cautiously. Her behavior began to frighten me.

“You must give yourself to them, Rosa; I must give you to them.” Mina ignored my question, methodically kissing a faded flower. His dead petals began to fall away, slowly, baring his heart. “O Rosa, the rose is a rose; the rose is a deva; the deva is a rose; is a rose.”

“Mina!” I called her by her name in an alarm. The entire situation had me in a state of primitive terror. Mina began slowly swaying from side to side in time to your words, all the while continuing to say, “Rose is a rose, the rose is a deva.” It was meaningless, like the ravings of a madman. The words were repeated in an endless circle, like a prayer or a ritual chant. Mina’s voice grew louder, higher, and higher until it broke, and abruptly she stopped all movement, standing there like a graceful statue.

Once I admired her every move; now I want to cover my eyes so I never have to see her again. What happened after became the most traumatic thing in my life. I can never forget it, no matter how much I want it. It seemed to be imprinted on my eyelids, and even after closing my eyes in my sleep, I couldn’t get rid of those memories.

Her movements were fleeting, like the wings of a butterfly. Here she is before me, tense and waiting, and then her throat crosses a ragged line, and blood rushes through her body like a waterfall.

Eyes shining from tears are wide open and so resemble smooth black pearls, and lips are opened as if waiting for a kiss. For a second, Mina's body stretched like a thin string and then softened, falling on the grass. I heard someone start screaming; the sound was so deafening and heartbreaking that I wanted to curl up in a ball and cover my ears with my hands, so I couldn’t hear.

I found myself screaming. I needed to call for help; I had to call an ambulance, and I had to try to help her. Put my arms around her neck and cover her gaping red velvet wound.

But I was yelling about something else instead. My name is not Rosa; you hear me, Mina! I am not her. · · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I awoke in a frenzy, sweating profusely and with a wildly pounding heart from an endlessly recurring nightmare.

This dream has haunted me for months since Mina’s funeral. Night after night, I have lived this sunrise over and over again. I didn’t like morning anymore; I started avoiding sunlight and hiding in the velvet folds of the night, sharing my loneliness with the darkness. I made the moon my friend, and the stars my silent witnesses.

My memory is folded paper, folded a thousand times. Sometimes, I want to unwrap it, but not completely: open the brittle edges of the fragile sashes, smooth out the folds and creases with my fingers, spread out the time sequence. Unwrap it just a little, and then fold again, mixing letters and days, reality and dreams. I never want to open the pages where the memories of that morning are stored. Every time I get almost to the end, moments before the final, I run away to the safety of happy days.

I try to come up with a new ending to this story, a different ending, but the dream comes to me like a cat, gently calling me into its embrace, and I find myself again in a place I don’t want to be.

It’s early in the morning, and the sun is just rising above the horizon, shimmering like a limitless purple-pink ocean.

In Mina’s crimson hair are snow-white roses, and her dress looks like an intricately woven ruffle and lace. Her pale hands holding flowers, her puffy lips in a painful smile, and her bare feet—the ground must be cold since it was the middle of October. Her blood… and the roses. And if it were possible to personify hatred and death, then for me, it would be roses.

I hated and despised these flowers with all my heart. They brought only sorrow and gloominess into my life. The beautiful symbol of mourning solemnity. They started it. They ended it all.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · ·

I was sixteen when Mina first called me Rosa. One January afternoon, she came home with a basket of the most gorgeous flowers I’ve ever seen in my life. Scarlet like the blood of a rose, they were magnificent and perfect. From that day on, I became Rosa. Why did Mina start calling me that? She never spoke. But she completely forgot my real name. For the whole world, I was now Rosa. After this case, every day in our small apartment, the roses became more and more numerous, until every inch of free space was filled with scarlet buds. Their smell was suffocating, thick, and sticky like honey. It is absorbed into the skin, hair, and dissolved in the blood. It made me dizzy and nauseous, and I could taste it on my tongue with every breath. But it wasn’t just a smell. It was a color that screamed “red,” like blood itself. It poured over our house, coloring the entire apartment in a disturbing shade.

After that, every day in our house, the roses became more and more numerous until they filled all the surrounding space.

Soon, they became so numerous that our house looked like a tomb filled with scarlet petals hanging from the ceiling. We've been arranging here with all honors, breathing in a haze as imperceptible as rose-scented mist.

In all the time I lived there, not a single flower withered. It was frightening and exciting at the same time. Day followed night, and night gave way to day; but no petal lost its pristine beauty, and no bud bowed its heavy head in sorrow. There was not a single bouquet that would dilute this velvet sea with its mourning black.

And if that did happen, Mina cried long and hard over these flowers and blamed herself for not saving them. At night, I heard the sound of her apologies and her fanatical prayers.

Whether she prayed to God or to the Devil, I couldn't tell. I'll find out for whom these prayers were intended many years later.

Roses were always sent with a postcard and a box of expensive chocolates with some intricate filling. The box was necessarily in the form of a heart. The signature was also one; once the unchanged calligraphic handwriting deduced only one phrase, “For you,”

Mina never told me who gave her these magic flowers or why the roses didn’t wither.

I tried to ask her these questions several times, but she only brushed them off, throwing her long hair from one shoulder to the other and angrily declaring, “You must love them; you don't need to know more.”

Mina also dyed her hair scarlet, like roses.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Constantly surrounded by these flowers was unbearable, and one day I packed up all my things and moved in with a friend, leaving Mina alone in her regal rosary.

My first night away from home, away from the roses and Mina, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned anxiously in bed hour after hour; but the dream never came, and then the phone rang. Mina called. Crying, she begged to come home, and when I asked her why, she barely whispered, “The roses are wilted.”

I hung up, and Mina never called me again. Two years had passed. My life had changed, and I think my luck had smiled. I found wonderful friends who were eccentric and bright. I had a great and caring boyfriend, and the internship at ballet school was promising. Everything worked out perfectly, and there were no more roses.

Until my twentieth birthday, a huge bleeding bouquet of scarlet roses tied with topaz-embroidered ribbon appeared in my new apartment. The candy box was heart-shaped, and the caption read, “For You.”

I burned the bouquet, threw out the chocolate, and tore the note apart, and blew it to the wind.

No one was supposed to see or know. Even me. Exactly eight days after these flowers appeared, I got a call from former neighbors in the apartment complex Mina was still living in. I was urged to come and deal with the situation; the smell of rot and death was unbearable, and Mina didn't open the doors or answer the phone. I opened the door with my key. Opening it wide, I crossed the threshold and could not contain a short scream. All the once-luxurious roses had rotted, dripping thick, stinking jugs on the floor and accumulating in gleaming poisonous lakes. Every corner of the space was occupied by large vases with black velvet buds and tall candles. After my move, Mina got rid of all the furniture, leaving only the big bed, which was now covered with dried stems strewn with thorns.

This place was like a grave — cold and dark — where my sister was supposed to rest. Going deeper, I found no hint of Mina's presence. Absolutely nothing. Only putrid roses and an empty heart-shaped box.

Mina was gone. For a whole year, I tried to find her without success. Old friends, distant relatives, acquaintances, and any other connections she might have ever had—I checked everything, but there was nothing to help me find her. It’s like she never existed.

In the two years we’ve been apart, I didn’t know anything about her. Mina didn’t call, and when I tried to contact her, she would reply with a short message, always the same: "Roses have wilted; come back." just like the night I left her.

All Mina had ever thought about since that unfortunate January day were these sinister roses.

The police began an investigation. Two years after her disappearance, Mina became officially missing.

And a year after that, she showed up at my door in the twilight of the fall morning, barefoot, in a sophisticated lace dress with a rose crown on her head. From the Mina that I knew, all that remained was her hair—long, silky, and crimson like blood and roses.

She still kept calling me Rosa, calling me out, and promising that we’d be happy together. That it will be only us, forever. She promised to show me where these strange flowers bloom, which she called the Deva-Rose, although these were not her words, but those of someone distant and unfamiliar to me, Hongjoong.

And then...then Mina died. The dawn painted her body in pink shades, flooded the grass with sparkling gold, and dyed the white roses of her crown scarlet. She slit her throat. Ragged a sharp spike into it. As it turned out, even the tiniest rose spikes were deadly. It was a nightmarish and, at the same time, majestic end to her story. The image of Mina haunts me in dreams even now—this distant gaze in her pearly eyes and a complete absence of fear of death. No, Mina wasn't afraid. She welcomed death as an old friend, graciously opening her arms.

It was her exodus. I remember screaming loudly. Blood thundered in my ears, and tears flowed in an endless crystal stream. I screamed that my name wasn’t Rosa; that I wasn’t her, and never would be.

Her funeral was truly a royal one. Rain and thunder rattle in the sky, as if raising a toast in her honor. The flat haloes of the black umbrellas swayed peacefully as the guests made their sorrowful speeches.

Mina seemed to fall asleep, dressed in an old-fashioned wedding dress, lying there like a princess, drowning in thousands of roses. The flowers were brought at dawn. Their color was deep and dark, as if every petal was filled with the gloaming of the night. They mourned with me. But I knew better. It wasn’t the end; it was the beginning. Death follows life in an endless cycle of rebirth. When one flower fades, plant a new one. Back home that night, I found a black envelope at my door, sealed with a monogram wax seal.

It lacked an address and the sender's signature. The message was clear and concise. "I live for you, my Rosa."

· · • • • ✤ • • • · · I went to the window and opened the curtains with my newfound determination. It’s time to stop being afraid and run away. Whatever it is, I’ll find out what happened to Mina. Let her start it all, but I’ll be the one to finish the story. The last surviving girl.

· · • • • ✤ • • • · · How naive I was then, how stupid. The moth always flies to the flame, attracted by the warm fluttering light; he himself goes to his death.

I was that moth. Without realizing it, I came to my inevitable fate, which has been waiting for me for centuries, maybe longer. Their hands have stretched out since the darkest times, when the light didn't exist, and the Devil was as real as you and I. At that time, everyone knew his face, felt his hot breath on his skin. The story I’m going to tell you isn't going to be bright and sweet; we’re going to go down to hell and come back. I'll take you through the dark woods to the horrors of uncharted lands where barefoot priestesses rock their sharp teeth in alluring smiles. I will take you to the castle where the prince rests in a crystal coffin and make you drink wine that tastes like blood.

Now I have to ask you, "Are you afraid of the dark and what’s hidden in it?" But my question is, "Love, do you like roses?"

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mysteryshoptls · 28 days

Text

SSR Sebek Zigvolt - Platinum Jacket Vignette

"Happy 100th Anniversary"

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: That pedestal there is a reproduction from the King of Beasts' bedchamber, and that teacup yonder is ceramic wear with a Queen of Hearts motif.

Sebek: Heheh… That's right, my preparatory research is completely perfect. With this, there shall be no opportunity for me to embarrass myself due to a lack of artistic knowledge.

Sebek: There is no way I can allow myself to appear unsightly now that I've been appointed a supporter of the Land of Dawning National Museum of Art.

???: Hm? What's with this green light in the middle of the painting…? Oh, it's just a bonfire flame.

???: Those fairies look like they're having a blast partyin' like that, I wonder if something good happened.

Sebek: How dare you claim them to be "partying." This is a painting depicting the Thorn Fairy's men extolling her grand exploits!

Ace: Ack, Sebek… Looks like I got caught by an annoying one. So what, you're tellin' me this painting's got something to do with the Thorn Fairy?

Sebek: Exactly. It is often said that these men were as proud of the Thorn Fairy's achievements as if it were their own, and would express their joy with their whole body and soul.

Sebek: Anyone should be able to infer how magnificent the Thorn Fairy was just from witnessing these men's unwavering loyalty.

Ace: Uh-huh, okay. Kinda just looks to me like they're just partyin', maybe masking it as a celebration for the Thorn Fairy.

Sebek: Don't you dare liken them to superficial humans like yourself. Each one of those fae that appear in this tale are all diligent folk.

Sebek: Back in my hometown there are many stories of the Thorn Fairy and other fae passed down for generations. We even have special functions held to emulate their greatness.

Ace: Sure. Can't see those functions as being anything other than boring, though, if it's attended by lame, "diligent" faes～

Sebek: Heh, curious, are you? One such event that has been around for a long while now is a dress color changing competition. Whosoever is able to magically dye the dress to the color closest to the provided example is the victor.

Ace: Ugh, that pisses me off that it's actually kinda cool-soundin'…

Ace: But I guess the whole having to use magic for it just shows it really is an event in the fae-rich lands of Briar Valley.

Sebek: …In my youth, my elder brother and sister took me to witness one such competition and I was struck with amazement.

Sebek: I was completely taken in by everyone's astounding magical prowess to turn a dress vivid blue or pink in the blink of an eye…

Sebek: I remember how excited I was to learn magic as soon as possible so I may also take part in this contest.

Ace: Guess even you have adorable moments. So, what place in the competition did you get once your long-awaited magic finally manifested?

Sebek: Don't be absurd. Color changing magic is a course of study that human mages only learn in their courses at an arcane academy.

Sebek: This was merely something I found enchanting as a mere child. Obviously I would not take part in such a contest now.

Ace: You suuure? Sounds pretty fun to me. Oh hey, then how about you and me have our own little contest with color changing magic back at my dorm sometime.

Sebek: Why would I set foot in Heartslabyul…? Wait.

Sebek: Surely I am mistaken, but… Were you intending on shoving your rose-dying tasks onto my shoulders?

Ace: No way, I wasn't saying that at all! C'mon, don't you think it'd be a great little competition to have with a fellow freshman?

Sebek: Your excuses will not work on me! I know for a fact that you constantly complain over having to paint the roses.

Sebek: The only contest I had any interest in attempting was the dress color changing competition in Briary Valley. Do the tasks assigned to you on your own!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Ace: Oh hey, I know this one. It's a painting of a girl and some talking flowers.

Sebek: According to the legends, the flowers native to the country the Queen of Hearts' presided over had the ability to speak.

Sebek: Who would have thought that the flowers cultivated there would be able to speak or sing as such. I'm sure it was disturbingly loud in the Queen's country.

Ace: Sure, probably. But hey, probably a lot less loud than your voice can get.

Sebek: …Perhaps if you were to cease your own impudent retorts, I wouldn't have a need to raise my voice.

Ace: Reeeaaally, you think? 'Cause to me it feels like you're always angry about something.

Sebek: Of course not. I simply find the uncouth antics of you humans to be utterly aggravating.

Sebek: I know there is a time and place for everything. I myself would never do something as rude as to throw a damper on enthusiastic festivities.

Sebek: In fact, I attended a performance at a live music club just the other day and I did not chide the audience for their overjoyed shouting one bit.

Ace: …Eh. What did you just say? YOU WENT TO SEE A LIVE MUSIC PERFORMANCE!!!???

Sebek: Why would you react as such?

Ace: I mean, come on, didn't strike you as someone who'd go to something like that. So, like, what was the live show you went to go see?

Sebek: My latest venture brought me to attend a small show that showcased a collaboration between bands that primarily performed heavy metal music.

Sebek: This was all due to Lilia-sama, who imparted on me that this was the best way to train my imagination, and that listening to live music is an important part of life.

Ace: Aaah, that makes sense now. But hey, do you even listen to heavy metal?

Ace: I mean sure, you can kinda get into it once you're at the concert even if you don't know the songs, but if you don't even like that kinda stuff in the first place, ain't it tough to actually take in?

Sebek: "Get into it once you're at the concert"? Don't liken me to someone like you. Of course I went to the show after doing my due diligence in research.

Sebek: If I were to attend the show without a full understand of what I am to partake in, it would be an absolute disservice to Lilia-sama's recommendation.

Sebek: I studied everything from the exact times the music club opened their doors and how the audience would be filed into the venue, to the established rules on refreshments, to the proper cheering behavior utilized by the crowd near the front of the house…

Sebek: I believe it is called a "mosh pit." Prior to attending the performance, I made sure to carve into my body and soul the different techniques and proper etiquette as well.

Sebek: On that day, I purport that I banged my head back and forth much harder than anyone else there, shouting and cheering alongside them.

Ace: Don't think I've ever heard of someone practicing to mosh before. But I guess it sounds like you had a pretty fun time, though.

Sebek: Indeed. Although, I did run into slight trouble.

Ace: Huh, what kind of trouble? Cause some mischief, did ya?

Sebek: Absolutely not! I'm not sure if they lost their footing during the show or what, but the performer fell forward towards the audience.

Sebek: I immediately caught the performer and returned them to the stage. After that, the show continued smoothly until the end.

Ace: PFFT! You seriously returned the performer to the stage!?

Sebek: Obviously. I could not allow this concert that Lilia-sama had recommended to me be cancelled merely because the performer had become injured!

Ace: Bwahahaha! Looks like all that prepping you went through didn't help at all. All they wanted to do was stage dive, too.

Sebek: A stage dive…? Hold on now, don't tell me that was part of the performance!?

Sebek: I suppose the performer did look rather stunned when I returned them to the stage… Ghurk, what a blunder…!

Ace: Oh man, that's so hilarious. Wish I was there to see it. Hey, let's hit up a show together next time.

Sebek: SHUT IT! WHO WOULD EVER GO ANYWHERE WITH YOU!?

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: This is a painting of the hyenas who served the King of Beasts, I see. Their countenance depicts an atmosphere overflowing with trust from their liege and confidence in their own abilities.

Ace: Yeah? To me it just looks like they're up to something.

Sebek: Isn't that due to your own wily tendencies?

Sebek: I have seen you multiple times in locations outside the gymnasium during what should be basketball club hours.

Ace: Hey, it's not like I'm slacking off or anything. C'mon, I'm a freshman, right? Sometimes I get saddled with odd jobs from the upperclassmen.

Ace: But, man… Sometimes I do want to skip morning lessons on cold days. Hey, aren't there times you don't want to get out of bed when it's way too cold out, too?

Sebek: It's true that back home it has happened that I couldn't get out of bed in the morning. However, that was not because I wished to skip my training!

Ace: W-Woah, really? I thought you woulda hit me back with another "Don't liken me to you!" or something.

Sebek: I could not help it. I was thoroughly chilled to the bone that morning. It was so cold that there were numerous icicles dangling from our roof, as well.

Sebek: I did not even wish to fathom the temperature outside, but… I somehow forced myself out of bed to begin my morning training.

Sebek: Perhaps it was due to not having slept well, but I could feel my eyelids start to droop. So I decided then to attempt to wake myself up further with the bitter taste of coffee.

Sebek: I swallowed down the strong black coffee and believed myself ready to go. But that was the last thing I remembered.

Sebek: I ended up falling back asleep on the couch and when I finally woke up, it was past noon… An absolute blunder. This is a blot that I will carry with me forever.

Ace: Hey now, that's pretty normal, c'mon. Pretty steep to say you'll carry that forever.

Sebek: No, you are just weak-willed. I, however, strived through trials and tribulations to overcome the bitter cold of mornings and finally found "that" thing.

Ace: What're you acting so pompous about now?

Sebek: Heh, of course you'd be curious. I suppose I can tell you. The thing I am talking about is… A HOT WATER BOTTLE!

Ace: A hot water bottle…? You're seriously using a hot water bottle? Even in this day and age when we have air conditioners and heaters!?

Sebek: Do you seriously not understand? That thing is a fantastic item that warms your entire body without fear of causing a fire or desiccation.

Sebek: Cold winter nights not only diminishes my ability to fall asleep, but also affects the quality of sleep I am able to get. In turn, that makes it difficult to rise from bed…

Sebek: However, a simple hot water bottle prepared at bedtime can warm my body and lull me to sleep even in the coldest winters!

Sebek: The temperature can even be easily adjusted by wrapping it in a towel, or adding water to the bottle. A very convenient item.

Ace: Huh, interesting. I mean, sure, it might not use electricity, but I'm surprised you're using a "human" item.

Sebek: I received this hot water bottle from my father. Back when he had just arrived in Briar Valley, it apparently was very useful in keeping him warm even without magic.

Ace: Oh, so it's a hand-me-down, huh. And here I thought I'd get to hear another hilarious story or something～

Ace: Since it sounds like there ain't gonna be a punchline anymore, I think I'll go check out the shop. Byeee―

Sebek: YOU ASKED THE QUESTION, HEAR ME OUT UNTIL THE END! Good grief, I can't stand that human. …Hm?

Sebek: This is… A painting depicting a the human chattering along with animals. I've read this story in a book my grandfather gifted me.

Sebek: This young lady speaks of her dreams to these critters… Does she truly believe that her wish will come true without any effort on her part? What a lazy creature.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola #twst sebek #twst ace #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: lilia #mention: baur

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 7 months

Note

Hey Ari, happy birthday! i know birthdays aren’t always the best as we get older so i hope yours is a good one 🫶🏻 could we maybe see a birthday celebration in one of the edgier verses? young scruffy! reader maybe? i love all the effort you put into your blog and you truly deserve the world for allowing us all a little bit of escape from our own 🩵

Here's Bruce trying to be nice

Bruce rapped gently on the door frame of your bedroom and took a deep breath. He hoped you would accept this in the spirit it was intended.

He held the box in his hand against his side and when you regarded him in your mirror, raising your eyes slowly he took that as silent permission. If you didn't want to see him, you would usually just... not. He would become a non-entity. You didn't ignore him so much as you looked through him. You would hear and acknowledge. But beyond that he didn't exist.

"I uh- I found this in the vault and I- I think mother would have liked you to have it."

Truthfully, he looked for it. Had it cleaned and repaired. The gems were all perfect cut and clarity. They mirrored your eyes. The fact that his mother would have liked you to have it was true. She'd always wanted a daughter. And she'd always spoken of you fondly when he was a boy. That you were a sweet girl.

"Bruce-"

"I missed your birthday," he said, apologetically. "And after you planned such a nice fundraiser for mine."

"It was in the middle of the week. Dinner was fine I-"

"Stop stalling and open it," he said, smiling a little. He'd never met someone more hesitant to accept gifts. Probably because they usually had strings attached.

He proffered it a little more insistently. Satisfied when you take it and cautiously remove the ribbon from the original velvet box. But when you're frozen in place for a moment he isn't sure what to say. Or do. He can't see your face.

"Bruce I can't take this it was your mother's."

"She would have given it to you herself," he said confidently. "And it's a shame for it to stay in the vault on the off chance I have a daughter to give it to. Or some long lost half sister."

"I-"

"May I?" he asked ignoring your protests. He was willing to respect your boundaries- except for this one. A beautiful woman should have a collection of beautiful things. And this one suited you. Vintage. Elegant. If it hadn't been designed for Martha Wayne, it could have been designed for you.

And when you nod hesitantly, he makes a soft satisfied noise. Fastening the necklace around your neck deftly and the bracelet around your wrist.

"Mother lost the earrings on a Yacht in France I believe," he said. Watching the shimmer of the gems in the light. "But I think I can track down the designer- he's retired now but his son is perfectly cabable of-"

"Why?"

"Because," he said kneeling and tilting your chin up to meet your eyes. "I can't give you a fairy tale. Not really. But- it doesn't have to be a horror story."

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #arranged!verse2.0

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quiteliterallyilliterate · 3 months

Note

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

#yandere link x reader #linked universe #link x reader #yan!link #yandere linked universe #lu x reader #fae!hyrulexreader #fae!hyrule

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latelyanobsession · 1 month

Note

Hello dear <3 what about X, F, and O for Billy Hargrove? a tiny smooch for your great writing :*

F - Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? Do they wanna get married?)

Billy can be fairly skittish when it comes to commitment. He acts very detached and uncaring about the subject, maybe he even avoids it at times. He certainly doesn't enjoy conversations about it and has offloaded more than a few partners who were considering it.

Long-term and married life is not something Billy has ever thought about. It's not something he thinks he's entitled to. He doesn't deserve it. He's not cut out for it. People never tend to stick around for long in his life. You may have managed to last this long but he's always fighting down this feeling in the back of his mind that it will all come crashing down someday and he shouldn't get his hopes up. That there's no point in dreaming. There's no point in reaching for fairy tales. Just make the good times last. And when it all dries up? He'll grab a couple sixers, drown his sorrows, and call it squared.

O - Open (When do they open up about themselves?)

Billy is someone who has learned throughout his life that vulnerability comes at a high price. That sensitivity is a negative trait. That showing your softer side is a weakness and it gets you hurt. He is a very suspicious, cautious, and guarded person. He looks distant and uncaring because he takes time to size up every person before interacting with them. When he determines it is safe to interact with others, he showboats, flexes, dominates, and intimidates in an attempt to prove how invulnerable, strong, and confident he is.

It is most likely that Billy would not intend to open up to you. You would be subject to his armored display as much as any other person. It would be a matter of whether or not you could find the chinks and begin coaxing out that sensitive and scared boy behind it. In shared moments, he may offer small tokens about himself to test your authenticity. If you take genuine interest in the information he shares and offer him a safe and understanding space he would begin to unwind himself somewhat but would still always be holding back just enough that he could always flee at a moment's notice.

X - Xtra (Random HC)

Billy gets fussy over you when you look a little "too nice" on date night. If your shirt is open wider than his, he starts readjusting the shoulders for you. If your jewelry draws more attention and sparkle, there's suddenly an arm around you and Billy chastising you for wearing everything you own out the door. "You wanna get jumped?"

It's not that Billy doesn't want you to flaunt it, but he worries. He worries so damn much that someone that looks this good (even better than him) might leave him. He doesn't always believe that you dress to impress him. Or that those little one-night wonders are solely for him. So he dims your light sometimes to soothe his own anxieties.

F - Favourite Position (This goes without saying.)

Billy's favorite position is without a doubt, 'face down, ass up'. Whether that's a traditional doggy, some variation, or bending a partner over some manner of furniture, he gets what he wants. He wants angle and depth with every stroke.

His other favorites involve a little more work on his part and a lot of flexibility on your part, but if managed it's all the better for you both. A wildcard favorite of his is when he rolls you to your side, pinning one of your legs beneath him and wrapping the other around his hip. Taking you this way he can get all the depth he wants while watching your face scrunch and your jaw slacken each time he rams that sweet spot inside you. He additionally has better flexibility to play with you, should he so desire.

O - Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Billy has a strong preference for giving, and that's an understatement. It has little to do with control and more to do with praise. He spends his days constantly feeling or being outright told that what he does is wrong. But when he has you on your back, with your nails imprinting crescents into his shoulders, and your spine coiled tighter than a spring? He knows he's doing something right. He's doing good. Hearing you choke and gasp as you throw your head into the pillows is the closest he's come to an "atta boy!" in weeks and he's greedy for more. He wants to nip and pluck at the thin skin below your ear until your hips grind and buck against his. He wants to bite and suck at your tongue until you whimper and shiver in his arms. He's so hungry to please you because you always provide that confirmation. That he's wanted.

This is in comparison to his near indifference at times to receiving. Billy craves a lot of stimulation and bores easily, so holding still to be gone down on rarely works for him unless you get exotic and trail your tongue further south... Ever the adventurer, he will nearly fall to pieces if you eat him out. Tease him a good while, and he will be the most agreeable you've ever seen him.

X - X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Billy is generously proportioned but by no means intimidating in size. He's uncircumcised with a deep rosy head that fully pushes back against the foreskin when he's at his peak. His sheath can be deceiving, making him appear visually longer with a graceful upward curve to his erect shaft. He hits all the right places just by the default of his nature. What he packs the most is girth. Heavy in hand, and warm on the tongue. You always feel empty when he pulls out.

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27dragons · 4 months

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New Year Countdown: Dec 21

You know what I really love? An arranged marriage fic. It's just. So good. So have some Dreamling arranged marriage. Don't try to make sense of the worldbuilding,; if I let myself think about it for more than 2 minutes I was going to spend three hours on the background and forget to actually write something useable.

Dec 21 - Dreamling - Arranged Marriage - Fairy lights

Dream ducked around a corner, away from the masses of guests his parents had found it necessary to invite to the wedding. They all wanted to congratulate him, and he was having a harder and harder time not responding with a demand that they produce some evidence that he was, in fact, fortunate.

An arranged marriage, in this day and age!

He’d known better than to argue with his father about it, though, so he’d had as little to do with the entire thing as he could get away with. He’d only met his new husband for the first time the previous afternoon, at the rehearsal. Dream had contrived to sit at the far end of the table from the man at the dinner, and then excused himself to his rooms immediately after the main course.

But he hadn’t been able to avoid the wedding itself, of course. He could only hope that his parents interpreted his flushed face as a new spouse’s excitement and not the towering fury he was suppressing.

The man was attractive enough, Dream had to concede that. But a handsome face could overlay any number of flaws -- only consider Desire, who was as spiteful as they were elegant.

Dream had no wish to learn Robert Gadling’s opinions of the match, or what he expected of Dream and their marriage, or even if they had a single thing in common. This entire thing was a farce, and Dream only wanted to go home and be left alone to mourn his life of contentment and books.

No one had noticed him missing yet. Or if they had, they assumed he’d just ducked off to the restroom. Maybe he could escape for an hour.

The hallway led away from the reception, ending in a set of double doors that overlooked a garden.

The garden was empty, it being entirely too cold for strolling outdoors, but it was decorated with fairy lights in case someone might want to look out a window.

Despite Dream’s feelings about the entire situation, the lights were pretty. He pushed through the doors and stepped out into the garden.

The frozen air was bracing; he drew a deep breath, feeling the cold burn in his lungs, then let it out again and watched the misty puff of condensation swirl up into the night. When the last wisps of his breath had disappeared, he began to walk, the twinkling lights filling his vision.

Halfway down the garden, he could no longer hear the noise of the reception, and he felt a fraction of tension ease from his shoulders. There was a bench there, under a cherry tree that was probably lovely in the spring, but at the moment was just a spread of bare branches clawing at the sky.

Dream sat, looking up through those branches at the lights and the stars.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there. Long enough for the last of the residual warmth to have seeped away from his suit coat by the time someone said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone else was out here.”

Dream blinked the stars from his eyes and turned to see-- Well, of course it was Gadling, wasn’t it? He turned his face back up to the sky. “Were you looking for me?”

“No,” Gadling said. “I try not to push in where I’m not wanted. I’ll leave now, if you like, only -- you look a bit chilled. Can I offer you my coat?”

Dream started to refuse, then realized his teeth were on the edge of chattering. “Thank you.”

When Gadling handed it over, it was still radiating the man’s own heat. Dream pulled it around his shoulders. “You may stay.”

He hadn’t intended it to come out so imperious, but Gadling merely smiled and sat at the other end of the bench. “I caught a glimpse of the lights and I wanted to come out and see them. They’re pretty.”

Dream glanced at his husband sidelong. “Yes, Mr. Gadling,” he agreed quietly. “They are.”

“Maybe,” Gadling added, “we can have something like this in our house?”

“That would be nice,” Dream said.

Gadling smiled a little. It was a small smile, but it creased lines by his eyes that suggested he smiled and laughed often.

That might be good, Dream thought. There wasn’t much laughter in his present life.

“And perhaps eventually,” Gadling continued, eyes fixed on the lights and not on Dream, “you will consent to call me Hob, like my friends do.”

“Are we to be friends, Mr. Gadling?”

Gadling’s smile faded, and he looked sad, a little. Wistful, perhaps. Dream wasn’t particularly adept at reading people, but Gadling’s eyes were gentle, perhaps even kind. “I would like that,” Gadling said. “If you should find me worthy of such an honor.”

Dream was still furious that he’d been pressed into this marriage, of course.

But perhaps... Perhaps he was not angry with Robert Gadling.

#my writing #countdown to 2024 #the sandman #dreamling #arranged marriage au

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damn-stark · 1 year

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Chapter 1 Beautiful girl

Chapter 1 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- I really hope you guys like the first chapter, I’m very proud of it! And I hope you guys stick around for more :)

Warning- FLUFF :): violence, death, blood, swearing, and suggested sexual assault.

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Henry x Fem!reader

Episode- 1x01

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

“Alarm.”

There’s slight movement on the bed, and a weight gets lifted off your neck.

An annoying sound fills the room, but you ignore its screeching cries even if they don’t cry for your attention.

“Alarm!” Sarah yells out.

You groan and stretch out, feeling the bottom of your feet hit flesh.

“Come on,” you hear your fathers hoarse voice nearby before you feel a hand wrap around your arm to pull you up. “It’s time to get up.”

The hand around your arm slips off, letting you drop back on the bed. And the additional weight that once was on the bed is lifted off. You keep your eyes closed to avoid the warm rays of sun that already kiss your face, and groan softly before you flip around and curl up on the warm and sunken place your father was just laying on, finding solace in his smell that clung onto his pillows.

“Tomorrow,” you groan in a feigned deep voice.

There’s a scoff before suddenly arms wrap around you and pick you off the bed to throw you over his shoulder. You keep your eyes closed as he begins moving, but wrap your arms around his neck to keep warm and smile as you pat his back.

“Happy birthday, daddy,” you mumble since that’s not something you’ll ever forget, even if you still feel sleepy.

You then lift your head off his shoulder to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you baby,” he says as he gently caresses the back of your head.

“I have a present for you,” you share happily and lay your head back on his shoulder.

“Do you? Is it hm, maybe, brushing your teeth.”

You finally open your eyes and pull back to meet his gaze and giggle. “No!” You swipe back the strands of hair that were tickling the corner of your mouth as they stuck to your face due to the drool that had been spilling out of your mouth when you were sleeping.

Your dad then sucks air in through his teeth and narrows his gaze as he leans in and sniffs. “Oh no? Because your breath kinda stinks.” He remarks and places you down on your stool placed against the sink counter.

You roll your eyes and shift around to face the mirror, making sure to brush back your poorly cut bangs you had ruined last week because you swore you could be a hairstylist at 4–you still kinda do think you can be one.

Regardless, you grab your purple brush off the cup and put it under the running water, before you quickly squeeze toothpaste on the brush and begin to brush rapidly since you do have to show your dad a part of your present.

You brush up and down, side to side, and spit out the toothpaste before splashing water on your face and hopping off the stool.

“Change!” Your dad shouts from the bathroom with his toothbrush in his mouth.

Of course you know to do so that’s what you’re doing now. However, you don’t grab your own clothes, you run to his drawer and go on your tiptoes to pull open his shirt drawer. Since you can’t actually see, you just grab whichever shirt your hand lands on first and swipe it before running out of his room to run to yours.

The smell of breakfast runs up the stairs and travels to your nose, waking up your appetite and causing you to rapidly throw on your dads shirt that drowns your body and fits like a dress. You then proceed to search in your white chest full of costumes.

“Come on,” you mumble and lean further inside as you search for something small.

However, at that moment you end up finding your fairy wings and throw them out even if it doesn’t match your costume. They’re just sparkly and catch your attention. And they’re your favorite.

After that you then continue to search for your intended item.

“Y/N, come on!” You hear your dad call out from the hall before his footsteps recede down the stairs.

You mumble something you don’t even understand, and finally, stuck at the bottom of your chest is the black swirly mustache you need. So you peel it off the wood and stick it on yourself before you pull away and swipe the fairy wings off the floor to put them on as you finally run out to join your sister Sarah, and your dad downstairs.

“Morning,” Sarah says as she hears you running down the stairs whilst she takes out orange juice from the fridge.

“Mornin’!” You greet back and hop off the last step to then run to the high stool against the island.

Since it’s so high off the ground you slap your palms on the surface of the chair and struggle to push yourself on top to watch Sarah pour orange juice in your glass cup.

“Here,” she says and slides the cup over to you. “I’ll give you more later.”

You lean over the table and slide it to you. “Thank you,” you say and shoot her a beaming smile, catching her own smile as she sees your costume in all its glory.

She then grabs the other cup and pours juice in that one too to offer it to your dad as he turns around to face her with his mug of delicious smelling coffee.

“Vitamin C,” Sarah deadpans and places it down on the counter so your dad can take it.

“Daddy…” you call out for his attention and chug some juice as if you’ve never had anything to drink before. “…Look,” you sigh when you’ve swallowed.

As your dad is drinking his juice he turns, and his eyes immediately widen as his lips lift to a smile when he sees how you’re dressed.

“I’m you,” you reveal as if it isn’t obvious by his shirt and your fake mustache. “Happy birthday!” You shoot him a beaming grin.

He places the cup down and his grin widens. “What’s up with the wings?” He points.

You peer back at your fairy wings and shrug. “I like ‘em. You like it though?! And my mustache?!” You ask and pat it.

“It’s like part one in her four part present,” Sarah explains for you. “She’s worked hard on it.”

You nod in agreement and slide off your seat with your cup in hand.

“I love it, baby,” your dad says. “You look just like me.”

You pump your fist in excitement as you head to your seat around the small wooden circle table.

“You get your homework done?” Your dad asks Sarah whilst you find it easier to climb on these lower wooden seats. “Fractions?”

Sarah laughs and before long, breakfast is brought to the table, and the three of you peacefully eat eggs and cooked meat you don’t touch.

“How old are you again?” You ask your dad as you shove eggs in your mouth.

“Thirty-six,” he says.

You swallow and laugh, “that’s so old,” before Sarah interjects too.

“Gonna have to wear diapers soon.”

You giggle and watch your dad for his reaction.

“Who says I don’t already?” He retorts, causing you to laugh harder.

“That’s so gross,” you comment.

Your dad leans over and points at you. “You’re gonna have to change 'em.”

You stick your tongue out in disgust and shake your head, making him laugh before he pulls something out of his mouth. “Shell,” he says.

“Calcium,” Sarah counters and shoots your dad a grin that’s full of food.

“Lovely.”

You smile at her with admiration before you laugh softly. “You’re so silly, Sarah.”

Sarah looks over at you and nods with a sly smirk. “Aren't I?”

You nod and scrape up more eggs on your spoon.

“Is there enough for Uncle Tommy?” Your dad asks Sarah.

“Well, there would’ve been.”

You look down at your plate and see that you still have a piece or two left. “He can have some of mine,” you suggest, and then look back as the garage door opens and your uncle walks in.

“Uncle Tommy!” You greet with excitement.

Said man walks over and pats your dads shoulder, “Hey! You’re still alive, you old fucker.” He ruffles your hair and steals half a sausage from your plate.

“Aw, he loves you,” Sarah says.

“He’s dependent on me. Not the same,” your dad redirects.

You snap your head to the other side to look at your uncle in the kitchen.

“I think it’s the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” your uncle bounces off your sister's comment. “I thought we was havin’ pancakes.”

“We’ll pick you somethin’ up on the road—”

“Uncle Tommy,” you cut your dad off. “You like my costume?” You furrow your eyebrows and clear your throat to mock your dads voice. “I’m daddy.”

Your uncle looks over and chuckles right away. “I love it. You nailed it, you look just like him, Sunny. Especially that mustache,” he says and points to your fake mustache.

You grin and kick your feet before you show your dad your smile as he watches with a serious face you quickly mock.

“Eat,” he grumbles.

“I am,” you whisper in your normal voice and focus back on your food whilst he continues to speak.

“Concrete guys gonna be there?”

“Yeah, they said maybe,” your uncle answers your dad.

“Maybe?” Your dad quickly snaps back. “We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not gettin’ paid until we frame.”

You sip some juice and look between the two men.

“Well, we could bring someone else on, get the job done faster.”

“No, no,” your dad counters your uncle Tommy. “I’m not splittin’ this job. I barely wanna split it with you. We could work a double.”

You may not understand at all what they’re saying even if you are very much intrigued by their conversation, but you do know what your dad means by working a double. He’s gonna stay out longer.

“What?” You whine.

“Literally?” Sarah protests in annoyance. “Today?”

Your dad looks between Sarah and you and tries to assure you both. “I know. I’d be done by nine. By nine, right?” He asks your uncle for reassurance.

You begin to pout in anger and sink back in your seat to display your frustration.

“Yeah,” your uncle Tommy confirms.

“I’ll bring back a cake,” your dad continues and pats your hand. “I promise.”

You perk up and ask, “chocolate cake?”

Your dad meets your gaze and nods. “Yeah, of course.”

And with that your anger sweeps away and you feel happy once again.

“…continued disturbances in Jakarta, but are advising U.S. citizens…”

“Jakarta,” your dad comments as he pulls his hand away from yours to grab his mug. “Where is that, Middle East?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell,” your uncle Tommy says. “It’s definitely a country. Or maybe part of Asia?”

“Jakarta isn’t a country,” Sarah interjects. “Being a part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country…”

Her words tune out of your ears as all your hear is a jumble of mess you don’t understand, nor do you want to understand. You show that confusion clearly on your face and look over at your Uncle Tommy, and he shares a teasing smile.

“Shit,” he then says and looks at your sister. “Hope for us yet.”

The microwave then beeps and then it hits you at that moment, the next part of your dads present.

“Daddy!” You exclaim and stand up on your feet. “Can I sing you your birthday song?!”

Your dad looks up at you and nods, whilst Sarah already begins to discreetly laugh before you can even do a thing.

“Yay,” you mutter happily, and clear your throat before you begin to bop your head and sing a song you had heard a hundred times before in the place you get taken care of.

“Go, go, go, go, shorty. It’s your birthday. We gon’ to party like it’s your birthday, we gon’ sip—”

However, before you can finish, you come to an abrupt stop as your Uncle Tommy begins to chuckle loudly.

“No,” you whine and fall on your seat. “Uncle Tommy!” You cry and slam your head on the table. “Don’t laugh!” You shout.

No tears come out of your eyes because you don’t really intend to cry, you’re just pretending because you’re angry at him, and your dad gets your uncle in trouble when he makes you cry.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You continue to shout.

“I’m not laughin’!” He chuckles. “It’s just cute that’s all.”

“All right,” your dad interjects and ignores your fake sniffles. “Finish up quick, we'll drop you off.”

You continue to sniffle and peek an eye out, seeing your dad walking to the sink with your plate and his in hand. Since you haven’t gotten the reaction you wanted you keep yourself plastered on the table.

“I’m still eating my egg shells,” Sarah complains.

“You got seven minutes.” Your dad tells her.

“Your t-shirt is inside out,” Sarah points out.

“Shit,” your dad curses as he walks back to the table to pick you off the chair. “Come on you, let’s get you changed.”

You sniffle and shed a single tear. “Uncle Tommy laughed at me.” You say and hook your arms around his neck.

Your dad caresses the back of your back head and assures you, “I’ll talk to him. I liked your song though….Where did you learn it though?”

You begin to smile. “Miss Denise, her son Dwayne listens to a lot of songs she doesn’t like. They always fight about it.”

Your dad hums and then does as he said, he helps you get changed before he turns his shirt the correct way. And like all the other times he doesn’t fix your hair since he’s in a hurry to leave for work, he just gets you changed, puts your shoes on and carries you out after he helps you.

“Tommy,” he says and puts you down in the garage. “Can you take y/n across the street, I’ll load the stuff onto the truck.”

“‘Course,” your uncle Tommy agrees since it is a basically routine already. “Come on now, Sunny,” your uncle says and offers you his hand.

Choosing to forget that he laughed at you for now, you happily grab your uncle's hand. And once you walk out of the shade the garage provides, you immediately get greeted.

“Morning y/n!”

You look over and squint your eyes to block out the sun. “Morning!” You greet the old man back happily.

“You want a biscuit?” He asks.

You shake your head. “Nah, I already ate!”

Your uncle then nudges your arm and whispers. “What do you say?”

You hesitate for a moment before it clicks. “Thank you!” Your dad then passes by and you smile as you remember. “Hey, did you know it’s my daddy’s birthday! He’s turning thirty-six!” You share.

“No,” the old man exclaims. “Now I know! Happy birthday, Joel.”

You beam, and see your dad let out a sigh before he turns to face the neighbor taking in the morning sun and feeding Nana some biscuit.

“Thank you,” your dad says, whilst your uncle begins to encourage you forward

“Come on, let’s get you across the street,” he says.

As you follow at his side you peer back one more time to direct your dad a goodbye. “Goodbye daddy!”

Said man peers over his shoulder and waves goodbye. “Goodbye, baby. I’ll see you after work. Your sister is gonna pick you up after she gets home from school, okay?”

You nod and yell out your response. “Okay! Goodbye!”

——

*LATER*

All morning, even up to now there have been loud sounds rumbling in the sky, sirens have been crying all day, and Miss Denise never let you watch t.v. because she said she had to watch the news. And all day you’ve been bored because someone forgot to pack your toys and crayons.

You’ll forgive him though because it’s his birthday. The good thing now is that you're gonna have cookies!

“I was thinkin’ we’d make some cookies.” Mrs Adler says.

You beam up and run to the stool. “Chocolate chip?” You ask with excitement.

Mrs Adler turns around and meets your gaze with a happy smile. “Raisin,” she says.

That’s what she’s happy about? Fruit cookies?

Once her back is turned to you, you look back at Sarah and scrunch your nose and stick your tongue out to show your disgust.

She nods and mirrors your gestures before she walks over and helps you on the stool.

“Daddy forgot to pack my things,” you whine and prop your elbow on the table.

Sarah walks to her seat and pulls her backpack off her shoulders. “It’s okay, I brought you back up paper and crayons,” she assures you as she unzips her backpack to pull out what she said and hand them to you.

So while she does her homework you work on your next present for your dad, a drawing. You even stick out your tongue as if it's the hardest thing in the world—Because it really is to you because you want it to be perfect.

Yet that actually gets your stomach grumbling. But when the timer alerts that the fruit cookies are ready, that hunger isn't as important.

“You wanna give me a hand?” Mrs Adler breaks you away from your drawing.

You lift your gray crayon up and look up—your dad always said to be nice to old people, so you nod and slide off your chair to reach her side.

“Here,” the lady says and helps you on a step so you can reach the counter—“Now,” she adds and hands you oven mittens. “Wear them or you’ll get burnt.”

You do as she says and laugh as the mittens look funny on your little hands. You try to pretend they’re puppets, but then Mrs Adler hands you a spatula so you can help her unstick the cookies from the pan to place them somewhere else.

“Hey, Mrs Adler?” You hear Sarah call out before you see her walk in the kitchen. “Could I borrow this?” She asks and hands the lady a movie box once she reaches the counter.

“Yeah sure,” the lady laughs, whilst you lean over and see that it’s some adult movie—“It’s one of Danny’s,” she continues to say and hands Sarah back the movie, letting your sister then look at you to share a brief look that you understand.

“You know what?” Your sister interjects. “Our dads gonna be back real soon. We should go.”

Without hesitation you spin around and slide off the chair.

“Are you sure?” Mrs Adler probes.

Sarah nods, “yeah.”

You reach for the counter and swipe your drawing off the table.

“Well, you girls are takin’ some cookies,” Mrs Adler adds.

Great. Fruit cookies.

“Y/N,” the lady says. “You want one now? They’re cool enough to eat.” Without waiting for your answer she walks over to you to hand one to you.

Since you don’t want to be rude to hurt her feelings you take it and shoot her a wide smile as you bring it close to your mouth, whilst Sarah packs her stuff in her backpack.

You open your mouth and pretend you're going to take a bite, but just as Mrs Adler turns around you stuff the cookie in your pocket and just pretend to have your mouth full

“Good?” The lady asks with her back turned.

You hum and nod as you keep your cheeks puffed out.

“Good!” The lady says and walks off, letting you breathe out.

“Come on, let’s go, y/n,” Sarah calls out and reaches for your hand.

Eagerly before you can be given more fruit cookies you wipe your hand on your shirt before grabbing your sister's hand to walk to the door. Yet on your way there, Sarah stops as Mercy, the Adler’s dog begins to whine.

“What’s wrong with him?” You ask as you look at him in worry.

Sarah shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says and steals one last look at him before she continues to pull you out. However, you keep looking back at the whining dog until you can’t see him anymore once you’re out the door.

“I’m hungry,” you say and rub your stomach as you both hop off the step.

“Me too,” Sarah agrees as she walks you over the grass to wave her hand under the sprinklers. “We can have some leftovers at home.”

Once home, you eat as you finally watch cartoons. You wait for your dad to come home and finish his drawing. However, waiting turns out to be an eternity, the sun that was once outside disappears and leaves the sky dark, and with even more sirens every few minutes, and more loud noises in the sky. Eventually you begin to feel your eyes get heavy, but you’re determined to stay awake to wait for your dad.

And luckily after a long time keys jingle before the door opens, and your dad walks in.

“Daddy!” You greet happily and shoot up from the couch.

“Hey, baby,” he greets back as he walks over. “You’re awake?”

You nod and hop off the couch to run to the kitchen and grab the cone birthday hats from the table as he talks with Sarah. When you run back you place them on the table to wait for Sarah to give her his presents first, and instead head back to the couch. “Scooch,” you mutter to your dad.

He huffs at your comment but does as you say and makes room for you on the couch at his opposite side.

“Where’s the cake?” Sarah asks, making you realize that he in fact didn't have the chocolate cake he promised.

“Shit,” he groans.

You groan too and shake your head in disapproval.

“C’mon, man,” Sarah mutters with discontent.

“I’ll get us one tomorrow,” your dad assures her as he takes off his work boots.

“Swear, or you don’t get your present.”

Your dad looks up and questions your sister's comment, “you got me a present?”

“Swear.”

“On my life,” he whispers, making Sarah hesitate for a second before she turns around to grab his gift.

You stand up on the couch right away to watch eagerly, catching your dad turn around to look up at you. “You’re not mad at me are you, Sunny?” He asks and wraps his arms around you.

You beam down at him and wrap your arms around his neck. “Of course not. I can never be mad at you, daddy, ” you comfort him sweetly. “We can have cake tomorrow, or the day after that. Or Mrs Adler can make fruit cake.”

“Fruit cake?” He query’s with his brow quirked.

You scrunch your nose in disgust and nod. “Yeah. She made fruit cookies today,” she sigh

“Gross,” he mumbles before he pulls you down to sit you on his lap and press a kiss on your head before you both look over at Sarah as she hands him a small box.

“Wow,” he comments and shows it off to you first before he opens it, revealing a watch with a green strap.

“Fixed it for you,” Sarah says.

Your dad gets the watch out of the box and pulls it up to his ear. “Did you?” He asks her.

Sarah’s eyebrows furrow and she quickly retorts, “what?” before she pulls his hand towards her.

“I don’t hear anything,” he says.

Sarah looks at the watch with concern for a brief second and makes your dad begin to laugh. Sarah hears and then pushes him back, causing you to move back too.

“Hey!” You exclaim.

“That was lame,” Sarah quips. “You’re lame.”

“Yeah, I know,” your dad agrees and grabs onto you tighter so you won’t fall back. “Where’d you get the money for this?” He asks her as he begins to put on his watch.

“Drugs,” she deadpans. “I sell hardcore drugs.”

“It’s better than what I do,” he mutters.

“It was only twenty dollars, which I stole from you.”

You cover your mouth and say, “oh,” with your eyes wide in shock.

Your dad shares a quick teasing look with you before you both point your looks at Sarah.

“I could’ve stolen 60,” she explains herself, “but I put the change back because I’m an honest thief.”

He hums and shares another look with you, making you cross your arms over your chest to then stare her down.

“Besides, it’s the thought that counts. And you were never gonna do it yourself, so.”

Your dad looks back at her and lets his gaze linger for a moment before he looks at his watch he finishes fixing on his wrist.

“Thank you,” he mutters.

You let your arms fall and look at Sarah with admiration, catching her soft smile.

“What do you say?” Your dad asks you with a teasing look. “Should we forgive her?”

You meet your older sister's gaze and shoot her a smile before you nod without hesitation. “Yes.”

Your dad scoffs and smirks.

“Why don’t you give dad your present, y/n?” Sarah encourages you, making you slide off your dads lap to grab the birthday hats.

“Daddy,” you say with a grin and turn to jump on the couch to put a red birthday hat on his head that simply says ‘happy birthday’ on it. “That’s for you. I have one for…Sarah…” you trail off and jump off to go to her.

She sees you get close and ducks her head down so you can put a hat on her head. After that you place the last hat on your own head. “And one for me!” You smile.

“Oh, wow…” your dad says and pushes the hat back from his forehead. “We look funny.”

You giggle and nod. “Yeah. I know.” You then jump and spin around to grab the drawing from the table and show it off to him.

“And my last present, a drawing,” you squeal, and look down at the paper to point at him drawn floating off the ground and with the same red hat on his head. “That’s you, you’re frowning because that’s what you always do….”

“So true,” Sarah snorts, whilst your dad just scoffs.

“And that’s…a cake,” you point to the tiny brown circle cake in the middle. “I couldn’t fit thirty-six candles so I just put one.”

You shift your eyes across the page and point to the curly headed girl that’s taller than your dad. “That’s Sarah,” you point out and slide your finger to the side. “And that’s me,” you point to yourself holding her hand. “We’re smiling ‘cause you’re gonna blow out the candles and make a wish.”

Sarah giggles, and your dad begins to grin.

“And this…” you point to the tiny man next to him with a big smile. “…Is Uncle Tommy. He’s tiny because he laughed at me today.”

Your dad snorts in amusement before he narrows his eyes and points to the gray and black swirls over your uncle's head that come out of his smile. “What’s that?” He asks.

You look closer and giggle. “That’s his smoke from his cigarette.”

Your dad chuckles and takes the drawing from you. “Wow, baby, this is amazing, you’re so good!”

You climb on his lap and smile proudly. “You really like it?” You ask and hold your hands together.

Your dad looks down at you and nods with a happy smile on his face. “I really love it. Thank you.” He says and leans down to press a kiss on your head.

You clap your hands and grin before you cling onto his neck to hug him.

“Oh, there’s one more,” Sarah adds and turns around to pull out the movie she had brought from the Adler's house. And that immediately makes him happier.

“Borrowed it from the Adler’s,” Sarah continues as your dad looks at the movie of a ninja and some guy.

“This is the one with the deleted scenes,” your dad points out in amazement.

“Yeah, imagine how bad those have to be. C’mon,” Sarah nudges him. “Pop it in. While it’s still your birthday.”

Your dad holds onto you as he gets off the couch to put in the movie. When he returns to the couch to change the tv, Sarah gets closer to him and cuddles at his side, while you cuddle yourself on his other side.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he tells Sarah and you.

“‘Course, I won’t, it’s too riveting,” Sarah says.

You shake your head. “I won’t either,” you assure him.

However, once the movie begins to play it fails to grab your attention, so it doesn’t take long for you to finally give in to the sleep that had already been lurking. And all you know before you fall asleep is that you were holding onto your dads arm and resting your head on his shoulder, while Sarah lay her head on his lap. You knew you were in the living room, and only saw them before the darkness came.

But when you wake up to more loud noises rumbling in the sky and bright lights flashing over your eyes, your dad nor Sarah are with you anymore, you’re not in the living room, you’re actually in your room, on your own bed, alone. Since the noises scare you like the nightmares and the shadows in the corner of your room, you get off your bed and run over to your dads room.

However, when you walk in he’s not in bed. “Daddy?” You call out in a quivering voice. You slowly walk further in and part your lips again, but nothing comes out because then another light flashes outside that scares you right over to Sarah’s room.

When you see that she’s sleeping you carefully close the door before you tiptoe over and climb on her bed. When you get under her sheets she probably feels you because right away without a fault she wraps her arm around you and pulls you close to her.

She may not be your dad, but she is one of your favorite people, she still brings you comfort, she still makes you feel calm. Enough so that you fall asleep again in her arms.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

“…come on, babygirl…”

There’s soft murmurs of a familiar voice by your ear, but it tunes out quickly as you remain half asleep, thinking that the voice you hear, that the sensation of being carried is all a part of some dream.

“…hey, I have her. Let’s go. Come on…”

The voice gets louder now, and second by second your mind begins to grasp that you’re not asleep anymore.

“…Denise, you get back inside the house! You lock your doors! Now!”

You begin to flutter your eyes open, and the first thing you see through your blurry sight is the outside of your house from inside of the truck.

“C’mon, c’mon, get in!”

You drift your eyes to the side and identify a blurry sight of your dad getting inside.

“Daddy?” You ask groggily as you wipe your eyes.

In that immediate second your dad looks back with his eyes wide and full of fear you can easily detect.

“It’s okay, baby,” he tries to assure you. “We’re just going away for a bit okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper and drop your hands. You then blink and spot your uncle Tommy driving, you drift your eyes to the side to look outside the window, spotting the Adlers outside their house as your uncle drives by; they’re walking and seem to be in their pajamas, but they also have something on their shirt. “Daddy? Why is Mr—”

“Hey,” he cuts you off and snaps his head back. “Look at me, just look at me, okay, baby? Sarah, get your seatbelt on and then help your sister.”

With the fear in his voice and the way it’s risen louder, you immediately begin to feel a fear twisting your heart strings.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!”

You gasp softly at the shout and try to look back, but Sarah then calls for your attention. “Hey, you want to help me grab your straps.”

You blink and meet her gaze, catching that same fear on her face, but she tries to assure you as she helps strap yourself on your seat.

“Okay,” you mumble and reach your left hand back to put your hand through the strap before you pull it forward and hand it to Sarah, so she can buckle you in.

Sirens then drive by, flashing their bright red and blue lights and stealing your attention out the window.

“Daddy—”

“We don’t know,” your dad cuts Sarah off.

“They’re saying it’s a virus…” you hear your uncle Tommy input.

You slowly look over at him and try to understand what that means, noticing an empty backpack on the car floor by your feet in the meanwhile.

“…Some kind of parasite.”

“Is it from terrorists?” Sarah asks, but you can’t understand, all you can do is listen and find no meaning to their words—no, actually all you do understand is fear.

“We don’t know,” your dad interjects.

“Are we sick?” Sarah continues to ask, making your eyes widen and your heart beat faster.

Your dad looks back and assures your sister. “No. Of course not.”

His words comfort you even if you don’t understand the grand scheme of things.

“Why did things blow up?” Sarah continues.

Yet she gets no answer. Your uncle speaks but not on that matter. “No cellphone, no radio,” he says and turns off the static that had begun to annoy you. “Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up.”

“How do you know?”

“What?” Your dad probes Sarah’s question.

“How do you know we’re not sick?”

Again? Why is she asking that again?

Unless….

“We’re sick?” You interject panicked.

Your dad looks back and meets Sara’s gaze before he looks over at you and shakes his head. “No, we’re not sick.”

You blink and swallow thickly out of lingering fear.

“They’re saying it’s mostly people in the city,” your uncle adds. “It’s why they got the highway blocked off.”

You blink again, and as you look out the front window you catch a bright burning fire swallowing a house whole.

“God,” your uncle mutters. “That’s Jimmy’s place.”

As you pass by you lean closer to the window beside you to watch the blazing flames, and all you see is a great angry monster that destroyed the house, that wanted to eat you and everything else.

“Daddy, what’s going on, I’m scared,” you whisper in a quivering voice and with your eyes brimming with tears.

Said man looks back and reaches his hand over to pat your knee. “It’s okay, baby, you’re gonna be okay,” he comforts you.

You let your eyes linger on him and nod slowly as you choose to believe him. “Okay,” you whisper and grab onto your seat straps.

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city,” Sarah adds. “To the hospital for stuff.”

“That’s right,” your dad agrees. “They would. That’s probably why.”

Are they sick? Is that why they were outside?

“But you’d have to go a lot, right?”

“We’re fine,” your uncle assures Sarah. “Trust me.”

Sirens echo out from outside, but when you peek out the window all you see is darkness, shadows and monsters lurking within them.

“Sarah,” you mumble and look at your sister sitting beside your car seat. “Can you hold my hand?”

Your sister looks at you and nods with a very faint smile on her lips. “‘Course,” she whispers and reaches over to wrap her hand around yours.

You smile softly, but that’s when you catch people outside on the street waving and calling for help, making you hold onto Sarah tighter.

“What are you doin’?” Your dad spats as the car slows down.

“Got a kid, Joel,” your uncle Tommy points out, letting you notice a small kid probably around your age hugging his mom.

“So do we. Keep driving.”

Without hesitation the car speeds up and the man cries out louder. Now rather than looking back you look between your dad and your uncle, and wonder why your dad wasn’t nice enough to let the strangers in the car with you.

“Fuck!” Your uncle then exclaims, making your shoulders jump. “Everybody had the same fuckin’ idea.”

You lift your eyes from Sarah’s hand and see that you’re now driving to the freeway, you see hundreds of red lights from the hundreds of cars not moving. Some cars even try to go the wrong way, resulting in them almost crashing into your car, and making you close your eyes to avoid seeing them as they flash in your eyes.

“I can’t get through this,” your uncle Tommy says.

“All right, let’s think it through, we’ll think it through,” you hear your dad say.

“Fuck!”

“All right, take the field. We cut across and we pick up on the west side.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.” you hear your uncle agree. “West, west, all right. All right, hang on.”

The car ride begins to get bumpy, and out of curiosity you open your eyes to check out what's going on, and see that you’re driving on grass now. You’re driving to some place with a lot of lights, but then they change their mind and turn to drive towards a town instead.

The further you get though, the more the noises become; like the plane's engines that fly low, the quicker your head begins to spin and heighten those fearful thoughts. The more the car keeps moving, the more people you see run and hear scream, the harder your chest begins to hurt whilst your breathing quickens. You couldn’t even find solace with Sarah next to you.

You try to close your eyes, block out everything that you saw, everything you heard, but just as you try, lights flash at your side, and when you look over a car almost crashes at your side of the car, making you scream and cover your ears.

“Daddy!” You cry out. “I wanna go home!”

“It’s okay baby, just keep your eyes closed, okay?” He says and pats your knee again.

You don’t answer this time because even with words, even with his touch you still can’t calm down or keep your head from hurting. So you keep trying to squeeze your eyes tighter. However, that doesn’t block out all the shouting outside, or your dads yelling, you can hear it all booming in your ears.

Albeit, suddenly something cuts it all off, something louder sounding behind you, it even rumbles the car. When you look back you see an airplane approaching the car.

“Daddy?!” You cry out.

As the plane gets close you slap your hands over your ears again, you try to call out for your dad again, but then…

There's nothing….

——

“…Y/N…”

You groan and feel inklings of pain all over your body. You hear flames burning, but it’s all dark.

This must be a dream. You’re on Sarah’s bed, having a nightmare.

“Y/N?”

That’s him, your dad, he’s back.

Once again you flutter your eyes open, but instead of seeing Sarah’s room, you see the car again, however now everything is upside down, Sarah, your dad, your uncle, the streets. And now you feel stuck and in pain.

“Daddy?” You whimper out and begin to pant. “It hurts.”

Your dad sighs in relief and reaches his hand out, but he can’t grab you. “Don’t move,” he says. “Don’t move. Your uncle Tommy is gonna help you, okay?”

You keep your eyes glued on him and nod, “okay,” you say in a trembling voice.

There’s finally no more yelling outside, or loud planes, there’s nothing but ringing in your ears that gets lower and lower.

You try to look to the side to check on Sarah, but just as you catch sight of your sister and your dad beginning to crawl over to her, the door beside you opens and you see your uncle Tommy.

“Hey, Sunny,” he says in a soft voice. “Ima gonna help you out, okay? Hold onto me,” he instructs and then crawls over to you to grab you from under one arm while he uses the other to try and unbuckle your restraints.

You reach over and wrap your arms around his neck, but just as he tries to pull off your restraints there’s sharp burning pains that suddenly slam into you. “Ow! Ow!” You cry out.

Your uncle's eyes meet yours and he quickly tries to comfort you, “I'm sorry, I’m sorry, the restraints are cutting you, I’m sorry,” he says, but continues to pull, only causing more pain.

Until finally the sharp pain disappears, leaving only the burning pain as you feel weightless.

“Hold on tight,” your uncle says and pulls you towards him before he grabs the backpack from the floor, and then crawls back outside.

And once you’re out from under the car your uncle puts you down on the ground. That’s when you see that fires are in fact true, they weren’t just part of your mind, they burn all around….

“Look at me,” your uncle startles you. “Don’t look anywhere else, okay?”

You shut your mouth and curl your hands to fists as you nod and try not to cry.

“Joel, how you doin’ over there?!” Your uncle shouts as he grabs your hand and yanks you to him.

“Sarah,” you hear your dad yell, “her leg is hurt, can you hold onto y/n?!”

Your heart sinks at the sound, but you also feel happy to hear from your dad again.

“Yeah, yeah! I can! Y/N,” your uncle then calls, making you meet his gaze again. “I need you to climb on my back and put your legs through the backpacks straps, and wrap your legs around me, okay? You then have to hold onto my neck very tight, okay? Don’t let go, ever.” He instructs as he swings on the empty backpack.

You sniffle and nod quickly whilst you keep your eyes on him like he said, you ignore the fires and the people that lay on the ground. Once he’s done he picks you up, and you climb on to his back to put each leg through a backpack strap to sit like if it were some baby carrier moms wear at the parks.

“Hold onto me,” your uncle repeats.

You nod and cling your arms around him, managing to see everything now that you’re on his back; the fires from all the cars crashed onto the street, broken windows, open stores, bodies and…red blood. Real blood.

Up to this point blood only existed when you got cuts, it hurt, but your dad always made it disappear. Blood existed in the movies, it was fake, it was never puddled and gushing out of people.

“Where’s my daddy?” You ask in a quivering voice.

“He’s helping Sarah,” your uncle assures you before he turns around to face the truck that you notice is flipped upside down and broken like the others.

“We gotta get off the street!” Your uncle yells, not even seconds later a police siren screech’s out, causing him to run away.

However, he doesn’t make it far because he then falls down on his knees as the car crashes into the truck and triggers an explosion that forces you to close your eyes and squeal.

“Tommy?! Y/N?!”

Your uncle gets up, and you snap your eyes open to look to where you heard your name, seeing the fire envelope both the truck and the police car now.

“Daddy?!” You call out.

“Tommy? Y/N?”

Your uncle approaches the cars on fire and stops by them to crouch and shout. “Head to the river! I’ll find a way.”

You lower your head and see your dad past a gap of the cars on fire. “Daddy?” You call out again.

His eyes snap to you at that moment and he points. “Y/N, you listen to your uncle Tommy, okay?” He says. “Sarah and I will see you again in a bit, okay?!”

You squint to try and see your sister, but you don’t catch a glimpse of her. Much to your disappointment.

“Get her outta here, Joel!” Your uncle yells.

“You take care of her!” Your dad shouts back. “Keep her safe!”

Your uncle nods. “I will. Go!”

Without waiting a moment longer your uncle Tommy begins to walk ahead, towards the bodies, towards the fire, towards people…towards...people eating other people.

“Uncle Tommy,” your jaw drops as tears escape down your cheeks now. “Why…why,” you stammer as your eyes widen in horror. “Is that man biting that other—”

“Hey, you close your eyes,” he cuts you off. “Close your eyes.”

You blink and look back as he makes a turn into a store. You keep your eyes on the man eating that other man as if your eyes were stuck on them, and ask yourself why. You can’t grasp for a single second why they’d do that.

That’s all that occupies your mind besides the horror that paralyzes you, that single question.

You only close your eyes after, hoping it would all be a nightmare, hoping that when you open them again you’ll wake up next to your sister, or your dad.

But no, when you open your eyes you just see bright white lights on the ceiling, and shelves of food. Behind you there’s still fire and people eating other people. And once you get past the cash register your uncle comes to a sudden halt before he makes a sharp turn around to point his gun at a woman bleeding out on the floor.

“Is she gonna eat us?” You utter and keep your eyes on the lady as your uncle slowly walks back.

“No,” he shakes his head. “No. Just close your eyes…”

His words trail off as from the corner of your eye you catch a tall skinny man twitching in between one of the aisles. “Uncle Tommy,” you whisper. “There’s one—”

Before you can finish however, the man snaps his head over to you and looks at you for a second before he breaks into a sprint towards you. You scream and your uncle doesn’t hesitate to try and run to the back door.

Nevertheless, the lady that had been on the ground suddenly gets up and heads towards you too.

You open your mouth to try and scream, but not a single sound escapes out of your mouth from the terror, so instead you proceed to squeeze your eyes shut, and press your head against your uncle's shoulder as he runs into the back room.

“Hold on y/n! Hold on!” He yells as you feel him running.

Albeit he suddenly comes to a sudden halt just as you feel the cold breeze hit your body; he moves his leg up and groans before there’s a thud. You want to open your eyes to see, but then in that moment suddenly something grabs you by your hair and yanks you back, forcing you to open your eyes and cry out at the top of your lungs.

“Uncle Tommy!” You screech and claw your nails in his shoulders as you begin to get pulled out from the backpack.

You snap your eyes up and see the lady from before opening her mouth and leaning down to try and bite you with something weird coming out of her mouth. “Uncle Tommy!” You cry again.

A shot then goes off before in a flash of a second your uncle swings his elbow back to smack the woman in the face, causing her to let go of you and let you slide back inside the backpack. He then walks to her and smashes the end of his gun on her face until she doesn’t move anymore.

“Are you okay?” Your uncle asks and doesn’t waste a second to run out of the store, trapping the skinny boy inside. He then proceeds to run into a dark alley and asks another question. “She didn’t bite you?”

With tears streaming down your cheeks you shake your head. “No,” you say between pants. “No. I’m okay.”

“Good,” he mumbles and slows down to a jog. “Let’s go find your dad and sister.”

Once you’re out of the alley you come across a grass field and immediately hear gunshots echo before there’s screams. You don’t think of it at the moment, you don’t think it’s your dad and sister, you don’t actually see anyone until your uncle climbs down a small hill and shoots someone in a uniform. When that man falls down you then see your dad and Sarah lying on the ground.

“Dad—”

“Oh God,” your uncle cuts you off.

You watch your dad look back before he crawls over to Sarah, while your uncle gets closer. And once he does approach them, you see Sarah laying on the ground, you hear her panting and crying, and hear and watch your dad trying to help her.

“Move your hand, baby. Move your hand.”

You lift your head and see your dad press his hand against the blood that comes out of her.

“Sarah,” you call out softly with growing concern.

Your dad tries to help her up, but she begins to scream in protest, making you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know, I know, I know, I know. I know it hurts.”

She keeps crying and panting, she grabs him, but she doesn’t get up.

“Uncle Tommy,” you whisper. “What’s happening?”

Yet you’re ignored and the air is filled with your dads voice again.

“I know, I know,” your dad keeps repeating himself as he keeps pressing his hands on her body. “I know this hurts. You’re gonna be okay.”

You blink and slowly begin to grasp that she’s hurt. That she’s crying because she’s hurting.

“Sarah,” you whisper quietly and feel your throat tighten as your eyes sting again.

“All right, baby, baby, baby, listen to me. I gotta get you up, okay? I gotta get you up. All right? You come on.” Your dad begins to lift her up and her screams become more intense, and begin to stab at your heart, filling you concern.

“You come on. I know, baby. No, no. I know, I know. I know, I know. I know. I know. Tommy, help me!” Your dad yells and looks back.

“Joel,” your uncle whispers as Sarah then stops moving.

Your dad looks back at Sarah, and he begins to cry. “C’mon baby girl. C’mon, baby girl. I gotta get you up,” you hear your dad say as he cradles your sister in his arms. “Come on. Come on, we’ll get up. C’mon, baby girl. Come on, come—please.”

Your dad then begins to cry louder and it shatters something in you. You don’t fully understand why, but hearing him cry, seeing him hug your older sister, seeing her not move, it shatters your heart.

You know you’re young, you can’t understand most of what’s happening, but you understand that she’s gone.

Yet you don’t try to move. Tears run out of your eyes, but you don’t move. You just watch her with tears streaming down your face and tell yourself that she’s going to wake up again, that she’ll get up again.

Sarah is going to wake up again…

——

*20 YEARS LATER*

The metal is cold against your fingertips, the silence is deafening in your ears, and the breeze is bitter against the only bit of flesh that’s exposed, your fingertips.

The sky above is littered with gray clouds, providing a dull white natural hue, and adding better cover without having the metal of your weapons reflect around the woods.

The bottom of your boots crack a branch that you didn’t catch before, making you stop and glance around just in case anyone pops out from the tall greenery that covers the forest floor. When no one does you keep stalking forward until just ahead the greenery begins to shake.

You let go of the pendant around your neck and reach for your pistol holstered on your hip, but mock a bird's whistle first and wait for a response.

The greenery then stops and you lower your head to wait with your breath held in your chest.

And luckily seconds later there’s a bark, letting you sigh in relief and finally stand to your feet to continue walking ahead.

“Austin,” you call out.

The greenery continues to shake for a moment longer before your black German Shepherd comes out.

“All good?” You ask rhetorically since he can’t really answer.

He tries his best though and turns to lead you ahead in a trot.

“We’ll camp just ahead,” you keep telling your dog. “Then I can take this stupid thing off,” you grumble and pull on the mask around your mouth.

Austin's ears shift but he doesn’t say anything in response, he keeps trotting through the woods. Until he suddenly halts in his tracks and perks his ears up.

Without hesitation you stop too and glance around, yet you don’t see anyone, nothing moves, there's just wind. However, he’s never wrong so you reach for your rifle strap and slide it off your shoulder. You raise it and slowly begin to look up at the branches above, but then a gunshot echoes and Austin falls to ground without a single pained whimper.

You lower your gun and see blood pouring out of your dog's head. “Austin,” you call out in disbelief, and begin to pant as you see his brown eyes rolled up.

“No, no,” you mutter before you clench your jaw and tighten your hold around your rifle and snap your head up to the point above where the gunshot had sounded from.

Nevertheless, just as you catch a figure disguised amongst the leaves and branches a heavy net falls over you and shoves you to the ground, trapping you under the rope beside the corpse of your beloved dog.

“Fuck,” you mutter and flip to your stomach to grab your rifle off the ground, but then a thump lands beside the net and a boot then is pressed on your wrist, disabling your reach.

“Tsk, Tsk,” the person above you clicks their tongue. “You should be more careful next time,” a scratchy manly voice says, making you go rigid. “Look up at the sky a bit.”

The man crouches down and pulls the net off your body to grab a cluster of fabric from your hood.

“Let’s see what hides beneath the hood,” he chuckles.

You scoff and begin to wiggle your fingers to try and reach for your knife hidden under your cloak.

The man proceeds to pull the hood off your head and quickly grabs you by the back of your head to yank your head up so you can see his dirt covered face, and meet his piercing blue-green eyes. Albeit your face is still partially covered by the mask over your mouth so he grows more curious.

“Hm,” he hums and reaches his long pale finger for the mask to pull it off your mouth, relieving your entire face and the gender you tried to hide for your safety now that you’re alone.

“Well, well,” he says with a malicious smirk. “A woman. Look at her Max. All pretty and shit.” He reaches for your chin, but you pull back.

He scoffs, and you feel the handle of your knife under your fingertips, so you quickly grasp it and throw your hand up to stab his neck, but then, the other man you assume is Max whips wire around your wrists and pulls your hand away from the man above you, causing you to drop your knife.

“She’s brave too. Oh doll face,” the man above you says and hits his chest. “You make my heart yearn.” He snickers and grabs you by your elbow to lift you up.

Yet as he does you swing your nails across his face and scratch him down his cheek, making him yelp like a little wimp and step back.

“Mother fucker,” you spat at his face and swing your fist across his face, feeling something his nose crack at impact.

Max tries to pull you back by pulling the wire, but you then reach for your gun holstered at your side, and quickly wrap the wire around your hand to pull him before you shoot his face.

“Fuck you, that’s for killing my dog bastard,” you sneer, and proceed to turn around to face the other man, to try and kill him too. Albeit you end up ducking as he shoots his pistol.

The bullet hits the tree behind you, luckily, so you then choose to break into a sprint, leaving your rifle behind for now; just until you get rid of this man.

You actually make it a few paces ahead, yet your luck ends at the moment you pass a wide tree surrounded by bushes because someone comes out from your left side and tackles you down to the ground, making you drop your gun.

“Oof,” you breathe out and feel a dull pain radiate on your side.

You quickly slap your hand on the dirt and try to push yourself up, but then a large hand grabs you by your arm and flips you to your back.

It’s another man, this is one plumper than others, but he’s still dirty and nasty. This one pins your wired hand back over your head before grabbing your other hand to do the same and then wrap the wire around both hands.

You try to keep squirming, you try to kick your feet, but then the man crouches down and keeps you from moving, forcing you to see his older and much rounder face.

“So much trouble,” he mutters in a low gravelly voice. “We were gonna take you to our camp, have some of the others have fun, but you’re trouble, we’ll take you here…” he trails off and reaches down for your pendants.

“Get your fucking dirty fingers off me!” You snap, but he pulls a pendant up regardless.

“A firefly,” he reveals as he sees the insignia engraved on one side. “What a surprise you’re all alone, you're all usually traveling in packs.” He scoffs and turns it around to read the name. “Tommy…Miller,” he scoffs and drifts his eyes to you. “Can’t be right. You’re too pretty to be a Tommy.” He winks and lets that pendant go to grab the other one.

You scrunch your nose in disgust, and slowly proceed to drag your leg back to try and knee his ass. But all of sudden something sharp stabs your leg, making you groan in pain.

“I have had enough of your tactics,” the same scratchy voice from a moment ago snaps before he shows his face above the older man’s head. “Go on Mike, show her how to behave.”

The older man snickers and lets your pendant go before he can read your name, and instead reaches for your cloak to rip it off your body.

“No,” you grunt and try to swing your body from side to side, but the man just grips onto your chin and shoves your head down.

“Behave!” He bellows, spitting drops of saliva on your face.

You close your eyes and groan in disgust, but don’t stop fidgeting. He then proceeds to lower his hand down your body to unhook your holster belt from your hip.

“No, please,” you plead, feeling your heart pound in your chest and your head begin to spin with fear.

Yet, to no avail, the man then reaches for your pants.

Albeit just before he can do anything else a gunshot echoes and the man behind the older man drops, causing the older man to let you go and snap his head back. He parts his lips to speak, but before he can utter anything another gunshot goes off and hits him through the head, spilling drops of blood over your face, and making his body begin to fall back.

You catch his movement, and quickly out of adrenaline use the other man’s corpse to push yourself back and get out of the older man’s way before he can fall on you.

“Fuck, fuck,” you say between pants, and even if you’re in pain, terrified, and still shaken with disbelief, you flip around to quickly get on your knees and reach for your pistol thrown on the ground.

“Jace get the wire,” you hear someone say behind you.

You ignore the pounding pain from your leg and crawl forward until a tall young man who seems to be around your age, with a shaved head and a shaved goatee, and who reminds you of your friend from Jackson, gets in front of you.

He’s not dirty though like the other three, he’s not clean either, but he isn’t using camouflage like the others. And he doesn’t have his gun out.

Still you can never be sure with people. They’re worse than infected because at least their actions are predecible, people’s aren't.

“You touch me and I’ll put a bullet through your eyes,” you sneer and point at his hand.

“Whoa, whoa, girl,” the guy, Jace says and raises his hands. “I just want to help. We just saved you!” He exclaims with panic.

You scoff. “So what? Want me to get on my…” you trail off as you catch what you’re going to say and just keep pointing.

“Hey,” the other voice cuts in as you hear his footsteps approach from your side. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

You keep your gun on Jace, but snap your eyes to the side, seeing a man a bit shorter than Jace. His skin is dark, and his eyes even darker. He has a better shaped mustache and goatee than his friend, but shorter shaped eyebrows than his friend. He also…has a nicer face, he’s cute, and more musclery built.

“I’m Henry,” he introduces and points at his chest with one hand whilst he raises the other to show he means no harm. “That’s Jace, my friend.” He points to the other guy, but you don’t bother looking at Jace anymore, you hold Henry’s gaze, as he holds yours, and swallows thickly too.

“Those guys,” he points to the man dead on the ground, “are hunters from the city. We have a camp nearby, we mean no harm. We’re just trying to survive like you. Let us help you.”

You hesitate and keep your eyes on him, finding yourself being able to trust him with his words alone. After all you’ve seen the eyes of evil men, he doesn’t have that look at all.

“Fine,” you mutter and lower the gun to let them drop their guard and their hands. “But if you turn out to be some kinda gang I’ll shoot you first.”

Henry scoffs softly, “fair.” He then begins to approach you, and you let him.

However, before you can meet his gaze as he crouches down in front of you to help you with the wire around your wrists, you look at Jace. “I’m sorry,” you tell him with sincerity.

Jace parts his lips in surprise and lets out a small huff before he retorts, “it’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

You hum and drift your eyes back to Henry to finally give him your name. “I’m Y/N.”

Henry lifts his eyes from the wire and pulls the corner of his lips to a faint smile. “Firefly, huh?” He refers to the pendants hanging from your silver chain necklace around your neck. “We’ve been trying to look for them.”

You scoff and lower your gaze to watch him unwrap the wire. “I used to be one. A long time ago though, sorry to disappoint.”

Henry shrugs. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll keep looking.”

You hum and lift your gaze at the same time he does, you part your lips to say something, but you then catch the sound of additional footsteps approaching and quickly look over, catching a little boy that has Henry's complexion, and red paint over his eyes.

They are telling the truth then. They really mean no harm. If they truly did they wouldn't be carrying that little boy with them.

“That’s my brother,” Henry says. “Sam.”

You offer the boy a gentle smile, but he just looks at you up and down before he gets closer to Henry.

“And, it’s off,” Henry assures you as he finally frees your hands from that sharp wire that was cutting your skin.

You sigh in relief and rub your wrists for a second before you fall back on your ass to get a better view of the wound on your leg. “Fuck,” you murmur and lean forward to pull your pant leg up. “Fuck.”

“We have some stuff at camp, you can patch yourself up there.” Henry interjects.

“I have stuff in my backpack,” you counter stubbornly and drop your pant leg to twist around and look at the dead men.

“Well regardless, you can patch yourself up at camp, we need to go, it's going to get dark soon.” Henry adds.

The stupid man you punched has your rifle, fucker. You push yourself to your feet, but it hurts too much to add much more weight now that the adrenaline isn’t pumping in your blood.

“Here,” you hear Henry say before you feel his hand wrap around your arm. “Come on, get up,” he whispers as he helps you to your feet. “You’re okay, you can walk.”

You grunt as the pain pounds harder, and quickly grab his wrist to keep yourself from falling.

“You’re okay,” he assures you again and finally gets you to stand. “There you go.”

You huff out in frustration to your own wound, but you can’t find yourself to be cold, so as you keep your hand on his wrist for…support (not because he’s warm), you drift your eyes to the side, glancing first at his hand around your arm before looking up to meet his gaze.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly.

He holds your gaze and hums as a response.

You let your gazes and touch linger, ignoring the curious stare from his friend Jace.

And after a moment you finally pull away first and immediately limp towards the man with your rifle to yank it off his body. “Fucker,” you grimace before you spit on his face. You then grab your holster belt off the ground and hook back it on your hip, before picking up your cloak off the ground that is now ripped. Great.

Whatever, it can still work.

You throw it over your shoulder and turn to face the direction you had come from.

“Gimme a minute,” you tell the guys and don’t wait for them to say anything before you limp towards Austin.

“Hey, it’s not really safe out there!” You hear Jace shout.

You nod. “Yep!” You yell back. “But you’re gonna help me right?!” You retort.

“I..I guess?!”

You scoff in amusement and notice that they keep their distance, but don’t leave, they just keep their distance and respect what you want.

Once you reach your dog your eyes well with tears, and you fall on your knees by his body.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him as you reach your hand over to close his eyes. “I’m sorry I couldn't get you home. You were good though,” you whisper and slowly caress his side like he liked. “You were a good boy till the end.”

You press your head down against him and muster a wobbly smile. “Ima go home soon, okay? I promise. Rest easy buddy.” You press a kiss on his head and slide your hand over to his neck to untie his orange bandana from his neck and wrap it around your wrist.

——

*LATER*

“So new girl…” a young girl that’s a part of the group says. “Tell us where are you from? I can’t place your accent.”

You look up from the fire burning away the logs and meet her blue gaze.

“Austin Texas,” you reveal. After all, the group you were brought to has been nice so far. And most of them are young, except for the little boy, Sam. There are some older people amongst them, but as Jace helped you patch your leg up he said that most of the adults left when the military left too, leaving behind those they thought wouldn’t survive by themselves.

“Of course that was my home before the outbreak, I’m now from Wyoming, a small town called Jackson.”

You’re hesitant to tell them about your community, about all you have back home. No matter how nice they are you still can’t bring yourself to fully trust them. It’s just a survival instinct.

Then again Jackson is still far, most of them won’t survive the journey. Actually maybe none of them…maybe not even you will.

“A camp?” Jace probes.

You drop your gaze from the girl with red blazing hair that actually called herself Blaze, and hesitate a moment before you nod slowly. “Something like that,” you avoid telling the truth.

If there was one thing you liked about what Joel taught you, it was this, be cautious with strangers. Albeit you also won’t be cold to them forever like he was with people, with time as your leg heals up you’ll watch them, and if they’re actually good enough to these new world standards, then you’ll take after your uncle Tommy and be nice.

“What are you doing all the way out here then?” Henry cuts in, causing you to lift your eyes to look at him across the campfire, and catching him using his hand to also….talk.

“If you’re all the way from Wyoming what are you doing here in Kansas City?” He asks and keeps moving his hands like he was communicating in sign language, like, from the books you’ve read about it.

You scoff and shrug. “I felt…rebellious I suppose,” you begin to smirk. “I wanted to see the country, I saw it, and now I’m on my way back home.”

“Must be nice…” you identify Blaze interjecting. Yet before you can look over at her, you drift your eyes and notice Sam paying close attention to what Henry was signing—actually now that you think about it he hasn't been talking whatsoever.

He probably can’t.

“…having a place to call home, and to go back too.”

“Yeah man,” Jace bounces off Blaze’s comment, pulling your eyes to him sitting beside you. “I don't know why you’d leave.”

Besides, what you just told them, there were also…other reasons, but you won’t share those with them.

You sigh and smile softly at the ground. “I’ll tell you what I told my uncle and my mama Maria…I don’t know when I’m going to die…it might be tomorrow, next week or years from now, it will happen though, and I don’t just want to know these walls, I need to live for myself, not be protected all the time…I want to see the ugly and the beautiful, know it before I die.”

You look up as you finish speaking and the first gaze you catch is Henry’s. The fire reflects the softness in his eyes, yet you catch the admiration he has for your words, you can’t read that.

“Well shit,” a older Asian man says. “When you put it that way.”

You briefly glance at the man and scoff softly.

“No fireflies for you then?” Jace asks.

You shake your head. “Nope. I’ve been away from home for far too long. My family is waiting,” you sigh.

Fuck.

“My camp is pretty big,” you begin to say regardless of your previous caution. “It’s strong, y’all can come with me if y’all want.” You look at the six people gathered around the campfire and continue. “I know we can take y’all in. There’s more kids,” you mention and look at Sam and Henry. “Food. Power…”

The people around shift in their seats at the sound of your comment, and their eyes widen.

“It’s far from here, but together we’ll be strong,” you finish. “Think about it. Once my leg is all healed I’m leavin’.” You glance around the group again, and now neither of them say anything, there are hopeful looks. It's especially noticeable in Sam's eyes, but they all ponder your invitation.

Then again it is a big risk.

However, it’s the thinking they fall into that leaves the group silent and kinda awkward. Thankfully Blaze breaks it once she can’t take it.

“It’s almost lights out, why don’t we finish with a story?” She looks around, but no one volunteers.

Now you are pretty tired, but this, telling stories is your thing.

“I can go,” you offer and sit up with a growing smile. “Now, I don’t like to toot my own horn…”

You do.

“…but I do produce and act in my own plays back at home, so.” You grin. “I’ll go.”

You clear your own throat and look around at all the faces once before starting. “It is about home, so if you are thinking of comin’ with me, think hard,” you say dramatically. “There’s stories of something, shadows and creepy crawlers that people call Skinwalkers that lurk in the woods. I never believed it, but once when I was out on patrol with my uncle at night, as I was looking through my scope I saw the trees move.” You lick your lips and lower your voice.

“I zoomed in, but nothin’, no infected, no person, just nothin’. I told my uncle, but when he looked nothin’. Thinkin’ it was just my own mind I kept patrolling…until suddenly right. By. My ear there’s a whisper…y/n,” you whisper and lean your face closer to the fire. “I called out, thinkin’ it was my uncle Tommy, but he looks at me like I was crazy and says, I didn’t call you,” you mock his voice.

“I didn't believe him, he likes to play jokes with me,” you continue in your voice and look around at all the amused faces. “Yet I didn’t say anything back, I shrugged it off and kept doing my job. It was quiet for a few seconds, but that’s when I felt a chill crawling up my neck. It was summer, it was warm at night, so it wasn’t because I was cold, it was somethin’ else, somethin’ blowing on my neck. I look back,” you say and act it out. “Nothin’. I look ahead and there in the woods are red eyes staring right back at me.” You scoff and swallow thickly, pretending to be frightened yourself.

“I grab my rifle and look through the scope but nothin’, it’s clear. At this point,” you say and shake your head. “I get close to my uncle, but I don’t tell him anything. I keep lookin’, and as I lower that scope there they are again, bright, blazing red eyes, closer now. And again…y/n—I shake my head, close my eyes, rub em’, and when I open them they’re closer, that chill wraps my entire body now.”

Jace beside you swallows thickly from fear, while Blaze looks unaffected, but you can see her fear make her go rigid. The older people don’t seem bothered but they are entertained, and Henry seems unfazed, Sam however, looks invested.

All their reactions make you happy.

“….I quickly look through my scope, I need to check it out, make sure I’m not goin’ crazy, but I hear my name again, by my ear, a whisper, the voice of my sister who’s been gone a long time….” You swallow thickly and shed a fake tear. “I begin to shake, I want to turn to my uncle, but all I can do is tremble, I can’t move my head. I can’t speak. My gun falls….and there…right in front of me is…is…” you prolong the end as they’re all holding their breaths, and grab a pinch of gunpowder from your pocket to throw it to the fire.

“Nothin’!” You exclaim as the fire sparks and the flames jump up, making some people gasp and others laugh nervously. They all jumped though, you saw it.

Yet when you look ahead, there’s a smile from Sam. Even if he jumped too, he grins.

Henry notices his brother's gesture and scoffs in disbelief before he looks back at you and meets your gaze with a soft smile, and that same soft gaze.

“Don’t worry,” you say and then meet Sam's gaze with an assuring smile. “It’s not real. I’m scared shitless of night patrols so I avoid them,” you chuckle. “So please do consider coming with me. If my uncle hears I spooked y’all away, I’ll get scolded for sure.” You sit back and pat Jace’s shoulder as he tries to catch his breath.

“That was a good one,” he mutters nervously.

You look over at him and smile brightly. “Why thank you. I love to hear that.”

“Okay, well thank you,” an older woman interjects. “I for one loved that shift in the atmosphere you brought darling. We needed it.”

You offer her a soft smile and bow your head as a thank you.

“Now it’s light out, Henry, you have night shift today,” the lady continues. “Sam can stay with me. I'll keep an eye out on him tonight.”

Henry gets up and nods in agreement. He then turns to say something to his brother, and Sam seems to look hesitant, but he gives in and stays as Henry begins to walk away.

“Henry!” Jace calls out and shoots up.

Said man stops and peers back to wait for what his friend was going to say.

“Why don’t you take the new girl.” Jace suggests.

What?

You look around in confusion.

“Show her how things are done,” Jace continues and grabs your arm to force you up to your feet, adding a sharp pain to your leg where your wound is. “Y’know so she can pull her own weight until she leaves.”

You sigh, but catch Henry glance at you before he directs you his next word. “Only if you want. You’re hurt, you can rest.”

It’s a new place, surrounded by strangers, you’ll go in your tent but you won’t sleep, so…fuck it. Besides your mind and heart are pushing you to accept.

“Fuck it,” you respond and pull away from Jace. “I’ll go with you. I won’t sleep anyway.”

You peek over at Jace and catch him smirking. He then notices your stare and just offers you a simple tightlipped smile. If you didn’t know better, you might say he’s up to something…

Hm.

You grab your rifle and backpack from the ground and catch up to Henry as he waits for you where he stopped.

“It isn’t far,” he mutters and puts his hands in his pockets as he continues walking with you at his side. “And there are definitely no skinwalkers, so you don’t have to worry.”

You chuckle and nod softly. “‘Kay,” you say and play along. “Thats a fuckin’ relief.”

Henry scoffs softly and briefly glances at you from the corner of his eyes as you take this time, this short silence to then admire the starry sky.

“So,” you interject in the silence and blink to look at Henry. “Tell me, why stay here? In Kansas City, and so close to those hunters too.”

Henry sighs deeply and shrugs, “we’ve been waiting. It’s not so simple with infected, people. Besides, it's not easy finding fireflies.”

You scoff and nod in agreement. “I’ve heard the groups are becoming less and less now. But,” you utter with hope. “You and Sam are welcome to come with me, I have everything mapped out, it isn’t far anymore, we’ll make it there quickly, and with luck we’ll make it there safely.”

Henry hums and makes a soft left turn towards a run down treehouse. “Up here,” he points.

As you approach the steps nailed to the tree you stop and put your hands on your hips as you slowly look up in pain.

“I can give you a boost,” Henry offers. “You shouldn’t put weight on your leg.”

You let out a small sigh and blink to meet his gaze. “I can do it,” you assure him stubbornly, and filled with pride. “Just hold this,” you say and slide your rifle off your shoulder to hand it to him.

Henry takes it and just as he was going to try and argue against you, you rub your hands together first and then grab onto the new slabs of wood that don't match the tree house whatsoever. You then lift your uninjured leg and let the other one just dangle as you strain to push yourself up. Henry folds his arms over his chest and watches you struggle after refusing his help.

“How are you doing?” He asks.

You nod and silence your pained groan. And finally after a few more seconds manage to slap your hands on the floor, and use all your upper strength to pull yourself up. It hurts, it hurts like a bitch, but you get on and turn to look down at Henry with a smile.

“Made it.” You let him know and wink at him, catching him scoff in annoyance before he begins to climbs on, causing you to crawl back to look out the carved window. That’s when you ignore your pain, as you see the blades of grass flowing by the chilly breeze, when you see the glimmer of the moon's light reflect on those green blades. That’s when you just take a moment to enjoy the song of the crickets below.

If you weren’t out here looking out for infected, and people, you’d say it was blissfully peaceful. But you can’t say so.

“I always wanted a treehouse,” you share when you hear Henry climb inside. “My daddy was building me one actually. He and my uncle would build it on their days off, but then,” you sigh sadly. “It happened and I never got it.”

“I had one,” Henry deadpans as he sits next to you.

You roll your eyes to the side, and catch his smirk. “Lucky,” you remark. “What else did you have?”

He begins to smirk and places your rifle down against the window. “A nintendo. It was red, gorgeous. Got it for my 5th birthday. I had that sucker for a few weeks and then bam, had to leave it behind.”

“Sucks,” you whisper. “My sister wanted one too. She never got though, my daddy said she had no use for that kinda stuff.” You scoff and smile softly. “He probably would’ve gotten it for her though, he was a sucker.”

Henry nods slowly and averts his gaze to watch the field ahead. “Was? Is…your dad gone?”

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you mutter. “Last time I heard of him was two years ago before I left. I haven’t heard a thing since. Knowing how he is though, he’s probably still out there, livin’.”

“Sister?” Henry asks.

Perhaps before, years ago, speaking about Sarah would’ve hurt, it would make you sob, but now…as a 24 year old, her death doesn’t tear you down as it once did. Her death does ache you, you’ll always miss your sister, you eagerly wait to see her again one day, but speaking her name, sharing memories doesn’t hurt as badly anymore.

“She passed a long time ago,” you share and drag your uninjured leg up to your chest to rest your chin on your knee. “The day of the outbreak.”

Henry swallows thickly and mumbles, “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine losing a sibling. I can’t imagine losing Sam. I’m sorry.”

You drift your eyes over to him and offer him an assuring smile. “It happened a long time ago, I’ve moved on. Sometimes I’m grateful she didn't get to know this new world,” you continue and look up at the white shining moon. “But when I miss her, when I really miss her, I wish she had lived just to be with me. So I admire you Henry…”

Said man snaps his eyes over to you, and you catch his eyes squint slightly in confusion.

“I know I haven’t known you long,” you continue. “But I admire you for looking out for your little brother.” You begin to smile, and catch his look of disbelief. “I’m the youngest sibling too, so trust me that little boy looks up to you. You treat him well.”

Henry scoffs and nods softly. “I always will. Sam is all I have in this world,” he shares quietly. “I can’t lose him.”

You let out a small breath and leave it at that.

The silence that follows is short, not awkward, it is tension filled but not awkward. He uses the silence to look out for danger, and you use it to think about Joel.

It’s been a long time since you’ve heard about him, but it’s been even longer since you’ve actually seen him. Too long perhaps…

God you should have visited him when you passed Boston….

Sarah would be so mad that it’s been years.

At least you like to think she’d be upset, the sad truth is you hardly knew how your sister really was, all you know was what she showed you; caring, sweet, funny, smart, pretty. Perhaps she’d be mad at him too, perhaps not….You’d never know….

“So, tell me now,” Henry cuts you off from your train of thought. “What do you have in your town?”

You draw in a deep breath and focus on the field. “A lot,” you breathe out. “We have schools, good schools, not those crap military schools. We have…uh,” you begin to smile. “Bars, shops, horses, hot water, chickens and a greenhouse. We have movie nights, and parties,” you grin and lift your head off your knee to turn around and face him. “And of course my plays, which I produce and write myself, it’s always a full house,” you show off with a smug smirk. “And a lot of people our age…I mean,” you stammer and squint your eyes on him. “How old are you?”

Henry meets your gaze and answers without hesitation, “25. What about you?”

You smile. “24. So,” you continue sharing stuff about Jackson. “There’s people our age. Boys, girls,” you wiggle your eyebrows, making him smile and scoff in amusement. “Whatever you're into. We got our own houses,” you grin. “I mean I got my own house. With my guitars, my clothes, which I do miss,” you grin. “And music, I got a record player, cassettes. So you got that to look forward to, your own house. For you,” you say softly now. “And for Sam.”

Henry lowers his gaze and his smile fades. “It’s tempting, it sounds like…heaven almost.”

“I wouldn’t call if that,” you interject and keep your eyes on him.

“Still,” he continues. “It’s tempting. I mean a school for my brother, other kids he can actually be friends with instead of just talking to me,” he scoffs softly. “A place of our own. A community…girls,” he teases and meets your gaze.

You roll your eyes, but can’t help your faint smile from tugging on your lips.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you assure him. “Think about it.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I want to go. It’s better than taking ourselves to the fireflies, I mean we’ll always be moving with them, at least with you,” he says and holds your gaze with a soft look that makes your heart begin to beat faster. “We can sort of have something stable, even if it’s just for a little while….let me just see the others off and I’ll go with you. That is…if you’ll wait for me?”

You offer him a soft smile and nod softly. “I would,” you mutter softly.

Henry mirrors your smile, and for a moment, for a moment that seemed to go on for eternity, it was just him and you under the moonlight's hue, in the silence of the night, two beating hearts, two pairs of desire-filled gazes.

Your uncle Tommy found someone, why can’t you? Why shouldn’t you?

You deserve some taste of bliss.

“So,” you break the tension and slide your backpack off your shoulders. “You wanna listen to some of my music or what. I got some sick tunes.” You snicker at yourself and unzip your backpack to pull out a Walkman littered with stupid stickers, and black earphones. “We’ll listen to it low so we don’t miss anything,” you assure him and show off your things to Henry.

“But if it is bad,” he says and grabs an earphone to put it in his ear. “I will make fun of you.”

“Trust me,” you say confidently. “You won’t. But do keep in mind I had to leave a lot of my cassettes behind.” You press play and the first song that plays is ‘Time After Time’ by Cyndi Lauper.

Once she begins to sing, Henry immediately stifles his laugh.

“What?” You quip. “You don’t like it? I think it’s great,” you trail off and listen to the song with a smile, as soon as the chorus begins to play though, you snap your head to the side and begin mouthing along to the words.

Henry snorts and shakes his head. “You truly are something,” he comments. “How do you do It?”

You roll your head to his side and just answer bluntly. “I choose not to live a boring life.” You scoff in amusement and lick your lips to answer more seriously. “This outbreak took so much already, I can’t let it take me. Who I am.” You meet his gaze and sigh. “That’s all I have.”

Henry smiles softly and nods. “I admire you then. For that.”

You scoff and roll your head to the other side to hide how flustered you are.

You then sit in silence to listen to the song. When the next song plays however, it’s a song called by Outkast, Henry is going to comment on it, but before he can, you both hear footsteps approaching, and stiffen.

It’s coming from inside the perimeter, so you don’t quickly pull your rifle to you, but you do reach for your holstered blade, whilst Henry takes his earphone off and stands up to peek down the entrance of the treehouse.

You grab the edge of the window to pull yourself, but just as you were trying, Henry’s shoulders fall and he quickly throws you a comment, “it’s okay, it’s just Sam.”

Since you can’t move that much you just sit back down and put a pause on your music.

Once the little boy climbs in, his eyes find you, but he quickly looks back at his brother as he begins to sign to him.

“What are you doing up here?” Henry asks out loud as he communicates with his hands.

The little boy lets out a small breath and responds back, causing Henry to translate.

“Miss Daphne was snoring already. It’s early I wanted to come keep you company.”

You scoff softly at the response, finding it sweet.

“I have company,” Henry responds and then points at you before he signs letters—he signs your name, you know that much. “Y/N. You should be sleeping.”

The boy shrugs, and responds.

“Later,” Henry translates before he sighs and gives in to what the boy wants.

“You are very welcome to join us and stare at nothing, Sam,” you say and look at him, seeing Henry translate for you.

Sam's eyes drift to you, and you recognize the thank you sign he gives you. He then goes and sits at Henry’s other side as Henry takes his seat again.

“So,” you add. “If I wanted to get his attention, how would I do that?” You ask Henry.

“Tap his shoulder,” he shares and translates what he says since Sam is watching. “He can read lips, so just make sure to talk slowly and face him when you want to talk to him….thank you for asking.”

“Of course,” you nod.

Sam then begins to sign something as he meets your gaze. And once he’s done Henry translates.

“He’s curious to know how you’re brave to travel alone.”

You scoff softly and correct him. “I wasn’t alone,” you say sa you face Sam, while Henry translates. “I had friends, and my dog, Austin. But…” you sigh sadly. “They’re gone now.”

“Still,” you hear Henry say for Sam. “You were alone, I don’t think I could be that brave.”

You offer the boy an assuring smile and share your truth. “I was scared. I am scared, but you know what keeps me brave?” You ask rhetorically. “When I feel lost, when I feel scared, I look for hope. I look for the light. Because that’s all we have, if we’re not brave, hopeful, we lose, and we’re not losers, are we?”

Sam smiles and shakes his head.

“Good,” you tell him and briefly meet Henry’s gaze.

However, you then get an idea and jerk up.

“But,” you add. “You know what also helps…” you trail off and take off your chain necklace to carefully pull out your Uncle Tommy’s pendants and leave one of yours hanging from it.

“This,” you continue. “And drag yourself a bit closer to both boys. “This is my firefly pendant, when I feel scared, I hold my uncle's pendant and it helps. So whenever you feel scared, just hold it in your hands, okay?” You push the chain necklace towards Sam, but he first looks to his brother for reassurance to check if it’s okay.

And Henry first looks at you. “Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod. “I’m sure,” assure them. “I have another one. And I have my uncles with me, that’s all I need.”

Sam looks at the pendant and carefully takes the chain from your hand. He admires the firefly emblem for a second before he smiles and puts it around his neck. He then looks back up at you and grins as he once again gives you his thanks.

This time however he adds a comment. “I like you,” Henry translates.

You shoot him a smile and shrug smugly. “Thank you, you boost my ego.” You giggle and catch Henry’s gaze on you, it glimmers under the moonlight, and his smile softens before he mouths to you.

“Thank you.”

You offer him a sweet smile before you look out as the room falls silent again.

And as you watch the grass flow, as you sit under the moonlight and glance at the stars, Henry watches you for a lingering moment with a longing gaze before he pulls his jacket off and puts it on your shoulders.

You get surprised by the weight, but feel your heart flutter when you realize what he did.

“You’ll get cold,” he whispers.

You have a jacket and a warm poncho packed, but he’s being sweet, plus you like his gesture; it’s like something you’ve seen done in movies—And you like seeing his smile when you don’t turn down his gesture.

You deserve a taste of bliss. Someone to call your own, like how your uncle Tommy has Maria.

You deserve it and nothing can get in the way of it. Of what you’re feeling for him. What you want to happen. Nothing.

A/N- Before you ask yes Joel still has the drawing y/n drew him….AND one more thing…how do you think she’ll react when she sees her dad after years and sees Ellie with him?

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u

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lostgirl14480 · 8 months

Text

A Not So Common Fairy (Teaser)

Summary: you're a dark fairy from the upside-down and when you see that a gate is open, your curiosity gets the best of you.

- eddie munson x fairy!reader

Nothing remotely interesting ever happened in this dimension. It was always dark with constant storms, which I didn't mind actually. But I always hoped something would change. Maybe a ray of sun, or the budding of a flower? But no, nothing beautiful ever came to this place...

So, when I got wind that Henry Creel was opening gates to another world, I decided it was time for me to leave this place in search of something more. There was nothing tying me here, only the memories of my family...

Without a second thought, I lift my multicolored wings and set off into the air, heading straight to an open gate. The only thing left behind is a small trail of black dust, but it is quickly swept away by the winds of the never-ending storms.

......................

I emerge from the gate, and for the first time ever, I see the color green. Instead of the dark decaying plants from my dimension, this one is full of life! I stare in awe at all the green leaves on the trees, the moss growing on the ground, even the small river flowing along a path. I'm about to fly over to a particular budding flower when I hear voices coming from below me. Not trusting what the noise is from, I try shrinking myself, but for some reason, being in this dimension is limiting my magic. So instead, I perch myself on a branch just high enough to be out of sight but low enough to hear what is going on.

"We need to see If there's a gate around here, It's the only way we'll be able to find Vecna and free Max from his curse." Says one of the younger humans in the group. Vecna? Curse? Are they talking about Henry? How do they know about the gates?

Intrigued, I lean in closer from the branch I'm perched on and continue to listen to the conversation this group of humans are having.

"Dustin, have you even considered how dangerous this plan is? And Eddie is still wanted for murder, we can't just go walking around town looking for a gate!" Murder!? These humans are getting more interesting by the second.

"Steve, it's our only shot, I don't see any other options..." Dustin replies. "And besides, I think Eddie should have a say, since he's the one being chased by the whole town. So what do you say Eddie?"

The one who must be Eddie stands up and addresses the group. I take a moment to look him over, and I can't help but stare a little longer than I intended, there's just something about him that draws me in.

"I say, you're asking me to follow you into Mordor, which, if I'm totally straight with you I think is a really bad idea. But uh the Shire, the Shire is burning. So Mordor it is." I'm amazed at how brave these humans are, knowing how ruthless Henry, or I guess Vecna, can be. But I guess I have a lot to learn about this new dimension, and the humans who live here.

After agreeing on what Eddie said, the group all start to follow Dustin. Eddie trails behind, seemingly lost in thought and I take the time to admire his features. In Vecnas dimension, there really arn't any attractive males, or any human like creatures for that matter, so it's hard not to admire Eddie in this moment.

But I guess I didn't realize how intently I was looking and how much closer I was leaning over the branch to get a closer look, because all of a sudden, the branch I'm perched on cracks, and I fall a few feet before my wings are able to extend. I quickly fly up to another branch, higher up this time, and behind the trunk of the tree. But I'm sure I felt eyes on me for a split second...

"Eddie! What are you still doing back there?" Dustin calls out. The group is already a bit further along the path, but Eddie is stood at the base of the tree I'm hiding in, staring at the cracked branch.

I stay completely still, not sure If he's already seen me.

"I just, I thought I saw-" Eddie starts, but stops and shakes his head, turing back to follow the group. "Nevermind."

🖤🖤🖤

A/N: This is just a random idea that I thought of, not sure if it'll just be turned into a few imagines or if I'll make it into a story, haven't decided yet 😂 But I've been in an Eddie mood lately so there's plenty more where this came from 😁❤️‍🔥

#eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson st4 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #steve harrington #dustin henderson

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