#gives my cold dead heart some feelings lemme tell ya

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter sixty nine

close to home | chapter sixty nine

plot: the reader continues to heal, and her and Daryl have a talk

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 2,084 Warnings: violence, blood, typical twd

“Careful, careful… ow! Careful, Daryl.” You winced in pain as your husband pulled off your bandages. They were stuck from the dried blood, and it felt like he was pulling off a million bandaids. 

Daryl rolled his eyes at you as he got the last one off, and you sighed with relief and dug your head further into the pillow to get comfortable. Dog was whining at the foot of your bed, and Daryl had to keep yelling at him to be quiet. 

You looked down at the new scars on your arms. Visions of what happened flashed in your mind, and you had to look away. But of course, the one on your stomach was the most blaring. A direct threat to your life was cut into you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked at Daryl, who was preparing the other bandages. 

You set a hand on your belly, which looked almost normal with you lying on your back. It poked out a little, though. And you could tell the difference. 

“‘Aight, lemme see ya arm,” Daryl said as he knelt beside the bed. He carefully laid them out on your arms and then wrapped them. “They gonna be good soon. Maybe another two days.”

“Thank you,” You whispered as you stared at him. He looked so handsome it made your heart ache. When he went to work on your other arm, you brushed his hair back to caress his face. “You’re so pretty.”

His cheeks lit up, and he shook his head, which made you smile.

After tending to your other arm and then your stomach, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a slow kiss. His lips were soft against yours while his hand firmly gripped your waist. When you pulled away slowly, you left a few more quick but soft kisses against his lips. 

“I love you so much, handsome.”

Daryl nodded and kissed you again. You could tell something was wrong when he pulled away, but he said he would take Dog out one more time before you went to bed. 

You sighed when he left and sat up. The worst part that hurt was your nose, eyes, and stomach. But after a few days of rest, you felt better than you thought. Being shot was worse. Physically, at least. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see Alpha’s and Beta’s faces and hear your friends dying.

The room felt too quiet then, and you quickly closed the shutters before taking off your bra and putting on one of Daryl’s shirts. It was cold in the room, but you didn’t feel like sleeping with pants on, so you climbed into the bed and waited. 

And waited.

And waited some more. 

Finally you heard Dog barking at the door and then Daryl walked in. 

“What took you so long?”

“Ask Dog. Needed to smell every Goddamn thing. 

You watched Daryl lie out a blanket for the dog and then change. You wolf-whistled when he took off his shirt--which he replied to with a middle finger--and then finally, he shut the light off and got into bed next to you.  

The bed dipped as you moved closer to Daryl and forced your way into his arms. His arm wrapped around you tightly, and you looked up at him. “You haven’t said much.”

He hesitated for a second. “Just don’ know what to say, I guess.”

“You haven’t said anything about what happened. Talk to me.”

You saw the outline of his hand near his mouth, and you pulled it away to keep him from biting on his nail. He sighed loudly and looked at you, but you couldn’t see his face. “I wanna kill ‘em. Every single last one of ‘em. I want ‘em dead for what they did to ya. For all of it.”

“Me too.”

“I thought I killed him. The one who calls himself Beta. Thought I killed him in the elevator. If I had… maybe-.”

“Daryl, no.” You cut him off. “Don’t even start that game. This wasn’t your fault.”

“She did it to ya ‘cause I didn’ give up the girl. ‘S my fault. ‘M sorry, (Y/N).” Daryl said. His hand pressed against the side of your face as you sighed. You leaned forward, finding his lips in the dark.

“I won’t be able to make you think otherwise, and I’m not foolish enough to try. But Daryl, I don’t blame you. And if you need it, I forgive you. I don’t blame you at all. Okay?” You saw him nod. 

“Why didn’ ya tell me ‘bout the baby sooner? How long did ya know?”

You bit your lip and laid your head back down against his shoulder. “I had a hunch before Tora… before I went on the run with Rosita and Eugene. But I didn’t know for sure until we got back to the Hilltop after finding Lydia.”

“Are ya kiddin’ me? Ya knew, and ya still went out there? Ya put yourself at risk.”

You ran your hand along his bare chest to try and calm his anger down. “I wasn’t going to let you go out there alone, Daryl. I’m with you. Whenever and whatever.” 

He shook his head. “Ya can’t… not anymore. Ya gotta stay safe. If I lose ya, or the baby, I don’t….”

“You’re not going to. I’m fine.” You said. “But after this, once we get back to Alexandria, I promise you I will stay within the walls as long as you aren’t in any danger, Dixon.”

***

Daryl couldn’t sleep that night. Dog kept whining at the door because he didn’t like being cooped up, and there was too much on his mind. He kept replaying the image of finding you, again and again, over and over, in his head. 

He thought you were dead. The way you were covered in blood, limply tied up to a pike with his friends' heads above you. When he lifted your head, and your eyes didn’t open, he was so distraught he lost the small amount of food he’d eaten that day. But when Siddiq said they kept you alive, God, he was so relieved. 

And now you were here, sleeping next to him. You were injured, mentally and physically, so much so that he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to help you. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for you. He didn’t want to. If he did, he’d hunt down every last one of those freaks until they were dead. 

He sighed loudly and rolled over onto his stomach. The bed dipped as you turned as well. Your shirt had rolled up a bit in your sleep, and he could see your belly from the moonlight coming in.  

How could he not have noticed? He felt like an idiot. 

And he was furious with you. He wanted to scream at you for not telling him, even before you knew for sure. He couldn’t believe—well, he could—that you went out with Rosita and Eugene and then with him to find Henry. He wanted to throttle you over it. But he couldn’t. Not after everything you’d been through. And worst of all, he understood. He would do anything for you, no matter the situation, no matter what held him back. 

You started stirring in your sleep, and he felt you start twitching. 

“No…,” You mumbled. “Don’t…” 

“Hey, hey,” Daryl said, immediately trying to soothe you. He set his hand on the top of your head and used the other to gently shake you awake. 

Your mumbles got louder before you started thrashing on the bed. Your eyes finally opened as you sat up and were near hyperventilating. 

“Don’t touch me!” You screamed in horror as the last of your nightmare drifted away. 

“Ya okay,” Daryl said, sitting up. “Ain’ nobody here to hurt ya.” 

Even in the dark, he could see your expression as you looked at him, and it was like a punch to the gut when you started crying and fell into him. “I saw him. I was back there in the barn and.. and…” You sobbed. 

Daryl stayed quiet as he rubbed the back of your head. It was the only thing he could do to keep himself from going to find Beta and kill him. 

Your hands were holding onto his arm desperately, and he pulled you closer. 

“When I was in there, they had me tied up to watch them kill all our friends.” Your voice was a whisper, and Daryl froze. You hadn’t spoken a word about what happened until now. He had the general idea but hadn’t heard your story yet. “I tried to fight. I could kick some of them down, but they just got back up…

“And then, once they were dead, Alpha told me she would kill me first. But she didn’t wanna kill the baby. I guess the womb is a no-go, but once it’s out, it’s natural selection.” He thought about the baby Tammy Rose and Earl had and where the baby came from.

“They both did it. Alpha made the cuts, the threats. But Beta… he’s the one who beat me.” 

Daryl stiffened his arms around you and pressed his lips against the top of your head. He held back his tears to let you find comfort in his own strength. 

“I was so out of it. I could barely remember you guys finding me. I just remember thinking I would die and that you’d find me and…” Your voice trailed off. 

Daryl didn’t know what to say, not that that surprised him. He wasn’t the best at words unless they were in anger. 

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.”

His eyebrows furrowed together, and he pulled away to look at your face. “For what?”

“For everything. For putting myself in danger and not thinking about the consequences. For you to find me like that. I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy…” Your voice trailed off, and you set your hands on the sides of his face.

“Don’ even think ‘bout that, darlin’. Ya don’ worry ‘bout me.” 

He closed his eyes when you rubbed your soft fingers against his cheeks and felt his body calm down at the touch. Then you pressed your forehead against his lips, and he kissed it a few times. 

“I love you.” Your voice was a whisper, and he leaned his forehead against yours. He could hear how unsteady your breathing was.

“I love ya too, darlin’.”

Your hands were still tight around his face when you looked up at him. You kissed him gently, and Daryl felt his heart leap like every other time. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since he met you or the first kiss the two of you shared. It always made him feel the same. 

“Thank you.” Again, you whispered. 

“For what?”

“For being you. For being everything to me.” His eyes opened, and they met yours. “I used to think that we only work ‘cause of this world. That before, we wouldn’t have. But I know we would’ve. I would crave your touch like I do now, thinking about you all day. I think we were made for each other. Period.” 

Daryl was glad for the dark, so you couldn’t see how his eyes shone. Your words meant everything to him. They were everything he needed to hear and more. His heart was beating fast, and he bit his lip. 

“Ya really mean that?”

You nodded and leaned your forehead against his lips. He smiled before giving you a kiss. He loved when you did that. When you wanted physical touch and the way you told him without words. It was his language you spoke in, and he savored it. 

“We gonna be okay,” Daryl whispered against your skin. “We gonna get ya home to Alexandria, and we gonna be okay. I promise ya.” 

“I do wanna go home. I wanna be in Alexandria. This room reminds me of everything bad that happened to me.” 

“We can go to Alexandria soon, once ya able to. ‘Mma get ya home, baby girl.” 

You nodded and laid back against the bed, cuddling up to Daryl as soon as he joined you. “Sleep.” He said, rubbing his hand on your back. “Ya safe, Dog ain’ lettin’ anything touch us.” 

***

You and Daryl spent the next few days at the Kingdom before you were ready to go home. Your cuts were just scabs now, and your eyes were yellowing. Your nose would heal soon, but it was still broken with a bandage. 

Jerry made sure you and Daryl had more than enough food to last the way, and it was sad to say goodbye to his family. But it was worse saying goodbye to Carol, who was grieving. The two of you sat and cried for a good hour, and you apologized for not being able to protect Henry, but she wouldn’t hear it. She even came to see you and Daryl off. 

It took a day and a half to get to Alexandria on horseback, and when you finally saw those walls, you wanted to cry with happiness. Aaron wrapped you up in a big hug when you walked through the gate and hugged Daryl, too. 

And, of course, seeing the kids meant everything to you. Judith was ecstatic that you were home safe, and RJ held your hand the entire way back to your house. 

Michonne smiled as soon as she saw you and Daryl and gave you a hug. “I’m so happy to see you,” She said. Then she gave Daryl a hug. “And you, too.”

“We’re happy to be home.” You said. “How is everything here?”

You could see the light in her eyes dim a little, but she nodded. “We’re okay.” 

You grabbed Daryl’s hand and followed the Grimes family into your house. It smelt like home, and you felt yourself relax. 

“I spoke to Aaron. The third floor’s bedroom shared a bathroom with a second room. It’s not finished. But I thought it would give you two more space once the baby moves.” Michonne said.

You sat down at the center island, and Daryl gave you water within a minute. 

“Really?” You asked. “I never go up there, never even thought about it.” 

“The baby is gonna need windows. Can’t keep it in the basement.” Michonne gave Daryl a pointed look. 

“Baby’s a girl.” Daryl sat next to you.

Michonne smiled as Judith cheered, going on about how she was so happy to have a girl cousin, which only made you smile and run your hand against the back of her head. 

After catching up with them, you and Daryl walked to the third floor. You knew it was mostly where supplies were kept: clothes for the kids, winter clothes, and old baby stuff that would come in handy sooner rather than later.

The bathroom was finished, just missing supplies, and it needed painting, and there were broken tiles. Both bedrooms connected to the bathroom weren’t finished; some of the walls were still wood. But it was bigger than your bedroom downstairs, and it would offer more privacy. And you knew how much Judith and RJ didn’t want you to move out. 

“What do you think? We could finish it?” You asked, putting your hand on your stomach as you turned to look at him. 

Daryl was already staring at you. And he had been, from his spot, leaning against the doorframe. 

“I love ya.”

You smiled and walked over to him. “I love you, too, old man.”

#daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x reader #twd #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #daryl twd #daryl x you

[whisker-biscuit]

The Birds, The Bees, and The Bottles

Fandom: Psychonauts

Rating: T for mild language and discussions of underage drinking

Summary: Two teens are caught trying to sneak into a bar. Bob finally has a conversation he’s held off for far too long.

Because herbaphony is not the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family.

-------------------------------------

Bob’s phone rang at two in the morning. Judging by the jolly ringtone of Helmut singing Strawberry Fields Forever, it was his personal phone instead of his work one, and that was the real tip off to things being very, very wrong.

He woke up and groggily pulled out of his still-slumbering-husband’s arms to answer the little thing going off on his nightstand.

“H’lo?”

“Bob!” Truman’s voice came out far too loud for the time of night, and far too stressed. “Bob, I’m so sorry to wake you, but something happened with Lili. I need you to pick her up for me, please.”

The older man sat up, much more awake as worry and fear immediately rolled in his gut. Helmut finally began to stir beside him, sensing his partner’s agitation.

“Truman, what’s going on? Pick Lili up from where?”

“The city’s police precinct on Abbey Avenue. She – she called me, but I’m out of state and I wouldn’t get there for hours at least even if I left this instant. She’s not in danger!” He added hastily, hearing the concern before Bob could even voice it mentally. “She didn’t get hurt! She’s just…”

The way he tapered off, the way he hesitated, said more than words could.

“She just got herself into some trouble, and she needs someone to go get her.”

Helmut was sitting up now, and Bob felt the question cross their mental link.

 What happened?

 Truman needs me to pick Lili up from the police station.

“I’m up, I’m on my way right now,” He responded to his nephew verbally, heaving himself out of bed. His husband followed suit despite still looking extremely puzzled, bless him.

“Thank you so much, Bob. I’ll make it up to you as soon as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The older man waved a dismissive hand even though Truman wasn’t there to see it. “Family is s’pposed to do that for each other anyway.”

“Did I hear that right? Our peppy petunia had a run-in with the law?” Helmut asked as soon as his partner hung up. He paused, and in a lower tone – “she didn’t kill anyone, did she?”

“I don’t think it’s that serious,” Bob said, pulling a coat on over his sleep shirt. “But something tells me we still have a few things to worry about. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Ohohoh, no, don’t even think about hoofin’ it without me. We both know I’m the better driver.”

“Neither of us are very good drivers, Helmut.”

“Exactly! That little bit makes all the difference!”

The herbophanist sighed, charmed despite himself and the situation. “Alright, alright. Let’s not keep her waiting.”

The police precinct was nearly dead at this time of night. While it would’ve felt eerie to anyone else, Bob was grateful for the lack of people, and not just because he was still an introvert of the highest degree.

Two teenagers awaited them in the lobby, sitting on a bench together. One was hunched over and burning a hole in the ground with his downcast eyes. The other sat straight up, defiant, holding a glaring contest with the officer standing over them. When Bob entered the room first and met his great-niece’s eyes, her self-assuredness wavered for a brief moment. She hid the slip-up behind a wall of indifference.

“Lili,” he said softly. Then, just as softly but with a gruff tinge of surprise; “Razputin.”

There was no accusation in his voice, but the former scowled harder and the latter looked like he wanted to employ his invisibility. Bob studied them both a moment before his husband appeared and broke the tension with his mere presence.

“We’re here to bust you out, kiddos!” He announced with spread arms, cheerfully ignoring the looks he received from every person in the room.

“Are you Truman Zanotto?” Asked the officer who finally broke his gaze away from Lili to give them a disapproving once-over.

“No, I’m uh, I’m Bob Zanotto, and this is Helmut,” came the awkward reply. “Truman called me to pick Lili up. She’s my great-niece.”

A few seconds of silence passed as the officer made no move to do anything with that information. Bob cleared his throat.

“We’re, uh, listed in her emergency contacts for school?”

“I see. If you can just fill out some paperwork first, we can release her into your custody.”

The herbophanist watched the way Raz seemed to sink further in his seat at the mention of family contacts. The Aquatos were also out of state right now too, if he remembered correctly. Perfect timing for two minors getting up to mischief.

Well, up until they were actually caught.

“And…Razputin, too?” He asked, catching the teen’s startled gaze and giving him the mental equivalent of a thumbs-up.

The officer raised a brow. “Is he related to you, too?”

“Well, uh –”

“Yep!” Helmut interrupted, strolling right up to Raz and giving him a merry clap on the back. The teen had a physique comparable to most adult Olympic athletes, but even he nearly toppled forward from the force of such a big man. “He’s my third cousin, twice removed. Big family. Very close. Holidays are an experience, lemme tell ya!”

“Fine,” the officer pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, okay, I’ll make sure he gets cleared for release too. I’ll be right back.”

He stalked off, muttering something about it ‘being too damn early for this’, and the older couple turned to face Raz and Lili. Helmut steepled his fingers together to rest against his mustache.

“So! Now that Officer Spoil-Sport is gone, are we allowed to know what heinous crime has been committed in the night by my favorite pair of mischief-makers?”

The two glanced at each other. Raz was the one to break their silence.

“We, uh…got caught sneaking into a bar.”

Cold heat rushed through Bob’s core. Helmut blinked once, twice, then let out a boisterous chuckle.

“That’s it? Jesus! From the way you two were acting I thought you’d robbed the First National Bank.”

“…Helmut.” His husband murmured. The psi-king lost his mirth as he caught Bob’s eye.

“Ah…w-well, y’know, while I’m certainly glad we won’t hear about a righteous homicide in the news tomorrow, forgery ain’t exactly a humble hobby either.”

“It was just two IDs,” Lili muttered under her breath. “Not a big deal.”

The ice in her great-uncle’s heart turned frigid, but before he or Helmut could say anything to that, the officer was back. He shoved a handful of forms under Bob’s nose and the herbophanist fumbled to grab them before they all tumbled to the floor.

“Uh, uh, thank you.”

“Alright, we’re putting the pause on this conversation to make you free citizens again, but don’t think that means we’re done with it.” The Psi-King gave the teens the sternest look he could manage. “As soon as we get in the car, you two will have a lot of explaining to do.”

“O-Okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

------------------------------------

No one spoke a word as they got in the car and started the drive back.

Raz seemed content to continue his efforts to blend in with the background of his seat, still not meeting anyone’s eyes, and Lili stared out the window with her chin in her hand, leaning against the car’s backdoor and letting the lights of the city bathe her in neon sickness.

Helmut, bless his soul, dutifully kept the radio going while he drove, changing the station to something more mellow whenever a song started getting a little too upbeat for the collective mood of the vehicle. Bob sat in the passenger side with his arms folded awkwardly. His brain was buzzing, dreading the inevitable conversation he needed to have with his great-niece and trying to figure out how he was going to go about it.

It surprised them all when Raz spoke over the music.

“It was my idea.”

The two adults glanced at each other, then through the rearview mirror at the fidgeting teen.

“Your idea to go looking for a drink? Or to sneak into a bar to do it?” Helmut asked, turning off the radio.

“Both.”

He still wasn’t meeting their eyes. Bob sighed through his nose.

“I don’t believe you.”

Razputin’s head finally snapped up to stare at him in shock for the fast call on his bluff. “I’m telling the truth!”

“I think you’re only telling part of it, kid.”

“No! I’m telling all of it.”

“Razpu-”

“Oh, come off it, Raz,” Lili snapped a little too loud, making the whole car jump. “Quit trying to take the fall for me. It was my idea to try the stupid fake ID thing, okay? Happy now?”

“Wh – uh, who said anything about being happy about it?” Helmut asked, legitimately confused.

“Look. Neither of us had anything to do tonight, and we were bored, so Raz suggested getting a drink somewhere, but Adam and Lizzie are out of town so we couldn’t ask them.” She crossed her arms and spoke without any inflection. “So, we went out but no one would let us do anything cause we’re minors. I thought that was stupid, because we’re agents same as any of you, so I came up with the sneaking-in part. We only got caught cause one of the bartenders recognized Raz from a show.”

There were a lot of loaded things to parse through from that explanation, but Bob’s mind stalled on one particular detail.

“Adam and Lizzie give you two alcohol?”

“Not…often,” Raz admitted. “Just once or twice, when we asked.”

“Do you mean like, a literal once or twice, or a…an estimated once or twice?”

“Did Dad put you up to this?” Lili shot back. “It was just a few times, like he said. What’s with the inquisition?”

“…Lili –”

 “Raz.”

“Okay!” Helmut proclaimed as he slapped his hand against the steering wheel in boisterous aggression. “Who wants some ice cream?”

Everyone stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Cause I’m really feeling some chocolate-vanilla swirl right now. Basic bitch style. Right? Who’s with me?”

Silence.

“Great! Look at that, open Dairy King right there, better take advantage of this opportunity before it slips through our fingers like the melting ice cream we’re all gonna have in about five minutes!”

The psi-king swung into the parking lot in a frenzy and herded the car crew inside before any of them could come out of their shock long enough to protest. It was only as Bob was staring up at fifteen flavors of oversaturated sugary goodness that he realized what had just happened.

He couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief over his husband’s diversion. The tension that had been boiling over was cooled significantly by the sudden non-sequitur, and while the teens were rather half-hearted about picking out their sweet treats, there was no longer a risk of an explosion happening.

Metaphorically and literally.

Helmut caught his spouse’s eye with a meaningful look at Lili the moment all of them had their orders in hand, then slung his arm around Razputin’s shoulders and steered him away. “C’mon my lad! Nothing like the cool night air of three in the morning to keep your Hurricane ™ properly chilled!”

The poor boy had no choice but to let himself be pulled outside, leaving the two Zanottos standing awkwardly in the dingy restaurant. Bob gave a nervous scratch at his chin under his beard.

“How about we, uh, find a seat somewhere?”

Lili couldn’t fully cross her arms while holding ice cream, but she did a good job of making it work anyway. “Sure.”

They sat in a booth in the farthest corner from the front counter. Both great-niece and great-uncle stared at their respective sweet treats as if they could teleport them out of this situation. Bob glanced out the window and saw Helmut and Raz standing outside of the car. The former was on one knee with his hand on the teen’s shoulder, speaking earnestly but inaudibly, and the latter was scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the asphalt.

“Are you going to lecture me?” Lili finally cut through the silence.

Bob turned back to her. “No. Not really.”

“No?” She broke her gaze away from her ice cream just a little bit, eyeing him with surprise. “Then why did Helmut take Raz and leave us alone?”

She was so perceptive, so smart. And yet, still so young.

“Well, I… I still want to talk to you about what happened. I’m just not very, good, at this kind of thing.” He took his spoon and absentmindedly began drawing a flower in his soft-serve. “You already know what you did wasn’t a good idea, right? So I don’t think a lecture would help things any on that front.”

She didn’t respond. He continued.

“It’s less about the fake ID and more…the reasons you made the fake ID. Does that make sense?”

“I guess so, but I know what I’m doing, Uncle Bob. I’m not going to drink irresponsibly.”

The herbophanist shook his head. “But you’ll do irresponsible things to be able to drink in the first place.”

“That’s not –” Lili didn’t have a good rebuttal. She folded her arms and grumpily started eating her cherry chocolate delight. “Whatever. It’s two different things, anyway.”

Against his better judgement, Bob began picking at his own food as he thought about how best to bring the subject back up without making the teen defensive again. Spoons clicking against teeth was the only sound between them for a solid minute.

Finally, an epiphany.

“Did Truman ever…tell you anything, about your great-grandma?”

The girl paused with a bite halfway up to her mouth. She frowned, confused. “Grandma Tia? Not much. Just that she died when he was a baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she did.” He ran a tired hand over his face. The ache in his heart might have long-since healed into a scar, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when pressed. “She passed away when I was nineteen. The doctors told me it was liver failure.”

He didn’t have to say anything else. Lili’s mouth thinned and she put her spoon down, uncomfortable.

“When I…found out the reason behind her death, I was horrified by it. It didn’t make sense to me why she would willingly do something that hurt her so badly, especially when I was right there to love her and help her. It felt like a betrayal that she never got help or made herself stop. I was…disgusted by the mere thought of doing anything like that.”

Bob took a moment to breathe and wipe his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but better safe than sorry.

“It sounds pretty hypocritical when I say it now, doesn’t it?”

His great-niece only gave him a hesitant look.

“Anyway, uh, where was I…” He worried his lip. “Oh, right. I told myself that I’d never touch the stuff after that. I was angry at what she’d done, and I was determined not to have the same ‘weakness’, so to speak. As you know, it, uh, it didn’t last long. I was at a college party barely a year later when I was invited by some friends to drink with them. I didn’t make human friends very easily back then – actually, I still don’t – so I was a little desperate to keep them. It turned out to be pretty hard whiskey, so I got hammered.”

The man leaned back in his seat, staring at the patterns in the booth table.

“Back then, no one really knew how alcoholism could run in a family. Everyone thought it was a personal choice to keep drinking. It wasn’t even classified as an addiction yet. So I didn’t know how susceptible I was, or how careful I had to be. I’d spend months not having a single drink, thinking I was fine and could handle myself, and then I’d get plastered for a week at parties and bars and God knows what else, and it would take me even longer to get myself to stop again. It was like that even when I was with Ford and his gang. It wasn’t until I started dating Helmut that I started trying to change those habits. I’d never met anyone who loved me so unconditionally that I wanted to be a better person for them, until him. And it worked for a while.

“Well, barring our wedding, of course. I got shitfaced at the reception. It was embarrassing afterwards, but Helmut told me it made our cake-eating ceremony a hell of a great time.”

Lili snorted, and it was accompanied by a tiny upturn of her lips. Then it dropped as her expression became solemn. “And then…everything with Maligula happened, right?”

“Yeah. I think you know the rest of that story.”

“Uh-huh.”

Great-niece and great-uncle sat together for a while, just thinking about it all.

“I know I have to be more careful drinking than a lot of people, Uncle Bob,” Lili finally said at length. “My dad warned me about it when I was old enough to ask.”

“Truman is a good dad,” he murmured in response.

“The best dad.”

“Definitely the best dad.”

More silence.

“I didn’t mean to worry you and him,” she continued. “Or scare you. I know it was dumb to do what we did tonight.”

Bob looked at her, and she gave a conceding sigh.

“Okay, it was dumb to do a lot of what we’ve been doing with this stuff. That doesn’t mean I’m not being careful.”

“Kid, it’s not always just a matter of being careful. I thought I was being careful. I thought that for years and years, and when I finally realized I wasn’t, I convinced myself I could stop any time I wanted to, and kept up the same patterns anyway. That’s what I’m trying to get you to understand. I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. I’m just worried about you.”

Lili closed her eyes with a grimace. “I know. I’m sorry, Uncle Bob.”

“Hey, kiddo, look at me.” He waited until she did so. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not disappointed, either. That’s your dad’s job. I get it, is what I’m saying. It gives you a buzz, and it’s fun and exciting, and you just wanted to have a good time with your, uh…”

Bob leaned in a bit, and dropped his voice to a stage whisper.

“Is Raz still your boyfriend?”

“Wha –” her cheeks went red. “Yes, he is!”

“Alright, sorry, I’m just always out of the loop. No one ever tells me when these things change or not. Anyway,” he continued before she could get brighter than the cherries in her ice cream. “I’m just saying that you gotta be more than careful with this kind of thing. Everyone should be, really, but especially people like us. Plants aren’t the only thing that runs in the Zanotto family, unfortunately, so we just have to be aware of it and act accordingly.”

The teen turned this over in her mind. He could practically see the gears moving. When she looked at him again, it was with a slow, contemplative nod.

“No more late-night bar-hopping?” Her great-uncle asked.

“No more late-night bar-hopping.” She answered, sincere.

“Good.” He looked outside. Helmut and Raz were both lying on the front of the car, pointing out stars to each other. The sight made him smile. “Come on, we’ll work on that whole thing about Adam and Lizzie giving you alcohol another time, when it’s not three in the morning. For now, let’s rejoin our boys again and go get some rest, okay?”

“Okay.” Lili slid out of the booth and tentatively took her family member’s hand. His fingers squeezed hers in reassurance. “And...thanks, Uncle Bob.”

“Well, what can I say. Us weird Zanotto plant people hafta look out for each other, right?”

“Right.”

They walked out together, hand-in-hand.

------------------------------

A/N: I knew from promotional material that we'd be going into the mind of someone struggling with alcoholism, but Bob's Bottles punched me hard in the gut. It's probably my favorite mind in the game, both because it's visually gorgeous and because it hit a little close to home with some of the themes, like generational alcoholism and how the addiction can make someone a shell of themselves.

I wrote half of this three weeks ago and then found myself really struggling to finish it because it brought up a lot of old feelings I thought I'd sorted through a long time ago.

Psychonauts, man.

#psychonauts 2 #psychonauts 2 spoilers #Bob Zanottto #Helmut Fullbear #Lili Zanotto #Razputin Aquato #Bob Zanotto/Helmut Fullbear #psychonauts

[fatiguing-thoughts]

Golden Eyes - Paul Lahote x Reader

A/N: I thought of this last night when I had trouble sleeping. Can’t wait for you all to hate me, but I thoroughly enjoy it and encourage you to read until the end.  It’s kinda a sad one folks, but I give to you a soft Paul 

Paul and I sat in the meadow as we had grown accustomed to. He had found it on patrol a few months ago, so now we come here as often as possible, now that the threats of impending vampiric doom was dwelling since Bella and Edward got married a few days ago. It was time for everyone to breathe for what felt like the first time in forever. 

I inhaled the fresh scent of teakwood cologne on Paul’s chest. My head rested on his bicep as we laid down. Simply enjoying the company of one another, laughing at each other’s stupid jokes, and giggling whenever he whispers yet another sweet nothing into my ear. 

The light shone on us almost magically, it almost felt surreal. I felt the warmth from the sun’s rays shining on my skin, pairing with Paul to make the almost chilly day bearable. 

The deep rumbling of his chest sent waves of happiness throughout my body, his laugh was the air I needed to breathe. Paul really made me feel things I never knew were possible. 

Suddenly, the air grew quiet. The sounds of nature came to a halt. We no longer heard the sounds of birds nor the rustling of the wind. Paul’s chest tightened and he inhaled deeply. His large body turned over onto mine, crushing me into the ground. 

“Paul?” I asked, voice trembling. 

“Shhh.” 

He looks around, trying to find the source of whatever killed our blissful moment. Though that only lasted a few seconds before I heard his voice once again. 

“What’re you doing here, Irina?” Paul asks, letting himself get off of my chest.

I turn and see the woman I recognized from Bella’s wedding. She stared daggers at us all night. 

I looked into her golden eyes, and I saw nothing but pure disdain. She was not happy to see us. 

“I came to apologize to Carlisle for my behavior at the wedding.” She smirks, looking over at me. 

“Well, you’re about fifteen miles away from their house.” Paul says, growing more uneasy by the minute.

He stood in front of me, I began to stand myself but my legs were trembling with fear. 

She wouldn’t be stopping to see us for any good reason. She might’ve actually came to apologize to Carlisle, but smelling us out here might’ve presented too good of an opportunity for her. 

“You killed him.” She scoffs, her golden eyes burning holes into Paul.

I knew Paul wasn’t trying to escalate the situation, as he was trying to avoid more conflict and was hoping she would just leave. But it was after then he knew that he had to phase. 

“He tried to kill Bella.” Paul reminds her. 

I latched onto his bicep in fear. 

“He wanted to be like us!” She yells, beginning to walk closer.

“Move back.” Paul whispers, shoving me backwards. 

His body bursts into one of a large grey wolf, snarling. He backs up closer to me, protectively standing in front of my trembling frame. 

“Cute.” Irina scoffs.

Before I could even blink, she was running at us. Thankfully Paul was able to actually see her as he met her in the middle. He threw her into a nearby tree, snapping it in half. Paul runs over to where she landed, hoping to just destroy her. 

“Where the hell are the rest of them?” I mumble under my breath, panic fully setting in. I tore my eyes from Paul and Irina and look into the tree line, hoping to see the rest of the pack. 

Irina was a seasoned vampire, she knew what she was doing. I had all my faith in Paul, but I worried for his safety greatly. 

A loud wine caused my blood to run cold. It was Paul. Irina had crushed his ribs. 

“Paul!” I scream, almost running over, but I couldn’t bring myself to run-- it was like my legs were made of concrete. 

It was then that my eyes almost bulged from my skull. I watched as she grabbed him from the neck, killing him instantly. I watched as his lifeless body slumped to the ground, his eyes rolling. 

“I’ll protect you until my dying breath.” The memory of Paul’s voice rang through my head, echoing around the walls of my skull. He meant those words more than anyone else would ever have. 

I immediately fell to my knees, screaming but nothing came out. I tried to run over, but I couldn’t get up from my collapsed state. I was stuck to look into the love of my life’s dead eyes. 

Until she stalked over to me, far too slowly. She grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground with an enormous smile on her face. 

I watched as the rest of the pack charged out of the treeline, though it wasn’t before she bit me. 

I fell to the ground as Irina was grabbed by Sam and Jacob-- being destroyed. 

I was flailing on the ground, convulsing as the venom surged through my body. It felt like there was no longer blood traveling through my veins-- it felt like fire, like corrosive acid. I was looking around, screaming-- trying to get up and run to Paul. But I couldn’t, my eyes simply just faded to black-- ignoring the signals my brain was attempting to send to them. Suddenly, I was void of all sight and sound. 

Suddenly, I hear my screaming again and I’m sweating profusely. Anxiety coursing through my veins. 

“(Y/N), wake up. Please.” Paul begs, gently shaking me awake. 

My eyes shoot open and see a worried Paul leaning over me, clutching onto me for dear life. I immediately grab him, pulling him into me. 

“(Y/N), you had a nightmare. You’re okay, I’m here. I’m here, baby.” He whispers, raking his fingers through my hair as he held me close. 

He picks me up, placing me in his lap, shushing me as I sobbed into his chest.

“I got you, baby. I’m here. It was just a nightmare. It’s okay.” His raspy voice soothes. 

“P-Paul.” I choke on my sobs.

“Shhhh, talk about it when you calm down.” His warm hand rubbing circles on my back, my head on his chest. 

Hearing his heart beat was the best thing I had ever heard. I was so grateful to hear it, to feel his chest warm. To see him alive. 

We sat there for a few minutes, waiting until my uncontrollable sobs turned into slight sniffles.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He whispers into my ear. 

I nod, pulling away to look at him. I felt that it was better to tell him, afraid this dream was an omen of sorts. Maybe to consult with Alice. 

“I’m just so happy to see you.” I press my forehead onto his. 

His warm hands stayed on my waist, his eyes never tearing away from mine, patiently waiting for me to tell him about my nightmare. 

_______________________________

Word Count: 1166

A/N: yeah sorry I love you guys tho, don’t kill me lmaooooo I just wanted a little bit of a angsty thing, I wanted a shocker. I wanted to scare some of ya. Please lemme know if you enjoyed or not. Including a very soft Paul. 

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote imagine #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #quil ateara #embry call #leah clearwater #seth clearwater #twilight #twilight x reader #JUST READ TO THE FUCKIN END OK

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Stay With Me (Pt. 07 of 09)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Daryl found you surrounded by the dead, stuck in the backseat of a car. You were wishing for death to take you away for quite a while now, but, as you slid back and forth into consciousness, there was only one thing keeping you alive. Him, the man with blue, worried eyes and kind voice. Your beaten up body was ready to give up, too wounded and broken to keep going. But this man, who went out of his way to save your life is the only thing in the world holding you up. And, because of him, you feel something you haven't felt in a very long time: hope. Wherever he's taking you, you want to get there, and not only to be buried. For what it feels like the very first time, you want to live. He takes you back to Alexandria, but even there, the nightmares and the terror from all the torture and pain you've been through keeps creeping closer, and Daryl, your hero, is the only one who can keep that all away.

Warnings: Mentions and description (not graphic) of past abuse; post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD); some violence at the end of the story (a little bit graphic, but not so much); blood.

<- Previous part (06)

Next part (08) ->

{The Walking Dead Masterlist}

I want to thank my awesome friend @jodiereedus22, who helped me (and still does) a lot to get this story done. She's also a writer and she's amazing so please go check her work!!

×

If You Love Me...

You've seen death. Often, cruel, cold. From afar and from up close. You felt it, in many different ways. At first when your family passed away, then your friends... And you felt it in your body too, in the months you spent held captive, wishing for it. And in the car, as you waited for it.

But it's different now. You were holding onto Melanie when she stopped moving, stopped breathing, the second after the baby cried for the very first time. Her whole body went numb, turned off. She knew her pregnancy was dangerous. Melanie is old, and she had a heart condition. That was the reason why she never tried for a baby before. But now, with the world on its end, she decided to try. Death is certain, she told you once, and if she died in the process of delivering her child, she'd die happy. With a purpose.

But of course, you never thought it would actually happen.

The commotion that followed happened in a blur. Carol passed you the child in a hurry, pushing you out of the room.

You know what happens now. Daryl told you a while ago. Everyone who dies comes back. Everyone is infected. You try not to think about it, to focus on life instead of death.

And that's what you're holding in your arms now. Life. Tiny and fresh, his little cries making your body move out of instinct, slowly swinging from side to side until he's quiet again.

When it's done, and Melanie's dead body won't raise up again, Carol comes and you help her clean the baby. Luke, after her late husband. Denise is quick to gather all the baby supplies needed, and she starts telling you and Carol what to do. Carol already knows, of course, because of her daughter Sofia.

It's quite obvious Carol will take care of the child. It's implied by how Denise is so focused on her, talking fast, gesturing a lot. She's a little funny actually, and easy to talk to. Once little Luke is clean and dressed in his first clothes, in a pale shade of blue, Carol picks him up and he starts crying, with powerful lungs. She starts mumbling, talking to the baby, but he doesn't stop.

“Alright, alright.” She whispers. “Shh.”

“Does he need anything?” You ask, watching as Carol bounces him slowly.

“We did everything. Maybe he's in pain.” Denise removes some of the hair that has fallen on her face. “Let's take him to the infirmary so I can take a look.”

“Ok.” Carol agrees, raising her voice above the baby's cries. “(Y/N), can you carry him? These bags are too heavy for you and–” You quickly step forward, once again welcoming the baby into your arms “–you still need to be careful with your...” Her voice fades as Luke stops crying, his tears shining on his cheeks.

He's so light you feel like you're barely holding anything. “He stopped,” Denise mutters. “I don't think he was in pain.”

Looking down at the baby, you stand there, motionless. “What do you think it was?” You ask in a low voice.

“Uhm, I don't know. Maybe he likes you.” She mumbles, hands on her hips. “Carol, do you think you can take care of him? If not we'll have to find a family willing to adopt.”

“We can.” You burst out, because suddenly the idea of giving Like into another family sounds absurd. “Can we? I'm sure you can teach me and I'll help.”

“We sure can.” She affirms, and you smile. “Let's get going now. They will soon come to bury Melanie.” Her voice gets darker in the end, heavier.

The whole city attempted to Melanie's funeral. You stood there, beside Carol, little Luke in your arms. You felt anxious when some people came to meet the baby, offering you their condolences and any help you might need now. But eventually, she's buried, and you can't help but let a few tears roll down. Melanie was always kind and wise, and it breaks your heart that Luke won't get to know his mother.

In the next days, Carol has been teaching you everything about babies. Teaching you how to look after him. The baths, how to prepare the baby bottle, how to deal with fevers, and stuff like that. You make a hell lot of questions, eager to know every single thing you can.

Your days revolve around Luke, what is good because you don't have time to think about Daryl and the possibility of him not wanting anything with you. The possibility that those warm nights in his arms are over.

Carol helps you get into a good schedule with the baby. You take turns waking up when he starts crying at night, but despite him growing used to Carol, she takes longer to rock him to sleep again. Luke feels better around you, she says. And honestly, you don't mind one bit. Carol assures you the cryings will get worse. Newborn babies sleep a lot, and with time, he'll need less sleep and that's when things will get hectic. But you're ok with it. You're mesmerized by him, so tiny, so innocent. A beacon of light in such a dark world. It's like a miracle to have a baby here, in an Earth where now the dead can walk again.

As the days pass by, you notice that you easily learn your way with Luke. Carol calls it mother instinct, but you never thought you had it in you... You never really thought about kids, but now... Maybe you could have one...

This thought reminds you of Daryl. Having a baby means you'll have to be very intimate with someone. And you can't imagine being intimate with anyone who isn't Daryl. Sighing, you look through the window of Luke's bedroom. It used to be Daryl's, but since he's sleeping in yours, Carol thought it would be ok to change things. So all of his stuff were reallocated to give Luke his space. Even though he doesn't need much now, being so little.

You haven't told Daryl about it yet. Your talks are always brief, just enough for you to know he's alright and for him to know you're alright as well.

Today, another sweet and slow morning, you're at the couch, a sleepy Luke in your arms. Carol is doing the dishes and getting some stuff ready for lunch. The kids will be coming, so she has something special planned. You'll help her in a few moments when Luke is asleep enough so you can leave him in his crib upstairs.

“I'm going to make cookies for the afternoon. What do you think?” She asks from the kitchen in a low voice.

“The kids will love it.” You say, turning your head to look at her. “When are you going to tell me your secret ingredient?”

“Never, obviously.” She answers and you giggle. “You would have to–” Her voice fades suddenly, and you listen as she puts something down. “Honey, I think they're back.”

“What?” Your heart skips a beat. “Are you sure?”

“Let me check.” She says and walks out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Well, not alone. Looking down at Luke, you smile when he moves his hand, grabbing something in his sleep. He's so oblivious to the war happening in your heart now. In your brain. This is it. He's back one day earlier than planned, but even though you knew the time was coming, you couldn't prepare yourself for it. Breathing deeply, you caress Luke's forehead, very lightly as if he's a fragile little thing. His mouth moves a little as if he's trying to speak and you giggle.

“What are you dreaming about, little one?” You ask him, wondering if babies can even dream. Maybe Denise knows, you'll ask her later.

“(Y/N).” His voice startles you, and you immediately look up from Luke, meeting Daryl's blue eyes as he stands by the door.

“D.” Smiling you quickly scan through his body, relieved not to find any sign of injury. “You're back.”

“Aye.” He mumbles. “Ya always have a kid with ya when I come back” He adds, stepping closer to the cough and giving the baby a look. “Who's this?”

“This is Luke. Melanie's baby, she... She couldn't make it.” The happiness fades a little, and Daryl seems a little sad as well.

“Was it her heart?”

“Yeah. It just stopped.” Sighing, you keep your eyes on Daryl. His face softens a little. “She told me once you know... That she'd rather die bringing her child to the world than in any other way but I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Who's gonna take care of him now?”

“I'm the designated mother.” You mumble, smiling.

Daryl looks up from the kid, eyes meeting yours. “By who?” You see a hint of anger in his eyes and you know why. He thinks someone pushed into it, and Daryl hates when people push you into things. Since the very beginning. He did have a fight with Rick when he first showed up here, wanting you to speak about your past. Now it's just a little bit worse. Daryl is very protective, and you can't help but smile to know this hasn't changed. Not yet.

“By him.” Tilting your head to the kid, you giggle when Daryl's face changes, softening again. “Kid likes me, what can I do?”

“Huh.”

“Wanna hold him?”

“Lemme shower. ‘M covered in mud and I don't wanna to give ya or the baby an infection or anythin’.” He says, already moving upstairs.

“Alright.” Settling down again, you bounce Luke a little, but by the looks of it, he's in deep sleep already. “What happens now, little one? Can you please tell me?” In a low voice, you ask him. If only anyone could answer that...

“Where's Daryl?” Carol asks as she comes inside, closing the door.

“Showering.”

“Let me put him in his crib.” She comes to the couch, and you carefully lies Luke in her arms. “You two need to talk.”

“Yeah.” You mutter, watching as she moves upstairs.

You don't want to talk to Daryl. Maybe you shouldn't have spoken to him about your feelings. What if it's too early? Things were perfect before and you don't think you can take it if he wants to... End things? Change things? “Shit.” Quickly, you get up, leaving the house. Running away is not your thing. Not when it comes to Daryl. The only running there is, is when you run into his arms. But now, you just can't. And you don't know where to go. So you just start walking downstreet, trying not to think too much. There isn't anywhere to hide here. If Daryl wants to find you, he will.

“(Y/N)!” Someone calls, and after the usual terror, you recognize Maggie's voice, turning on your heels to look at her. “Daryl's back. Go see him.”

“I-I know.” Stuttering, you look at the street, making sure Daryl isn't anywhere he can see you before you make your way over her. “I just...”

“I thought you two were ok. Before he left I swear to God I thought you'd kiss him.” She climbs down the few steps of the porch, but you gesture for her to go back inside.

“We are.” Maggie has become a close friend. And if you don't talk about this things with someone, nobody will be able to help. “Uhm... I...”

“C'mon in.” She opens the door and steps aside. “Glenn isn't here so don't worry.”

“Ok.” Sighing, you step in, moving to the couch and taking a seat.

“Now...” Maggie comes and sits beside you, a leg folded under herself. “...why aren't you in Daryl's arms right now?”

It's not a secret anymore, Daryl and you. It eventually got out of the house, you don't really know how. “Because I... Goddamn it! I told him I wanted us to be a couple. Right before he left so he could think about it and now I'm terrified of what he'll say and I'm running from him.” You speak fast, hands covering your face. “I freaking love him.”

That's it. The words just came out. You freeze, breathing fast, the weight of the acknowledgment making a few tears roll down. You lie back on the couch, eyes on the ceiling.

“So... Do you want me to act surprised?”

“I want him to love me too.” It comes out as a whisper because this can't be heard by anyone. Not even by Maggie. But that already happened.

“Daryl allowed you to touch him. In public. And he touched you. Again, in public.” Maggie touches your leg, shaking it a little to get your attention, only stopping when you sit up again. “If he didn't love you back, that wouldn't happen.”

“Daryl... May like me. He's very protective and I love that since... Well, since all that shit happened but... Maybe this is it.”

“I don't think so. Daryl always makes sure everyone is safe, but with you it's different.”

Sighing, you wonder if you should believe that. Maybe, if you keep your hopes low, you won't get hurt.

No. You'll get hurt anyways. “I think I should go...”

“Yeah, he'll come here looking for you.”

“Maybe...” Pushing yourself back at your feet, you take a deep breath. “I'll... Take a walk.”

“You know he'll find you, right?” She says, following you to the front door.

“I know... Thanks, Maggie.” Smiling at her, you walk away, always careful in the steps before heading to the garden on the West side of the city.

There are some people here, not much though, but you still keep a distance. By the wall, there's a small square, if you can call it that, with some benches and threes. The kids come to play here some days, but it's not their favorite place. Taking a sit, strategically by a three so it'll hide you, you cross your legs. The wind makes you shiver since the thought of bringing a coat didn't even cross your mind. But it's beautiful here, and lonely. Few people come here, and you rather be alone. At least now, to think.

“Never thought ya would run from me.” His voice makes your heart skip a bit, and you do feel a little guilty. You're not sure why though. Silently, you watch as he comes to stand before you.

“I'm not...” You're were running away. No reason to try to dissimulate. “I just needed some time. Thought you would need some too, so...”

“Had plenty of time out there.” Raising your head to look at him, you can't shake the feeling he always brings you. Safety, warmth, home...

“Yeah... But you don't have to... I mean, what I said before, you don't have to...”

“We need ta’ talk. But not here, c'mon.” He reaches out his hand and you take it, pulling yourself up. “Ya need me ta’ carry ya?”

“No, I can walk.” If he's about to end things, the best you can do it put some distance already.

You walk at the fastest pace you can, eager to just end this. To know what happens now and work from there.

The moment you get to the house, Carol leaves, telling you Luke is asleep and he won't be up for a few hours.

So you go back to the couch, sitting down and bracing yourself, preparing for the worst. Daryl sits beside you but doesn't say anything. Bouncing your leg, you curse yourself for what you did. You know Daryl isn't the one to talk about his feelings, and you don't want to push him to.

“I'm sorry for what I said. I shouldn't have–”

“Ya wanna be with me. Why?” He bursts out, and you look at him. Daryl has his elbows on his knees, eyes on the floor.

“Because I–” Are you really gonna say it? Can you tell him that? Isn't it too soon? Or too late? “I really, really like you... More than a friend or a protector.”

“Ya shouldn't. ‘M way older than ya and yer–”

“Daryl, it's not up to you to decide what I should or shouldn't do. Or feel.” Cutting him short, you turn your body towards him, touching his arm, relieved when he finally looks up into your eyes. “I know you think very low of yourself. I'm well aware of the age thing, but I don't care. What I need to know is how you feel about me.” Making a pause, you take a deep breath. This isn't easy, but you have to talk. To somehow make it easier for him, if that's even possible. “It's alright if you don't. I-I know you don't like talking about this, but I just need to know if... If there's anything else... If you feel this way about me too...”

“I like ya, (Y/N).” He says in a very low voice, you can barely hear it. “And ya shouldn't have feelings for me.”

“Daryl...”

“Nah, lemme talk.” He cuts you off, faking an angry tone. Raising an eyebrow, you nod. “Ya shouldn't. Yer... Young an’ pretty an’ I can't ruin ya. Ya deserve someone better than me.”

“I don't want anyone else, Dixon.” It breaks your heart when he talks like that. You wish he could see himself through your eyes. Who he really is, not this messed up an image he has of himself. “And you won't ruin me. I don't even know what you meant by that, but that's not true, Daryl, I... If you want this... If you want me, you won't ruin me. You'll make me very, very happy.”

You're happy you managed to say all that, despite the many pauses and all the stuttering. There is much more to say, but the time will come. For now, everything you need is to know how he feels.

“I think yer making a mistake, but... I've been thinkin’ and... I don't like bein’ away from ya.”

A smile starts making its way to your lips. “Does it mean that...”

“Yeah, I guess it means that.” He affirms, still not wanting to say the words.

“...Are we going to be a couple?” You have to be sure before celebrating it.

“Yeah.”

“Like... boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Ya need me ta’ drawn it to ya?” He bursts out, an annoyed expression on his face.

Giggling, you raise an eyebrow. You love this side of Daryl and you hope to see more of it. “Sassy Daryl is one of my favorite Daryls.” You say, moving to his lap, straddling his hip. A second later you realize what you did, your cheeks burning. Daryl is red too, and he's not sure what to do with his hands, but you soon feel them on your waist. “So... Oh, I don't know if you noticed but your room was claimed by a newborn child.”

“Yeah, I noticed the crib.”

“So you're now permanently stuck in my bedroom. Hope it's not a problem.” Smiling, you wrap your arms around his neck. You then realize you haven't kissed him yet. And, hell, you want to.

“Not at all.”

“Can I kiss you?” It comes out suddenly, too fast, and you look down, wondering if he can listen to your heart since it's beating insanely fast.

“Ya want to?” He almost stutters, his voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah...” Nodding, you move closer, eyes closing, and your skin burning in anticipation.

You jump to hear the front door opening, head immediately turning to find Carol. Her eyes go wide at the sight of you and Daryl like this...

“I–”

“Carol, I need you to go away. Like right now.” You tell her, urgency in your voice. You don't want the moment to pass, and you just need to kiss him. Right now. It's like a matter of life and death. “Please.” You decide to add.

“Alright, alright.” Raising her hands, she quickly goes upstairs, and you settle down again, hoping Daryl hasn't changed his mind.

“Ok... Can I–”

You feel his lips on yours before you can finish, and you don't mind at all. Pushing yourself closer to him, you deepen the kiss, completely inebriated by him. The pace is slow at first, as if you're getting to know each other, feeling each other, but then it changes, faster, full of need. You get the sensation he doesn't believe this is happening, by the way his arms hold you as if you would disappear. You won't. This is where you want to be, right here, with him.

×

@funeral-7 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @twdeadfanfic @soraitmnt @winchester-angel @bvbwestfall @shawtygonemad @cameronsails @pulplorrd @browneyes528 @btsiguess-kpop @a-dlv @bibibeauelle

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #imagin daryl dixon #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead x reader #imagine the walking dead #the walking dead imagine

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 31)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: Hope you like this one! There’s a greek dress mentioned, and it is inspired by this one and this one

Thank you for reading lovelies, please lemme know what you think! Love ya!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​ @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @pieces-by-me​ @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss   @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter @receptionistfromhell

The sun is starting to leave way for the moon when the door to the shop is opened again. Words about being closed are leaving Valdís’ lips but she catches the figure of the Prince and saves them.

Hvitserk greets her and Freydis with murmured kindness, and turns to you with questions and also an apology in his eyes. Reminded of the last time you saw him, when he left you in the training fields after angering his brother, you think he may feel guilty, so you offer a smile as you approach him.

“What is the matter?”

He offers only a half-hearted shrug around his easy smile, “I will let you guess.”

“The King calls for me.” You say in a sigh. The Prince laughs quietly, nodding his head.

“Yeah,” Hvitserk says, offering you your cloak from the hanger by the door, “You didn’t need your premonition for that, did you?”

As you walk away from the shop with Hvitserk by your side, you cannot help but asking, “Is something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, but…we must talk of war, and Ivar wants you to be there,” After a few moments of silence, you hear him speak again, pride shining through his tone, “My plan to avoid more losses than necessary when raiding Strepshire, it pulled through.”

“What do you mean?”

“I had contacts that had traveled to that city, some even that had been called to bring forth some of the Lord’s more…extravagant tastes.”

“Should I ask?” You ponder out loud, a small furrow of your nose. The Prince chuckles.

“No,” He sentences without hesitation. With a deep breath, he continues explaining, “Well, I discovered through these…merchants that the city has tunnels for the family, servants, and all the like.”

“Tunnels your brother can use. Tunnels Stithulf wants to use.” You breathe out, stopping dead in your tracks and facing Hvitserk with a growing smile on your face.

But he only shrugs in response, and explains, “You mentioned old stone, and it didn’t…make sense that the Saxons would depend so much on a fishing town.”

“You are brilliant.” You laugh, eyes wide.

Hvitserk shrugs, but you see him puff his chest at the praise. It is almost adorable.

With an arm going around your shoulders casually he offers,

“I had to be. Can’t have the Greek Priestess outsmarting all of us.” He teases with a smile, to which you roll your eyes. Hvitserk keeps his arm around your shoulders, and guides you all the way to the longhouse.

____

The Vikings prepare for a raid on Strepshire, with Hvitserk’s information being the last piece they were waiting for to take the city. A matter of two days, and they will set sail.

The brothers and their men are discussing war, and once again you are reminded, as the King speaks, of how brilliant Ivar is when it comes to battle and thinking like his enemy.

He discusses how to ambush them from their tunnels, how the ships should approach the city, how the brunt of the forces -the ones that will approach directly through the front gate- should ready for the attack; he talks about it all with a certainty and a glint in his eye that speaks of seeing the world differently than everyone else, and you find yourself enthralled.

Hvitserk calls out your name and you turn to him. He gestures with his hand,

“Do you have anything to say?”

You share a look with your husband, “Ivar already knows all I know of Stithulf’s army.”

Leaving the longhouse behind with certain steps, you eye the area around it for a small clearing of peace, Ivar trailing behind you. When you find it, you stop walking, turning around to meet Ivar’s eyes. After a moment of consideration, you smooth the ground underneath you with a sweep of your foot, and try imagining the formations in the earth.

“What are you doing?”

“You asked me to show you my people’s ways of war,” You reply without hesitation, not lifting your gaze of the ground, “I’m showing you.”

You feel his eyes on you, but eventually Ivar sighs and with a small sound of exertion lowers himself to a sitting position across from you.

“Narses always fought like a Byzantine, waged war like one too,” You recall the outskirts of Dublin with a small smile, and draw the first line, “But here he bent to Stithulf’s formations, he accommodated our people to fit his plans. It cost us everything.”

“You spoke of someone else, a man from the Mediterranean.”

“Acar, the mercenary. He’s commander of the Arab forces. They are going to be the first forces Stithulf will send to aid the city, I’m certain,” You start confidently, “They are the same men that have brought a large part of my homeland to heel.”

“How do you Greeks fight against them?” One of the Vikings asks, and you are forced to walk up to the map when an opening for you to do so is made, silently, between the warriors discussing.

You do not fail to notice you are made to stand on the other end of the table, across from Ivar. You meet his eyes for a moment, and he only bows his head, prompting you to go on. An encouragement, a promise you have a safe place to land, a reassurance he has your back.

You never realized how much you needed it, needed him; until the moment you had so many eyes on you, awaiting like beasts for the next move of the foreign witch, and found your heart settling its beat, your confidence strengthening, when he met your eyes and promised he trusted you, promised you he was listening, promised he was proud.

Resting one hand on the table and letting your eyes trace the letters of Strepshire’s name, you explain, “We don’t fight them in open fields. The cavalry will always push for flanking your formations, especially if you hold a shield wall, and if you hold a direct onslaught against them for too long, their infantry will make way for their cavalry to strike through no matter the cost. Avoid that, avoid…predictability.”

After a breath, you add, “There’s also warriors we called champions. They are precise and deadly; they were used in the Mediterranean to weaken an army’s morale, to disarm their plans.”

“How?”

You swallow past a dry throat before answering, “By killing the leaders, the heroes. They send their best not to thin the army’s numbers, but to cut off the army’s head.”

You find Ivar’s eyes and you realize now what the knot in the pit of your stomach that settled since you heard they were to raid Strepshire was. Fear.

Even the best fall in battle, even the best go to their Valhalla when their Gods cut off the thread of their fate. And you cannot help but fear Ivar will not return from that city, even if he survived Repton, York, and so much more.

You tell yourself you should feel shame at wanting to keep him alive, that you are believing his lies and your own by allowing yourself to care about him. You also know if he were to die, if Ivar weren’t to return, your status as a free woman -and your status as Queen, even if consort and nothing more- would be useful and you could leave Kattegat, return to the Greeks, never spend another day on this cold land. 

You know all this, and still you fear, still you know when time for battle comes both their Gods and yours will hear prayers for protection.

Returning your eyes to the map on the table, you suppress a sigh. You were never nothing other than hopelessly foolish, were you?

____

Ivar told you to go ahead and retire for bed without him, and from the room where they discuss war you two went on different directions.

While you were changing, you eyed the red dress Thora had helped you make a few days ago, while she’d not-so-subtly prodded at Hvitserk’s doings. It is a light and simple dress, certainly not made for the harsh cold of Kattegat, but confectioning it was familiar and nostalgic, and even if only as a keepsake of your home, you made it to resemble a Greek summer dress.

Instead of the night dress you usually wear, you chose the soft red fabric, and for a moment, with your feet bare and your hair loose, you felt closer to Gods you did even while standing in their temple.

You now sit on the ground by one of the larger windows of your bedroom, a collection of flowers and branches around you as you work on a wreath, not so different, even if life has proven to be so, from when you were a child in Eleusis, a healer in the Silk Roads, a Hiereia in Attica.

In your mind you go over what was discussed tonight, you go over all the certainties the Viking’s planning gives you that this will turn out in a victory.

You knew before this you trusted Ivar, his instinct, his intellect, his eyes that see beyond what others’ do. But Gods, to hear him speak of war and battle so surely, to see his eyes turn cold and calculating, the eyes of a strategist, to hear his voice imposing and certain, the voice of a leader…it is something else entirely.

He accepted your words about the Arab champions with surprising ease, and with his eyes on Hvitserk he asked about the dimensions of those tunnels under Strepshire.

In a matter of moments, Ivar turned the tide and decided to let Stithulf’s men have the tunnels, certain the Saxon would send through those tunnels the Arab champions to take out the sons of Ragnar and their higher-ranking men. With but a moment of consideration, he’d found a way to outsmart them.

You still hear his voice in your head, stating confidently that the Arabs haven’t faced enough Vikings, that the Saxons may be used to tricks but the foreigners aren’t. It still sends a thrill down your spine, remembering his voice lower when he stated the last steps of his plan, remembering his smile as he looked at the map on the table, certain of victory and hungry for it.

You don’t know how long you spend here, working on the wreath of flowers, with each intertwining of the stems a plea to the Goddess of Spring that she lets winter hold for a while longer, with each drop of blood you let the roses draw from your fingers an offering to the Queen of the Dead that she doesn’t take him from you just yet.

Ivar walks into the room, but don’t lift your gaze from your work, only greeting him with a hum.

“That dress is different, did you make it?”

“Greek peplos,” You tell him, nodding, “Or, my best attempt at it, anyways.”

“You look…”

“Cold? Yeah, I’m freezing.” You still stay there, your feet bare on the cold wood and your fingers carefully tracing over the crown of flowers.

“Beautiful,” He corrects, before taking his eyes off you with a slight twitch of what you could swear is embarrassment in his expression. Ivar acquiesces, “But…yes, also cold.”

You have to bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot. Not even reminding yourself that you are Queen, that you are a grown woman, that you are married to him could keep the stupid flutter of your heart.

“T-Thank you,” Is what you settle for saying. “I’ve missed wearing familiar clothes, to be honest. I feel closer to my Gods in this.”

“Ah, so you’re praying.”

You lift your gaze from your work, eyes narrowed, “I was there at the sacrifice, I honored your Gods. That doesn’t mean I won’t honor my own.”

He doesn’t fight you on it, and a part of you wonders why.

Ivar chooses not to say anything, and with practiced ease starts working on the buckles and fastenings of the braces on his legs.

“What are you praying for?” He asks after a few moments.

Time.

You keep your gaze on the flowers in your hands, strikingly reminded of the last time he left you behind to chase after war and death.

Through gritted teeth, you bite out, “I hope you know that if you don’t return, if…if you leave me alone here, I’ll find a way to make you regret it. You won’t rest in your Valhalla while I have breath, Viking, so don’t…don’t die.”

Ivar only smiles, eyebrows lifted.

“Are you threatening me?”

You hold his gaze, and swallow past a tight throat. You only ask one thing, “Don’t leave me alone here.”

In this kingdom, in this world, in this life.

“You’re not…scared for me, are you?” You say nothing, only glare at him from the corner of your eye. “Are you saying you’d mourn me if I died?”

What kind of question is that? You resist the urge to let your fear become venom, you bite back accusations of how he continues to be so blind to how much he means to you.

“Ah, so you notice I care for the monster that took me captive?” You say, though there’s lightness, mirth, in your taunt, “You are either insulting me by implying I am weak enough to pray for the life of a man I supposedly hate, or…you are admitting you were wrong.”

Ivar accepts your words with a shrug, and crawls to one of the cushioned settees near the bed. After a few moments, with his hand by his mouth, he admits,

“I…realize you were right.”

“So you were wrong.”

He frowns, “I didn’t say that.”

“But you were.”

Ivar rolls his eyes, an exaggerated gesture that only manages to make your smug smile wider.

Still, when you’re close enough, he extends a hand, beckoning you to him. And it is as easy as breathing, for you to take it and sit next to him, drawing your legs up underneath you, as if to protect vulnerable feet from the cold of Kattegat.

“Gods, woman, you’re freezing.” Ivar frowns, warm fingers closing over your own.

“What happens if those ships don’t return, Ivar?” You ask, your voice wobbling. You feel your breath quicken, and you are once again a child looking over the horizon of Eleusis, waiting for a navy that was never to return. “What happens if you don’t return?”

“Then you are free. Free of me, free of-…”

“Ivar.” You interrupt him, and it is all you can say. His expression softens, and he sighs.

“Do you want me to promise you that I will survive?” He asks, an edge of incredulity, of levity in his tone. As if he is trying to make you see the madness in your request.

It is in the hands of the Gods, you know this. You know you should not fear, you know you should not worry, you know you should do and feel and be many things.

But you still offer the shrug of one shoulder, and Ivar almost smiles.

After a breath, he acquiesces, “Better men have tried to kill me and failed.”

You accept his words, his strange form of reassurance, with a smile and a sigh that trembles past your lips.

After a few beats if silence, you ask, “You will come back before winter, won’t you?”

“Yes,” He assures you, but Ivar spares you a glance out of the corner of his eye, and offers, “If I don’t…”

“You will,” You sentence, interrupting him. You don’t even hear whatever words he tried speaking, words that spoke of the possibility of a winter alone here, if not a lot longer than that. After a moment, you offer, “If you don’t, you’re easy pickings for the Saxons. Dublin cannot hold if Stithulf regains his strength.”

You know you’re right, and Ivar knows it too. Still, he offers you a smirk, and taunts you, “And you are certain of this, wife?”

“Your arrival, your support, spared Dublin of capture, you know this. We had the upper hand,” You motion towards him with your chin in a taunt, your lips pulled into a smile that dares him, “Even with your mighty army, Ivar the Boneless, us Greeks made you falter.”

“Arrogant.” He accuses, but he still smiles, dark and proud.

“We were hungry and cold, far from home,” You remind him, “But we made you change tactics a few times, didn’t we?”

“We weren’t going to lose.”

“No, I know that. It was Fated that it ended the way it did,” You shrug, “But we made you fight for it.”

You could swear Ivar’s smile turns softer, more secret. He lifts the hand he holds to his lips, and presses a soft kiss to your fingers.

“That you did.”

As he is to drop your hand back, his eyes focus on the small wounds you sport on your fingertips. A drop of blood trails slowly down your ring finger, and Ivar hesitates only for a moment before he brings your hand to his mouth again, only this time to lick off the offending drop.

Your breath catches in your throat, and in the hungry and proud smile he sends your way you see the faint stain of red. The only thought in your head for a moment is the need to taste that blood off his lips.

You quieten those thoughts, using that same hand to shove playfully at the side of his face. Ivar snorts a laugh, but you could swear his eyes are darker when he looks back at you.

Your own eyes are drawn to the slight smear of blood you leave on his pale skin and…Gods, what wouldn’t you do to be able to close the distance and lick it off.

But you force yourself to also let go of those thoughts, and you let your smile dim as silence reigns between you again. Your eyes trace the wreath of flowers that lays there near one of the windows, an evidence of your prayers, an evidence of your weakness and your fear.

An evidence that your heart isn’t yours anymore.

If it ever was.

You cannot keep yourself from remembering his words yesterday, his accusations that you were somehow playing with his head, with…

Before your thoughts get ahead of you, you ask, “Do you truly believe I’ve been playing with you?”

Ivar looks ahead as he considers his answer, leaves you to watch his profile and the way the dim lights of the room play with the angles of his face.

“If you’d been playing with me, you wouldn’t have fought the way you did.” He tells you finally, but there’s words he isn’t saying.

“And I’m not fighting anymore,” You offer, earning a half-hearted shrug from him, and nothing else. An exasperated yet fond smile curves at your lips, and you sigh, “I told you before, your own thoughts are what drives you mad most of the time.”

The smile Ivar offers is one purely for your benefit, tired and bitter and gone in an instant.

For a moment he lowers his gaze to your joined hands, distractedly brushes over a small cut on your finger. His gaze is enthralling even if his eyes still don’t meet yours, and there’s a fragile sort of vulnerability written into the way he holds himself that makes you pause.

“In all my life, nothing…nothing has come easy,” He explains quietly. After a moment, he offers another flickering smile, though this one does speak of softness, “You certainly didn’t either, but lately things are different, and I can’t help but think it a…a vision, a mirage, that once I get close enough to having will just…vanish.”

He finishes his sentence with a gesture of his hand, and your eyes follow the movement with a dull ache in your heart.

You’re suddenly a chained and wrathful Priestess again, sitting across the table from your captor and having him share very similar words, “Nothing has come easy in my life, and since I was a child I would always ask the Gods why.”

You still don’t have an answer, though you wish you did.

You do have the certainty that this isn’t a trick, that this isn’t something easily lost. Never could be.

And looking into his eyes, meeting your fear with his own, both so different from each other; you decide to let go of pretenses and masks, if only for a moment.

If only for a brief, stupid moment of courage.

It won’t vanish. I love you.

You let your hand cup the side of his face, your thumb caressing the scar you are so smitten by. Keeping your eyes on Ivar’s, you lean closer, silently begging that this is not wrong, that this is not another mistake.

His skin warms under your touch, and you watch with baited breath his lips part in innocent anticipation as you grow closer and closer. Ivar’s eyes travel to your own lips, before anxiously returning to meet your gaze again, looking more lost and vulnerable than you ever thought you would see him.

Deciding to listen to your heart, you press your lips softly against his, closing your eyes and letting the electricity and the warmth take control over your body.

Ivar’s sharp intake of breath through his nose, the way he tenses under your touch and almost freezes at the affection is not strange to you any longer, and it doesn’t deter you.

You move your mouth over his, the hand on the side of his face urging him close with as much tenderness as you can have when your heart beats like it wants to leave your chest and burrow into his.

When you pull back, his mouth chases after yours, and Ivar leans forward as if a thread tied you two together. You allow yourself a smile, tremulous and girlish as it is.

His eyes open slowly, as if awakening from a dream, and his breath leaves his parted lips quickly as he gazes back at you. A few moments go by, breaths shared and your heart beating fast and thrilled in your chest.

A challenge, really, to see who yields first, who admits to craving the touch of the other’s lips, who offers and who accepts or rejects.

The Gods may have made you arrogant but they didn’t make you stupid, and you’ve known for a while this is where you were headed, this is where you wanted to be.

Doesn’t mean you’ll admit it, at least not like this.

Surprisingly, it is Ivar who caves first.

“Kiss me.” He breathes out. A dare, a command, a plea.

And you do, with no hesitation this time.

Ivar kisses you back hungrily, deeply and desperately, demanding with teeth and tongue what you give freely.

His strong hand grabs onto your wrist tightly, keeping your caressing touch on his face, while the other finds a home in the back of your head, gripping onto the loose strands of your hair.

It feels like it is the first time you’ve kissed him -been kissed by him, been kissed at all- and yet it feels like the electrifying touch of his lips on yours is a dance as old as time itself.

There’s a tremble in your hand when you hold on to the fabric over his chest, there’s an urgency in his hands as he pulls you closer; but there’s an ease to the way you straddle him, there’s an intimacy in the way he breathes your name over your lips.

You lose track of time in the heady feeling of his lips on yours. One of his hands grabs at the side of your jaw, tilting your head to meet his kiss, the other settles roughly on your ass, bringing you down against him, drawing you closer, closer, closer.

You gasp his name against his lips, breaths labored when you rest your brow against his, heart beating wildly in your chest when you meet his eyes.

You smile, breathless and a little mad.

But Ivar looks at you like someone who just realized stands at the edge of a precipice. His eyes widen, and he pushes you off him, however shakily.

Rejection burns, it burns and scalds and your lips part but no words leave them. You can only stand there, cold and hesitant, and watch as he scrunches his face in reluctance, in hesitation, in anger.

Ivar lifts a hand to the back of his head, avoiding your eyes with a twitch of anger, of shame.

“You know I can’t…I can’t do this.”

You stare back at him, heart still beating fast and cold taking over you. However slighted you were by his abrupt rejection, however scared you are of your own feelings, however torn you are about the things you want; all of it pales when you see the expression in Ivar’s face.

When you learned Laconia was free, when Fate released you of the strings holding you by the throat and you threatened to break at the seams; you clung to Ivar like he was the one thing keeping you in this world, and past the unsteadiness of his legs that at the moment you couldn’t think of, maybe out of sheer will and strength alone, he stabbed the wooden floor and kept you upright, didn’t let you fall, didn’t let you break.

And the same certainty flows through you, the same steeled resolve, the same drive to grant safety and comfort and peace.

And so you don’t hesitate when you step closer again, one of your hands tentatively settling on his shoulder, the other, as if half of you was braver than the other, reaches for the side of his jaw, thumb going back and forth over the scar under his eye.

“This doesn’t have to be anything other than…this.”

You lean down and bring his mouth to yours, softly. It surprises you and delights you in equal measure, how easily Ivar surrenders to your kiss, how pliantly he leans to meet the touch of your mouth on his.

When you part, his eyes open slowly, and the absolutely enthralled expression on his face as he stares up at you sends a rush of heat through you.

But, after a moment the daze disappears. And he still grits his teeth, his eyes still jump from place to place, and he still insists, “I…can’t give you what you need, what you want.”

You shake your head, unwavering. You once again wonder which one of you is the bewitched one, when with but a look Ivar makes secrets spill from your lips, when with nothing but his touch he makes invisible bindings release you.

“What I need is you,” You whisper. Your hand on his shoulder lowers, presses softly over the center of his chest, and you lean your brow against his, never taking your eyes off his, “What I want is this.”

You wouldn’t have believed yourself to be brave enough to, even after the words leave your lips, and with the truth you tried ignoring is looking right at you; not falter, to not feel the instinct to pull back, to return to secrets and safety.

There’s no hiding you’ve wondered what the cost would be to give in, hoped maybe he would give in and so you would be able to have this without the guilt of having chosen it.

There’s no hiding you wished to just forget for a moment there’s a world past him and accept that maybe it was Fate after all, that maybe this borrowed time is a chance to live another life.

Your fingers digging into the wooden pillar of the home are the one thing that keeps you upright as you confess, the last breath of an already dead woman: “I wish I never returned here. I wish…I wish I had gone with you to Kattegat, like you said we could. I wish I could have lived another life, móðir.”

The life that should have been, maybe.

Maybe that is why it is so easy to accept his hands on your hips bringing you back to him with a gentleness that almost surprises you, maybe that is why it feels like home when you straddle him and put your arms over his shoulders, maybe that is why it feels like your heart beats in synch with another’s when Ivar leans his head against your chest and sighs.

Your hands trace over his back, his shoulders, you cannot help it. You find yourself almost giddy with the realization you can now touch as much as you want to, as much as he will let you.

A voice in the back of your mind reminds you that pretend as you wish, you are aware you could have had this, or something so much closer to this than the scraps you’ve been living off of, much earlier.

Ivar says something, but you do not hear it, and you ask him with a hum of question to speak again.

You feel his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath, “You’re what I need too,” He breathes, before moving so that he presses a kiss right over your heart. Your breath catches in your throat and your hand moves to the back of his neck before you even realized you’ve moved. He smiles against the red fabric of your dress, and offers, “What I want, too.”

It is yours.

But you can’t say that. He will be taking your heart all the way to England with him, and you wish you could relent and let him know of that, if only to give him the task to bring it back to you.

You don’t make any attempt to move, and he doesn’t either. Your fingers tire of aimless wandering, and you silently take up the task of undoing his braids.

You could swear he leans more of his weight against you as you work your fingers through his hair.

You once prayed for the borrowed time you’re living on to last a lifetime, and as you sit there, his arms around your waist, his face pressed against your chest, you don’t see why it couldn’t be so. Why you couldn’t stretch time however you want it to. You have no doubt you could, as long as you can remain with him holding you like this, letting you hold him like this.

After a small lifetime, you whisper, “We should go to bed.”

Ivar hums an agreement, but it takes a few more breaths before he leans back. His hair falls loosely behind him, pliant and soft after you lost track of time running your fingers through it, and you find yourself smiling, lovesick and foolish, at the proof of your work.

That night you don’t sleep. You talk, and kiss, and touch, and discover. And you make out of the borrowed time you live on a small eternity.

____

Sooooooo...? :)

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

[brideofcthulhu10]

What would the lost boys think if you accidentally say a different mens name like from a rockbands name. While you was having sex with them

Sure thing fang baby, lemme give it a shot! I’m gonna be honest hon, there isn’t anything romantic about this scenario though, this one is gonna be a whole lot of drama. I write them according to what I think would happen based on their personalities. And let’s be realistic here- None of the boys would respond well to this. All of them are only ever going to polyamorous between each other and their s/o’s in a best case scenario. Outsiders involved in any way, shape, or form is seriously frowned upon. You could call to the great artists of the Renaissance, you could call out Eddie frickin Van Halen, it doesn’t matter. Trust me on this. 

THANK YOU TO @imlostinsantacarla WHO IS NOT ONLY MY CO-AUTHOR BUT A FELLOW LOST BOYS WRITER, AND AN AMAZING FRIEND! I appreciate all the help you’ve been, dude I love ya like a sister! Seriously guys, check out her blog, she is amazing!

The Lost Boys’ S/O Moans a Rock Star’s Name During Sex

18+ CONTENT WARNING: Contains Offensive Language, Gore, Homicide, Violent Behaviors, Potential Emotional Triggers, Sexual Themes! READER'S DISCRETION IS ADVISED!

David 

Any name that isn't his will infuriate him. All he knows is while he's on top of you, you just said another man's name. There's a split second where the infernos of Hades ignites his entire body aflame with pure unadulterated rage. His eyes spark white hot, it takes every ounce of willpower he has to physically calm himself so he doesn't "accidentally" kill you. It's tempting, nearly impossible to resist the urge to slice you open while he's still inside you. How dare you say anyone else's name. 

There’s quite the conflict in his head. He wonders if he should pull out, and leave you there without another word. But instead he chooses to take his revenge. Your mouth won't ever make the mistake of calling to anyone but him ever again, if you’re even lucky enough to be graced with his presence once he’s finished with you. Immediately he would've grabbed you by your throat, tempted to squeeze you until you fainted as he demanded you tell him again who's name you just screamed. It's a terrifying moment, you barely choke out the words before he flips you onto your stomach

"...What was that, kitten? I don’t think I heard those lips right! You're gonna have to say that louder for me."

Make no mistake, the fact that it's the name of a celebrity as you desperately try to claim, means fuck all to him. He will punish the fuck out of you! Everything is drawn out. He'll choke your neck until you can't even moan, just barely teasing when you begin to have tunnel vision. There is no way you'll be satisfied, this is for him! He's not about to give you what you want until you're crying, pleading for him to let you orgasm. You know what he does? Just at the edge of climax covered in scratches and bites, he pulls out and leaves you. Shaken, exhausted, alone, and unsatisfied. Why the hell would he give you the satisfaction of what you want when you called another man's name when you guys were having sex?

David is one of the guys whose ego is going to be busted, and that is a very poor choice to make. He would immediately get dressed. No aftercare, he wants you to feel filthy, dirty. You didn't deserve his love that night. The guys would jump out of his way, you don't want to be in his warpath when he gets like this. As he's tearing through victims he's constantly questioning himself. Why are you thinking of another man when you guys are intimate?! He doesn't let people in, but he let you in, and you fucked it! Obliterating his trust in less than a second.

Expect him to suspect you of adultery. Give him space, because for the next few weeks he won't humor any excuses you give him. How can he be sure you aren't lying?!  Maybe it wasn't the lead singer of the band you just said. Maybe it was just some fucker with a similar first name. David's trust in you no longer exists, and his respect is gone too. Afterwards he refuses to get intimate with you. Even hugs are rejected, he doesn't want you touching him- period!

Celebrity or not, don't bother being surprised when that guy winds up dead in their precious Hollywood estate a week later. David is possessive as fuck and he doesn't take betrayal lightly, no matter how big or small. You’d hear it on TV. The rock star found with his wrists and throat slashed, presumed suicide. But you already knew who was responsible. David isn’t even phased when you storm up to him on the boardwalk with a lit cigarette in his mouth. Of course he used mind control to have the bastard stab himself and slash open his throat. He only wishes he could’ve done it himself. He’ll even tell you all the gruesome details, mocking how he greatly suffered because David made him think there were bugs under his skin. David is over 110% petty. In fact, he’ll taunt you about this after. At first it’ll come off cold, passive and indifferent before it spills over into pure aggression. If you dare try to get angry at him he’ll put that to rest real fast, looking you dead in the eyes.

"You’re damn right I killed him. And you know what? His blood on your hands, y/n, not mine. You made one grave fucking mistake, you have no one but yourself to blame. I don't know why you're crying."

He's never gonna let you forget this. The likelihood of him staying is entirely dependent on how long you two were together. That also means how angry he gets will rely on that as well. He's not gonna trust you after either. In his eyes you're both done. But even then, you're still his at the end of the day. He’s not losing to a corpse, you knew the moment you two came together that you were going to be with him- whether you fucking like it or not. If you think you're gonna dare to move on, and leave him miserable in the dust after hurting him so, think again! You’ll be making it up to him for years, and maybe, just maybe, he’ll forgive you. 

Dwayne

Low-key freezes at first. It’s almost an otherworldly feeling. He must have heard you wrong! Did he hear you right? No way! Was that someone else's name? It certainly wasn’t his! Dwayne will just full on stop the action, the look on his face just dropping! It’s confusion, fear, rage. There’s no words. You had said another man’s name. Not even said it- you screamed it out. The nervous expression furrowing your face told him all he needed to know. He would immediately get dressed and leave you still sprawled on his bed storming off before he’s tempted to scream at you.

But he doesn’t. In fact, he doesn't say anything, but when you look into his eyes he's pissed! His eyes are fucking GLOWING, his fangs are bared, utterly insulted! This is a rage you’ve never seen on Dwayne. You done fucked up mate. This was an intensely intimate moment with him that you just shattered by the mere mention of someone else. Rock band or not, it’s another man’s name. Period. He knows exactly who Steven Tyler is, he doesn’t give a fuck.

When he pulled out and got off of you it was with such speed you never thought was possible from him because of how big his stature is. But now he’s shaken. For a moment it doesn’t even seem possible. Dwayne is trying to calm down, but if his heart was still beating it would be tearing through his chest. He feels like he might throw up, his stomach is just twisting into hideous knots he never thought possible. 

Dwayne is hurt. Utterly crushed. He loves you, or rather, loved you. It’s hard for him to understand what to do with this. He would never dream of doing something this dumb like that to you. Out on the boardwalk he doesn't even see other men or women, like that because he's with you, so for you to do that to him? He's intensely wounded. You said a rock star’s name, but what’s to stop you next time from saying someone else’s name? If you were going to be screaming other people’s names during sex, how far would you go?

When he leaves, he storms off for hours. You won’t see him again until the sun is starting to rise, and even then he won’t speak to you. Well, unless it’s to tell you to get out. Yeah, he wants you gone. Go home. When he’s ready, he’ll talk to you. For now, he doesn’t even look at you. Don’t expect to see him on the boardwalk. In fact, none of the boys are there. If they see you, it's silence and dirty looks. They’ve never seen Dwayne like this. Even when Jasper died he powered through it. This made him utterly depressed, nothing made their friend smile. Paul tried everything, even dancing in drag! Nothing! 

Out of everyone, it's gonna be the hardest for Dwayne to move past this. It’s not just a major turn off, it almost feels like a betrayal. Unless you two have been together for a significant amount of time, he’d probably break up with you. If not, then he’d demand space. He isn’t ready to let go, but he’s not ready to just forgive you. He won't be able to look at you the same afterwards. How could you be thinking of another man when his dick is literally inside of you? 

Are you unhappy? Are you unsatisfied? Like what's going on? Did you not want to be with him anymore?! He’d be questioning himself, questioning anything. Probably will talk it out with you but it's difficult for him to move past. 

It'll take a long time before he can be intimate, if he even can be with you because the trust just isn't there anymore. For Dwayne to be with someone, to let them in, he needs there to be trust in order for him to be intimate. It’s so hard for him to let someone in his life outside of his brothers, especially if you’re human. Now? He doesn’t even know. He may try to patch things up but all he’d hear and see is just you crying for someone else. The damage done might be too much for him to handle. If you guys manage to revive your relationship it’d be an utter miracle because honestly the chances are viciously slim. 

Paul

Whatever band member’s name you just called is now officially ruined for Paul forever. By the time you screamed it he was pretty much finished, and mid-climax his heart just drops, utterly falls into his stomach and any horny left inside him is dead. 

That man just pulled out so fast you were winded. He won't touch you after, and if you even try to touch him he will slap your hand away! Eventually he’s so pissed he’ll try to get away from you because he's just so furious. You have to understand, he didn’t hear a band name, he hear another man’s name

"Wait what-... What the fuck-?! What the ever loving fuck did you just fucking say?!" 

A switch has gone off in his head and he's almost violently shoving his clothes on. If you won’t leave then he will, and he honestly needs to get the fuck of there pronto before he’s tempted to do something messy he might regret! 

Paul may come off as this cocky, goofy playboy himself, but he's serious about you! He may have slept around before, but he’s only ever in a relationship, a real, serious relationship, if he truly trusts you. Paul hates being vulnerable, it’s a foreign and risky task that could bite him in the ass. And it just did. All trust is gone and he immediately jumps to the conclusion that you're sleeping with other people. A wave of insecurity takes over. He has a fragile ego, that’s why he tends to be such a needy boyfriend- he always needs to know you love him and that you won’t leave him. Honestly, now he can't look at a picture of the band member you called out during sex anymore, it’s ruined for him now. Their music pisses them off, their face makes him enraged. Even sex is ruined for him for awhile. This boy is so possessive it's unreal, but you've made things all weird now and he can't shake that shit off!

He genuinely cares about you! He knows he's done some dumb shit before! Paul’s behavior can always come across as flirty, even when he’s in his most relaxed state. He’s gotten shit for it before, and he totally understood when you would get ticked off at him for it. But... he never expected that fucking shit to come from you!

Paul will try to patch things up, as best as he can. He doesn't really wanna stay mad at you; it's not his style. However, things are just... different after. He lost that deep, trusting connection with you he once had. It’s just back to square one now, he may even need some space for a few days. Even if you guys manage to pick up the pieces, you have to earn every ounce of his trust back. Part of him sees it as a challenge. Every time you have sex he is determined to make it the most incredible, mind melting, mouth watering fuck he’s ever give in his afterlife! You won’t ever, ever think of another guy again! Unfortunately it makes it hard for him to enjoy it, because not only is he not relaxed, he’s utterly focused on you and there’s still such a massive fear that you’ll do it again.

Part of him desperately wants to murder the guy, and he wouldn't feel bad about it. Not one bit.  Gets way more possessive with you than he ever had been in the past, and frankly it’ll take years before he ever learns to relax again. He may see you as untrustworthy whenever you're around other males.  His anger is uncontrollable some nights, will probably kick, punch, or throw things. His rage is fucking untamed man! This haunts him, he thought you were starting to lov-... well, now he feels like an idiot. 

If you really do stay with him, Paul will be petty. He’s immature, he’s never had this serious of a relationship. So with that, he doesn’t understand how to handle the complex emotions that come with a situation like this. Even though you hurt him, he still cares about you! And that, in a way, makes him even angrier! He should be furious with you, but more than anything he just wants you to want him. Only him! He will remind you of this constantly, even with callous side comments because he can’t let go. If you guys fuck he may start call another women's name. Part of him doesn't give a shit if it makes you uncomfortable or insecure, because you did it to him! 

Paul will blast his favorite bands that you didn't ruin for him, even the other guys can’t cheer him up. None of them have ever seen Paul like this. You wouldn’t expect it to hit him this hard, but it does. He was laying into you, he was inside you, and your mind wanted someone else. Your pleasure wasn’t for him! Your desire, your love, your mind was yearning someone else when he was giving you everything he had! He won't look at you, or talk to you for a good few days. Maybe even a week. He won’t let you come to the hotel, on the boardwalk he’ll openly give you the cold shoulder. The other guys might too. How could they be certain it even was a band name? Maybe Paul had just rationalized it as a rock name so he didn’t have to face the fact you called for some random guy. David is wholly convinced you were having an affair, Marko is just pissed you hurt his friend, Dwayne just doesn’t know what to think of it all. Anytime you try to talk to him before he’s ready, he just acts like you don't exist. He’s hurt, and his anger is the only thing keeping him from forbidden tears. Just give him some space man! 

Marko

Marko would be the most hurt out of the group. The sound is just sickening. There he was, holding you to him, deep inside when your voice said… the wrong name? The horror makes his stomach drop, he immediately lifts himself off to look at you still lost in pleasure even as he’s stopped. He's so hard to read, you don't even realize you've hurt him until he's pulled himself out and off of you. 

He wouldn’t speak, or move for a solid 30 minutes. Just silently sitting on the edge of the bed, if you tried to speak he wouldn’t even turn to look at you. His muscles are rigid, wound tight in knots. He’s imploding from the inside, it’s impossible for him to keep his vampire rage subdued, so in a fury he leaves. Marko is not fucking around right now. You’ve screwed up, majorly. He thinks you’ve been cheating on him, and if there’s something Marko takes very seriously, it’s loyalty. He needs to get to get the fuck away from you, because he’s not sure if he can control himself for much longer, and despite his suspicions he doesn't want to hurt you. 

Unlike Paul or Dwayne, when he returns Marko will not talk this out. You honestly shouldn’t have stayed, you should have left when he was gone because he’s still seething when you try to explain yourself. No. You're in the fucking wrong and he's not budging. He will not be hearing any of your bullshit excuses, whatever you throw out doesn’t matter! It's a dumb move he'd expect from Paul, but not from you. Part of him is almost tempted to just try to work things out, but Marko doesn’t trust easily and you’ve not just damaged his trust, you’ve damaged his self esteem. When he heads to the caves and you’re still here he’s had enough.

“Get out…”

“Wh-What?”

Marko flares his fangs at you, blood still staining his mouth. “GET. THE FUCK. OUT.”

You will not be back in that hotel for a long time, if ever again. Marko will avoid you for a while, and I’m talking months here. It’s not just a silent treatment, if he sees you approaching he will start up his motorcycle and ride away- with or without the other guys. He can’t even look at you. If we’re being realistic here, Marko probably won't be able to be intimate with you again. He can’t look past it. All he can see is you calling for someone else, in your heated climax in his arms, utterly exposed, and you desired someone else. He has more self respect for himself than the others, so more than likely he will break up with you! 

He’s hurt. It's a cluster of emotions, all of them feel horrid. Rage, pain, sorrow, betrayal. How could you do this? Have you seen him? (like bruhhhhhh where you gonna find a man that rocks a crop top as good as him? where?) He definitely went on a killing spree right after. He needs to release his rage, it’s so pent up he doesn’t know how else to handle it. There would be blood everywhere, there wouldn’t even be any bodies left behind. Everything is utter carnage. Marko would need some serious alone time from everyone, he wouldn't talk to the other boys for at least a few hours. 

Paul is furious at you when they find out what you did. You're fucking dead! Marko means so much to them, and you meant so much to Marko! This was his best friend! They let you into their coven, they trusted you with their brother, and you genuinely broke this poor baby’s heart! Hope you don’t have any unfinished business. Say your prayers and make amends now, because you're packing for your funeral buddy. David even hunts down anyone with the name you called and kills them, and he’ll be sure you know. You don’t hurt his friends, you’re lucky that he’s allowing you to draw breath from this miserable planet.

Afterwards, Marko does not go into another relationship for years. Maybe even a decade. It hurts him to go back on the boardwalk. Everything reminds him of you. The ferris wheel where you guys had your first kiss, the food stands he’d take you to, the arcade where he’d kick your butt at Mortal Kombat. Even more so is the sight of you. He doesn’t want to run into you at all. Even the sound of your name, anything to do with you makes him feel down or enraged. He already had trust issues before you, now he wasn’t nearly as willing to be trusting to anyone but his brothers. The next s/o he has, if he ever decides to have another, will definitely be picking up the pieces.

#the lost boys #lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys david #lost boys paul #lost boys dwayne #lost boys drama #lost boys marko #vampire drama #dramatic #character asks #answered asks #thanks for the ask! #thanks for sending! #thanks for the support #thanks for following! #thanks for reading

[acciostorian]

mae reads the kane chronicles: the serpent’s shadow the red pyramid

(aka we see mae go through many emotions in the space of 2-3 days)

holy fuck ive only got to the contents and the chapters have those classic pjo click bait titles i’m so happy rn

WAIT IM SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT- the serpent’s shadow is the THIRD BOOK. uh-oh i almost fucked this whole series over lemme change the book real quick....

i’m literally on the first page and i’ve already been sent on a mission, so the kanes are THOSE bitches

SADIE AND KANE ARE BRITISH???? omg yes please

THEYRE IN LONDON MY HOME

never fucking mind they’re from LA

oh wait sadie was raised as a british kid. that’s very sexy of her.

carter be like, “you wouldn’t be interested in my dad’s lectures.” SHUT UP CARTER I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT EGYPTIAN PUNISHMENT

so sadie was raised in east london???? THATS SO SEXC BECAUSE ME TOO BOO

sadie has a british accent. a b r i t i s h a c c e n t.

FIT

“six years in london and she thinks she’s james bond” LMAO

sadie’s so emo/alt i love it. does rick always write his characters like this??

sadie pronounces it “mum” and carter says “mom”

it’s so refreshing to read mum ngl

sadie said bloke omg

i’m feeling carter’s pain. little sisters are shits and honestly sadie has the same vibes as my little sister and me and carter are quite similar. i hate this.

oh wow they really said sadie was too white for their family...

sadie did not HESITATE to be like, “yeah dad we’ll lock that guy in his office. mint.”

sadie telling the story is an experience

sadie said “maths” and “mates” in the same sentence. this is some refreshing shit.

sadie’s friends saying carter is hot is fucking hilarious. like it’s a classic piss-off to thirst over your mate’s sibling

THEYRE GETTING DEPORTED????

LMAO AMOS WAS LIKE, “yeah we don’t talk about manhattan. they’ve got their own problems. *cough percy jackson cough*”

i read thoth the god of knowledge as thot the god of knowledge

carter is right, amos has undeniable swag

philip of macedonia. the crocodile. cool.

i love how the greeks and romans be like “if we don’t honour the gods we’ll get SLAUGHTERED” and the egyptians are like “you know what? fuck the gods me and my homies hate the gods”

sadie kane would stab you in a back alley and dance to mcr as you bled to death and carter kane would take you to a museum, tell you everything about everything and then commit a terrorist attack

amos really went “don’t touch anything, the cats in charge and peace out bitches” and then fucking jumped off the balcony of his five storey mansion

sadie made that door go BANG

that fucking clay statue came to life and not one of them screamed. I WOULD SHIT MYSELF.

i’m giggling, all the greek/roman gods have really long/scary/cool sounding names like tartarus and chaos and nyx but the evilest guy in egyptian myth is called set. S E T.

please make muffin some crazy badass animal like crookshanks or swiftwind.

WHO DARES THROW HANDS WITH PHILIP?????

THE SHABTI FUCKING STOLE AN ARTEFACT THATS AMAZING

i love carter sm, even tho he’s scared as fuck he still picked up that ancient sword and was like “ig i’ll bash some heads in whilst sadie holds the cat”

MUFFIN JUST TURNED INTO SOME WARRIOR CAT LADY AND SHE INSTANTLY GAVE ME CATRA VIBES

every cat in new york is helping them

bast jacked that car like it was nobody’s business

i used to think the greek gods were stupid for having so many things to control but honestly the egyptians are taking the piss, do you really need a whole scorpion goddess?

the kane siblings are written so well. like i actually BELIEVE they’re siblings

i think carters gonna become a comfort character now... like i relate on another level. little siblings always take the spot light and you have to act level headed and calm because the younger ones start shit and you’re like “i gotta be the good one because my family would fall to shit if i didn’t behave.” so big kudos to carter, i love you

so carter’s a king huh? I DIDNT NEED YOU TO TELL ME THAT RICK I ALREADY KNEW HE WAS

zia was like “king tut?? ugh he was such a boy, there were waaaaay cooler tombs out there x x”

i read “nectanebo II” as “nintendo II” and i was like ??? when was that a thing

i drinking camomile tea whilst reading this and i feel so peaceful uwu

sadie really can do magic like THAT like bitch be like “i just copied what zia did and yeah it worked lol”

okay so i’m sorta feeling bad about sadies life rn but i’m still very pro carter

set’s laugh makes me uncomfortable. because when most villains laugh it’s usually described like “their laugh was like a knife, cold and sharp. i hates it.” but when sadie discribed set’s laugh she was like “it was warm and friendly. beautiful.” LIKE AAAA THATS A RED LIGHT

set: the god of theatre because gods dam is he a good actor

sadie saw some hot emo guy and was like “omg marry me”

iskandar be like “lmao imma speak in alexandria greek all the time but this girl bouta die? i switch to perfect english for dramatic effect”

woooOooaaaah SLOW DOWN THERE BUDDY, tongue tattoos???

zia: you guys will probably suck at this at first but oh well we all can’t be great

sadie: *makes fire first time* wooosh

sadie and kane: *doing cool shit* me and my tea: sluuuurrrp

bast is so sassy i love it

me when it’s a sadie chapter: okay ig :/

me when it’s a carter chapter: HOLY SHIT CARTER HEY OMG YOURE DOING CRAZY STUFF???? COOL. i love you.

bast: so yeah, you’d be stupid to teleport to paris, this is desjardin’s home territory

sadie and kane, lying in the streets of paris: oh cool cool

sadie: like i might die rn but i don’t care, as long as it doesn’t get filmed and put in youtube, that would be embarrassing

like ???? sis get your priorities together smh

sadie: *sees hot emo guy again in her spirit adventure, he hints that’s he’s dead or something*

also sadie: so will i see you again?

“no, an egyptian drink. you’ve heard of hot chocolate? this is rather like hot vanilla.” dam now i want some.

carter is an amazing older brother. he’s written perfectly and he’s a great character to relate to for me. even though sadie can make his blood boil, he dropped everything to calm her down when she was panicking about not being able to change back from a bird. i too have to do that for my little sister - sadie and ava are ironically the same age - so i find that very comforting that there is someone like me to relate to!

‘a businessman with a rolling suitcase was waiting by the doors. his eyes widened when he saw me. i must’ve looked pretty strange — a tall black kid in dirty, ragged egyptian clothes, with a weird box tucked under one arm and a bird of prey perched on the other.

‘“how’s it going?” i said. “i’ll take the stairs.” he hurried off.’ LMAO THIS IS WHY CARTER BABY I LOVE YOU

highkey pissed that carters like “i’m always edgy around the police. once i turned eleven they started giving me the Look. when it doesn’t happen it’s always a pleasant surprise.” LIKE FUCK NO HE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO WALK AROUND UNHASSLED WHATS WRONG WITH HIM

lmao bast be like “imma jump off this national monument. see ya at the airport in my finest clothes and jewellery x”

FOOD UPDATE: i’m eating a chocolate covered waffles and having some tea and i feel so happy rn sorry i know you don’t care but like aaaaaaa

bast called carter her little tomcat and my heart exploded

bast really likes convertibles huh

thoth: i hate rereading my old writing, my present self would never write like this now!! SOMEONE GET ME A RED PEN

are they... are they going to dig up elvis presley?

might put some elvis in for this part, y’know, to set the mood?

i cant stop reading ‘thoth’ as thot even though i know how to pronounce it

the captain with a axe for a head: my name is bloodstained battle axe 😸

yuh bast did some shit ...

imma stop now because spoilers, GO READ THE KANE CHRONICLES THEY ARE THE MOST UNDERRATED RIORDANVERSE BOOKS X X

#the kane chronicles #tkc #carter kane #sadie kane #tkc bast #mae waffles #rick riordan #riordanverse #did someone say queued?

[spookyspaghettisundae]

A Spark To Ignite the Dead Wood

Cold, angular, gray. One door in, same door out.

A sleek reflective window, in which Jericho Kane could stare into his own sad mug, complete with all the ugly scars. His vision blurred as his mind wandered to what the window might be hiding on the other side of the interrogation room. A little camera on a stand with a blinking red light to indicate it was recording? A person, or two, waiting for some cop to enter the room and grill him for answers?

A thin chain connected his handcuffed wrists to a small metal hook on the table in front of him. The chain’s links rattled and ribbed against the hook whenever he budged, which he had to do every now and then, his fidgeting owed to the hard chair that made his sore butt cheeks ache, and a backrest designed to offer neither comfort nor invitation to lean back and relax. Everything here was perfectly engineered to make a stay as unpleasant as humanly possible.

Even the air in here was cold. A tiny little grate in one high corner of the room, big enough to fit two fists inside, took care of ventilation. Though it probably relied on air conditioning, he had to wonder if it was not allowing the cold wintry air to leak into this dreadful little room.

Following the sound of a key turning in a lock, a chunky clank heralded the door to the room opening. Jericho craned his head and spied the face of the person entering. Unfortunately, he recognized him. That recognition coaxed a groan to growl right out of Jericho’s throat.

It had been years, yet Jericho knew that unkempt beard, those horn-rimmed glasses on a flat nose, the receding hairline that framed a short mane of curly hair turning silvery, and that familiar face—now marked with days of sleep deprivation and wrinkled in what had to be disdain.

Using a hand that already gripped a thick manila folder while he carried a cheap plastic cup of steaming coffee in the other, Detective Augustus Shaw averted his gaze and slammed the door shut behind himself. He approached the table, plopped down the items from his hands, causing some coffee droplets to splash onto the surface, and pulled out the chair with an annoying sound of metal grinding against synthetic floor tiles.

Jericho shot a glance at the cup of coffee but tried not to let his thirsty gaze linger there. Neither would the cheap bitter swill help at all against the unpleasantly fluffy feeling of cottonmouth that plagued him right now, nor did he want to give Shaw any conversation material to work with. The career criminal and con man wanted to keep things short and painless. On some level, he did not want to waste the detective’s time, either.

“Jericho Kane,” Shaw said after demonstratively clearing his throat. “Long time no see. How long has it been since we’ve had the fortune of having your company around here in Maine?”

He took a sip from his cup and his forehead furrowed with crinkles counting both too many years of time on the force as well as from cringing over the coffee’s terrible aftertaste getting stuck on his tongue. Shaw shook it off and set the cup back down.

“Rap sheet tells me you’ve been pretty busy all these years, and up and down the whole East Coast, no less,” Shaw added, gently tapping the folder with his left palm. He cleared his throat again, audibly attempting to fight against the bitter film clinging to the roof of his mouth. Then he asked, “Do you want to hop right in and spill the beans, or do I need to flirt it outta ya?”

Shaw smiled at him, though no sincerity reached the crow’s feet framing the corners of his eyes. The detective hated being here as much as Jericho did, even though he could have walked out of the interrogation room anytime.

“Are we burying the lead here? How’s about you just tell me what business you had in any of the places you were trespassing in all week, and we both get to leave sooner? I know both of—”

“I’m not saying anything without my lawyer,” Jericho interrupted him sharply. He swallowed and stared at the place where the chain and hook on the table met, between the coffee stain and the pointless pile of papers and photographs jammed into the overflowing folder.

He could practically hear Shaw’s frown when a stifled sigh made the detective’s nostrils flare, and the seconds of silence that followed only underlined that air of disappointment.

“Okay,” Shaw said, taking another sip from his coffee and the smacking his lips indicating instant regret. “Alright. Fast-trackin’ this, then we both get to leave sooner. You work for the group that runs drugs across the northern border?”

“When’s the lawyer getting here?”

“Sources tell me you’ve worked for two crime syndicates—at least. One in NYC and the other all the way down in Miami. Any others send you onto an errand in our neck of the woods?”

“Not saying anything without a lawyer, man.”

“You went from being a two-bit drifter and con artist, constantly getting evicted from really terrible apartments, to your parole officer in Rhode Island refusing to offer any statement and looking like he had seen a ghost after you got out of the slammer.”

Jericho just kept his mouth shut. He jutted his jaw out and his lips curled inward, turning into a hard-pressed, thin, white line.

“Listen, man, I know you’re not a terrible person. Probably still got debt to pay off to some heavy hitters, right?”

Nothing.

“Some people in my position would mistake this monstrous pile of paper for proof that you’re a monstrous person, but I know better. Most people in your position got your reasons, constantly wonder if they’re bad people themselves, and deep down somewhere, buried underneath all the rotten things you experienced and any crimes you committed, you’re just—just a human being.”

Jericho deeply disagreed and looked up at the detective, locking eyes with him. He silently mouthed “lawyer” at him. Shaw ignored that and continued.

“You’re always down on your luck ‘cause people like us don’t get to win the lottery. We get dealt a bad hand in life, and we roll with whatever we’ve got.”

Shaw cradled the plastic cup, balancing it on an edge as his fingers idly circled it in his hand.

“Well, today’s your lucky day for a change, Jericho. Work with me here. You tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make sure you’re out of here in no time.”

Lawyer, Jericho thought, hoping that telepathy might finally work for him, one of these days.

“See, you can disappear behind bars for a while for some petty bullshit, or you can cooperate with me, because I’m really not that interested in you,” Shaw said, taking another pained sip from the cup. “No offense.”

Lawyer?

The telepathy did not seem to be working, or Shaw was blowing it off. No way to tell. Maybe this was not the best opportunity to try it out, but it was not like Jericho had anything better to do right now.

“See, I know things got weird at some point,” Shaw said. The cup plopped down onto the table’s surface and he leaned over it, closer towards Jericho.

He was playing to make their exchange feel more intimate, the crook figured. But the detective’s tone had shifted, and a strange glint flashed across his eyes. Jericho could not help but feel intrigued.

Did Shaw know more than he was letting on?

“A cigar-smoking guy in a stretch limo invites you in after a botched 'milk run’ in a meat packing plant, says he can make all your problems go away,” Shaw said.

Jericho kept his eyes locked onto the detective’s. How in the hell did he know about that?

“He offered you new work and the money he was offering was too good to turn down, so of course you took it. Who in your position wouldn’t have? Lemme guess, he had big mean-looking fellas in white suits with big mean-looking guns, and Cigar Man’s speech was a monologue with you for an audience.”

Frighteningly on point. Shaw had arrested Jericho’s full attention. Not a single thought trailed off, not a single word formed inside his head. He still wanted a lawyer before he admitted to anything, but the eerie accuracy of Shaw’s description rendered Jericho’s attention rapt.

“But the guy in the packing plant made your mouth melt shut and you had some voodoo man in New Orleans get that fixed. And there was that crumpled bag from the golden arches that provided a happy meal and a poisoned apple every day. Or a serial killer priest who ritually crucified himself after mass and could turn into the Incredible fucking Hulk before you and some of Cigar Man’s boys put him down like a dog and several dozen rounds of point-fifty caliber ammo,” Shaw said.

Jericho’s heart skipped a beat. Though Shaw was only scratching at the surface of all the unreal things he had witnessed in his recent years working for the “club"—the detective somehow knew. Knew of what Jericho liked to call "the weird shit.”

Shaw shot a glance at the mirrored window and said in a hushed murmur, “There’s nobody over there, Kane. No camera, nothing. I know better than to let anybody else in on this. I know how weird and un-fucking-believable all of this is. Hell, I question my own sanity just saying any of this out loud, but I have seen some shit myself. And—listen—I’m here to hear you out. I just want to—I wanna know the truth.”

Jericho swallowed the big empty wad of nothing that suddenly lodged itself inside this throat, yet it refused to go down no matter how many times he repeated the useless motion. That ball of anxiety stayed stuck right there, a slimy void only adding to the rest of his discomfort. He leaned back in his chair despite how painful the metal bars bracing the backrest felt.

“Look, I know of the Carcosa Casino job you were part of, down in Atlantic City. What did they call the 'package’ you were supposed to take from those thugs? 'Lightweight ghosts?’ What in God’s name is that, anyway?”

Jericho shook his head, croaked out a clipped, “Dunno.”

“You didn’t ask questions. Can’t say I blame you,” Shaw said, shaking his head in unison. “Probably woulda done the same in your shoes.”

He broke eye contact and shoved the folder in between the two of them. Flipped it open. Papers rustled; glossy prints of pictures glided from the main pile onto the discard pile he started right next to it.

Jericho recognized the Heavenly Night bar from one of the big photos even though this image depicted it as charred black and burnt down—from that one time when he had set it on fire with a thought. From that one time when he had discovered what unnatural abilities he possessed.

Another picture portrayed Jericho in a black raincoat with a green surgical mask on his face and sunglasses concealing his eyes, toting a silenced pistol in one hand—but he easily identified the distinct shape of his own head despite the stubble left behind after shaving it.

His typical “job attire” whenever he worked for Cigar Man.

“You usually get self-deleting messages with simple, straightforward instructions and are left to figure out the rest. You’re pretty good at that, right?” Shaw asked.

More pictures. Incident reports. A timeline of all the weirdness that Jericho had lived through. Hints at the world hidden behind the world, a world of human monsters that could alter reality on a whim as soon as they figured out the cosmic cheat codes. Most people do their damnedest to rationalize the weird to the best of their ability, but at some point, it gets hard to deny it all. Shaw must have gotten there on his own.

“The four-digit numbers just kept piling up in your bank account and everything stayed untraceable. Shit, Jericho, one of the guys at Homeland Security admitted to me that they didn’t just fail to trace anything—they couldn’t. Every data trail just vanishes into thin fuckin’ air. Like the hand of God reached through every computer and wiped every record clean.”

Jericho had gotten a message from Cigar Man just last week, so his mind went there. The new job. He dispelled the thoughts, focusing on trying to get a read on the seasoned detective. What was his deal? Was he on the payroll of the other syndicate? The douchebags over in Europe?

“And I get it, man. You never ever stopped to question this, because it’s both too good to be true—and too scary to fuck with,” Shaw droned on.

His sympathy was grating on his Jericho’s nerves but clearly genuine. The crook sensed it. The detective felt that same spark he had felt himself, all those years ago.

That time when he still struggled to understand it all. When he felt ambition, wanting to know how the secret world worked. How things like magick functioned, and trying to understand what, if any, difference existed between ghosts and demons.

That spark always struck dry wood, igniting the debris that rested, dead and dormant at the back of one’s mind, bursting into flames and feeding roaring fires of burning curiosity.

Shaw finally fell silent and stopped shuffling through the papers and photos. He let his gaze wander back upwards, scanning Jericho’s face for a reaction until they locked eyes again. That glint in his eyes—it reflected the hungry fires, consuming any knowledge it could get.

“C'mon. I know you wanna talk to me. You wanna talk to somebody, anybody. I’m not your enemy, Jericho. I’m not like him. I’m not—”

Jericho’s heart began to race in that instance and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, knowing in advance what name Shaw was about to utter. A horrid premonition during which time almost slowed to a complete halt and his eyes went wide.

“No!” Jericho suddenly shouted. “Don’t say—”

Shaw’s brow furrowed but he continued anyway, oblivious to the trigger he was pulling, “I’m not The Way King.”

Jericho’s heart skipped a beat and his blood curdled. The harsh white light from the neon tube overhead in the interrogation room flickered in response to that name being spoken.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jericho hissed, elongating the vowel in agonized defeat.

“Something wrong with me saying that? The Way King?” Shaw asked, continuing to shoot his mouth off, oblivious to the smoking gun he unwittingly kept firing every time he flapped his gums.

“Shut the fuck up! Stop saying his fucking name!”

The lights flickered again. The background noise—that constant buzz of chatter and drawers and metal doors and shoes tapping against hard floors and someone shouting and some chuckling and people on the phones and—all the life in the police station, muffled through the steel door, it all went dead. All at once.

Jericho lurched forward, causing Shaw to shift back in his seat, startled. But the surprise written across the detective’s visage mirrored the dread that must have taken hold of Jericho’s own face. Jericho showed him his empty palms in surrender.

“I will tell you whatever the fuck you wanna know. But you gotta—you have to fucking unlock me, right now. We need to get out of here,” Jericho whispered at him, enunciating every syllable with sharp endings and harsh gravity punctuating every stop.

Shaw stared at him, slack jawed. Now it was the detective’s turn to swallow a big lump of nothing that had gotten lodged in his throat. He bit his lip for a second and his hand went for his pocket. Crammed his fist right in there and dug around to look for the key.

Then the detective started shaking, wracked with spasms like he was being seized by an epileptic attack. His mouth started to foam while he gurgled.

The chain ribbed and rattled as Jericho leaned back as far as he could, trying to gain as much distance as possible, until he felt the tug of cold metal keeping him locked in place, and he heard the crunch of the chain accompany his bondage bringing him to a helpless stop.

Shaw’s eyes rolled back so far into his head that they looked only white and bloodshot. Then a hideous grin shaped across his face, clearly not his own. Drool dribbled down from the curve of his lip, forming pearls on the way down Shaw’s beard until the saliva dripped down onto his lap.

“There you are,” the Way King spoke through Shaw’s mouth, stealing his voice but spewing it out in a different cadence and tone. “Told you, boy. I will always find you, no matter where you go.”

Blood rushed in Jericho’s ears, his heart pounded like one of those huge Japanese drums; just thundering away and drowning out everything, leaving him deaf to the rest of the world and mesmerized by the spiderweb of crimson in Shaw’s white eyes, knowing that the Way King now stared at him through the powerless borrowed vessel.

“Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

The handcuffs sprung open without anybody manipulating them. Jericho froze. Did not dare budge.

There was no point in running.

He was going to have to hear this demonic dickhead out now.

His deals always sucked.

—Submitted by Wratts

#spoospasu #spookyspaghettisundae #horror #short story #writing #my writing #literature #spooky #fiction #submission #surreal #hyperrealism #occult #supernatural #unnatural #preternatural #hidden world #secret world #urban fantasy #real magick #Jericho Kane #Detective Shaw #Evergreen #occult underground #unknown armies #possession #demon #trapped #helpless #interrogation room

[bloodshot-interactive]

Our Love is Nothing but a Game

A one-shot drabble about how Bliss and Madison’s breakup went down. Be warned of implied sexual themes

Story under the cut

The Grand Metropolis skyline illuminated brightly with pride throughout the late night sky as the motorcycle sped ahead of the other vehicles on the road. Madison was clearly upset as he drove his way to a bar. Not only does he like and want to drink, but it was also his way to cope, to let loose and clear out whatever was holding him back.

Speaking off holding back.

He got reminded of what happened earlier…

Flashback a few hours…

As Madison returned to a cheap hotel from his gig, the entire suite was quiet. He assumed Bliss was already asleep so he walked further to the living room calling for Bliss that he was home. No response. The only noise was a cheesy old sitcom on TV.

“Come on, Bliss…” he muttered under his breath as he picked up the remote from the table and turned off the TV. He walked over the only bedroom in the suite.

Bliss wasn’t sleeping. She wasn’t there at all. The only things left lying about on the bed was a small note and a banquet of pink and red roses. The raven’s brow was raised as he picked up the note and read it.

“Sorry Maddie. It’s time we move on...” followed by a kiss mark…

End flashback...

He sighed, rolling his eyes as he parked in front of the bar. He took off his sunglasses, and stuffed it inside his leather jacket before walking inside. ‘Don’t worry about that, just have fun…’ he thought to himself.

Everyone at the bar is living lively, having a chill time talking, laughing and dancing, lights dimmed purple, magenta and blue. Madison sat down at the barstool and waved at the squirrel tending the bar.

“Gimme a glass of whiskey, extra ice” he ordered to the squirrel, and with that they were quickly right on it as requested. They slid the drink over to Madison as he caught it. Taking a small sip of the drink, the bird smiled. Cold. Exactly how he liked it.

As the raven turned around to watch everyone having a good time, he saw a couple making out in the corner, and another pair leaving the bar, happily drunk, holding onto each other for dear life and giggling at whatever. He sighed, leaning back on the counter, taking another sip. He really wished it was him….and Bliss.

There's a sudden faint floral smell in the room. That fragrance was all too familiar to him. Putting his drink down, he hopped off the barstool to follow it.

Is that really who I think this is?

That can’t be. Right?

The floral smell got stronger and warmer as he stood at the round table staring directly at who it belonged to. Madison’s eyes widened. Heart skipping a beat.

It was her.

“Bliss?”

As the moth was in the middle of her waiting daze, surrounding herself in heavy pink smoke from her e-cigarette, she turned to the voice belonging to the familiar raven. She tilted her head and gave him an unnoticeable, fake smile, her small, crimson sunglasses gave off a shine from the dimmed multicolored lights.

“Ohh, hi, Maddie! I didn’t think you’d find me here of all places. What brings you here?”

Madison folded his arms and glanced away at the silk moth. “Ah ya know, just trying to let loose, meeting new people, just vibing… ya know?” He chuckled sheepishly, hiding the fact by how hurt he was. He’s having the urge to ask her a question, biting his lower beak.

Bliss chuckled softly, taking a drag of her e-cig. She then blew out more smoke as she spoke, “That's good to hear. You deserve to vibe after all that hard wor—“

“So what’s up with the note?”

The moth’s antennae flicked at the sudden question from the raven. She switched her e-cig off and stuffed it into her hot pink purse. “Excuse me?”

Madison’s voice was a bit firm, held out his hands for gesture as he leaned a bit forward, “The note! And flowers on the bed. You left me!” his arms drooped down in a bit of defeat “Why? I thought our relationship was strong.”

“The note…” the silk moth thought for a moment with a mutter, “Oh right, the note! Yeeeaah, about that” she pushed her sunglasses down a bit, her pitched black eyes staring up at the bird. She clearly has no pupils but Madison can tell she was looking at him. “I got bored. So I left.”

“Bored…?” He muttered monotonously in question

“Yup” she laid back on the cushioned seat, one leg over the other, giving the raven a cold smirk, “honestly, I never actually loved you. I only wanted you for your money, but it seems like you have nothing left on you after you waved goodbye to that degenerate gang of yours. You really believed that our love lasted that long?”

“I DID!!” The raven’s yelling caught everyone’s attention to the former couple. They all stopped talking and everything they were doing, even the music came to a halt. All eyes are on them now. It made Bliss flinch quite a bit but it didn’t bother Madison none.

His feathers bristled, leather gloved hands clinched to fists, “You think our relationship is a game to you?! I put so much effort on my love for you! I gave you everything you wanted!!”

Madison’s brows furrowed with the sign of confusion and anger but didn’t break eye contact with Bliss. The poor guy was heartbroken. “Bliss! I loved you!!”

The silk moth frowned and turned away, crossing her arms impatiently. No response.

“I spent most of my money on a fancy dinner, an amusement park, the goddamned movie theatre! And on top of that, I ditched my fucking gang so I can spend more time with you while on a solo gig!” Madison facepalmed at the last thing he’s ever done. That was the biggest mistake on his part.

“My boss is gonna want me dead by now…!”

Bliss turned back to Madison, a sultry, cat like smirk returned to her face, “That's good! Dirt cheap men like you deserved it. Anyone I touch will suffer beautifully. And you’re one of them. I can see it on your pathetic little face...” her dangerous smile grew wide.

The raven was disgusted by her statement, “So you want me dead after everything we had together?! Are...are you fuckin’ hearing yourself right now??”

“Nope.” The silk moth got up, snatching her overcoat and purse off the seat, “I honestly don’t have time to deal with you right now. You men are nothing but sorry excuses who don’t know to treat a lady. It’s over between us. At least there’s someone else out there with better class!” As soon as she’s out of her seat, she sees someone calling her name. Her wings fluttered as she flew quickly away from the bird, calling out sweetly to the one bulky grey wolf. “Big Daddy~!”

Madison looked on at his ex and that wolf in disbelief.

“Aye, there’s my lil’ Creme Puff! Sorry I took so long, hadda take care of some business.” the wolf gave the moth a toothy smile, gently squeezing at her ass with a hug. He then took a look at a confused Madison across from him. “That bird botherin’ ya?”

Bliss’s gloved claws gliding elegantly, at the wolf’s broad chest, nonexistent hues staring pleadingly at him, “Oh Big Daddy~ indeed~! That mean ol’ bird won’t leave me alone!” She pushed herself against him, “Please, Big Daddy, make him stop!” As her silky, seductive voice and wanton touch puts the wolf under a spell, his clawed hand gently slides down at the moth's soft hair with a huff, smirking at her.

“Aight, let Big Bad handle this one. Ya stay put, my lil’ Creme Puff” the Wolf, known as Big Bad walked over to Madison, towering over him. “Ya gotta problem with my girl?”

“Your girl?” Madison scoffed and folded his arms, grayish blue eyes locked at Big Bad orange ones, “You mean, my girl, right. You hardly ever met her!”

“Oh yeah?” That’s when Big Bad grabbed Madison by the collar of his jacket, bumping each other’s heads. “Lemme tell ya somethin’, buddy, Bliss is my girl now. So ya betta stay away from her, or else we gon’ have some problems, ya feel me!?”

The raven growled in anger as he looked over at the wolf’s shoulder and spotted Bliss, who’s smiling deviously at the both of them. He looked back at the Wolf and pushed him away. “Yeah, I understand perfectly. Though, I got one advice for you, my man. You better keep ya eyes open, ‘cause you’re dealing with something that you’re gonna regret!”

“Tha fuck’re tryin’ a say?” Big Bad’s orange hues staring up and down at the bird, looking to punch this guy senseless.

“All I’m saying is, to her, you’re nothing but a pot of gold, but she’ll leave you to rot if you ain’t got shit for her like she did to me just now. So you better count your fucking days, bucko, you’ll be biting the dust before you know it!”

As soon as Madison was on his way out, he was grabbed from the back of his jacket by Big Bad, and was tossed towards the very back where the DJ was playing his tunes, crashing forcefully at the wall in the process. Everyone gasped and muttered about as to what’s going on.

Madison slowly sat up and took out his handgun

from inside his jacket. This caught everyone’s attention. “That does it, you’ve crossed the line!!” But before he attempts to pull the trigger, Bliss was in the way, hugging Big Bad lovingly, pecking kisses at his face. Madison lowered his weapon and stuffed it back into his jacket in defeat.

“Oh~ Big Daddy, you’re such a big, strong man~! You're turning me on already!” Bliss’s voice was too sultry, too sweet to resist, but her stare at the poor raven was deadly and devilish for sure.

“Heh, what can I say, they don’t call me Big Bad for nothin’ ya know?” The grey wolf wrapped his arm around the silk moth before they left the bar. “Let’s head over to my club, too many creeps n’ freaks up in this joint”

Watching this newfound duo leave, Madison brushed himself off in anger and kicked the dirt off the floor. He aggressively took off his jacket and threw it to the floor. He noticed all the patrons, even the DJ and the bartender were watching this in concern and fear.

“What the fuck are are you all looking at??” He muttered, grabbing his jacket off the floor and stormed out of the bar.

Driving back to the hotel, he smirked and started laughing to himself. What a fool he was; and to think he and Bliss had something special and now he’s been played. He should’ve listened to ZigZag and Diesel about leaving the gang, but he was too blindly in love with the moth that he had to. Now he’s a dead man walking and he had to figure out ways to not be seen by the bikers to get himself killed. Fuck that! He’s not gonna take shit from anyone. He’s gonna let everyone in Grand Metropolis know that he’s not a game, that he’s not the man to mess with.

And he sure as hell, karma will soon creep at that Bitch.

Their love was nothing but a game...

#[Stories to Tell]: Literature #[Tough Love]: MadiBliss #[Maniacal Shooter]: Madison #[A Femme Fatale with a Flowery Scent]: Bliss

[fantasmalforces]

😡💋🚀 for holly, lucien & ellana, please!

. * ･ ｡ﾟ☆ The Muse in a Relationship // CLOSED ☆ ｡ﾟ･* .

😡What are their deal breakers?

💋Are they more sensual or sexual?

🚀 How far are they willing to go for the person they love?

// Put under a cut bc this is a chonky post! Thank you! :D

“Well ain’t these just a couple of doozies, mm? Now lemme think ‘ere; deal breakers.

Well I’m not goin’ to lie t’you. I consider myself high maintenance. I got a lot goin’ on after all! I’ve got a shop to run and I run it well. I have a strict workout regiment that involves a lot of sparring and bruises, an I know not everyone’s into that. If youMee the superficial type or you can’t handle the fact I’m a workin’ gal, the door’s that way. Don’t let it hit ya where the good lord split ya. Other than that, general nastiness doesn’t do much for me. Took me a long time to feel comfortable with myself in every sense of the word, I’m not about ta let some nobody try and take me down a peg. I’d sooner mount my own head on a wall before I let that shit slide.

Sensual or sexual, eh? I’d say I’m inherently more sexual. Don’t get me wrong, I can love and appreciate my partner just fine. I love lavishin’ em with attention whenever I get the chance. But by nature, I’m more of a rough and tumble type with my love. I don’t make love, I fuck. And I tend to compliment my partner on how sexy they look in somethin’. Not just good, but real good. Now I wouldn’t say I’m a sex fiend or anything— not that extreme by a long shot. Just my mind tends to gravitate towards being more direct about sex appeal than just being superficial. And hey, it’s worked out so far. Lotta my partners have commented that me telling them how much I want them often enough has kept them happy.

How far am I willing to go for the person I love? This is a bit of a touchy one. I’ll try to keep it blunt and clear though. I had a fallin’ out with my old man years back. I still loved him. He wasn’t just my father after all— he had to play both roles and raise both me and my brother. But he made every moment memorable. I never knew what it was like to be hungry or cold or without love. We did everything together. I loved my pa more than anything else, and I always will. So when he told me to leave and never come back, because he couldn’t look at me the same way ever again, it broke my heart sure. But I did it. Because I loved him, even if he didn’t love me anymore. And making sure he was happy and he got what he wanted in the end was what mattered most to me. I would gladly accept that I was dead to him if that was what made him happy.”

———

“Ah, one of these I see. Very well.

Deal breakers. Hmm.. I believe the one thing that could prevent me from loving someone entirely, is if they could not show me the same courtesy. I know that what I am makes me undesirable to many. It’s been the center of conflict and disagreement since long before I was born. All I ask is that my partner treat me with respect and accept that I did not ask to be like this, and that if they love me they accept that they must love all of me. Otherwise, I don’t believe we could have a future together.

Am I more sensual or sexual? Hmm... I would consider myself more sensual. I know most Deerfolk tend to be sexually motivated. It’s no fault of their own, it’s simple a reality of our species’ instincts. Deer are competitive in nearly every aspect of their lives, from mates, to territory, to meals. There’s very few things we won’t fight over. But my interests tend to gravitate less towards the innate intimacy of sex. I tend to appreciate cherish my partner in more nuanced ways. I like to show them I appreciate more than their physicality. I like to offer them emotional gratification. And if things are physical, I like to give them more simple, meaningful touches to communicate my intentions as a pure appreciation of them as a whole.

How far am I willing to go to defend someone I love? As a guardian, my purpose is to protect life and preserve it as often as I can, while also understanding the delicate balances that allow all things to exist. It’s... a fine line to walk. Though thankfully, I no longer have to see so much conflict as I once did. However, that does not change the fact that if someone I loved was in danger I would... how do you humans say it... come out of retirement? And fight for them. I would not hesitate using my powers on another being if it meant protecting them. And that it not something I take lightly.”

———

“Oooh! I love questions like these! Thanks so much for asking!

Deal breakers, huh? Deal breaker, deal breaker, deal breaker— oh! I try to be upfront with a lot of my partners that I’m a single mother of a human child. This tends to go over with... mixed results. I’ve told people ahead of time that if they aren’t okay with my kid, we’re not going to work out. And I’ve had people acknowledge my words without actually listening to them. So yeah, one of my biggest dealbreakers is, if you can’t get along with my kid, you won’t get along with me. And also just... respect me. Respect what I am and what I do. I’ve heard enough “bitch” “jokes” to last me a lifetime.

More sensual or sexual? Sexual I think. I have a really deep love for pleasuring my partners through physical intimacy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m great at giving them a sensual experience if I really try. But honestly? I’m just a little too excitable and eager for it. I’m better at showing them how much I love and appreciate them through more direct methods that I know they’ll understand and enjoy.~

How far am I willing to go for the person I love? God, I’ve gone so far for the people I love. I left my home country to try and get a good job to support my family back home. I took on raising a child I loved to repay a family who showed me a type of kindness I honestly feel like I’ll never be able to repay, and now I’m fighting every day to scrape together the funds to make sure this sweet innocent child lives to see his tenth birthday. I really don’t know where the limit is. At this point, I feel like if I really love someone, I’ll traverse the jaws of hell just for them. And nothing will be able to stop me either— I’m too damn stubborn for that, ahaha!”

#// thank you so much for the ask!! #// sorry it took me a while to get to! #{ open your eyes : ask } #kourumi #{ ‘’ friends will be friends ‘’ | holly } #{ ‘’ here we stand or here we fall ‘’ | lucien } #{ ‘’ that’s why they call me misses farenheit ‘’ | elana }

[basicallywhiterice]

Night sky: Seo Changbin

Pairing: Seo Changbin x Reader

Genre: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing

Word count: 5.2 k

Summary: Changbin’s eyes hold the night skies.

a/n: Happy birthday binnie! You’re my bias wrecker, but my very first fic is centered around you… the power that you hold… enjoy!

•••

The first word that comes to mind when I first see Seo Changbin sitting alone in my Tech classroom is dark: dark eyes, dark hair, dark clothes, and a dark aura.

That is, until he breaks into one of the brightest smiles I’ve ever seen. It isn’t necessarily big or overpowering, but it’s genuine and unashamed.

My second impression of him is that he’s the physical embodiment of the night sky. Dark upon first glance, but littered with stars and illuminated by a radiant moon.

After we exchanged greetings, I sat down next to him and struck a up conversation. I learned that he was double majoring in business and music, and in turn told him my major. We talked about our hometowns, our aspirations, and what we hoped to cross off our bucket lists by the end of the year. Before I knew it, the classroom was full and our professor was greeting our class.

Changbin seemed like someone who knew exactly what he was capable of and was authentic with everyone.

I liked him as a person already.

“By the way, Changbin, we’re friends now. Ok?”

“I’m more than ok with that, actually.”

Of course, becoming close friends with Changbin didn’t come easily. After I set the curve for the first Tech test, he accused me of only befriending him to raise my test scores. I told him that I studied for my score, and stormed out after aggressively congratulating him on his hard work studying (he had the 2nd-highest score.)

The day after that, when I was in a much more reasonable mood, I went to class early so I could apologize for lashing out once he arrived. He was already there, waiting with an apology of his own.

That was the day I realized that my first impressions of Seo Changbin were indeed correct, and that he was a friend worth keeping for a long, long time.

But right now? He’s dead to me.

He laughs at me as he scrolls through my camera roll and picks out unflattering pictures of me to send to himself. I was waiting for 3racha to finish their work so we could go out to dinner (I had been successfully integrated into Changbin’s friend group, and he into mine. We had surprisingly shared a mutual friend: Felix, one of my closest friends.) Changbin was the first one done, and, after waiting with me for a few minutes, had gotten bored and stolen my unlocked phone, causing my current predicament. After a few unsuccessful attempts to steal my phone back, I give up and fall against him with a whine.

“Relax, y/n. I don’t understand why I never knew about these beautiful-” he snorts, “pictures of yourself.” He pauses on one particularly embarrassing photo taken by Yeji, my close friend and roommate. In it, I’m blowing a kiss to the camera while eating a cupcake. I whine loudly and smack his shoulder a couple of times. When he ignores my sulking, I poke his side, causing him to poke my cheek in retaliation.

Thankfully, Jisung walks into the room, sparing me the embarrassment of looking at my candid pictures. He sighs. “What did he do this time?”

“He’s sending himself my embarrassing pictures,” I tell him. “This is cyberbullying.”

“Lemme see.” He snickers as he looks over Changbin’s shoulder. “Very photogenic, y/n. You should consider taking more pictures we can use as blackmail.”

This little shit. Scratch that, these 2 little shits.

I snatch Changbin’s phone and chase after Jisung, trying to take a few meme-worthy pictures of Jisung, but Chan finishes up and shoos us out of the music production building and into our cars. As I file into Changbin’s passenger seat (I walked here from class, so my car is still at my apartment), he hands my phone back with a cheeky grin.

“You know, Jisung was right. You really should take more pictures of yourself,” he states as he backs out of his parking spot.

“Why, so you guys can post them on my birthday to make fun of me?” I cross my arms exaggeratedly, then uncross them to grab his phone and spam his camera with random pictures of him driving.

“Well, that too.” He glances over briefly, and I get a perfect shot of him that captures his mischievously twinkling rich, dark chocolate-colored eyes and his satisfied smirk. My breath hitches, and I swear I can feel my heart beating in my throat. Changbin’s handsome and he knows it, no doubt about it. The words send me that pic later die on the tip of my tongue as he reaches over and ruffles my hair before continuing, “but also because I need more beautiful things on my phone.”

He goes back to driving, as if he hadn’t just indirectly called me beautiful. But I’ve seen the way girls swoon over his smile and ogle his arms. I’ve seen how many people his charms affect, whether he’s aware of it or not. And so the negative part of my brain reigns in my blooming affection for the boy sitting next to me before I can do anything stupid, forcing me not to dwell on my jumble of emotions. Instead, I ask him about his day, the tracks he’s working on, and the classes that I’m not in, and he tells me before asking about my professors. Just like good friends do.

(That night, I pretend I don’t notice or mind the beautiful, kind waitress flirting with him, and I pretend that I’m not relieved when he treats her politely and with kindness–nothing more, nothing less–like he does with everyone else, and I pretend that my heart wouldn’t break if he rejected my advancements like that, so why does Felix whisper in my ear that I’m in denial?)

•••

“Pick up, jeez!” I huff into my phone. After calling Changbin twice, he finally picks up on my third try.

“What.” I can hear Felix screaming something in the background about Changbin being soft (with some friendly trash talk), followed by my name being yelled.

“Y/n y/n y/n,” I hear Felix breathing into the phone. “Of course it’s you, no wonder Changbin didn’t have his resting bitch face on when he answered–mmph!” Seungmin cackles in the background with an affirmative shout of “I agree!”

“Hey Seungmin! Miss ya!” I giggle. “Hey Felix, how’s uh… what was her name again?” I pretend for forget the name of Felix’s crush. “Oh yeah–”

“Thank you, next!” I can hear Seungmin clowning him already, before Changbin (presumably) steals his phone back.

“So,” Changbin clears his throat, “did you need anything?”

“Hi y/n! How’s your day been going? We should probably work on our Tech project, don’t you think? Especially since we’re going with my idea of music production apps?” I imitate his voice. “None of that? Hmmm?”

“Hi y/n, how’s your day.” he states more than asks. “Also, I kind of forgot about that project?” When I stay silent, he adds, “That cafe two blocks from your English class in twenty minutes? I’ll bring two studio headphones.”

“You better. Also, do you mind giving me a ride?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip. “I’m at the auto shop right now because my car is getting fixed.”

“Not at all. I’ll be there in ten.”

Twelve minutes later, when he pulls up, I greet him with a “you’re late.”

(”Hi Changbin! How was your day? It’s so good to see you! You make this lovely day even better!”

“I’m glad you’re smart enough to figure out the reason behind my lackluster greeting, Seo. Do you understand what it feels like to be ignored now?”

“…my bad.”)

•••

“Can I get a ride back to the auto shop, too?” I ask as we walk across the cafe’s parking lot.

“No, you can perish. I can’t believe you had the audacity to diss coffee.” Changbin shudders exaggeratedly recalling how I called coffee “gross” after he ordered his iced americano.

“You mean roast,” I grin as I shoot him with finger guns. When he fixes me with a look, I continue. “But I bought you one to pay you back for picking me up!” I protest, playing along with his banter.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t buy me one for dropping you off, too.”

“Meanie.” We stop when we reach his car.

“A meanie who was kind enough to at least give you a ride there.” As he unlocks his car and sinks into the driver’s seat, he smirks up at me. “See you tomorrow, y/n.”

I cross my arms in defeat. “See you, snake.” I pull my phone out and open the bus app to check the schedule, sighing when I look at him and absentmindedly waving once I realize he hasn’t closed his door yet. That’s when it registers in my mind that I’m waving with the hand holding my phone.

Changbin rolls his eyes at me when he sees what I’ve pulled up. “I was joking, jeez. You know, you really can be dumb sometimes. Get in, idiot.”

“Yet I’m still at the top of the class, am I right? And I’m up there with you, so what does that say about your intelligence?” I slide into the passenger seat. “And in my defense, you’re really cold-hearted, so I actually thought you’d make me get home on my own.”

“I’d never let you go home alone this late, dummy. You may be book smart sometimes, but I’m convinced that you only use one brain cell 80% of the time. You’re so dense.” He reaches across the car and flicks my forehead. I flick his right back. “Plus, you’re cute when you’re exasperated.”

“Uhh…” I articulate intelligently. Yup, my last brain cell just went on vacation. “Um, ah- if I didn’t know better, I’d call you a player,” I manage to sputter out.

My face heats up as the temperature in the car seems to drop a few degrees as I freeze, internally panicking. Sure, that was a past impression I had of him, but I know him better now.

Changbin freezes. “You really see me that way?” His voice is flat and steady–too flat and steady.

“No! I-I kinda thought that when I first met you, but I know you’re not like that. And you can’t be a player if you only have eyes for Soyeon, right?” I’m convinced that Soyeon, the charismatic, popular rapper in his music composition class, is the object of his affections.

“I don’t like Soyeon.”

“Smells like lies.”

“I don’t!”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

Changbin starts the car. Before he pulls out of the parking lot, he glances over at me.

“I’m not–you know. A player.”

That’s the very first time I see Changbin in such an open, vulnerable state. His openness usually comes with an air of you-can’t-hurt-me-I’m-invincible. Right now, though, he lets me look straight into the depths of his soul.

I’m the one to break eye contact.

“I know,” I nod.

But it would be easier to justify the effect you have on me if you were.

(“So… how was your cafe date with Changbin yesterday? Has he asked you out to dinner yet?” pesters Felix, leaning across the table at the library, wiggling his eyebrows at me. I open my mouth to protest, but Changbin joins us and playfully shoves his shoulder before settling his arm across my shoulders.

“I actually enjoyed it a lot,” he smirks, glancing down at me. “Now if you’d bug Hyunjin instead,” he points towards the entrance where Hyunjin is walking in, “we have a study date that I, at least, would prefer you didn’t intrude on.” He smiles at me again. I think I can see stars in his eyes.

I can’t contain my grin. Even though I know he means it as a joke, I like it. I like him.

So I play along.

“You’re late Changbin.” I reach up to squish his cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Felix fake a gag and leave. Changbin squeezes my side in a half hug, then sits down and scoots closer to me, taking out his textbooks and papers.

If one were to look at me and see stars swimming in my eyes, stars for him, make no mistake. This is no joke. This is real.)

•••

Over the course of the next month, I pine after Changbin. Hard. I swoon when he greets me with a hug, a smile, and an occasional drink from our cafe in the mornings, squishing my cheeks afterwards. (I always squish his back.) I swoon twice as hard if he jots down lyrics or his inner thoughts on his drink, something he’s been doing regularly. I fight the urge to blush whenever he makes a casual, flirty joke (especially when it’s in response to what I wrote on the pink sticky notes I attach to his drink whenever it’s my turn to grab drinks for us), opting to flirt back instead of feeling shy. My heart beats a little faster when I settle into his cuddly hugs, sometimes to the point where I’m afraid he’ll notice how quick it is. I have to bite back a lovestruck grin when he shares bits and pieces of himself with me, such as revealing random thoughts, telling me childhood stories, and letting me explore his soul, telling me anything and everything I’d like to know–that is, besides his current love life, denying that he has a crush on Soyeon every time I bring it up. (I’m slightly relieved.)

I’ve finally admitted my feelings for him. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the line, I decided to let whatever happens happen. I think I do a pretty good job of hiding it? (Felix begs to differ, though.) But the thing is, I want to tell him. I just don’t want to lose him as a friend, and I can’t imagine my life without him as an integral part in it.

So, I keep my feelings inside every time he touches my arm, shoulder, or hand; every time he leans in close to whisper in my ear; every time he giggles his fricking adorable giggle and his eyes scrunch up. I keep them hidden until I don’t and I end up spilling my feelings to Felix.

Two hours later, after Felix is done gloating that he was “right all along”, interrogating me, and high-key shipping me, he drags me over to Changbin’s dorm and claims that “he wants to see who’s better at video games” between Changbin and me. Then he leaves once we start playing smash. (He ends up beating me four times before suggesting we go somewhere else to do something fun. I agree. Felix makes faces at me until we leave.)

Some time after that (with a little convincing from Felix–not too much though, the prick knows how to be a decent friend and not force me into anything–and Yeji, who gushed about how cute Changbin and I were for a solid hour after I told her about my feelings), I sit down and plan what to say during a confession after I text Changbin to meet me in our cafe at 5 o’clock sharp and that I have something to tell him. He responds with:

Sure

I wanna tell u something too

See u then

The thing is, my brain chooses the perfect moments to stop working. For example:

I am romantically attracted to you beyond the scope that friendship encompasses? What the heck? Where did that come from?

After giving up on planning (why would you not be spontaneous when you could be?), I tell myself to just relax, and go over the main points I want to make in my head. I trust myself to not make a complete fool out of myself while confessing. I think.

You know what? I’m relaxed. Cool as a cucumber.

I mean, come on! What could possibly go wrong?

•••

As soon as I step into the cafe and see Changbin’s expression change from unbothered to smiling when he notices me entering, my mouth goes dry.

“You’re early,” I greet.

He raises an eyebrow. “You are, too. That’s a first. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

My eyes dart around, glancing at the menu, the fairy lights, the flower centerpiece in the middle of the table, all familiar things I had seen when we worked on our project and during our study sessions. I do a double take when my gaze lands on the small bouquet of flowers resting in his lap.

Of course he wanted to see me too. He needed a girl’s opinion delivering these flowers along with a speech about his feelings.

Wonderful. As if I wasn’t sure my heart was going to get broken already.

“So. I have something to tell you.” “I need to get something off my chest.” we say at the same time.

Smooth, me. That was real smooth.

“Please just let me get it out. I’ll help you with whatever confession advice about Soyeon you need, ok? I just… need to word vomit,” I let out a shaky breath. “Would you look at that, I’m doing it already! Great!”

Changbin stares at me. He opens his mouth and says, “I don’t have feelings for Soyeon. I don’t understand why you always insist that I do, but believe me, these flowers… they’re not for her.”

Ah, there my mind goes again. Racing with thoughts of who else it could be. I don’t want to think of him as a fuckboy, but really, who knows how many other people he’s given flowers to? Just when I was starting to think–no, hope–that maybe, maybe my one-sided pining wasn’t one-sided after all.

How many more people does he wrap his arms around, does he write random thoughts and lyrics for, does he walk to classes and events with, does he greet with a new cheesy pickup line on their hot chocolate with no whipped cream and marshmallows, does he say heart-stopping things so effortlessly such as “I don’t know what I would do without you in my life” while shooting his deadly, genuine smile? How many more people are there?

“Take your time, y/n,” Changbin chuckles good-naturedly, snapping me out of my internal monologue. “It must be important. I’m all ears.” He props his elbows up on the small table separating us, leaning his head into his hands and fixing a patient expression on me.

This adorable, tiny, unselfish ball of fluff. My heart nearly combusts and I lose control of my brain when I blurt out the words “I like you.”

I force myself to keep my eyes on his face, to see if his expression changes. It doesn’t, but I swear I can see his eyes darken a little and the wheels in his mind start to turn before coming to a complete stop. “We’re friends,” he replies slowly. “Unless you mean…”

“I am romantically attracted to you beyond the scope that friendship encompasses.” Seriously? Right now?

Changbin opens his mouth and closes it (I’m sure that my thesaurus vomit didn’t exactly help things). He’s wearing his trademark confused face, and as cute as it is, I can’t suppress the need to explain myself more. “I just wanted to let you know, and I hope that we can still be friends after this. There’s no pressure for you to like me back or anything. I totally understand. Just give me a few days to adjust, ok? Ok. Cool.”

“Wait, y/n-” “Haha, look at the time, I need to go, uh, do stuff. See you in class on Monday!” I nearly trip as I rush to stand up from my chair. I barely restrain myself from bolting to the door, and by the time Changbin opens the cafe door, I’m halfway across the parking lot.

My face burns as I peel out of the parking lot. My brain burns with the image of Changbin running towards me, arm extended, totally not kissable lips parted, calling my name.

•••

A good cry always makes things better.

Once I’m drained of tears, I melt into my bed with a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and my computer while pointedly ignoring my 50 unread messages from a certain person. As I search for friends-to-lovers stories and fics, I feel a new wave of frustration rising. Sure, mutual pining for your best friend is understandable. But what happens when you’re not best friends? What happens when he tries to brighten up everyone’s day? When will you get your happy ending if he’s just a thoroughly good person who only sees you as a friend?

My subconscious tells me that I’m being unfair, but I push selfless y/n to the back of my mind. I tell myself I’ll deal with this mess on Monday when I’m ready. Tonight, I’m just going to wallow in self-pity.

Until I hear a slightly muffled knock on my apartment door door.

And another.

And another.

“Y/n?” Changbin’s voice calls out.

Nononono crap not today not today oh mah Jesus -Mark Lee

“Please let me in?” He asks again, this time in a softer voice.

I respond by closing the door to my room.

“Y/n! I know you’re in there!” The knocking continues. I start blasting Day6 songs from my computer in an attempt to drown him out. It works, since his knocking and his words get muffled until they merely sound likewhite noise, but I get a flurry of notifications from my phone. I mute it and throw it across the room.

After a while, Changbin seems to give up and stops trying to get my attention. I pause my music.

I have no idea how long I sit on my bed, lost in my own bubble, reading my sorrows away, but I’m snapped out of my reverie and thrown back into reality with the sound of the front door opening. I hear my roommate say, “Wait here for a sec, let me talk to her first.” I hear a body settle on our couch.

The door to my room opens.

“Y/n? You ok?” Yeji takes in my puffy eyes, the mountain of tissues nearly bursting out of my trash can, the bundle of blankets I’ve arranged into something resembling a beanbag, and the tub of Ben and Jerry’s slowly melting away. She sighs sympathetically and offers me a hug.

After comforting me and asking if I wanted to talk to her (I told her I would explain things tomorrow), she asks me to talk to Changbin. I decline.

“Well, you know what’s best for you. I just hope that you’ll listen to what he has to say. He said something about crashing in our living room until you talk to him… but he won’t bother you until you’re ready to have a face-to-face conversation with him!” she immediately reassures me once she sees the look of panic and worry on my face. “If you feel comfortable enough, please talk to him soon. He seems really regretful.”

“Of course he is,” I mumble. “Of course he feels sorry after I tell him not to be.” A new flood of tears threatens to spill from my eyes. “What a prick; always caring about his friends.” The word tastes bitter in my mouth and I almost spit it out.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Yeji grabs a tissue and dabs away my tears. “Do you want me to kick his ass for you?” I shake my head. “Get my brother to kick his ass?”

That manages to get a laugh out of me. “No, don’t sic Hyunjin on him. Changbin didn’t do anything wrong. I feel a lot better now, and I don’t want to distract you from what you were doing before this; you don’t have to stay here if you have other things to do.”

“You’re sure you’re ok? I don’t have anything important to do.”

“Positive. Besides, I know your English paper is due in 2 days. You don’t have to lie. Really, thank you, Yeji. You truly are the mama bird of our friend group.”

“You’d do the same for me.” She stands up and heads towards the door. “Do you want me to put your ice cream in the fridge? Bring you some dinner? I’m planning on cooking with Changbin tonight.” I tell her no, she leaves after double checking I don’t need anything else, and I lock my door.

I feel as if I’m suffocating, as if Changbin’s presence is seeping through the walls into my room, as if it’s attempting to fuse with everything in this apartment so that I’m reminded of him everywhere I look.

I need to get out of here.

I hear Yeji and Changbin moving around in the kitchen, and I remember that no one in the kitchen can see our front door (that’s how Yeji sneaks up on me when I get home early and start preparing dinner before she gets back, and vice versa). If I time this correctly… I could sneak out until Changbin leaves!

Y/n, you’re a genius!

•••

After I slip outside, making sure the lock the door quietly, run to my car before they notice I’m gone, and decide to drive to the old-timey diner that Felix drags me to when I’m feeling down, I debate whether or not I still want to be alone for about 3 seconds before I call him. He picks up on the 4th ring. After he agrees to meet me there in 15, I tell him not to spread the word about my whereabouts.

“Chill, mate,” he drawls, and I swear I can hear his Fortnite game in the background. “It sounds like you’re trying to avoid someone. You didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

Ah, Felix. Sweet, oblivious, intuitive Felix. “Don’t worry. I’m only sticking to class 4 misdemeanors… for now,” I whisper the last part before hanging up, trying to scare him.

It doesn’t work.

“You have got to get better at lying, y/n,” he says as a form of greeting when he slides into the seat across from me in our booth. “You’d lose your straight-A average before you broke the law. Did you order yet?”

“Yup, just fries for now,” I nod just as our food gets set down on the table. “Tsk, tsk, you’re late. You said 15 minutes. It’s been 20.” An ache in my heart? What ache in my heart? I mean, who else would I call late?

He shoves a fry in his mouth with one hand while flapping his other. “Traffic. And uh, stuff. Switch seats with me,” he stands up abruptly. “I wanna look at the door instead of the restrooms.”

I’m taken aback at how random that was, but I take his seat anyways. “The doors to the restrooms are closed. Dramatic much?”

“Speaking of drama,” he pauses to shovel a large handful of fries down his throat and chew. I take this opportunity to peek at my phone, and my heart rate accelerates once I see the 73 unread messages from both Yeji and Changbin.

Crap, they found out. Ok, so maybe I wasn’t that inconspicuous… I think as I text Yeji that I’m feeling better, eating out, sorry for worrying her, and that I won’t do anything stupid. I try to ignore Changbin’s texts.

“Speaking of drama, what the hell happened?” Felix interrogates.

“What happened?” I feign ignorance.

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re at our diner, you called me here, and you haven’t touched your fries. The only thing you’re missing from this mope-fest is a milkshake.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to get one.” I try to escape from his sharp gaze, but he blocks me.

“I don’t want milkshakes, I want TEA. So spill it now.”

“I’m not sure I want to talk about it right now…”

“Does this have to do with your massive crush on Changbin?”

“Pfft, what?” My voice rises an octave at the end of my question. “I don’t like Changbin. You like Changbin.”

He ignores my blatant lies. “What happened? Did you embarrass yourself in front of him or something? Because I promise you, that boy is whipped. I’m pretty sure you could shove him off a cliff and he’d still like you.”

“No, Felix… I messed up. Like, big time.”

After I get done explaining what happened with Changbin, I can practically feel the judgement pouring off Felix in waves.

“I just-I just feel so stupid for thinking I had a chance. Like, he’s always so friendly to everyone and I can’t believe I thought that his actions meant something more. He obviously only saw me as a friend.”

“You’re wrong.” Felix stands up. “You’re wrong because he’s here right now and walking towards you.” He points behind me, and lo and behold, Changbin appears with a milkshake in each hand. Felix waves. “Adiós.”

And then I’m frozen and I can look everywhere except for at Changbin and I’m internally cursing my life.

•••

Changbin slides a milkshake across the table. “I’m sorry for not texting you anything or saying something when I went over to your dorm. I just… wanted to tell you in person. And make this special. Because–you’re special to me.”

I glance up at him, then divert my gaze to the milkshake. On the drink, he’s written a short poem.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

You said you like me,

And I like you, too.

Though our initial meeting

May have been up to fate,

Now that we’re here together,

Let me take you on a date?

“I like you too, y/n.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand–hesitantly at first, then laces our fingers together once I don’t show any signs of protest.

I stand up abruptly, pulling my hand away. Once he starts to look uncomfortable, I tackle him in a hug and bury my face into the crook of his neck. I can’t contain my grin.

“Took you long enough to realize, you cheesy songwriter.”

I pull back, and Changbin’s expression turns serious. “Be my girlfriend?”

“I would love to.”

“Well then, sweetheart,” he smiles. “Let me take you on that date?”

(As we walk out of the restaurant, he backhugs me and whispers into my ear. “The only reason I didn’t kiss you back there was because I didn’t want to bother the people in there.”

“How about now?”

He responds by leaning in and capturing my lips with his.)

•••

After our date, as Changbin and I share a kiss underneath the night sky, I can’t help but realize how incomplete my first impressions of him were. He’s much too complex to be characterized by the sky during just one time of day. Rather, he encompasses the qualities of the sky in general depending on his mood: sunny, rainy, partly cloudy, snowy, not-a-cloud-in-the-sky, displaying rainbows, and my favorite (the most frequent and the one that describes him the best)–the night sky. Commonly thought of as pitch black, until you take a closer look and observe what you see: lit up by a bright moon, the darkness just a complex contrast allowing you to appreciate the celestial bodies that the sun overpowers.

#repost: didn't have read more before #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids oneshots #seo changbin #changbin #changbin scenarios #changbin scenario #stray kids changbin #stray kids imagine #stray kids scenario #stray kids fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #kpop scenario #fanfic #fanfiction #stray kids fluff #fluff #angst #friends to lovers #happychangbinday #happy changbin day

[rational-mastermind]

It Doesn’t Hurt

Ch 1/5

Hurt/Comfort. A Trilbhan (Trilby x Siobhan) fanfic taking place after Trilby’s Notes. Warnings of suicidal thoughts and depression (in later chapters) and blood. But I mean.. If you’re into this series you’re sure as fuck not squeamish.

--

 It's been a few months since the Clanbronwyn Hotel incident. The events that took place there still haunts me to this day and my reputation around the Ministry of Occultism hadn't gotten any better, now that I'm responsible for the permanent decommissioning of two agents, Andrew Jarvis and Lenkmann. Granted, most forgave the latter, as he not only threatened my life but was a part of an insane cult named The Blessed Agonies. But AJ…

 Ever since my first day I was referred to as "the one who killed AJ". As if it wasn't bad enough bearing the responsibility of killing the man to begin with. As well as bearing the responsibility of three other deaths, Philip Harty, Simone Taylor, and Abed Chahal.

 A week or two after the Hotel Incident, I attended Dr. Chahal's funeral. At a distance, mind you. Somehow knowing why they couldn't find his body and making it a closed casket ceremony made me feel worse, but at least I could properly, discreetly, pay my respects to the man.

 However, seeing his family come to the casket to say their good-byes, forced me to leave. I suppose that's what people call guilt. I was walking out of the building when a familiar voice called out.

 "Terry Railby?"

 I couldn't tell if my initial feeling was one of surprise for being recognized or dread as I, in turn, recognized who it was. I turned around only to find Siobhan O’Malley standing by the doors, looking a little shocked herself. I should've figured she was here, being the late professor's assistant. Still, I was foolish to hope I wouldn't run into someone who would recognize me, let alone know me by the more common alias, Trilby.

 "Siobhan..." I started, unable to mask my surprise.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, rightfully perplexed.

 "Just came to pay my last respect." I said giving a nod to the funeral house behind us. "The least I could do."

 She nodded sadly and folded her arms around her.

 "Same. But… Well I mean.. ", she started to say before smiling back at me. "It's good to see you again."

 "And you as well." I smiled back politely.

 "I was kinda hoping you would show up." She stepped a little closer. "I don't think I thanked ya properly for rescuing me."

 I gave a modest shrug.

 "All in a day's work." I stated, cringing inwardly from how cheesy that sounded.

 "No really." She insisted. "If it weren't for you, it'd be my family in there. At least lemme buy you a drink, as a proper thanks."

 I nodded back to the funeral.

 "Wouldn't you rather say your proper good-bye with everyone else?"

 "Nah. I actually hate funerals. It's like church, but more depressing." Siobhan explained, looking at the ground in thought. "I paid my respects and don't get me wrong, I do miss him but… Well. I know he's not in there. Saying goodbye to an empty casket isn't gonna do me much good is it?"

 She looked back at me sadly. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. We had both seen what really happened to Abed.

 "So come on. Lemme thank ya for saving me from a worse fate, and we'll say a real good-bye instead."

 I don't know what possessed me to agree, but in about 15 minutes, I found myself sitting in a corner booth of a small cafe with Siobhan and a couple of drinks.

 "Here's to a good man." Siobhan tucked away the small flask she used to "fix" her drink, and raised the cup in a small cheers.

 I returned the gesture and we drank.

 "I didn't know you drank." I mentioned.

 "Terry, I am Irish. Of course I do." she chuckled before adding. "Only on occasions."

 I nodded and dropped it. We sat in silence for a while before I decided I should ask the obvious question.

 "So… do you want to talk about Abed?"

 Siobhan sighed a little and shrugged.

 "What can I say?" She asked and looked absent mindedly at her drink. "He was nice. A good professor. Passionate about his work. A nice man overall. I mean.. don't get me wrong, it always hurts to know someone's dead. But well… it's life, isn't it?"

 “That's a very mature way of looking at it." I agreed.

 "Well.. Thanks." She smiled a little, albeit sadly. "Personally I don't think anyone should mourn the dead for too long. It's bound to happen, and it makes life a little brighter to know they were a part of yours. I did. Back at the hotel. But then that was it. Time to move on."

 "Hmm. And where are you moving on to?"

 "Well I finished college last year. I'm planning on opening up an antique shop here in about a month." Siobhan perked up a bit.

 “Well that’s nice to hear.” I smiled more comfortably. “So soon?”

 “Well I've been planning this for a while now." She explained. "It's just now been coming together. And I've already got a decent amount of stock set in storage to get started on."

 "Very smart. Sounds like you have a good head for business."

 She grinned a little.

 "About the only thing I'd be concerned about is if any cat burglars broke in overnight."

 "Hmm. And why would they?" I asked, playing along. "I'd assume anything worthwhile would've already walked out the door."

 Siobhan laughed a little, blushing, and finally dropped the charade.

 "If you mean me, I'm actually going to live in the building. Right above the shop actually."

 "Ah I see." I nodded with understanding, but couldn't resist teasing further. "So there WOULD be a reason for some, tall, dark, handsome, mysterious-"

 "Oh crap Terry!", Siobhan laughed.

 "-sophisticated and impressively dressed gentleman thief to break in"

 Siobhan was trying hard to keep her laughter quiet but it was obviously a strain. Her face started to flush as tears swelled. The reaction caused me to laugh along, equally quiet and strained. It was nice. This frivolous moment of peace. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed like this. It felt good. It felt like such a relief to laugh. I supposed this is what Claire meant by getting a "good vibe" from someone.

 And that was when it dawned on me.

 Oh no.

 Claire.

 Work.

 SHIT.

 I quickly checked my watch and mentally cursed.

 "What's wrong?", Siobhan asked, noticing the sudden shift in behavior.

 "I have somewhere I need to be." I stood up and left a bill for the drinks. "Sorry for leaving so suddenly. It was nice seeing you again."

 "Oh! Um, yeah. It's great to see you!" She said giving a small wave good-bye.

 I hurried out the door. I had just caught myself in time and barely made it back before someone missed me.

 I came into the office and sat down at my desk with a sigh. Just in time. I clocked back in from my computer. Claire, sitting right across from me as usual, looked up from her desk with a smile.

 "So…? Where were you? Missed you at lunch."

 "Had something to attend to."

 "Personal? Or is it a girl?"

 "Wouldn't a girl be personal?" I frowned, quizzically and glanced back at her.

 "You'd be surprised how casual people really are about their love life Trilbs." She rolled her eyes, though still smiled. "It's called socializing."

 "Well I'm not entirely one for doing such, to start with, and secondly, don't call me Trilbs. A nickname of a nickname is ridiculous."

 "Oh fine. You're no fun today." She shook her head and went back to work.

 Any thoughts I did want to have about Siobhan went right out the window. The last thing I needed was office-stereotype-like Claire gossiping my thoughts to the entire department.

 The rest of the day was as normal as it could be and I hadn’t seen Siobhan again for the rest of the month. August passed with almost nothing noteworthy, aside from the occasional ghosts I had to banish and demon slayers I’ve met while working. Then one day, I came into the break room.

 I had been dealing with a woman on the phone who claimed to have seen her dead mother come back to nag her and she wasn’t willing to listen to reasoning. I wasn’t really needing the coffee, though I poured myself a cup regardless. Just needed an excuse more than anything to get away from the griping.

 “Hey Trilby.” one of my co-workers, I believe his name was Darren, came up to me.

 “Good afternoon.”, I greeted, not turning to face him until after I made my cup.

 “Kill anyone lately?”

 My heart stuttered and I looked back to find Lenkmann staring me down, inches from my face. A sudden sharp pain welled up in my abdomen. I screamed in pain and looked down to find blood dripping off my hands.

 It hurts

 Everything was growing dark. There was a scream and I looked up only to find a dead Philip Harty, sprawled out on the dining room table. Simone and Jim were running away into the house.

 It hurts

 I had to chase them down. I had to kill them. I wanted them to suffer. Just like I did.

 It hurts

 I looked down at the floor to find Abed. His porcelain face looked back at me, trying to mouth words but I could only barely understand.

 It hurts

 Pain coursed through every vein of my body and I knew the name of the King.

 IT HURTS

 I was running through the hotel, trying to escape. Sharp, hot, agonizing pain scorched my nerves. The smell of death and blood was everywhere. The darkness around me was growing. I tried to reach out. Siobhan caught my hand. I grabbed her throat and snapped it.

 IT HURTS

 I ran until I tripped on something and fell. Into nothing.

 Into darkness.

                                       Eternity.

                                                                                 On the floor.

 With a gasp of fresh cold air, I woke up on the floor of my apartment, just off my bed. My head hurt with a sharp pain. I likely fell on it first. I quickly checked my body only to find no blood. Just the scar from where I had been stabbed. I sighed. There was a phantom pain there, but it was fading. Why was I? Oh.. Right. The nightmare.

 A pit in my stomach grew. Having a stressful nightmare wasn’t unheard of. You don’t just accept murdering two people under possession and nearly dying. But the last time I had such a vivid dream like that was when…

 “Oh no…” I felt like everything in me suddenly grew cold. “Oh God no. PLEASE NO.”

 I scrambled to look around my apartment for something.

 It wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere.

 I hurried to get dressed and ran out the door. Praying I was mistaken.

 I got to the office and came rushing to my desk

 “Trilby? You okay?” Claire asked as I ravaged my drawers, searching frantically.

 “Where is it? Oh crap, WHERE IS IT?!”

 “Trilby, calm down! What are you looking for??”

 “Where the hell is that letter?!”

 “What letter??”

 I slammed my hand on the desk, too flustered and frustrated to listen to her.

 “THE DAMN LETTER FROM NASA, CLAIRE. DID THEY SEND THAT ABOMINATION OUT OR NOT??”

 “That idol? From Defoe?? Yeah, they- Oh, Trilby, calm down they did!”

 She came over and laid a hand on my shoulder. My frantic paranoia was wavering, swaying as she tried to calm me down.

 “Trilby, Trilby, they sent it out.”

 I looked back, still scared.

 “They did?”

 “Yeah, it launched a couple of weeks ago. You got a letter.”

 I started to calm down. I could feel waves of nostalgia and serenity from Claire as she tried to help.

 “They did.. Okay.. O.. okay..” I placed my head in my hands, rubbing away the bags under my eyes. “Holy.. Alright. It was just stress…”

 “Doing better?”

 “Y...yes? No?”

 “Right now?”

 “....Yes. Yes, I’ll be okay.” I sighed. My paranoia and stress melting away. Being replaced with a settled, calm, hollow feeling. Like the still peacefulness of the dark. “I’m… better. I’m sorry.”

 “It’s okay. We all have those days.” Claire reassured me. “So, what happened?”

 “Just another nightmare… I thought.. I was worried that…”, I couldn’t find the words.

 Blurry images of the nightmare flashed through my mind. Growing more distant.

 “You thought you killed someone again?”

 “Y...yeah.” I sighed. “I thought.. The idol…”

 “It was shipped out.. It can’t hurt anyone.”

 “And you’re sure the box wasn’t opened?” “I doubt they would’ve opened it.”

 I sighed with relief.

 “Okay.. Alright.”

 Claire sat down at her desk. I noticed a piece of paper sitting under my monitor and pulled it out, only to find it was, indeed, the letter from NASA. The idol was shipped out. No one had opened the box. I started to ease up. It was okay. Siobhan wasn’t going to be killed. Everything’s alright.

 “Trilby.” one of my higher ups, a short, stocky man with thick round glasses, came and sat a folder down at my desk. I believe his name was Richard. “I’ve got a case for you. Mysterious deaths happening at the same locale. The only person people could have in suspicion, doesn’t add up. Especially cause she phoned in the deaths herself in hysterics, and no one’s that great an actor.”

 “Alright. I’ll uh, take a look at that.” I said, starting up my computer. “Thank you.”

 “We want you to take someone with you. It looks dangerous.”

 “Very well.”

 He left and I looked over the folder. Mysterious deaths happening at an antique store named Rusty Pot o’ Gold. I looked up at Claire. I usually like to go with Chris Quinn, but something told me I was going to need her help in this. Someone who would be a bit more… serious than Chris.

 “Would you like to come, Claire?”

 She looked back, a little surprised, but smiled sincerely.

 “Yeah. Why not?”

 A small drive later, and we arrived at the antique store. The first thing I noticed about it was how new it seemed. I was reminded of Siobhan for a moment.

 For a moment… I was reminded of that nightmare.

 I shook my head, trying to clear it. Nothing like that was going to happen. There are about a dozen antique shops, this side of town. What was one more? No one said this had to be Siobhan’s.

 We walked in, past the police tape and glanced about us. There were dozens of shelves, display cases, and boxes of worn antiques. Everything from hats to farming equipment was found here. Everything was full, cramped, and kind of messy. Admittedly, the owner made it feel homey. The various chandeliers, lamps, and torches, all lit and warming the place while the rugs and strange antiquated china dolls and figurines made it feel almost lived in. I was reminded, for a moment, of visiting my own grandmother’s for the holiday. I would say the shop felt cozy, if it weren’t for the obvious, damp, chill that hung in the air. A first sign of possible specters.

 We started to look around, hoping to find something unusual, or out of place. Something the magenta in our pockets would react to, though they carried a generalized warmth and a healthy glow regardless. But we didn’t get far before my previous concerns came true and Siobhan’s voice called from the back of the store.

 “Are you with the police? Be right with you!”

 “Oh no…”, I grimaced.

 “What?” Claire looked at me curiously.

 “I know her.” I said in a low voice.

 “Ex?”

 “What? No!” I rolled my eyes. “It’s Siobhan O’Malley. From the Clan Bronwyn Hotel.”

 “Oh! Ohhh.” Claire grimaced as well. “Oooh..”

 “I’ve got this.”

 “Aw, man. I came up with names and everything!”

 “Well I’ll still introduce you as your alias.”

 Claire beamed and handed me the slip of paper. I took a glance at it, frowned in disgust and handed it back.

 “And you lost your alias privileges.”

 “Aww! Why?”

 “That’s far too crass for me to say.”

 “Gosh you’re boring.”

 I shook my head and came up to the counter.

 “Siobhan?” I called out. “It’s me, Trilby.”

 “Trilby?! Come in! What are you doing here??”

 I walked in, past the counter to find a hallway leading to a small office space. Siobhan greeted me at the doorway with a smile.

 “Hello, Siobhan.” I smiled back.

 “I certainly didn’t expect this! What…” suddenly her face fell as the pieces began to connect. “Oh.. Wait.. What are you doing here?? Unless...”

 “Yes, I’m here about the deaths.” I said, growing serious. “I’ve reason to believe it’s paranormal.”

 “Into the ghost hunting business now, are we?” she looked at me with reasonable disbelief.

 “Well.. actually, more or less.” I shook my head. “Believe me, not by intention. Just something I’ve… fallen into.”

 “Oh, really?”

 “Ludicrous, but it’s a living.”

 “Hey, Trilby?” Claire called from the other room. “There’s something going on out here!”

 We head back out into the shop. Claire stood up from where she was, piece of magenta in hand.

 “So.. Who’s your friend?” Siobhan asked.

 “She’s my co-worker, Claire.” I explained.

 “Hi! You must be Siobhan.” Claire beamed and shook her hand. Always the friendly extrovert.

 “Nice to meet you.” Siobhan smiled, though it seemed out of sheer politeness.

 “So what’s wrong?” I asked.

 “Look at this.”

 Claire held up the magenta to the ceiling as high as she can. It began to grow dim. She then brought it low to the floor and it burned brighter.

 “Hm. Siobhan, there wouldn’t happen to be a basement, would there?”

 “Um. Yeah, actually.” She headed to a door in the back of the store.

 “Any extra information on this place, while you’re at it?” we followed her down the stairs.

 “Well there used to be a prison here.” Siobhan began to explain.

 I immediately grimaced. Prisons are just one of those things I’ll never fully appreciate, given my life choices. I felt uneasy standing in the old grounds of one.

 “Ooh. That makes sense!” Claire chimed in. “A lot of things could’ve happened in one of those.”

 “Actually the history is kinda scarce, but interesting.” Siobhan began, immediately falling into a sense of careful study and quiet enthusiasm. She almost sounded like a tour guide, if the subject were anything else. “The jailhouse was originally erected in 1602. The plot of land for it was actually a lot larger than the current store, starting from the sidewalk from one end of the block to another, but it was bulldozed down and divided by 1718. What we’ll find down here is some of the original brick foundation and layout of the previous jailhouse.”

 “That’s um.. Comforting.” I commented.

 We came out into a large, brick and cobblestone basement. Some old cells were polished up and filled with various cardboard boxes and crates.

 “Well it kinda gets worse.” Siobhan continued. “Apparently this basement was specifically used for… well.. Death Row.”

 An icy chill went down my spine and it wasn’t just because we were literally in the coldest room. Looking around at the iron bars, I could only imagine what it must’ve been like. Convicts simply waiting here in the musty, damp, dark, wondering when their time was going to be up. Likely a few wrongly accused. The pit in my stomach grew worse.

 “Of course it was…” I muttered, recognizing that I could now see my breath, but only barely.

 “Hm. That could be a good lead.” Claire noted.

 “Possibly.” Siobhan shrugged. “There was a few rumors surrounding the place about police brutality. A few convicts were found dead before their due date. The prison was shut down after that.”

 “So we’re looking at the possibility that several upset ghosts are still haunting, after being killed prematurely in their previous life?” I questioned, looking back at Claire and Siobhan.

 “But if it’s just a mindless ghost… Then why hasn’t it killed Siobhan? Or….us?” Claire asked.

 “Good question.” I pondered and turned to Siobhan. “Any similarities to the previous deaths?”

 “Aside that they all broke in, looking to steal stuff? Um.. No. Old, young, short, tall, man, woman.” Siobhan sighed a little. “They were all different.”

 There was a moment to think before Claire spoke up again.

 “...Maybe the ghosts have something against thieves?”

 “Wouldn’t that be kind of against the phrase, ‘thick as thieves’?” Siobhan grinned a little.

 Siobhan and Claire both looked at me curiously. I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help a small smile.

 “I find that to be somewhat of an offensive phrase.” I clarified. “I preferred to work alone.”

 “Hm.. Alone, you say?” Siobhan nodded towards Claire.

 Claire laughed a little.

 “I tagged along. Otherwise, yeah, he would’ve probably worked alone.”

 I shrugged modestly and returned to the task at hand.

 “There’s no guarantee that it’s multiples, either. We’d just need at least one to stay and become a ghost.”

 “Would it be alright if I poked around, Siobhan?” Claire asked. “Maybe I can find some piece of the corpse or an artifact he’s attached to.”

 “Oh, yeah, help yourself.” Siobhan offered politely.

 “Actually, while you’re doing that, I might as well try to find more information myself.” I sighed. “Do you have a computer I can borrow?”

 “Yeah, in the office.” Siobhan nodded to the stairs and smiled. “I’ll show you.”

 We headed back up into the office. Siobhan sat at the desk and began to start the dial-up internet.

 “So, be honest. What does one have to do to become a Ghost-buster?” she asked, with a playful grin.

 I rolled my eyes. That reference has been made around the office several times, and even though I’ve yet to see the actual movie myself, I still know so much of it, picking it up in passing conversation.

 “Well you don’t have to wear a ridiculous jumpsuit.” I started to explain, earning a giggle from the other. “Secondly, I don’t think you’d want me for a reference on the job interview. It um.. Wasn’t exactly the best.”

 “Oh.. Really? Is it all that bad?”

 “Mine was at least. I hear it’s different for everyone. Besides, it’s a boring desk job most of the time.” I shrugged. “Half the time chasing down the paranormal isn’t even as thrilling as movies make it out to be.”

 “Oh, it can’t be all that terrible.” Siobhan grinned, obviously still trying to hold onto some silly romantic idea she had of the whole thing. “I’m sure it must be a lot of fun at times. Or at least a few good stories to share.”

 I decided to spare her the retelling of one obnoxious, love-sick, school boy.

 “Well.. Perhaps I’m just unlucky.” I simply told her. “Claire would know better than I.”

 “Hm. Maybe I’ll ask her opinion.” Siobhan chuckled. “She’s nice, by the way.”

 “She’s the nicer of the people in the office, at least.” I agree. “A little absent minded.”

 “Hm, sounds like someone else we know.”

 I chuckle.

 “Okay. Not that bad.”

 “So… What’s her.. thing?”

 “‘Her thing?’” I looked at Siobhan, perplexed.

 “Well I mean, I doubt any normal person could be right for the job.”

 “Ah. Well, she’s a um.. Clairvoyant.”

 “Claire the clairvoyant?” Siobhan grinned, though incredulous.

 I shook my head and chuckled.

 “As silly as it sounds, she’s actually really good at what she does.” I replied.

 “She reads minds?”

 “Somewhat. She’s said it’s a little more complicated than that. But basically it’s about what you’d expect. Read minds. Telepathy. Senses ghosts. Um.. Feels…. vibrations or something?” I shrugged. I never really understood it myself, though I had tried to read up on it.

 “Hmm. Well, the internet’s up now. Here you go.”

 We traded places. I sat down and began to search. Siobhan made herself comfortable on the desk. I checked reports on the previous deaths. No leads there. The victims were all just as varied as Siobhan explained. Mostly hooligans. Nothing similar.

 ‘Rookies, the lot of them.’ I thought to myself, reading through their reports. ‘No wonder they got caught.’

 I tried looking for information on the jailhouse. The deaths that occurred were equally varied. The only thing any of them had in common was that they all appeared to have been horribly beaten to death. Everything from cracked ribs to broken bones. One was even killed with his skull bashed in. To be fair, my stomach was somewhat weak to read in more detail what all had happened. The chief of police at the time, a man by the name of Brutus J. Ustyss, was held in suspicion for the deaths, but never brought to court.

 Suddenly the website I was searching turned blank and then the screen flickered and went black.

 “Wha-?” I sighed in frustration and Siobhan did as well.

 “I’m sorry, Trilby. The computer blinks out, sometimes.”

 “Well..” I checked my watch. It was late into the afternoon. Soon enough I would have to stop. “I suppose I should go check on Claire. After that, we’ll try to gather more information elsewhere. I’ve been meaning to pay the library a visit, anyway.”

 We headed back out of the office.

 “You know, I’m still curious how someone as infamous as you landed a job as a paranormal investigator.” Siobhan started as we walked into the main room of the shop. “I mean, did you always want to be one? Or did you want something more?”

 “Honestly? I wouldn’t have ever wished for something as ridiculous as this.” I sighed. “I yearn for the days before the Defoe Manor. Back when things were simpler. I’ll always be a thief at heart.”

 The shop suddenly began to shiver and quake. Miscellaneous merchandise began to fall off the shelves around us. I felt an icy cold hand grab my shoulder and before I realized I’m being turned around, I’m met with a brick wall of immense pain and darkness.

#Chzo Mythos #Trilby Somerset #Siobhan O'Malley #Trilbhan #my writing #Chzo Trilby #ghosts #whooo boy how quickly did I write this?? #holy shit I'm actually posting a fanfic again ^//^ #I just didn't feel right posting until I've had the whole story finished so #updates will be regular! #Holy crap I'm super excited! #and open for critiques! #rational writing

[laserdog10]

Basically Cinder in my headcanon: part 50

Citrus: Thanks so much for letting me spend the night, Mrs. Fall!

Cinder: If by "spend the night" you mean sneak you out of your house, with the help of your mother, so your idiot of a dad won't bury my son six feet under, just so you two could be together with no worry, then you owe me.

Ash: She means thank you, as much as it would kill her to say it outright.

*In context, the youngest child of the Arc-Rose family has a crush on Kain, the eldest child of Cinder and Vlad. This would be a great thing, if her father Jaune Arc, didn't exactly...approve of the relationship. Neither did Ruby, but she was at least making an effort to believe Cinder has changed for the better, viewing the pyromancer's family as proof of such. So when Ruby heard her littlest daughter ask (moreso beg) to get to know the family better from the inside, Ruby and Vlad, Cinder's vampire bat Faunus husband, devised a plan to sneak Citrus out of the house without Jaune's knowledge, and have her stay at the Fall-Caliban's for one night*

Vlad: Please be nice, Cindy, it wasn't easy sneaking her out of there.

Citrus: Thank you Mr-wait, "Cindy?"

Ash: Dad's pet name for mom. *Citrus snickers at the information, earning a look of annoyance from Cinder* Your folks have any nicknames for each other?

Citrus: My mom calls dad "Vomit Boy," while he calls her Crater Face.

Vlad: Awwww!

Cinder: Ew.....

Kain: *coming downstairs in a gray t-shirt and black sweatpants* Alright, enough of the lovey-dovey talk, is dinner done dad?

Vlad: *gasp* The meatloaf!!! *speeds off to the kitchen*

Citrus: Wow, and I thought mom and Aunt Blake had fast Semblances...

Ash: No Semblance, just magic and weird physical prowess.

Citrus: Well alright then! *they two girls walk to the kitchen, but Citrus stops as she gets to Kain, just for a brief hug* It's good to be near you.

Kain: You too, Half-pint. *pecks her on the cheek, making her gasp in surprise*

*Dinner went wonderfully. Everyone made small chit-chat, jokes, or told stories of times past. Citrus went into detail about how she could communicate with animals, how it was a surprise for her, and how it was probably the greatest of her life, being able to speak to the family corgi, Zwei, and the five wolves Ruby adopted, Null, Drei, Vier, Funf, and Sechs. The table was a little speechless about the wolf part but laughed it off as it was just Ruby being Ruby. Kain and Ash told how they discovered their Semblances too, what they're weapons were, and that Ash was an unplanned baby, but a happy unplanned baby for her family. All in all, Citrus could tell that the family before wasn't as bad as her dad said it would be. As dinner ended, Kain had an idea before they all turned in for the night*

Kain: Hey Citrus, mind if I show you something?

Citrus, Uhhh, yeah, what is it?

Kain: Well, hang on. *gets up and pushes his chair in* I'll be right back, we're gonna have to go outside for this, lemme get some socks first. *he said as he jogged upstairs*

Ash: Oh geez, he can't be serious?

Cinder: This late at night?

Vlad: ...

Citrus: What, what's going on?

*The three family members looked amongst each other, very unsure of what to say*

Vlad: Citrus, sweetie, uh...a long time ago, when Kain was maybe eleven and Ash was 6, they...made a little friend, out in the woods.

Cinder: *irritated* It's an abomination is what it is.

Ash: Hey, Scarr only scratched me once, and it barely hurt or left a mark!

Citrus: *"Scarr??? Who-er, what is he and why did hurt Ash?!" Before her inner worries could go further, Kain returned in black socks and proceeded to the back door to put on his tennis shoes with a red flame decal*

Kain: Ready! Wanna come along? It's about time we fed Scarr something, poor guy must be starving by now. Mind grabbing the steak from the fridge, I'll be waiting outside!

Citrus: ...

-Later in the woods-

*The short huntress walked alongside her half-Faunus boyfriend, holding a cold steak in a tupperware container, the moonlight cascading in a wave of silver beams through the trees*

Citrus: Kain, if you don't mind me asking, and sorry if this comes off as rude, but who the heck is Scarr?!?!?!

Kain: You'll see. *he said calmly, hiding his childly excitement*

*They made it to a small clearing, moonlight illuminating the area, to the opposite of them was a gnarly looking hut, comprised of dead twigs, branches, dried leaves, and old stones holding the thing together. What stuck out to the young redhead, was the series of gashes and claw marks around the entrance and trees near the edge of the clearing, hundreds of red flags going off in Citrus' head*

Citrus: *gulps, "Okay okay, big scary ominous hut in the middle of clearing in the dense forest, but it could be fine?! Maybe it's just a homeless person living off the land and Kain and his family are taking care of him, yeah!"*

Kain: C'mere Scarr, here boy! *claps hands* Got some food for tonight, you want some buddy, c'mown out and get it!

... ... ...

Citrus: Kain, who. Is. Sc-

*Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr*

*Citrus froze, a deer in headlights, her entire body running cold as the blood-curdling growl broke the silence in the forest. She slowly and fearfully turned to face the hut...the world around her shattered, she stared face to face with the eyes, well, eye of a Grimm Creep, its right eye marred over by a hideous scar, two prominent canines on its lower jaw. It's nightmarish appearance didn't stop there, as it put forward one of its brutish claws the other following soon after, Citrus' heart ready to explode out of her chest as the..."Creep" was now in the light of the moon. It's back was practically a hunch, in its right shoulder was a dagger and broken arrow, the front-left of the creature's back was massive gash, presumably left by a massive blade form a previous Hunter encounter. It's legs were more put to the back, thought still on the sides and appearing like hands, in front of the larger hands were two smaller and forked claws, the outer claw longer than the inner one. Could she even call this...thing a Creep at all? She snapped out of her thoughts when the beast looked at her, maw drooling and lips forming into a snarl. With a lunge, it bounded towards her, Citrus responding by shielding herself with the tupperware, however...*

Kain: *leaps in front of the Creep, holding his hand out to stop it* Easy there, Scarr, she's not gonna hurt you...

Scarr: *growls but backs down*

Kain: There ya' go.

Citrus: ...h-huh...?

*As she opened her eyes, she saw Kain slowly and gingerly lowering himself to his knees, Scarr doing the same onto his belly, occasionally letting a short growl as he breathed*

Citrus: K-Kain...???

Kain: This, is Scarr. He's an...Alpha Creep? At least that's what my mom thinks. Ash and I met him when we were kids, er-I say "met" when we actually stumbled into his pack's territory, and mom and dad killed all but him, poor guy was so out of it and barely had any fight left in him. You can only do so much with a wounded eye and back, y'know? Go ahead an pet him, his face is really smooth!

Citrus: Okay...*she carefully walked towards Scarr, holding the steak in front of her in case her leapt at her again, but found he was staying on the ground,, calm as can be. Raising her free hand to pet his boney plated face, she found it similar to bone, but had a granite like smoothness to it* Wow, there's barely any friction...!

Kain: Weird ain't it?! Oh you can give him the steak now, almost forgot about that. We don't you want starvwing now would we, no we don't! *he said in a playful cooing voice, scratching the bottom of his beastly friends' chin.*

Citrus: Ah, right! *she pops the lid off, pulling out the frozen steak. Doing so, Scarr almost immediately broke out his comfortable trance, snapping at the delicious, meaty morsel and scarfing it down whole*

Kain: Damn, someone's been hungry!

Citrus: *giggles* And I thought Garnet was a fast eater.

Kain: *laughs heartily, but his smile fades a little* Hey, Citrus, I'm sorry if this scared you tonight. I was just really excited to show you this tonight. If I would've shown my friends at school Scarr, they would've almost immediately called some Hunter to come kill him. He may be on his last legs, but I at least want Scarr to pass knowing what kindness feels like, what with the "Grimm feed on negativity" mumbo jumbo.

Citrus: *goes quiet for a moment, but smiles* No, it's alright Kain. I had a wonderful night. I got to sneak out of my house, I got to meet your amazing family, and I got to pet a Grimm, name one person on Remnant that could do that! Well, besides you, heh.

Kain: Really? That's awesome. *pulls arm around her, causing her to blush* The best part tonight though? I get to look at you under the stars~.

Citrus: *red as a tomato* C-cool. *She stammered out. As they began to sit there, Citrus looked back to Scarr, still laying down, breathing more laxly. She then focused her sight on him, eyes glowing their lime green color as she used her Semblance to talk to Scarr...maybe. Right out the gate, she was bombarded with a million thoughts, all in a gravely voice, saying word after word, no sentence structure or pause to break*

"Master. Happy. Comfortable. Fed. Peaceful. Quiet. New person. Kind. No danger. Caring. Harmless. Loving."

*Citrus stopped, taken aback by the sudden rush of words, but smiled when she thought on it more. Scarr actually liked her and Kain's presence, and found no threat to them being there. Sure he could easily slaughter them right now, as could they, but...he didn't want to, he found no need to. That alone was enough for her to feel safe.*

#rwby #cinder fall #vlad caliban #bats out of hell #bats out of hell kids #lancaster kid #kain fall #ash fall #citrus rose-arc #citrus x kain #garden of monsters

[redxriiot]

Tamaki has died.

『 .◉ Meme || Anon ◉. 』

       He knew he had to keep himself calm.

       Why would he want to give anyone the excuse to talk down to him? It was always the same damn thing. Cry, and suddenly the entire room and then some start yapping about how he was better than that. If he was just looking for someone’s pity. Everyone and their grandmother would come out of the damn woodwork, tell to him shuck it off and go on as if absolutely nothing had gone wrong. Men don’t cry, they suck it up and continue on with their lives.

                                  Close his heart, shut off the tears.

       But even knowing that, the words sent a cold dread down and along his spine. Bore into him like feeling as though someone had jabbed a knife right into his gut and twisted it. No, no wait, he’d felt that before.

        This feeling was so much worse.

        “Red Riot–?”

       Fingers clenched and unclenched. “You’re joking.” Hold it back, that’s it. It was just a sick joke, nothing more. This guy was just another person, trying to get a rise out of him. 

       “What?”

        “You’re joking.” He lifted his head, laughing weakly. “You’re just pullin’ my leg here. Senpai ain’t really dead.” He was just trying to get a reaction, start something. But he didn’t know what he was getting into–

        The man grew hesitant. “No, Red Riot, he was–”

       “HE AIN’T FUCKING DEAD!” One moment he was seated, trying to keep himself composed, but god damn, that bastard just had to keep pushing his buttons had he? Holding back boiling feelings too big to lock inside his heart, and this man thought it would alright to keep talking? Pry it open anyways? The next, he was on his feet, having stalked forwards and grabbed the man by the shirt front, snarling.

       “He ain’t fucking dead,” he repeated, growling as the man whimpered, tried to calm him, but– “I don’t know where the hell you get off fucking with me like this, but you’re gonna shut your whore mouth!”

        “Red Riot–”

        A hardened fist suddenly hit the wall right next to the poor man’s head, making it crumble and crack. “I TOLD YA TA’ CUT THE CRAP YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

       “B-but–”

        The hand moved, pressing his forearm into the man’s throat and cutting off his voice. “SHUT. UP!”

       No….no, no, no, Tamaki couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be! He was so much stronger than villains and even pros alike. The kind of person who wouldn’t go down easy, there was just no feasible way it would happen.

                                           But what if it was true?

        The thought took hold before he could shut it down. Gripped at his heart like a monster digging in its talons. Every beat of his heart hurt his chest, every breath he wanted to just stop so the pain would go away. It couldn’t be true. It shouldn’t be true, it just couldn’t–

         “Red Riot…you’re…hurting me…!”

        “RED!”

        Something tore him away from the man, yanking him back like a ragdoll. The man gasped and crumpled to his knees. Wheezing, coughing, he stood up backing away as Kirishima snarled and tried to charge forwards, but something held him back, something let the bastard get to his feet and run away–

        “Red, what the hell do ya think yer doin’?!”

        Fat Gum–

        “Lemme go!” He struggled against his mentor, watching as the door the man fled through closed. “Lemme go, lemme at ‘im!”

          “Red, stop that!”

         “He’s tellin’ lies! Spittin’ some bullshit about Senpai, I’ll make him pay, I swear–”

         “Kid, enough!”

         “Fat, I gotta–”

         “He ain’t lyin’! Tamaki’s gone!”

         The words had him freezing in place, his blood filling with a dread that made his heart fill with ice.

          “Did…?” Did he tell you, too? Did he fool you?

                                                    But what if…

        Teeth grit tight, the fight in him bubbling right back. “No…NO!”

       Tamaki was dead? No, no, he wouldn’t accept it! He refused to accept it! It would never happen! Tamaki was strong! Tamaki survived the toughest odds before, even Fat Gum believed in him–

       “The mark of a true man is the ability to completely trust someone who’s got your back!”

        But…he was just saying things to him then, huh?

        “You…you bastard…!”

        “He’ll be fine!”

        Lying like a parent would to a naive child so they wouldn’t worry.

        “Red, calm down–”

         “LET ME GO!”

         That’s right. It was his fucking fault–

        “I HATE YOU!” Fist hit and pounded at the hero, harder and harder, clawing and tearing at him in a desperate struggle as screams wracked his body and tore from his throat. It didn’t matter if it hurt him or not. He knew his words would hit just as hard. “I HATE YOU! YOU’RE A FUCKING LIAR! JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM! YOU’RE THE FUCKING SAME!”

        You said Senpai would be okay alone!

        “Red–!”

        You said I never had to worry!

        “PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT, LET ME GO–!”

        Look where that got us!

       Friends always got hurt when he wasn’t there. The moment he left Bakugou’s side, he ended up kidnapped by villains. The only reason he got out of that was because of him. Because he’d rallied others who felt the same and went to save him. Of fucking course the one day he left his senpai’s side entirely, left him to take a mission, a patrol, on his own, this would happen. He should have been there for him.

        “GET OUTTA HERE! LET ME GO!”

        He should have been his shield. If he had just been there, Tamaki would still be with them. He could have protected Tamaki, been the one to trade his life for the other’s. He owed him that much. To the man that would have been one of the finest heroes, better than even the ones at the top of the hero charts now–

        “EIJIROU!”

        “You’re the same as Mirio…”

       “Kh…!” The longer Fat Gum held him in a tight embrace, Kirishima felt the strength sap from his body, the anger die into a, no less painful, burning spark in his chest. His body fell limp, his head falling forwards until it his his mentor’s stomach. Teeth grit tight as he tried to take in a ragged breath.

       “You are another one of those those that shines bright like the sun…”

                                       No, I’m not. I never was.

       “Eijirou?”

                                         I only pretended to be.

                                         I’m not like you or Mirio.

        “Eijirou, are you alright?”

                                I’m just shining a light that ain’t mine.

                                           You…you were sun.

                     You were the only one, no one else could compare.

         He stifled a sob, flinching when he felt his mentor’s hand in his hair.

                            I wish you could have seen that before you–

         “Is he really gone?” He almost felt like a child again. A little boy, begging anyone who cared to listen if the nightmare he had was real. “He can’t be, he just ca…can’t…!”

         “I’m sorry, Eijirou.”

                                           He’s not coming back.

                                                     Not ever.

         Teeth grit tight as a boiling feeling took root again in his chest. Hatred and rage amidst grief and anguish. He wanted to tear them apart. The person or people who had so cruelly ended his beloved upperclassman’s life. He wanted to find them, make them regret ever hurting him. He would tear them apart and hear every scream until they finally gave out. Every apology, every plead for their life, until they got a taste of the suffering they wrought.

         To hell with being a hero. What good was that anyways? Saying you intended to save lives but hold back by some laws? Laws that essentially forced one into being, what, a glorified celebrity? What good was that gonna do? Those responsible would always get off easy. They never really faced the consequences of their actions. They got away, they lived out their days in prison with free meals and living space. They got to live while those far more worthy did not–

         “It’s not…it’s not fair!”

         But life was never fair, now was it? No, never. Every time something good came along, like the brief life of a beautiful butterfly, sooner or later it had to come to an end. It was always that way. The man who shined before him had been a true hero. Someone who was terrified at the thought of speaking to a crowd, of someone new, but had the strength of heart enough to fight three men on his own for the sake of a mission.

                                  Someone like that? Truly was the sun.

        No, he told himself. No, he was far brighter.

        But even his light would no longer shine.

         “C’mon, Red. Let’s getcha some air.”

         So…why not charge straight into the darkness and avenge that light?

       “Red?”

       It was the very least he could do. If he was willing to do anything and everything for Tamaki in life–

        He steeled his gaze. “Sure.”

         –then there was no reason at all that he couldn’t do one final gesture.

                                                    All for him.

#Anon #ic #death mention tw #//Bad end route found; dsjkhfs #long post for ts #answered #//Fat Gum dies? Grief #//Tamaki dies? Anger #//The more attached he is to the person; the more he'll shove his feelings into anger #;mun drabbles #//Kiri's loyalty can be a scary thing #//As mentioned several times on the blog

[lokibug]

Blinded

Pairing: Loki x Blind!Reader

Summary: Beauty and the Beast AU in which Loki is forced to stay in his Jotun form until another human loves him. He becomes a caretaker for You due to be recently permanently blind.

Warnings: Cursing, Guns, Mention of Blood, Angst

Song: On Our Own by Bruno Major

A/N: I apologize ahead of time guys, eek. But I feel all of you on Lucas being a douche, he is. That’s the Gaston facade for ya. Also I spend awhile looking for the chapter songs so if anyone listens to them lemme know haha okay, enjoy!

Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6| Part 7| Part 8| Part 9| Part 10

Three days had passed since Y/N and Loki had their enchanted evening. The two felt much more drawn to each other. Loki felt more intensely towards this beautiful young woman...he knew this because each day the hour glass ticked just as it had for the past few months. Despite time being his enemy, it also cursed him in a way he hadn’t already...he fell in love with y/n slowly each moment they spent together.

“Y/N?! Where are you? I woke up and you were no where to be seen.” Loki bellowed into the phone with y/n being on the other side of the line. He heard her chuckle and he slid his cold palm over his face in frustration. Leaning against the wall in the hallway he waited for her response.

“Calm down Loki, you were sleeping and I needed to get some things from the store. Stephanie wanted to talk to me so she took me. Look at you being all worried for me. It’s cute.” She responded. If Loki wasn’t a deep shade of blue, his cheeks would probably be the color of his eyes. He had never heard her tease him in such a way.

“I...nevermind. I get paid to make sure you’re not dead somewhere. I mean I like to think I’m doing a good job you know.” He continued to rant for a few more seconds until y/n stopped biting her knuckle to stop her from chuckling.

“...you done? Do you want anything from the store?”

“....those things from the other night...they were crunchy..” he said softly.

“The chips? The kettle chips?” “Whatever they are.”

“Okay. Well I’ll be home soon.” She said before hanging up. Loki looked at the phone and scoffed, “Madness.”

Meanwhile, Y/N stood in the chip isle of the market alongside Stephanie. Her light brown hair was pulled up into a pony tail as her clear rimmed glasses rested on her face. Y/N dressed warmly today, an off shoulder black long sleeve with dark blue jeans and white converse.

“Was that Loki?” Stephanie asked putting a bag into the basket. Y/N nodded in response and chuckled. “Hmmm...y/n have you ever considered the possibility of...Loki possibly being into you?” Stephanie could see the whole thing unfolding in front of her. Not that her friend’s sight loss was to blame but she didn’t catch these hints very well.

She furrowed her eyebrows, “No,” she scoffed, “he argues with me over everything. He’s so prideful.”

“I know the difference between flirty banter and real arguing. From what I’ve seen...he totally digs you y/n. Now the real question is...are you into him?” She asked not waiting for y/n to decline the feelings that were evident.

“I...no? I don’t know Stephanie,” y/n sighed defeated, “he’s different you know. I’m so used to guys being obnoxious—like that guy Lucas! Ugh he would not leave me alone...but Loki, he’s smart. He’s not just on full display, there’s so much to him and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface. Not that he’s a project for me to dissect, but I’m enjoying his company...in fact..”

“In fact?...” Stephanie cooed and nudged her friend in the arm teasingly.

“I was going to invite him to...be my escort to the charity banquet my dad wants me to go to.” She smirked. Her face was so full of life, happiness. Stephanie knew this and it made her smile knowing that y/n was getting the fairytale she deserved.

“Yes! Do it! You’re asking him when we get back. Oh my god, what are you gonna wear?” She asked.

“Wait,” She looked a tad nervous, “I want you to come too...please? I would feel more comfortable if you did.”

Stephanie hesitated for a second but decided against her worries, “Sure thing y/n, now...let’s go buy you a god damn ball gown.” She squealed.

“I don’t even know any dress stores. My dresses are from random twenty dollar and below stores.” She protested.

“I know a guy.”

The two women got back inside Stephanie’s car and headed off. Both nervous and excited they made their way towards one of the most high end dress shops in New York City. This was all very new to y/n despite her father being a wealthy man. She never abused his money, nor had he due to the way he and her mother had brought her up. Now here she was, credit card ready to be swiped.

“Yes, is Jessie working today?” Stephanie questioned before a voice interrupted her, “Steph! Hi!” The high pitched male voice cooed before giving her a kiss on both cheeks. Steph pulled y/n a tad closer, “This is y/n. She’s going to a charity banquet tonight. She needs something elegant, sexy, bold. She has a date.” Stephanie stayed proudly. Y/N couldn’t help but shy away a bit. She hadn’t known exactly where to face and it made her slightly anxious. That was until Jessie’s friendly voice spoke once more.

“Oh yes honey, we carry dresses all sizes, all body types. Loose, tight, lacy, glittery. Let’s start with color. What does that heart desire?”

Stephanie quietly asked, “What’s his favorite color?”

“Huh?” “Loki...his favorite color, pick one of his favorite color and you’ve got a home run for sure.”

Y/N cleared her throat before nodding, “Green. Emerald green.”

So then the hunt began. Y/N had been living through the world through touch and the materials she felt were all very different. She blew through 7 dresses easily, Stephanie insisted all of them were beautiful on her. Yet, y/n couldn’t help but feel skeptical. It wasn’t until dress number 9 that she completely adored the fitting. Everything felt lovely among her skin and by the way Stephanie and Jessie said, “Damn girl!” She knew she found the right one. Holding her hands together in front of her, she couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear.

Back at the apartment Loki had gotten himself ready for the day not quite sure where it would lead him. He had come accommodated with the simplicity of cereal for breakfast and didn’t mind as much. Rice Krispies being his favorite, they were always stocked. Mid bite, the girls entered the front door.

Laughing the girls set the bags on the counter. This was when Stephanie stopped in her tracks....Loki had forgotten to put on his garments. Her mouth gaped and Loki quickly stood up and put his finger over his lips as to say to remain silent.

“Eehhhh....” Stephanie squeaked and y/n had a confused look on her face.

“What’s wrong Steph?” She asked holding the dress in a white zip up protection sleeve. Loki chuckled and quickly shot back, “I’m uh, having a bad hair day love...” he trailed, “I had messaged Stephanie with a clothing problem. I’m going to go show her now.” Quickly Loki slowly grabbed her hand and drug her off.

“Alright! I’m gonna p-put this away.” Y/N called out making her way back to her room. These days it was easier for her to do so, as she remembered everything that surrounded her.

Loki closed the door behind him and let go of the completely shocked Stephanie. “Please, hear me out.” He whispered nervously.

“Loki...what is this? T-This isn’t a skin condition. You’re cold. Your eyes are red. Are you a fucking vampire?” She whispered shouted.

“A vampire?...Stephanie no—“ he looked back to the door and grabbed her shoulders gently so she looked him in the eyes, “—I’m cursed. I’m not what you think I am...I’m not even from here. I’m still the same me...I won’t be like this forever...I hope. If you tell y/n, then I will. It will break her heart if she finds out I’ve lied. Please...” he pleaded.

Stephanie could see the sincereness in his eyes. Even though he looked like someone else, she still knew he was the same Loki. If anything she felt more comfortable seeing his actual face for once. She never wanted y/n to be hurt, yet she knew she was obligated to tell her the things she could not see herself. Her mind was at war with itself, but she could only do what felt right in her heart. “You’re going to hurt her more if you say no to what she’s going to ask you. You can’t show up with her blue.” She whispered.

“I...I don’t know what to do then...” Loki let go of Stephanie and rubbed a clammy hand over his face.

“I’ll help you,” She spoke making Loki look back over to her, “I went to beauty school for special effects makeup...I-I can give you something that will hide the skin,” She gulped and fixed her posture, “You’re going to say yes. You’re going with that sweet girl out there...you’re going to wear a suit and I’ll be back tomorrow evening to get you and her ready. Got it?” She said in a slightly threatening voice.

“Yes.”

With time passing, Stephanie kept her word to not tell Loki’s secret. Loki was still yet to find out just exactly what y/n had wanted to invite him to. He was surprised nonetheless that she thought of him at all. During dinner, she thought she’d speak of the whole ordeal.

“So,” She crunched the piece of lettuce from her salad, “I won’t assume you don’t have a life and I wanted to ask if you’re free tomorrow night.”

Loki stopped eating the salad that was before him and set his fork down. “Tomorrow evening, I’m free. What is it you’re proposing?” Those words, y/n found herself always loving to hear the way he spoke.

“A charity banquet. My dad has to represent his corporation there and he wants me to go. Would you like to be my...date.” She hesitated upon the last word of her sentence. In this moment she was glad she didn’t have to face Loki, but even without physically seeing him she remained slightly shy.

Loki’s heart filled with joy, even with Stephanie’s warning he was still taken back. “If I wasn’t mistaken, I would say you’re flirting with me.” He teased. “I-I’m just—Loki shut up. Just, are you going to join me or not?” She stabbed her fork through the salad aggressively and chuckled.

“I would be delighted to be your escort y/n.”

Spending an entire day to find his attire, Loki had this night on his mind constantly. He was incredibly nervous just as to what Stephanie was going to help him plan. Had she told anyone of his identity? Y/N was just as nervous, just in the slightest difference of ways. Hers revolved around appearance, elegance, and impressing.

Y/N had just finished getting ready, technically Stephanie had finished getting her ready, when she gently slid a hand down her arm. Her soft skin feeling far more delicate than before. Stephanie curled her hair and done her makeup to the best of her ability. Light brown eyeshadow covered her eyelids, thin sharp lines of eyeliner swiped along as well, a nude colored lip stick decorated as well. Despite the fact that y/n ever refused to open her eyelids, Stephanie added false lashes to the equation as well. It was only time for her to put on her dress. It was an emerald green color, off the shoulder, the top was cascades with an almost lace type of material that finished with a long satin mermaid tail. Even without seeing herself, y/n felt beautiful. She only hoped she wasn’t the only one.

Loki sat cross legged in the room. Various layers of plastered on makeup over his natural icy blue skin. “Are you to be done yet?” He complained. Fixing his eyebrows to her liking, Stephanie scoffed, “You’re so impatient. Just one more adjustment.” With that she ran a hand through his hair that was slicked back and dropped behind his ears. “I’m done. Go look.”

Loki stood to his feet and made his way to a mirror in the bathroom. He didn’t dare own one of his own, it was pure torture always having to stare at the monster he was turned to. Yet this time, as his frame stood before the glass...he was amazed. He no longer looked like the monster form he had been cursed with...but that of the prince he was on Asgard. His skin looked fair and his features groomed to suit his fancy. He breathed out and blinked a few times just to make sure he was seeing Stephanie’s work correctly. If he hadn’t just sat through the process of makeup for the past hour, he would believe he was truly loved by a human and his curse was no longer. Stephanie stepped in behind him, “You know you do look rather dashing,” she mocked his accent, “Now go get dressed, y/n should be ready for me to zip her up.” She patted his shoulder and made her way to y/n’s room.

Loki got dressed into the suit he owned. He even made a big deal in Stephanie fetching him accents to the suit, such as a new tie and handkerchief. His all black suit was now accompanied by a green tie and handkerchief, thanks to her. He felt confident.

Stephanie zipped up both her own silver dress and y/n’s. “You look so beautiful.” She said sincerely behind her friend. “Thanks to you.” Y/N thanked. Quickly Stephanie ushered y/n out of her room and into the hall. Loki stood in the living room waiting for the limo that was ordered to drive the three to the banquet by her father. Stephanie whispered, “Wait here,” tip toeing into the living room she cleared her throat, “I present to you! Drum roll please, Miss y/l/n of New York!” Loki turned his head as y/n chuckled and nervously held her hands together neatly in front of her. She walked out slowly towards them. She heard silence as Loki’s mouth parted from the awe of beauty in which she possessed. He always knew she was beautiful, but here she was...glamored to someone she could also believe to be, what he seen every day with her.

“All I hear is breathing. Do you not like it?” She asked softly. Loki quickly snapped back to reality and cleared his throat, “No love it’s not that,” he walked towards her and held her hands in his, “I was just taken back from your beauty.” He placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. “You look absolutely ravishing.” If she hadn’t already, she let out the breathe she was holding in. Her heart was beating even faster than it had before. Loki’s gloves warmed his hands but the familiarity of his cold body comforted her.

“I uh...thank you. I mean...I may not be able to see,” She led her finger tips down the front of his tie, “but I believe you must look incredible as well.” She smiled. Stephanie looked outside the front door hearing a honk. “Time to go!” She squeaked.

The limo took them to their desired destination. Music played while the friends sat inside, they joked around and played with the windows as if they were children. More so y/n and Stephanie than Loki. It was all worth it once they arrived to the banquet. Tons of big named people were there. Their dressed and suits shone with elegance and they were tailored to perfection. Still, all Loki could do was feel absolutely lucky to be within the presence of one woman. Y/N. Her father was delighted to see the two. He was quite more shocked with the sight of Loki without the garments.

“Y/N darling,” he hugged her warmly, “You look absolutely incredible. Loki,” he let go of his daughter and faced the man, “you clean up nice as well. No mask?”

“No mask, sir. The evening isn’t as rough as the day.” He smiled. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Lord knows I contributed enough into it for you to do so.” Y/F/N spoke proudly.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Stephanie said as she grabbed a glass of champagne delicately and walked towards the other side of the room. Loki held his arm out for y/n as he always does and she kindly wrapped her arm around. Yet this time, it held such more significance.

Sitting at a table decorated with a white table cloth along with a floral centerpiece. They were brought various glasses of champagne. Stephanie had met another man attending and was mingling elsewhere. The two laughed quietly as they joked of the many rich people they were surrounded by. The alcohol making them even more open. Y/N was in a fit of laughter and even laid her head on Loki’s shoulder momentarily before being interrupted. Lucas had walked up to the two. Not recognizing Loki right away, not knowing how he did it, but knowing he was up to something. Loki scoffed as Lucas walked to them. “Y/N. You look astonishing. Loki, hi.” He simply said not finding the words.

Y/N noticeably smiled in a mocking matter. “Thank you Lucas. What brings you here?” “Oh just wanted to know how the night was going for you. Hopefully not too bored of his accent going on and on,” he laughed at his own joke, “I actually came here to offer a dance.”

Y/N rose her eyebrows, “You know what Lucas? I would love to, Ive been dying to. Loki,” she turned towards him and made a small ‘hm?’ Sound, “Would you like to join me on the dance floor?” Loki smiled towards y/n and in a soft voice said, “It would be my honor. Excuse us Lucifer.” He purposely misadressed him as his hand wrapped around y/n’s taking her towards the other groups of people dancing. Lucas stood there dumbfounded and bit his bottom lip angrily.

Y/N giggled lightly as they were finally on the floor. The lights were dimmed down a tad more. “Now Lucifer is a far more suited name for that jerk than Lucas anyways.” She stood with her hands at her side. “Well, I thought I would grace it to him in my voice that he adores so much.” He chuckled as well. The music slowly changed to another song, a slow song.

“I um...I didn’t think this through..” y/n spoke quietly as her fingers fidgeted together. “Why’s that?” Loki’s asked. “I don’t...I don’t know how to dance. Good I mean, I’m not even sure where to put my hands.” She rambled nervously.

Loki quietly spoke, “Relax, I’ve been to a few...banquets such as this before. I could help you. Here,” he grabbed her hands slowly and brought them up onto his shoulders, “you leave your hands there and I’ll,” he slowly snaked his hands over her hips and gently pulled her a tad closer to him, “put mine, there.”

Y/N faced forward and gently whispered, “Now what?..” “Now, we sway...to the melody of the music.” He led the dance trying to make her feel a little more comfortable. He couldn’t help but get lost in her, his smile never fading. “I never thought I’d be dancing...let alone at a banquet. Might I add with a tall man who helps me move around because I’m blind now.” She rambled once more, this time quieter.

Loki let out a nervous sigh of breathe, “Y/N...can I be honest with you?..”

“You’re not going to admit to being an axe murder are you?” She asked chuckling.

“No. Y/N...when I first moved to New York, I could not stand the sight of anyone...I never wanted to be along side anyone but myself,” he spoke softly, “when I met you...I still hadn’t wanted to be around. It was a job. A hobo received yes...but you’ve granted me with the gift of so much more. You’ve taught me...the beauty of life, the inside of a person can be far superior in beauty than one’s shell. I care for you...greatly. I find myself wanting to be around you far more than away from you...it’s quite odd, I’ve never experienced this before. I guess what I’m trying to say is...” with these words spoken quietly between the two, Y/N pressed her forehead delicately to his, “Loki, I...” she trailed.

Suddenly a loud burst was heard. The doors of the banquet had crashed opens and masked men that held up guns and rushed in. Everyone began running as y/n felt herself panic on the inside. She almost fell to the ground as she heard the screams from multiple people. Shots being fired. The ringing in her ears was far more scary than the event itself. Loki held his arms around her, stopping her from falling to the ground from freight. Everything was as if it were in slow motion. Stephanie quickly ran towards the two.

“L-Loki...” She gulped as her eyebrows were furrowed, “Stephanie..where?” She choked out.

“Right here. She’s okay love. We’re going to be alright.” He said strongly and held her up. Shots were fired off once more before they ran out the door and left. “My father, Loki,” she began crying from the fear she felt, “w-where is h-he?” She felt a pit in her stomach as Loki looked around. As the people ran off in different directions he seen a body. One man, shot, bleeding out quickly. Y/N’s father.

“They’re leaving!” Stephanie shouted nervously to Loki. She two seen the horror of what lied ahead. “Take me to him!” She croaked our as tears streamed down.

Quickly Loki ran with y/n towards her father’s body. “Y/N,” he gurgled from the ground, “Go, now.”

“Oh no,” she sobbed and immediately fell to the ground at her father’s side. The blood of her father on her palms. It felt completely and utterly horrible, “Dad! Please!” She sobbed and found his hand with her own that trembled beyond extent.

“Someone call 9-1-1!” Loki shouted at the top of his lungs as her took off the jacket and pressed it over the wound. Stephanie held y/n’s shoulder as she shook.

“Daddy, please don’t l-leave me...” she sobbed and screamed as the scene unfolded before her. She held onto his face as she buried hers into his shoulder.

The only audible sound being that of her broken screaming and sirens in the distance...

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