I am a 26 year old author, avid fanfic writer, artist, and reader. This is my main blog. Send me requests. MINORS DNI-YOU NEED TO HAVE AGE IN BIO TO INTERACT
Any advice for what to do if your long distance partner was talking to their ex behind your back after she explicitly created rules forbidding that?
She also has high risk HPV and has not made my safety a priority in the handful of times we’ve met in person and had sex.
First off, I have to ask if you’re okay? Are you in a safe environment?
If someone creates strict boundaries for you but secretly ignores those same boundaries themselves, the issue isn’t just “talking to an ex.” It’s the double standard and loss of trust.
The HPV part also matters. If you feel like your health and emotional safety were treated as secondary, that’s not something you should talk yourself out of caring about. If they aren’t being safe, creating that safety, informed consent, etc, it’s not a safe thing to be around and would seek out professional advice and help from someone who definitely has more experience with this sort of thing! (Maybe a counselor, doctor, clinician etc!!)
Long distance relationships already rely heavily on transparency. If you are already questioning about things in your relationship, maybe it is best to reevaluate your relationship with them.
All in all, this is just advice and I’m so happy you reached out to talk about this and ask! Send me a DM sometime, I’d happily be a friend!
Scarlet and Gabriel were on the couch, watching a movie together. It was pretty cold out and Scarlet was wearing Gabriel’s hoodie as per usual. His arm was wrapped around her while she leaned on his shoulder. Being curled up next to him always made her calm down and feel safe.
“Peanut, it’s still cold” Gabriel shivered against her, pulling her body much closer.
“We can go to the room” Star sat up and stretched.
“But the couch is much cozier!” Gabriel couldn’t make up his mind on whether or not he wanted to be in bed or just stay here on the couch. He’s annoyingly cute.
“Well what else do you wanna do? The heater is broken until the repair guy comes tomorrow. We might as well go to bed.” Scarlet cuddled closer to him, trying to spread some of her body warmth to him.
Gabriel sighed dramatically before looking down at her. He smirked and picked her up, setting her down on his lap with his hands moving straight to her waist.
“I can come up with something, peanut. We just need to get a little warm.” He grinned, using his charm to woo her.
“You—now? We could just go to the bedroom!” Scarlet squeaked, growing flustered from his suggestion.
“Couch is fine.” Gabriel’s hands move underneath her hoodie, tracing her soft body and running his palm over her stomach before going up and reaching behind her to unclasp her bra. A shiver escaped Star as she arched her back from his cold hands. He had no issue undoing her bra and letting it come down, tossing it aside. His hands moved to trace her plump breasts, grabbing them and giving them a firm squeeze, eliciting a short gasp from her. His hands felt cold and caused her nipples to stiffen and pebble out.
“Gabriel…your hands are cold.” Star whispered, shivering from the cold while also squirming on his lap.
“Maybe this was the plan all along.” He chuckled and nipped at her neck as his hands worked over her breasts and flicked over her pebbled nipples. He could feel the subtly shift of her hips attempting to grind on him, releasing a groan from his lips as he felt himself hardening fast. His pants felt tighter as she rubbed herself on him.
He quickly lifted her shirt up and used his thumbs to circle around her nipples and flick them. Leaning in close, he took one into his mouth, moaning from her taste alone. Star’s head leaned back as she gasped and whined from his mouth on her. Her hips twitched forward, desperately needing to feel more of him. She could hear the soft groans and whimpers slipping out of his mouth, making her head spin. His sounds always made her feel hot.
Gabriel wrapped his arms around her waist and laid her flat on the couch, hovering over her body and admiring how beautiful she looked underneath him. He pressed his lips against hers, feeling how soft she felt while listening to her moans. “Mi vida…” he whispered into her mouth while one hand moved down to spread her legs. Getting more access to her core, his hips grounded against hers, letting her feel how hard he was from this moment.
They both moaned in response to the friction, dry humping from desperate desire. She could feel how much he needed her just from his whimpers alone and how his hips pushed in more like if he wanted to take all of her. But when he pulled back, her breath hitched in her throat.
“Mi vida…porfavor…I need you. I know you can feel how much I’m aching for you. I’ll be good, I promise. Whatever you say, I’ll listen. Just for you.” He was already begging her, willing to let her do what she wanted if it meant he gets to feel her.
Star’s cheeks went red almost instantly from his needy whine and desperate eyes. He had to have known what he was doing since it was working well for her. “I—you um…jammit Gabe, I can’t focus when you talk like that.”
She was about to say something else until he started to take off her pajama pants and slide them down her legs. Once off and discarded on the floor, he came lower until he was between her legs. One hand rested on her prosthetic while the other was on her thigh. He hadn’t said anything yet but looked up at her with his desperate hazel eyes. A silent plea.
The blush on Scarlet’s cheeks failed to fade away and only became darker and hotter. Gabriel looked hungry and she was too turned on for this. “You…you can…” She already knew what he wanted and no way in hell was she going to deny him. She couldn’t do that since it would be punishment for both of them.
Another whine escaped Gabriel as he removed her underwear and set them aside. He spread her legs and leaned closer, allowing her to feel his breath against her. “Try not to crush my head with your prosthetic.” It was a light joke and Scarlet barely had a chance before his mouth attached to her. His tongue was warm enough to make her mind go blank. Her legs instantly tensed up and she was going to squish his head with her thighs but remembered the prosthetic. Shock this was going to be hard.
His hand came into play to spread her wet folds apart and slip two fingers into her wet slit. “Soaked already? I’m eating good tonight.” Damn him and his stupid quips.
“You’re such a dork—“ *Star tried to be mad but couldn’t as his fingers thrusted in and out of her while he sucked on her clit. She was dizzy from the feeling of his fingers deep inside of her, feeling the soft spongy part of her. His tongue circled her clit, moaning from the taste of her essence and hearing how she moaned louder when he curled his fingers just right.
Star’s hand flew to his head, gripping his soft curls like her life depended on it. She was embarrassed by how quickly Gabriel could get her to make a mess but wasn’t complaining either. He looked up at her to see her expressions of ecstasy and could feel how tighter she got from her approaching orgasm.
“That’s it…let yourself go, mi amor.” Gabriel whimpered and continued to swirl his tongue in her sobbing pussy, finally make her snap and arch her back with a cry from her orgasm. He could feel her hips jolt upwards as she rode out her orgasm while moaning and biting her hand to avoid crying out. Her body trembled and some tears were in her eyes from how sensitive she felt afterwards. Around the living room now were some stars, glowing faintly in the darkened room.
Gabe pulled back, wiping his mouth and sitting back on his knees to admire his mess. He looked around at the stars and chuckled. “So that’s what they mean when they say ‘I made you see stars.”
“Shut….up…” Scarlet panted and giggled weakly. She saw Gabriel undoing his pants and sliding his boxers off to release his straining erection. She noticed some pre beading up at the tip as he came on top of her, positioning himself at her entrance. “Gabriel—“
“Shh, I know. I’ll take it slow, I promise.” Leaning over her body, he slid in inch by inch, allowing her to adjust to his size as her body arched. His hand intertwined with hers as he waited for the clear to move. She felt so warm around his cock and was still throbbing after her first orgasm. He felt like he was going to lose his mind pretty soon as he looked at her. It didn’t take long before she nodded and pulled him close. Getting the clear, his hips thrusted forward to find it rhythm until he was finally able to find his flow. The wet sounds of their intimacy echoed through the living room followed by their moans mixing together.
Star was gripping the couch and whining, begging Gabriel to use her. Sometimes she just forgets to think logically and will beg him to do what he wants.
“Shock-! You feel amazing…you’re doing so good, mi vida! So shocking good-“ *He panted against her neck while her arms wrapped around him. His body is starting to sweat and get hot as her kept thrusting into her soaking cunt. Her fluids allowed a smooth flow and he could feel her pussy squeezing him.
It didn’t take long before Scarlet was moaning louder and scratching Gabriel’s back. Her legs were off the couch as she was in a better position to feel him deep inside of her. Gabe held her leg up and got better control to hit her sweet spot. Before either of them knew it, Star was the first to finish and scratch Gabriel. Just as he finished, he pulled out and came onto her belly and chest. She didn’t really mind the mess and instead welcomed it.
“Oh…goodness….” Star panted and let herself cool down from the high of getting two orgasms from Gabriel. She held him close, kissing him passionately after their intimate encounter. Gabe pulled back and got up, rushing to prepare a warm cloth. He returned shortly and started to wipe up the mess they made, cleaning her stomach and wiping off his cum in different spots. He made sure to be extra gentle with her as he cleaned up their shared mess.
Once everything was cleaned off, he pulled the blanket over them both, holding her up on his chest. She rested between his legs and had her head near his heart. He peppered soft and gentle kisses on her head and cheeks, rubbing her back. “I’ve got you, mi amor. You did so good..."
Surrounded by stars, Gabriel and Scarlet cuddled together, enjoying each other's company and now feeling a lot warmer than earlier.
when our world becomes a tool for comfort || part one
pairings: oc x gabriel o’hara variant!
description: After not heeding the warning given to her by Lonnie and Kaleid again, Scarlet finds out the hard way.
warnings: language, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, drug use, alcohol use and other content may be within this work of fiction. reader discretion is advised.
you have been warned.
note: scarlet does not belong to me, this character is owned by @scarlet-celeste
this is for her!
He towered over her in moments, with that same, bewildered expression. The one many have seen but never lived to tell the tale of it. Dr. Haywire cracked his neck, vertebrae snapping with an awful, deliberate rhythm, as he peered down at the woman in front of him.
Scarlet didn’t move.
Not because she wasn’t terrified---she was, acutely---but because something in the Doctor’s stare held her in place far more tightly than any webbing could. Those mismatched eyes shimmered as if it were fragments of broken glass.
Sharp.
Unpredictable.
Forever on the verge of burning deeper the longer she stared back at him.
“You…” he murmured.
He said it, almost reverently. Almost as if, she wasn’t currently trespassing in his dimension. Scarlet swallowed, flexing her fingers subtly. The tremor in her chest was real; the tremor in her voice shouldn’t have been.
“Me?” She replied, keeping her chin lifted. “You’ve been following me for three days.”
Dr. Haywire sneered, a twitch of his mouth; almost a smile, but too wrong and definitely stretched in the uncanniest of ways.
“Observing,” he corrected softly, tilting his head. “You move as if you were being hunted. Yet you keep circling like the little vulture you are, pet.”
His fingers hovered inches from her face, not touching, but close enough that she felt the heat of him.
“You were waiting for me, Scarlet.”
The way he said her name in that slow, speculative, curious in the way a scientist is curious before he would cut something open. It sent a ripple through her spine.
“And here I am.”
Scarlet’s breath hitched before she could stop herself from doing it.
“Afraid?” he asked, voice dripping into something low, dangerous, something that suggested that he already knew the answer.
He wanted to hear it from her lips instead.
She refused to look away.
“Should I be?”
A soft laugh escaped him, the kind that curled like smoke. He leaned closer, enough that Scarlet could smell the scent of his cologne, a concoction of cedar wood, orange and bergamot notes wafted into her nostrils; it sent a wave of tingles throughout her once more.
Yet it calmed her, more than anything,
“You should be.” He bent down, inches from her ear. “But you aren’t. That is what is perplexing.”
She shivered. He circled her, slow, methodical, like she was an experiment he intended to understand from every angle. Scarlet tracked his movement with steady eyes, though her pulse hammered relentlessly in her throat.
“And perplexing things,” he continued, “tend to end poorly in my hands.”
She exhaled deeply. If he was going to play a game, she would play it back.
“Then it’s a good thing,” she muttered, “I’m not in your hands.”
Dr. Haywire stopped only an inch away. Close enough for his shadow to swallow hers, enough for the air to thicken, enough for her to feel his smile against the back of her neck when she could feel the pad of his tongue lick her nape.
“Not yet.”
The air shifted back to the stillness as Dr. Haywire gripped Scarlet’s hips, hard. Neither of them dared to move. Her heart rate never calmed, as Scarlet began to feel more and more lightheaded.
The city hummed far below, cars whining, the neon buzz of billboards, rain dripping from rusted fire escapes. Up here? On the rooftop edge, the world felt paused.
“Turn around, pet.” he ordered.
Scarlet didn’t listen.
Part of her wondered what would happen if she did. If he would grab her throat, or her wrist, or simply tilt his head with that almost gentle curiosity. Another part, the reckless part, wanted him to keep wondering what she would do next.
“You’re proficient at disobeying,” Dr. Haywire gritted his teeth, his hands sliding lower.
The way he said it was like a compliment, like a threat.
“Maybe you are bad at giving orders,” she shot back.
A low, amused hum vibrated from him. “Oh no, I give orders quite well. You are just…”
His fingers brushed her hair, not a caress, but scientific swiftness, testing the texture of something rare and unclassified. Scarlet stiffened despite herself, and she hated that he felt it.
He definitely felt it.
“That,” he stated, voice dipping. “wasn’t fear. Not entirely.”
Her jaw clenched. “You are imagining things.”
“I imagine many things,” He retorted. “Most of them end poorly for the subject involved. But you…”
He had removed his hands from her hips, and now she could feel his knuckled skim down the curve of her neck, slow, and unbearably light.
“You are…a little fucking tease.”
Scarlet spun, hand snapping up to strike. He caught her wrist mid-air. His grip was iron, unmoving. Entirely effortless.
Scarlet’s pulse slammed against her ribs as he drew her closer until their faces nearly touched. His eyes roamed her expression with a predatory slowness. He said it with a strange kind of delight.
Scarlet tried to yank her wrist back. He didn’t let go. Instead, he moved her hand a fraction of an inch higher, examining the tension in her fingers.
“You knew exactly where I would be tonight. Followed me to the rooftop of my lab, like the lost puppy you are. And you don’t even belong here.”
“I didn’t know anything.” she snapped.
“You hoped.” He corrected.
Scarlet’s voice sharpened. “Why the hell would I hope for you?”
A beat of silence. Then, his smirk unfurled.
Not wide.
Not gentle.
Knowing.
“Because” he slurred. “you feel alive around me…and you pique my interest.”
Scarlet shoved forward with her free arm, aiming for his jaw. Haywire dodged, pivoting just enough that her fist cut the air in front of him.
“You keep trying to hit me.” His grin widened a fraction. “You have no idea what it does to me.”
Something in his tone, made Scarlet’s chest tighten.
“Let me go you freak!” she demanded.
Haywire didn’t. If anything, his grip only tightened, as his mechanical arms slowly retracted from his back.
“I could break your wrist right now,” he hissed. “I’m more interested in how far you will go when cornered.”
“I’m not cornered.”
“Pet… you are on a rooftop. ledge with my hand around your pulse,” he cooed. “You are precisely cornered.
Scarlet met his eyes directly. “Try me.”
His breath hitched this time. A single sound, soft, quick. Then suddenly, violently, he shoved her back. Not enough to hurt her, but with a force that sent her stumbling until her back hit the ventilation unit. Before she could recover, he was already there, one hand on either side of her, caging her in.
“Do you know what I see?” he chuckled, “when I look at you?”
“Someone who won’t run.” she said tightly.
He shook his head slowly.
“I see a lost little hen who escaped from her coop.” His finger traced the metal behind her head.
“Who doesn’t understand that she’s in the wrong fucking dimension.” A gust of wind tore across the rooftop, sending her hair whipping around.
Haywire didn’t blink.
“You’re insane.” She spat.
He cackled, bending down so close Scarlet could feel his breath on her lips.
“I’ve heard that before, sweetheart.”
Scarlet, before she could get the strength to retort, something snapped below. A glint of color. A sound like a web-line stretched too taut. Haywire’s attention flicked just long enough for Scarlet to sense it.
Two figures shot upward in a violent arc, landing between Scarlet and Haywire with a crack of kinetic energy.
Lonnie.
Kaleid.
Lonnie’s mechanical limbs extended instinctively, forming a defensive barrier. Kaleid’s fractal patterns shimmered like a warning flare.
“Back off her.” Lonnie hissed.
Scarlet almost laughed despite herself. Lonnie only used that tone when he was seconds away from ripping someone’s face off.
Dr. Haywire straightened slowly.
“Oh,” he purred. “They sent the children.”
Kaleid stepped forward. “Touch her again and you’ll find out how fast we can end this.”
Haywire tilted his head, studying them both with an intensity that felt predatory. “Adorable.”
Lonnie shot forward without another word.
Haywire moved like a blade through smoke—dodging, parrying, weaving—and for a moment the rooftop became a blur of metal limbs and neon glimmers. Kaleid launched a burst of refracted light; Haywire vanished and reappeared behind her, fingers grazing her shoulder like a mockery of gentleness.
“Predictable,” he murmured.
Scarlet used the distraction and darted behind Lonnie’s shield plating. Haywire’s eyes flicked to her instantly.
Something almost possessive.
“You think they can take you from me?” he asked softly, voice lifting just enough for her to hear over the chaos.
Lonnie lunged again. Kaleid’s light exploded in a prismatic wave.
His breathing hitched again—subtle but undeniable—when Lonnie hooked an arm around Scarlet’s waist and pulled her back toward the fire escape.
Haywire’s expression fractured.
A flicker of something uncontrolled snapped across his face. His posture stiffened, jaw locking, eyes dilating in a way that made her blood run cold.
“Scarlet,” he said, low, raw, almost strangled, “do not walk away from me.”
The city roared below.
Scarlet was yanked off the edge, Lonnie’s line firing them both down to safety. Kaleid followed. Haywire stood frozen, staring at the space she’d been moments before.
“You can run,” he whispered into the night, voice shaking with volatile, barely contained emotion. “But you will not get far from me.”
His pulse thundered visibly in his throat.
“And next time—”
His fingers curled against his chest, as if trying to quell something rising uncontrollably inside him.
part one || part two || part three || part four ||
Pairing: gabriel o'hara x reader
Description: Gabriel O'Hara, Spider Society's HQ mechanic and menace to his brother Miguel, finds himself at a standstill. Life at the society is boring, nothing new ever happened anymore. During a slow day between yelling at his workspace mates and trying to keep his sanity he finds you wandering right into his workspace. After a couple hours of messing with your suit, you end up being late to dinner with your parents.
warnings: some suggestive dialogue, adult language, sexual themes, alcohol mentions, eventual smut may be possible. minors do not interact.
you have been warned.
Gabriel O'Hara was the textbook definition of bored, leaning over his workbench. He had his phone in one hand, scrolling mindlessly through social media, the other twirling his pencil in the other. Music played throughout his space, while he drowned out the noise of the bustling society outside his door.
He remembered what he brother was telling---no--- yelling at him for, while he stared off into the distance. It was for something completely out of pocket, the normal for Miguel to do. Sometimes he would start off the day doing that, like clockwork.
It was a slow night at the society, the dim lighting casting long shadows across the worn floor. The air hung heavy with the scent of metal, stale beer and cigarette smoke, despite the no smoking signs plastered across almost every surface of Spider Society.
Gabriel groaned, pouring himself a drink, he shouldn't be partaking in. The cigarettes nor the smell weren't from him, but rather the other idiots whom he shared his workspace with.
He ran a hand across his face, stifling another groan that erupted from his throat. He turned, drink in hand to stare blankly back at the other two in the room with him.
"You both know, smoking is illegal right," he hissed, grumbling insults in Spanish.
Kaleid and 49, the other variant of him rolled their eyes, as 49 took another drag of his cigarette.
"Your dimensions rules don't apply to me, so kick rocks." 49 replied blowing a cloud of smoke in his direction.
Gabriel shot an annoyed look towards 49, Kaleid kept her mouth shut, putting out hers in the tray.
"What would Lonnie think if she knew you were still smoking?" He put his phone down onto the desk.
49 grunted, his neon green eyes rolling again in that same annoyance as Gabriel's.
"Doesn't matter."
"It will when I tell her." Gabriel grinned.
"Oh fuck you." 49 threw back, as he tossed his pack onto his desk and stomped off towards the opposite side of the lab.
Kaleid turned away and started working on her own projects. And Gabriel, stood watching them both.
The sound of giggles snapped Gabriel out of his reverie. His head turned towards the source of the sound, and his eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.
You.
A stunning individual wandering into his workspace, your eyes meeting his gaze. Draped in an oversized sweater, hanging off of one shoulder, revealing the supple skin beneath. The way your jeans hugged you in all the right places, as Gabriel found himself momentarily stumped at your beauty.
"Uh, h-hey there," Gabriel stammered, his mind blank.
He cleared his throat, which earned the weird looks from Kaleid and 49 who were back to staring at him from their respective workspaces. Gabriel stepped closer to you, a friendly smile spreading across his face.
"Welcome to the lab...I'm the main technician here. Is there something I can help you with today?" he gave you a toothy grin.
You blinked, returning his smile with a softer one, playing at the corners of your lips.
"Oh! I'm just here to pick up my spider suit from Kaleid." you replied with yet another sweet smile. "Hope I'm not intruding." You add after, which earned a snort from 49.
Your voice was like velvet, warm and inviting, with just a hint of something entirely different. You brush some loose hairs from your face, the motion drawing Gabriel's gaze to the delicate line of your neck. Kaleid spoke up from her corner of the lab.
"Oh, sorry Y/N, I'm not done with it yet. I got caught up with Miguel's bullshit. You know how it is." Kaleid hollered.
You nod in reply, turning your attention back to Gabriel. Gabriel gulped when your eyes met his once more.
"I could take a crack at finishing your suit, uh..." He trailed off.
"Y/N." You answer him. "And sure. I don't mind." You say, as you watched him brighten further.
He chuckled in response to you. "I promise I won't break anything." His eyes sparkled with curiosity and innocent excitement, making it impossible for you to refuse him now.
"If you do, I will have to kill you." You tease, which earned another chuckle from Gabriel.
"Oh no, wouldn't want that now would we?" He says, looking over at Kaleid, who points to the suit rack with your spider suit on it.
Gabriel wanders over, waving you to follow after him.
"If you want, you can watch me work. It probably won't take long to get your suit where you want it to be." Gabriel turned away from you to give it a once over, and you, you took a seat on the stool adjacent from him to watch him work.
-------------------------------------
It was taking a lot longer than he expected. There was so much wrong with your suit that he had to step away from it before he gave up on this lost cause.
"What...happened to make it like this?" He asked, munching on his dinner for the night.
You threw back your head and laughed.
"One of the dimensions I was in totally fried the circuitry in it." The answer made Gabriel's eyes almost pop out of his head.
"Sounds dangerous."
"It was, I have the burns to prove it." You reply.
"You were hurt!" He exclaimed almost knocking his drink off his desk.
You brush off the mechanics worry with a giggle. "Don't worry, I promise I'm safe and sound. Again, just a couple burns."
Gabriel stumbled over the words he wanted to say in the moment before he overall gave up. You shake your head, looking down at your watch before realizing you were most definitely late for dinner with your parents.
"Oh my god, I promised my parents I'd make dinner at their place tonight!" You bellow, scooting and tripping over your feet.
Gabriel reached out, catching you quickly in his arms.
"Careful there. Don't need anything else happening to you now, huh?" he mumbles just loud enough for you to hear.
You get back onto your feet and push away from him, awkwardly. Rubbing the back of your head, you get the confidence back to look up at him.
"Thanks again. See you around?" You ask him.
He nods back. "Maybe next time, your suit will be done." He calls after you, as you make a. run towards the lab's doors and disappear out into the hall.
Scarlet had been spending time in this new world, still looking for the Gabriel variant. She flew around the city while also trying to remain hidden from the public eye. While she was flaying around and dodging the taller buildings, something suddenly grabbed at her leg, yanking her down to the ground. "WHOA-!" She yelped as she was tugged, hitting the ground to the point she cracked it. "SHOCK! I think I cracked a rib…" She winced. "Well well well, looks like I caught myself a little bug" Gabriel's voice came through, making Scarlet look up immediately. Most people would react and become terrified from seeing him, a maniac who had robotic arms sprouting out from his back. Any NORMAL person would've screamed and tried to run away. But Star? A blush spread over her cheeks as she shamelessly looked at Gabriel's entire look. (Insert 'Sexyback' by Justin Timberlake LMAO) "A Doc Ock variant…wasn't expecting that." She mumbled to herself. Gabriel raised an eyebrow, not liking how she was reacting. "Who? It's Dr Haywire to you." He scoffed, already getting annoyed by this girl.
Star stood up and winced from the pain of getting slammed to the ground. But she remained strong in her shameless flirting and obvious interest in this variant. "Dr Haywire? More like Dr Fine~" She winked. Haywire looked at her with a deadpan look while also cringing. Was this girl serious or did she just hit her head too hard??? "Stop. You're being weird." Haywire cringed and rolled his eyes. "Can't a girl shoot her shot?" She grinned, making Haywire take a step back. "Absolutely not. Get away from me. Extremely far." One of his arms reached out and picked her up from the back of her shirt. The way he lifted her was almost like lifting a cat from the back of their neck. Scarlet looked offended when he told her to stay away from him while also taking a step back from her. "Wha-?! Hey! C'mon, I'm not that bad! And what's up with you? Most variants would kill to have a girl just look at him." Okay, that wasn't fully true but some variants wouldn't miss a chance to flirt! "What are you- for fuck's sake, look lady. I know I'm extremely dashing but that doesn't mean I wanna be flirted by…eh, whatever you are." He brushed her off, dismissing the fact that she wasn't human. "WHAT? How dare you?!"
Haywire was already leaving but Scarlet wasn't done with this conversation. She floated towards him and got in front of him, meeting his height. "Ah-!" Haywire stepped back. "Cmon! I'm not that bad! At least my variant wasn't that rude…" She scoffed. "Doll," he mocked, "I'm not going to listen to some annoying fly." Again, Star was offended. 'Oh just give me a chance! Please?!" Haywire looked back at her with an expression that said 'is this bitch serious?' It was so bad that even Star was able to catch it. "Trust me, you won't regret it!" She was really trying to convince him. "I'm already starting to regret grabbing you from the sky." Haywire turned away, annoyed and bothered by this pest. For the next few minutes, Scarlet was following him, begging him to at least accept one date. Was she desperate? Yeah. Very stupid too. She kept chasing him around and Haywire was getting more and more annoyed and almost scared from how determined she was. "Why can't any other women chase me around like this?!" He groaned out loud while trying to escape Scarlet. The chase was almost comical. But when Haywire finally had enough, he grabbed Scarlet with his robotic arm again, throwing her away like garbage into a building. It gave him enough time to finally flee the scene and hope that she wouldn't find him again.
---------------------
Spider-Society
Scarlet returned, injured and pretty annoyed. As she walked past Miguel's lab, she could hear him starting to follow her. He opened his mouth to say something, most likely an attempt to make fun of her. "Don't! Not. A. Word." She hissed, not bothering to turn around and see his smug expression. "So he didn't accept your date? Wow, big surprise there." Miguel sarcastically expressed sympathy. He already knew that her attempt of flirting with Dr Haywire was going to go poorly. "i don't need to hear your smug comments Miguel!" Star yelled at him, causing him to take a step back and raise his hands in surrender. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger. I told you he wasn't going to like you. He's not like—" "-My Gabriel, I know." Scarlet grumbled, annoyed with hearing about that. There was a split instance where she looked like she was going to cry. Angry tears probably. But she held back and scoffed. "Just leave me alone. I'll be in the observatory." Miguel rolled his eyes, "yeah, looking for another world I'm sure."
With that being such a fail, she would have hoped that was the end of it. But when Lonnie and Kaleid came by to also do a 'i told you so', Star was going to lose her mind. But they weren't that rude about it. At least they weren't rubbing it in her face that she just made a stupid mistake. She was called crazy though. "You don't even wanna try to be with him. He's…insane." Lonnie crossed her arms and shook her head. "I could've fixed him." Scarlet stubbornly mumbled. "What?! No you can't! You can't fix that!" Kaleid exclaimed, trying to get it through Scarlet's thick skull. "Star, we're telling you this to protect you. Not because we wanna see you fail. Haywire isn't someone to mess with." Star sighed, knowing Kaleid was right. Her and Lonnie just wanted to prevent her from doing something stupid. "I know. I just…he was pretty hot." She chuckled. Kaleid and Lonnie smacked their heads. Star was down bad…
"I sort fics by kudos and only kudos on stories with high kudos counts, why aren't there more stories with high kudos, I ran out of things to read." You're part of the problem.
"Authors artificially inflate comment counts by thanking people, I can't find anything with a real comment count to read." No they fucking are not, they're grateful for engagement.
"I can't read anything under 100k." That's the majority of fics you're ignoring, most novels aren't even that long.
"I don't have time to look for the incredibly rare diamond in the rough, so I won't read anything below a certain amount of kudos, comments, and hits." Those fics are popular because people gave them a chance and then snobs like you found them.
"I won't read anthing with a single typos." You made typos in that sentence, get off your high horse.
"One singular author didn't thank me for commenting, I'm never commenting on any fic again so I don't get burned." You're punishing people because someone didn't give you engagement they don't owe you that they might not have seen.
"This fic is three months old, it's so old, it doesn't matter if I comment or kudos, it's old." Fics do not have expiration dates, comment and kudos.
You're killing your fandoms with your snobbish behaviors.
Do you have an ao3 account? I like to read/follow in there because of their bookmarking feature and the ability to subscribe to the author so i don’t miss any updates!
I do not, but maybe soon I’ll have a new a03 since people keep asking!
If you want you can also message me or reblog my masterlist with a specific fic you want to be updated or notified about!
→ Fluffy chaos, violent drama, psychological complexity? Say less.
(Ask if your fandom isn’t listed—I’m open to new worlds!)
⸻
📜 WHAT TO SEND IN A REQUEST:
Please include any of the following (as much or as little as you want):
• Character(s) or pairing
• Vibe (Fluff? Angst? Smut? Found family? Enemies to lovers?)
• A short prompt or situation (e.g., “hurt/comfort after a nightmare” or “accidental bed sharing”)
• Reader or OC gender preference (if any)
• Anything you don’t want (no judgment!)
⸻
💀 WHAT I DON’T WRITE:
• Underage pairings
• Non-con/SA
• Explicit incest
• Reader hate
• Anything that violates Tumblr’s content policy
⸻
🔥 ABOUT MY WRITING:
I love immersive worldbuilding, emotional slow burns, vivid dialogue, and flawed characters. If you like morally gray love interests, a little found-family trauma, or detailed horror/romance hybrids—you’re in the right place.
Want me to surprise you with a plot? Just say “Dealer’s choice.” 🎲
Description: After the situation in the basement between you and Demon! Dean. You could hear his screams to be saved and he could hear your most painful cries. Both yearning to escape the pit of loneliness that gripped you two tight.
Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader ft. Castiel
Warnings: Language, Sad Themes
Thank you all for your constant support! And finally after like two years, this series is finally finished.
The walls of the safe house trembled.
At first, it was barely noticeable—an electrical hum beneath the silence. A flicker in the lights overhead, the faintest scent of sulfur snaking through the air. Then a muffled thud echoed from the basement, and the light over the kitchen table buzzed once before stabilizing.
Y/N looked up from her journal, fingers frozen mid-sentence. Her stomach dropped.
The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful.
It was oppressive. Final.
She rose slowly, every instinct screaming. She wasn't naive. She knew what that silence meant. She had heard Dean scream from the basement for weeks now—anger, pain, hatred—and she’d started to recognize the rhythm of it. The moments of silence between his roars were predictable.
This was different.
Too still.
Her gaze shot to the basement door across the room. It stood ajar.
No. No.
She hadn’t left it open. She was sure she hadn’t.
“Dean,” she whispered, though the sound barely escaped her lips. She reached for the angel blade on the nearby table with trembling fingers.
Then she heard it.
Footsteps.
Measured. Slow. No dragging of chains. No slamming of fists against walls. Not the furious pacing of a man trying to burn off madness—but the cold, calculated footsteps of someone who had made a decision.
He was coming up.
He was free.
Panic surged in her chest, thick and suffocating. Her heart thundered in her ears. Castiel was gone—he had left earlier to restock supplies and seek new chains reinforced with grace. There was no backup. No safety net.
Only her.
And him.
She backed away from the staircase, holding the blade in front of her with both hands. Her grip was weak. She didn’t want to use it. Didn’t want to believe she might have to.
Then he appeared.
Dean Winchester—or what was left of him—stood at the top of the stairs, shirt drenched in sweat and blood, wrists still shackled, chains dragging behind him like ghosts. His skin was pale, jaw clenched, shoulders broad as ever. His once-green eyes were obsidian voids now—black, unblinking, unreadable.
But his expression…
It wasn’t rage.
It was sorrow.
“Y/N,” he said.
Her name on his lips shattered her.
“Don’t,” she warned, holding the blade out between them. “Don’t come any closer.”
He stopped. He didn’t flinch. He just looked at her—really looked at her—and for a moment, it was like the years fell away.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said, voice low, gravel scraping through vulnerability. “Just let me talk.”
She didn’t lower the blade, but she didn’t raise it either. Her chest was rising and falling too fast.
“Talk?” she spat. “You’ve had weeks—months—to talk. All you’ve done is scream and tear at the walls. You tried to kill Sam. You almost killed Cas.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I know what I’ve done. I remember everything. Every second. Every scream. Every time I looked at you and couldn’t feel a damn thing except the need to rip you apart.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Then why now? Why me?”
“Because I saw you last night.” His voice cracked. “You came down there. Thought I was asleep. Sat across the room and whispered my name like it still meant something to you.”
She swallowed hard. She had done that. She thought he hadn’t noticed.
“It broke something in me,” he continued, taking a cautious step forward. “Or maybe it fixed something. I don’t know. But I heard you. And I remembered what it felt like to be... me.”
She stared at him, blade trembling.
“You don’t get to do this,” she said, barely audible. “You don’t get to claw your way out for five minutes and pretend none of it happened.”
“I’m not pretending,” he said. “I’m fighting. The demon—he's in here, yeah, and he's strong. But so am I. I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel anything. Because I do. For you.”
The words hung in the air like ash.
She shook her head slowly. “Dean…”
“I love you.”
Silence.
No thunder. No storm. Just the soft, heartbreaking truth falling between them like glass.
“I loved you before the Mark. Before Hell. Before I knew how damn dark this world could get. And even now, in this mess of black eyes and blood and pain—I still do.”
Her blade lowered an inch.
He watched her with aching reverence, like she was sunlight on winter snow.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said. “Hell, I probably don’t deserve to even say your name anymore. But if there’s anything left of me—anything real—it’s how I feel about you.”
A tear escaped her lashes.
She stepped forward, slowly, hesitantly, until they were only inches apart.
His breath hitched.
She reached up with one trembling hand and brushed her fingertips across his cheek. His skin was warm. Real. Human. Her thumb grazed a fading cut beneath his eye.
For a split second, the black in his eyes flickered—faded—and beneath it, she saw Dean. The man she had loved. The man who had made her laugh in cheap motel rooms, who held her when the nightmares got bad, who whispered comfort in the darkest corners of the hunt.
“Dean,” she whispered, lips trembling. “You’re still in there.”
He leaned into her touch like a drowning man to the surface. “Don’t forgive me. Just… remember me. That’s all I ask.”
“I never stopped.”
They stood there, suspended in time, forehead to forehead, breathing the same air for the first time in what felt like centuries.
Then—
The sound of wings.
Castiel.
The room pulsed with divine presence, the air thickening as the angel stepped into view, sword in hand, grace flaring behind his eyes.
Dean didn’t turn. He didn’t flinch. He just pulled away from Y/N gently and exhaled like the weight of the world was finally being lifted—even if only to be replaced by chains again.
“I’m ready,” he said without looking at Cas.
Castiel’s face was unreadable. “You escaped.”
“I needed to say goodbye.”
Cas glanced at Y/N, her hand still hovering where Dean’s face had been. He nodded once, expression softening. “Then it was worth the risk.”
Dean turned to her one last time.
“Thank you. For reminding me who I was.”
Tears streamed down her face. “You’re still him. Somewhere in there, you’re still mine.”
And then Castiel stepped forward, wrapped Dean in glowing chains of grace, and vanished with him in a flutter of wings and light.
The room fell silent again.
This time, for real.
Y/N stood alone in the wreckage of her heart, the echo of Dean’s confession still ringing in her ears. Her hand dropped to her side. She stared at the empty space where he’d stood, a sob finally breaking loose from her chest.
On my hands and knees, begging with tears..!! Anything more with Sweet Girl!Reader x Soldier Boy! It’s the air I breathe, the water I drink..! Your writing is absolutely phenomenal!!
Cotton Candy and Something Like Butterflies
Part One--||--Part Two
Description: You got that teddy bear...no bears to be exact and it was all to your masked crusader. However, you weren't leaving the fair until you were his. And he was going to make sure of that.
Pairings: Soldier Boy x Reader
Warnings: Soldier Boy is his own warning, language. Sweet, toothache cuteness
Note: This request is another fave and I love it so much. My heart yearns for sweet Soldier Boy. Also to add--some do not understand the idea of fan fiction and how you can ultimately change a bit of the character's personality to your liking. That is the entire idea of fan fiction. Yes I know Soldier Boy is as a whole-a butt, and is overall written as a terrible person. However, I like to think that in the presence of women- from what I have seen from small parts of the show, he had some potential to be super sweet to women.
Also...I can do what I want.
This is the final part to this series...if you want more...please send your requests!
The teddy bear was almost as tall as you...maybe taller. No scratch that—it was as tall as you. Your arms barely fit around its middle as you carried it awkwardly between game stalls, occasionally having to peek around the giant fuzzy head to avoid bumping into strangers. Every few steps, someone smiled and asked where you had won it. You could only laugh, cheeks hot.
"Oh, I didn’t. Someone won it for me." You had not stopped smiling since.
Ben—no, Soldier Boy, though he had asked you to call him Ben, had disappeared back into the thick of the fair after your brief, unexpected moment together. You had kept playing that in your mind.
The ring toss.
His arm around you.
That deep, rough, intoxicating voice calling you Princess.
You tried not to think too hard about the part where he patted your head like some kind of shy kitten. But also? You kind of loved it. And now, as you wandered closer to the Funhouse like he'd ask, dragging your bear and still tasting powdered sugar from a funnel cake you’d caved in and bought your heart palpitating with each step forward.
You never usually did things like this.
Waiting for a superhero.
Especially not him. Soldier Boy was legendary in... complicated ways. But for some reason, you were not nervous. You felt safe, in the weirdest, warmest way. When you rounded the corner, you saw him. He was leaning against a food cart, arms crossed over his chest, looking incredibly out of place among the pastel-colored balloons and carnival lights. His whole vibe screamed 1940s war drama, but there he was, squinting at a blue raspberry slush like it had personally offended him. You smiled. Couldn't help it.
His shoulders dropped, and his brows relaxed.
"Was starting to think you ditched me," he said, half-smirking.
"I got distracted," you said sheepishly, holding up the bear. "He's a little hard to travel with."
Ben nodded solemnly. "Yeah, he looks like trouble."
You laughed. He blinked, then looked away quickly—almost as if he was shy.
"Hungry?" He asked, gesturing to the cart beside him. "They got corndogs, and that fried Oreo thing. Not bad."
You hesitated, then gave a small nod. "A little...but not for the corndogs or the fried Oreo..."
He smiled. "Then what do you want-"
"Funnel cake." You said abruptly.
Before you could even reach for your wallet, he had already tossed a twenty on the counter. You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a look that shut it right down.
"I said I wanted to win you more stuff," he grunted. "Didn't say it had to be from a booth."
The vendor handed him two funnel cakes and a soda."
Ben handed them to you like he was passing along sacred treasure.
“I… thank you,” you said quietly. You were sure your face was red.
He scratched the back of his neck, looking around like he was suddenly overwhelmed by the color and noise. Then, softly, “I don’t usually do this. Talk to people.”
You blinked. “You’re… literally a public figure.”
“Yeah, and I hate it,” he muttered.
“This.” he gestured to the two of you standing awkwardly near the food cart, surrounded by laughter and neon lights, “This is different.”
Your stomach did a funny little flip. You looked down at the corndog in your hands and smiled. “I think it’s nice.”
He looked at you for a long moment. Then, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands, he shoved them into his pockets and jerked his head toward the Funhouse.
“You wanna walk?” You nodded.
The two of you wandered past spinning rides and slow-moving games. You talked a little. He asked about where you were from, and you told him. He asked if you came to the fair often, and you laughed because, really, who says that? He grumbled about the noise. You apologized like it was your fault.
“Don’t do that,” he said suddenly, stopping mid-step.
You blinked. “Do what?”
“Apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “Oh. Right. Sorry—I mean, I—” He gave you a look.
You smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Got it.”
“Good girl.” Your knees nearly gave out.
At the edge of the fairgrounds, you reached the Ferris wheel. The line was short now, most of the families having cleared out. Ben eyed it skeptically.
“I don’t trust things that spin.”
“Come on,” you said softly. “It’s slow. You can see the whole fair from the top.”
He hesitated, glancing at the creaky metal frame like it was going to launch him into orbit. You bumped your shoulder gently into his arm.
“Scared?” you teased.
His head snapped toward you. “I’m a war hero, sweetheart. I don’t get scared.”
“Then ride the Ferris wheel with me.”
He stared at you a moment longer. Then sighed, dramatically.
“Fine. But if we die, I’m blaming you.”
The Ferris wheel groaned as it started to move. The two of you sat side by side in the little metal carriage, the teddy bear wedged awkwardly between your knees. The higher you rose, the more the noise of the fair began to fall away. You weren’t afraid of heights, but the moment felt fragile somehow, like if you spoke too loudly, it might disappear.
Ben shifted beside you, the bench creaking under his weight.
“You’re different,” he said suddenly.
You looked at him, surprised.
“Most people… look at me like I’m a freak. Or like I owe ‘em something.”
“I don’t think you’re a freak,” you said quietly.
He studied you, green eyes a little too honest in the dim lights.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s the problem.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. But your hand, without thinking, reached across the space between you and gently touched his. He froze. Then slowly—so slowly—you felt his fingers wrap around yours. When the Ferris wheel reached the very top, you looked out.
Stars. Lights. The glowing cotton candy sky of the fair beneath your feet.
“It’s beautiful,” you whispered.
“Yeah,” Ben said beside you. “It is.”
You turned to look at him and found that he wasn’t looking at the lights. He was looking at you. The wind was gentle this high up. It tugged at your hair, carrying with it the smell of sugar, fried food, and salt air. Below, the lights of the fair twinkled like stars strewn across earth instead of sky. And still, he was looking at you.
Ben wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t smirking. He wasn’t flexing for attention or cracking a joke. His green eyes were steady, focused. You looked away first.
“People must tell you you’re charming all the time,” you said softly, trying to break the weight of it. “Even if you pretend, you’re not.”
Ben’s brows lifted slightly. “They mostly tell me I’m a jackass.”
You smiled. “That too.”
He gave a breath of a laugh—quiet and genuine. And then he said it, voice low enough it might have gotten carried off by the wind if you hadn’t been listening so closely:
“You make me feel like I ain’t some… relic.”
You turned toward him slowly. He was still watching you, but now, his gaze had dropped to your hand, where his fingers still lightly curled around yours.
“I don’t know what I’m doin’ here,” he said, voice rougher now, more vulnerable. “I don’t date. I don’t… try with people. But you—”
“I didn’t ask you to try,” you said, gently.
“No,” he agreed. “You didn’t have to.”
Your heart thudded hard against your ribs. The Ferris wheel gave a quiet groan as it reached the very top and paused, the ride halting for a moment like it knew what was happening. Ben leaned a little closer. Not sudden. Not demanding. Just… close. His shoulder brushing yours, his eyes searching your face like he was still trying to figure out if this was real or something cooked up in a coma-dream from the ‘80s.
And then, as soft as a whisper: “Can I kiss you?”
You nodded.
He leaned in.
And the kiss—wasn't what you expected. Not from Soldier Boy. It wasn’t messy or rough or rushed. It was gentle. Warm. Careful. Like you were something he wasn’t used to having but suddenly wasn’t ready to let go of. You kissed him back. And when he pulled away just a few inches, still close enough for you to feel his breath, his voice was quiet:
“You got a little powdered sugar on your lip.”
You smiled. “You could’ve just said you wanted a second kiss.”
Ben smirked. “I always want a second kiss.”
You wandered back toward the edge of the fair sometime later, the teddy bear trailing behind you in Ben’s arms now. He carried it like it was a shield, one arm slung around its belly and the other casually brushing against yours whenever your hands got too close.
“I still say it should be named after me,” he said.
You raised a brow. “We agreed on Benny. It’s a compromise.”
He grunted. “I gave you Homelander the dragon. You owe me naming rights.”
You reached into the little paper tray of leftover funnel cake and plucked one, holding it up like a peace offering.
“Call it even?”
Ben stared at the cake again, like it had personally wronged him, then leaned down and bit it out of your hand.
You squeaked, laughing. “You’re such a menace.”
“And you like it,” he said, crumbs on his mouth.
You did.
Maybe too much.
When you reached the parking lot at the far edge of the fairgrounds, the lights behind you shimmered in the night like the whole place was fading into a dream. Ben shifted the bear into one arm and turned to face you. “Where’s your car?”
You pointed a little ways down.
He nodded. “I’ll walk you.”
You didn’t argue.
At your car, it got quiet again. Not awkward. Just… soft.
Ben shifted on his feet, suddenly unsure of himself in a way you wouldn’t have believed earlier.
You reached for the bear—but he didn’t let go right away.
“What?” you asked, tilting your head.
He shrugged. “I just… I dunno.”
“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “Tonight was already more than I expected.”
“I don’t want it to be the last one,” he said, blunt and honest.
You blinked up at him. “It doesn’t have to be.”
Ben gave a slow nod. Then reached into his back pocket, pulled out a pen, and—oh, God—scribbled his number on your wrist.
You laughed. “Very romantic.”
“It’s the only thing I remember how to do from the ‘80s. That and roller disco.”
You looked down at the number. He hadn’t even written “Soldier Boy.” He wrote Ben.
He watched your face, then leaned in and pressed one last kiss—shorter this time—to your forehead.
“Call me when you get home.”
“I will.”
He gave the bear one last pat on the head, handed it over to you gently, and stepped back.
“Night, Princess.”
“Night, Ben.”
You watched him walk away, boots crunching gravel, arms swinging loose at his sides like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore. Maybe just the weight of one very happy girl and a bear named after himself. And you knew, deep down, that you were going to be thinking about this night and that kiss—for a long, long time.
Omggg friend u shuda tagged me i squealed when i saw u did a sequel 2 my fav story!! n is so cute n soft n Ben is so gentle 🥺🥺🩷 makes m heart melt sm i missed ur writing 🥺🩷🩷🩷🩷🎡🧸🎀
Description: When Abby and Lev wash ashore on the rugged, fog-drenched coast of Florence, Oregon, they expect death. Instead, they find a broken lighthouse—and someone willing to save them.
The reader, a quiet loner living in the forgotten beacon, tends to their wounds with guarded compassion. But as days turn to weeks, secrets begin to surface—about the reader’s past, about the Fireflies, and about a mission that never died. Stranded far from the remnants of their people, the reader had once tried to get to Michigan, where over 500 Fireflies had gathered to begin again. But the road was long, and the sea was unforgiving.
Now, with Abby and Lev at their side, the hope of reunion flickers once more.
Meanwhile, Ellie drifts through the ruins of what used to be herself. Haunted by everything she’s lost and everything she’s done, she sets off on a quiet journey to find Dina—and maybe, if she’s lucky, herself. But the world hasn’t grown any softer. And neither has she.
Paths intertwine in a land overgrown with decay and spiritual rot, where a fanatical cult called The Hollows thrives. Worshippers of the infected, they see Cordyceps not as a curse, but a blessing—divine, pure, and worthy of devotion. As their influence spreads across the Pacific Northwest, so too does their madness.
Love. Loss. A lighthouse. And the last flickers of faith in a world rotted to its roots.
Warnings: Language, Adult content, eventual smut. Grief, mentions of mental illness, depression, and other forms of content that may be within this fic. This is a hypothetical Part III don’t come after me please.
You have been warned.
The waves had been dangerously loud and violent all morning.
You felt it the second your bare feet touched the damp sand. The air, sticky with sea salt and fog, tasted like something sour left out too long. Mourning, metallic- like blood.
A gull screeched overhead. Not its usual shrill, irritated cry— no, this one sounded like a warning. You paused, conch shell bag slung over one shoulder, and narrowed your eyes toward the mist rolling over the surf. You were only out here for one reason: to find a new horn. The last conch you had carved had cracked on the rocks last week, just before the storm.
You blew it to feel a little less alone when the forest behind your lighthouse began to feel too alive at night. It was pink, spiral—carved and fit perfectly in your palm.
You were attached.
But this morning was not about the horn.
It was about the feeling.
You adjusted your jacket and stepped onto the packed shoreline, where the tide had begun to pull itself inward as if taking a breath right before a scream. Florence, Oregon wasn't much anymore, aside from the infected that waded through the forest and towns just beyond the lighthouse. Yet, they never dared to wander any closer due to the impact of the fall they would endure from the cliffside.
A few half standing structures, a dock eaten by barnacles and time, and a stretch of driftwood—gnarled beach that seemed to go on forever.
But it was home. You had made it one.
That was when you saw them. Two figures—lumps at first. The mist parted enough for a beam of gold morning light to slice down through the clouds and catch on the soaked fabric, broken boards and a hand. Small. Limp.
The other figure lay beside them, curled around the smaller body, a thin broken shield, seaweed tangled in their hair, sand clinging to bloodied skin and clothes. Your heart stuttered. Before you even realized, you had dropped to your knees. Running to them and sliding into the sand.
The woman—older, bigger— was unconscious, her body was twisted at an odd angle, one arm cradling the smaller figure in a way that didn't look voluntary. Protective, even in sleep. The smaller one, barely more than a teenager, was breathing shallowly. Blood crusted one of their temple cuts, and their buzzed hair had been caked with grit.
You reached for the bigger one first, your fingers to her throat. A pulse, thready and slow, but it was there.
"Hey," you rasped. "Hey, come on." No response.
You glanced around the shoreline. No boats, no movement. No sign of anyone following.
All you wanted of today was to fix your broken horn, but more surprises came to you this morning. You sighed, sprinting back to the makeshift porch of the lighthouse to pull a palette with ropes tied to it back to the people washed up on your shore.
The trek back to you shack—what you generously called home—was rough. Dragging the two on the palette had proved to be more tedious than what you had hoped for. The teen was most likely light enough to drag on their own, but most of the weight came from the older woman. She was heavy, dense with muscle and pain and history you didn't understand yet.
You dragged the two the last hundred feet, groaning softly under your breath. The older one, made a barely audible groan, but didn't wake.
Your place was tucked back near the tree line, built into the hallowed base of a long dead lighthouse. It was weathered and crooked, reeking of old smoke, but the roof didn't leak and everything—including the power—still worked if you were patient enough with the generator.
You laid the kid one of the cots tucked in the corner first. Then the woman. Stripped their wet clothes, checked for open wounds, bandaged what you could, and started a fire with trembling fingers. Only when they were covered in your spare blankets and breathing steadier did you allow yourself to sit.
You stared, even now, unconscious, the woman looked as if she'd been to war and back again. Thick arms, littered with scars, infected cuts from a custom blade...this woman seen way more than what you knew. Rope burns around her wrists, bruises blooming down one side of her ribs like spilled ink.
You should have been afraid.
You weren't.
Not yet.
Hours passed as you boiled water in a kettle, stitching what you could, cleaning salt crust from the kid's face with a washcloth and a warm soap bucket. Music, something from your instrumental collection, nothing too loud played in the background. They didn't stir once, not until nightfall.
While you were frying fish in the kitchen you built, the woman gasped awake. It was quiet, sharp and inward. Her whole body spasmed, then locked, eyes flying open and hands instantly curling into fists. She lunged forward—and collapsed with a choaked huff onto the wooden floor, pain flashing across her face.
You whipped around so fast, taking the food off of the stovetop. Immediately, you had sprung to her side.
"Whoa there, you're safe." You gripped her arms softly, moving her back to the cot.
Her eyes—sea glass green, you realized—focused on you like a blade. Wide and wild. She didn't speak.
"You both washed up on the beach this morning. You were barely breathing." Nothing.
"I was afraid for the kiddo for a while," her gaze flicked to the cot across the room. Relief broke across her face, and she relaxed.
"Lev," Her voice hoarse, croaked out.
"Is that his name?"
She nodded once. Her voice, when it came again, was wrecked. "Is he okay?"
"He's sleeping. Had some minor bumps and bruises, some cuts. But breathing steady. Like a rock. Didn't even twitch when I stitched him up." The woman relaxed even more. Barely. Then her head dropped back against the pillow, and for the first time, you saw her expression for what it was: grief.
You noticed how her hair was chopped unevenly. As if someone had done it to her. Or she had done it herself.
"I'm not going to hurt you." You said gently, standing back up to go back to cooking. "I don't know who you are, or what happened, but you're safe here." The woman didn't respond, simply just stared at the ceiling. Her fingers flexed against the blanket like she missed holding a weapon.
"I hope you like seafood. I made fried fish and hushpuppies, there's also some fresh jam and bread for dessert if you want any." She still didn't answer. But she watched you as you made a plate for the two of you and put away the rest for when Lev woke up.
"I'm Y/N..." you stated, "It's only me here if you're worried about that. I live alone."
That got a twitch in her brow. "Why?"
You shrugged. "That's the way it has always been."
Handing her a plate, you pulled up a chair beside the open hot plate. The kettle whistled softly. You poured her a cup of broth and set it on the stool beside her, not pushing it into her hands.
"What is your name?"
A beat.
Then quietly: "Abby."
You nodded. "Nice to meet you Abby."
Lev awoke in the middle of the night screaming. You were out back gathering firewood when you heard it—high-pitched, raw, echoing through the lighthouse like a howl of something feral. You dropped everything and sprinted inside.
Abby was already at his side, holding him, whispering something low and fast that you could barely hear them. He clung to her tightly, afraid that he might lose her once more. Stepping back, you didn't speak, only giving them the space they needed.
Eventually, he looked up. Dark eyes, glassy with fever. Confused. Scared.
"Where are we?" he whispered.
Abby didn't answer, but you did.
"You're in Florence, Oregon. Washed up on my shore in bad shape. You're okay. I found you."
Lev blinked at you. "You're not with the Rattlers," he said. It wasn't a question.
You frowned. "That what now?"
Abby's jaw clenched, she pulled Lev tighter.
"No," you said honestly. "I don't know who they are."
He studied you for a long-time moment, then nodded.
"Okay."
Just like that. Okay.
You didn't know what they had been through, but you saw it in their eyes, they were running from something. Or someone. And if they washed up here, then maybe they finally will have a chance to live again.
The next morning, the sea was quieter. Not calm, the ocean never really calmed—it just shifted its mood into something more somber. Slow, heavy waves licked the edge of the beach in a hush hush rhythm you desperately had waited for the past week due to the raging storms.
You understood this feeling.
The sky was a pale lavender bruise, graying into slate as the sun struggled to rise. You pulled your jacket tighter around you and slung the netted pouch over one shoulder. the strap dug into your collarbone in a familiar way, like routine carving itself into the dent of your clavicle.
Behind you, the lighthouse whispered with wood creaks and stove pops. You'd left a note on the counter for Abby and Lev. Nothing fancy. Just:
'Gone shell hunting. If you're hungry, there is bread and jam in the cabinet, and some jerky in a tin under the stove. Water is in the blue jug. Don't open the cellar door, there aren't any stairs and you'll die. Be back soon. '
—Y/N
You didn't know if they would read it. Or if they would still be there when you got back. But you went to the beach anyway.
The tide had gone out overnight, dragging seaweed and shattered driftwood across the sand like some salty god had tried to paint in a fit of rage. The landscape looked different from yesterday. Or maybe you did.
You scanned the sandbars, boots crunching over broken shells and damp grit. You knew what you were looking for. A large, spiral-shaped, with a hollow curve and a sharp enough tip that you could carve the mouthpiece without cracking it. Your last conch had lasted a year. You wanted this one to last longer.
A few gulls watched you from a bent streetlight lodged halfway into the dunes. One squawked at you, but you ignored them. You always did. You were used to the ghosts, and birds were just like them, without the clothing.
Ghosts are what took you friends away.
Your family.
You shook your head and regained your composure. After fifteen minutes, you spotted something half-buried by the rocks.
A shell.
Not perfect—but promising. Pale peach, speckled with ochre freckles, edges chipped but still proved functional. You crouched and dug it out with your gloved hands. It was heavier than it looked. The spiral was tight, the ridges worn smooth by time. You held it up to your ear instinctively.
They said you could hear the ocean in a conch shell. What you heard instead was silence. No, not silence. Breath. Slow, shallow and steady. Behind you. You stood fast, pivoting.
Abby.
Still limping, her leg broken, still wrapped in one of your threadbare wool blankets like a bruised titan who didn't know how to rest. She wasn't holding a weapon, but her shoulders tensed expecting a fight anyway.
"You shouldn't be walking." you said.
She shrugged with one shoulder, the other too stiff to move. "Lev's still asleep. I didn't want to wake him."
You tightened your grip around the shell. "You don't trust me."
It wasn't an accusation, just a fact.
"I don't trust anyone," she replied.
You hummed, tossing the conch shell into your bag. "Fair."
A moment passed between you, fog curling between words unsaid. Wind lifted strands of hair, dropping them again. She didn't move closer, but she didn't leave either.
"What's that?" she asked, nodding towards your bag.
"Shells." you told her. "I use them either for arrows, but mainly I carved them for horns." There was a pause before you added, "Used to be ceremonial, for warnings. Territory signals. It scares people when they hear that coming from out of nowhere." you laughed.
Slowly and tiredly, Abby blinked. "You hunt for them?"
"Sort of. Florence doesn't have much to offer, but the sea still gives up its treasures. You just have to know where to look."
Abby glanced out at the waves, then back at you.
"You live out here alone?"
You gave her a half-smile. "You already asked me that."
"Still trying to understand why."
You didn't answer right away. Instead, you turned back to the sand and began to search for more shells. Abby limped behind you, watching your every move, before you knew it you pointed out for her to sit and dig around for anything of use.
"Ah, yes. This one's perfect!" You chimed spinning around with a nice sized conch.
You then walked over to a flat patch of sand next to Abby, sitting down, legs crossed. Held the conch in your lap like something sacred. After a few seconds you looked up at her.
"There's something about being the only heartbeat for miles," you said quietly. "No one telling you how to survive. No one demanding penance for mistakes you don't remember making."
Abby looked down.
You continued.
"The silence makes you realize, the world is so much bigger than we know." Abby didn't speak, but her hands twitched at her sides. You could feel the weight of her unspoken story pressing against the moment.
Eventually, she scooted closer and sank into the sand beside you with a grunt. You didn't move. Side my side now. Close but not touching. She stared at the conch like it held the answer she was looking for.
"It's strange," She murmured. " I used to live surrounded by people. Soldiers. Scientists. Friends. Then enemies. Then...nothing. Just Lev."
You looked at her sideways. Her face was drawn in the morning light, lines around her eyes deeper than someone her age should carry.
"Who is he to you?" you asked curiously.
"He's all I have left." she answered just above a whisper. The sentence cut deeper than you expected.
You nodded slowly. "Well...if you two need somewhere to exist for a while. I have the space." Her head turned sharply toward you.
"Why would you offer that?"
You shrugged once more. "I don't know...the seagulls don't give me much company to work with."
Abby let out a rough, sandpaper laugh. It wasn't quite joy, but it was better than her silence. You stood up again and dusted off your pants.
"I've got carving tools back at the shack," You said. "You wanna come watch me turn this into a warning horn?"
Abby raised a furrowed brow. "Seriously?"
You held the shell up like a trophy.
"Dead serious." She shook her head but stood up wobbly. Together, you both started walking back across the sand.
By the time you reached the lighthouse again, Lev was sitting upright on the cot, holding the note like it was a scroll from some ancient civilization. His eyes widened when he saw Abby beside you.
"You're okay," He breathed.
"I'm okay." Abby echoed.
You were now the one to raise an eyebrow. "You hungry?"
Lev looked at you, the Abby.
"She didn't try to kill you?"
"Nope."
"Then yeah. Starving."
You spent the rest of the morning drying fish and wrapping it in cheese cloth while Abby watched from the porch, blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. You didn't ask where they came from, nor why Abby flinched anytime you came remotely close to her, or even why Lev was staring at your cellar door like he expected something to claw it's way out. You didn't ask them anything.
You let them live. And with them learning how to live again. They would thrive. You just worked. Cleaned and cooked. Carved the conch horn slowly by the heater, rasping your knife along the spiral until it broke off evenly. Soon, a week went by and Lev had fallen asleep again after lunch, curled into a nest of your old coats. Abby didn't move far from him, but eventually she sat beside you on the step of the lighthouse.
"You gonna teach me how to carve one of those?" she asked pointing at your shell.
You snorted. "You want to learn?"
"I want to stop thinking."
You shook your head at her answer, a smile forming at the ends of your mouth.
"You're going to have to find your own shell...and until then. You're going to have to let that leg of yours heal properly."
Abby rolled her eyes and looked away from you. You then pinched the bridge of your nose.
"And with healing, comes the need to heal your hygiene regimen. Take a bath. I can run you one."
Abby scoffed and made a face of annoyance. While you cracked a smile and stood up, reaching out to help her stand.
"While you both were sleeping, I had the opportunity to get you both some clean clothes. But with that attitude...maybe I'll let you freeze." Abby hummed, her eyes trained on you with that same look.
Somewhere, you felt a little warmer in the chilling air near the sea.
--------
The door didn't shut behind her.
It hung open, just a crack, the wind catching it as she stepped off the porch and into the tall grass. The same porch she'd stood with Dina, watching the wheat bend. Where she rocked JJ in her arms and pretended—for a while—that love could outlast the trauma she endured.
Her guitar was gone, left leaning by the window, missing strings. Like her. The dirt road crunched beneath her boots, the late autumn air biting through her jacket. A hawk cried out sharply across the valley. She tightened her grip on the strap of her pack, empty except for a half used bandaged, a lighter and a photograph of Joel she hadn’t meant to keep. The scar tissue in her hand ached where her fingers used to be. She didn't flex them.
Not anymore.
She just moved. Forward, away. From the house. From Jackson. From Dina.
From whom she had been when the world still felt like it could forgive her. The guilt didn't howl anymore, it just pressed, constant and dull. She had thought after all of this she could still return home to find Dina and JJ waiting for her. But Dina's warning she wouldn't wait for her echoed through Ellie's mind as she pushed forward.
But Ellie had walked away from Abby.
And still, nothing clicked.
She camped that night beneath a broken-down billboard twenty miles out. The stars were shy behind the clouds, and her fire barely warmed her fingers. She didn’t eat. Just sat. Looking at the picture. Joel, laughing. Her younger self caught mid-eyeroll. That version of her felt like a story someone else had told. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, morning had already started bleeding through the trees.
And so Ellie began to wander once more. With her empty pack, loose memories, and nowhere to call home.
