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sleekervae · 5 months

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The Neighbour [4.6]

Masterlist

A/N: Christ on a crutch, here we are!! Thank you again to everyone for your patience! It was so tough writing a good conclusion to Eva's journey and over all I'm very happy with this! And I think considering that we're about to enter into another new Palaye era speaks volumes to this transition. Thank so much again for your patience! Happy reading!

Warnings: some emotional angst, fluffy reunion, Happy American Thanksgiving to those who celebrate

Thanksgiving was rarely ever a grand, extravagant affair in the Kropp family; nonetheless, subtle nuances from the previous year's celebration were easily discernible. Their once exuberant friends-giving festivity now found a cozy haven within the confines of Remington and Emerson's dining room. The smells of warm spices and gravy wafted through the air, a mouth-watering promise for what was to come. A select few friends exchanged shared, delectable side dishes amid clouded conversations, all the while Sebastian was attempting to carve up the turkey in the kitchen. He had only uttered a few cuss words so Remington figured it was going well enough.

He was only partially listening to Caity's conversation with his mom, catching up on work endeavours and whatever plans they may've had for Christmas. However, Remington couldn't help but keep glancing at his phone, once, twice, his mind racing as he wondered where Eva could've been. She told him she'd call him before their own Thanksgiving dinner, though he noted how quiet she'd been since the latest update on her mother's health. He wondered if he should just say fuck it and call her himself, though he'd panic before he could, assuring him that she probably just needed her space. She was supposed to be home in a day, and it felt like it couldn't come fast enough.

"Earth to Remington!" Caity waved her hand in front of his face and he instantly snapped out of his trance, “Copy if you read us,”

"What was that?" Remington asked.

"What do you want for Christmas, doofus," Caity asked, holding back a chuckle, "C'mon! You've been so quiet all night! I know we're still pandemic-struck but still!"

Stephanie simpered, "He's missing Eva, that's all,"

"Mom," Remington grumbled, "That makes me sound like a whiney pre-teen,"

"Well, you're certainly moping around like one," she replied, "Why don't you go help Sebastian?"

"Mom, he's supposed to be slicing turkey, not me," he replied.

Caity simply just rolled her eyes, "Oh, c'mon Remi! He's not gonna do that. Not with witnesses around, anyway," she joked.

"Speaking of your brothers, where's Emerson?" Stephanie turned her head, glancing around the room.

"Probably seeking refuge in his hobbit hole," Michael said as he passed by, crunching on a cracker with slathered in artichoke dip, "Great dip by the way, Stephanie,"

"Thank you Michael!" she beamed back.

None on them were the wiser to Emerson curled up on the stairs, sketching away in his notebook and far away from the camaraderie in the kitchen. He had Pluto nestled beside him, his leg still wrapped in the blue cast, though he was unbothered as he snored away beside the youngest brother. Emerson would pause between pen strokes to give the tabby an affectionate head pat, he figured this was the coziest the cat had ever been in the time he'd known him.

Emerson's train of thought was broken suddenly when the doorbell echoed through the hall, and his heavy eyes glanced up to the front door. Pluto perked up as well, raising his head and his ears sprung up. Emerson glanced over the railing towards the crowd, calling out.

"Hey! There's someone at the door!" though to no surprise, nobody could hear him. He figured he could've answered the door himself, but he was already comfortable in his spot and he didn't want to disturb Pluto, "Remington! Sebastian! Michael!" and still, no one could hear him.

And so, in true Emerson fashion, he whipped out his phone and began to type...

Remington had just finished pouring himself a glass of wine when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket, whipping it out faster than a gunslinger in the west. However, he was dismayed when he saw Emerson's text:

Someone's at the door

With an eye roll, Remington texted back.

Where are you?

Sitting on the stairs

So why don't you go answer the door?

Because I don't want to disturb the cat

The cat with a broken leg, mind you...

It's sprained, not broken

Same difference

Remington huffed, setting down his wine glass and begrudgingly heading for the front door. Sure enough, he passed his little brother on the stairs, the tabby cat nestled against his legs. He glanced between him and the front door.

"You really couldn't make the ten foot walk to open the door?" he asked, tone verging on bitterness.

Emerson shrugged back, "Would you disturb this innocent child?" he pointed to Pluto with his pen, "Besides, our visitor is probably catching a cold out there,"

"They'd be catching less of one if you just got proactive," he muttered back, "Did we invite anybody else?"

"I don't think so," Emerson replied, "Maybe it's Amazon?"

Remington reached for the door knob, "I didn't order anything..."

He wrenched the door open, steeling himself to welcome a potential unexpected visitor or perhaps discover a package-bearing Amazon delivery person. Yet, astonishment washed over him as his eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Eva standing on his stoop, luggage in tow behind her.

"-- Eva!?" his voice quivered slightly, yet the edges of his mouth tugged upward in a smile tinged with incredulity.

She locked her left right ankle in front of her left, smiling with giddy and a twinkle in her eye, "... surprise!" she half-sang, half-giggled.

Remington scooped her up in his arms without a second thought, hugging her tightly to his chest, inhaling her vanilla essence. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her cold nose pressed to his skin but quite frankly he couldn't care. He missed her so damn much.

"I thought you weren't coming home until tomorrow?" he murmured, relief laced in his voice nonetheless.

"I was, but I just... I needed to come home," she replied, "I missed you so much,"

"Fuck me, I missed you more," he kissed her, aching for the comforting familiarity of her chapstick's faint sweetness, the pillowy softness of those lips he could've spent hours kissing. Eva wound her arms around his neck and pulled him to her with an intensity that surpassed mere physical proximity, reveling in the sanctuary of his embrace.

"Eva?" Emerson's voice suddenly rattled from behind them. The couple broke apart and glanced over, Remington was none too surprised to see Emerson hadn't bothered to move from his spot on the stairs. That didn't stop him from craning his neck like a giraffe to try and see what was happening.

"He's still not getting up!" Remington shook his head as he grumbled.

Eva tittered softly, "Hi Emerson,"

"How did you get a flight so fast?" he asked.

She shrugged, stepping aside as Remington moved to grab her luggage from out of the cold, "My sister's boyfriend has a cousin who works for the airline, turns out," she replied, "... I hope you guys don't mind having one more dinner guest?"

"Are you kidding me?" Emerson gawked back, "I'm willing to sacrifice Sebastian in order to make space for you myself. Right Pluto?" he glanced down at the tabby.

Pluto finally made the move from the stairs, slinking down the marble and hobbling over to his master. Eva was nevertheless quite concerned when she noticed the bright blue cast on his leg.

"What the -- Pluto!" she was careful as she picked him, cradling the big baby in her arms as she turned to Remington, "What happened?"

Remington smiled sheepishly, glancing between her and the cat as he nervously puffed his cheeks, "Ah... well, he -- uh... Emerson?"

"Nope, you're on your own here," the youngest brother muttered.

"Remington..." Eva stared up up at him, anxiously awaiting some sort of explanation.

Remington sighed, "He... it's a long story but basically your neighbour is insane and he fell off your balcony. But we rushed him to the vet as fast as we could!"

"I've never seen Sebastian drive that fast," Emerson tacked on.

Eva glowered at her tabby, who was none the wiser as he cuddled into her shoulder, his claws gripping tightly to her jacket, "Jesus Christ. Why didn't you call me?" she asked the brothers.

"Because you had so much you were dealing with and we didn't want to worry you," Remington replied, remorseful and uneasy, "But I should've called you. That's on me, I'm sorry,"

Eva shook her head, "You're damn right you should've! I have pet insurance!" she exclaimed, "I could've had the bill covered!"

Remington simpered, "Honestly Eva, don't worry about the bill," one hand moved to her waist and the other rubbed between Pluto's ears, "As long as Pluto's still running around, I couldn't care less,"

Eva's apprehension settled as she relaxed in his embrace, cuddling the cat closer to her chest, "You god damn chaotic mess of fur; I'm seriously gonna' get you a bell!"

"Wouldn't be the worst idea," Emerson said, finally making the move to stand, "C'mon, I'm hungry," and he started for the dining room, notebook still tucked under his arm. Remington simply shook his head as he walked off.

"You know, he just watched while Sebastian yelled at me about peeling carrots. Like -- it's not hard to peel carrots!" he said.

Eva shook her head with a gentle laugh, pressing up on her toes to press another kiss to his cheek, "I'm sure you did just fine. It smells amazing in here,"

"That's mom's artichoke dip,"

She followed Remington into the dining room, still holding Pluto in her arms as they joined their friends. Shy was the first to rise from her seat, rushing over to envelop Eva in a tight hug. Meanwhile, Sebastian poked his head out from the kitchen, curious about the sudden commotion. Eva wasn't surprised to see his apron draped over his stylish pinstripe suit underneath. Chairs were shifted, a new place setting was prepared, and despite Eva's offer to assist, Larissa and Stephanie insisted that she sit back and relax.

The turkey was brought out soon enough, accompanied by a spread of sumptuous sides and a delicious bottle of wine. The table was alive with chatter: Michael animatedly discussing the band's latest video plans, Caity and Hayden enthusiastically sharing their upcoming Christmas trip itinerary. Amidst it all, questions came Eva's way—about her mother, her early return home, her fatigue, and more. Yet, in that moment, Eva couldn't have felt happier. She basked in the warmth of the gathering, feeling entirely at ease, all traces of anxiety vanishing with Remington's arm draped casually across her shoulders.

Only a couple hours later the house was emptied, plates were partially washed and thrown hastily in the dishwasher, any leftovers were packed up and sent home with friends. And because he had shown the least amount of effort in prep, the brothers decided it was Emerson's job to tidy up the table. Remington meanwhile had hauled Eva's bag upstairs, much to her protests that she could do it herself but he remained insistent; he was just so happy to have her home.

Her bag was barely unzipped before Remington threw himself on the bed, chin cupped in his hand as he watched her begin to unpack. There were a plethora of questions burning in his brain.

"Soooo..." he trailed.

"So?" Eva queried.

"Why are you home early?" he asked, "I didn't want to pile on at dinner but..."

Eva placed down the shirts she was about to pull out, sighing as she took a seat on the bed, "Well... you want the long story or the short story?"

He simply shook his head, "Whatever you want to share, where ever you wanna' start,"

She shifted over so she could lay beside him, her hands coming to rest over her stomach as she stared up at the ceiling, "Well... we got a call from the hospital Friday morning..."

Eva's heart dropped when she saw the caller ID flash for the hospital, nevertheless she picked up the call and brought the speaker to her ear, hesitating before she answered, "H-Hello... yes, that's me..."

Magda, Greg, and Theo watched silently as Eva turned her back, her voice coming to a hushed octave. Impatient as ever though, the oldest sister turned to her brothers, "What the hell is going on now?" she asked, tone verging on exasperation.

Greg scoffed back, "Well, in not so many words, Eva's not a match for mom's transfer. But someone else is," he replied.

Magda glowered at him, "And are we waiting for a 90s soap-opera style dramatic pause, or...?"

"She's seeing someone else," Theo admitted, "I guess you guys already knew that -- but he stepped up as a potential donor..."

Magda's eyes went wide, "-- No... Greg!" she turned to him, "Please don't tell me..."

Greg nodded solemnly, "He's a perfect match for the kidney. They're gonna have him prepped this week, after the holiday," he confirmed.

At that, Eva got off the phone with a simple, "Alright, thank you..." and she turned to her siblings. She felt her hands shaking, her heart racing as though she'd had drank coffee on an empty stomach and the caffeine was just beginning to kick in. This whole journey, all of this fighting and tiptoeing and pillage of more trauma had all in turn been for nothing.

"Whelp, she struck again," Magda sighed with a head shake, "Crazy old battle axe did it again..."

Greg steeled himself against the wall, utter defeat overcoming his face, "So, is Julien asking dad for the number of his divorce attorney, or..."

"He has someone," Theo admitted, his eyes averted to the ground, "He said he's always kind of suspected something was up,"

Magda scoffed, "Not to be a downer but as the saying goes: if they cheat with you, they cheat --"

"Mags!" Greg stopped her with a swift glare, nodding his head to their younger sister. Eva was just frozen on the spot, dark blue eyes glazed over as she stared off into space. There was partial relief overwhelming her, she didn't have to go under the knife after all. However, so much had happened in three days, so much mental strain and it had finally taken its toll on her.

"Eva?" Magda stood up and approached her slowly, picking off the reflection of tears brimming, "Eves, are you okay?"

Eva didn't -- couldn't respond. For once in her life she was at a complete loss for words; and yet she had so many thoughts scratching in her brain, so much jumbled jargon to spew out in a twisted heap of nerves and fear but all she could do was give a silent nod, her eyes clamped shut in a futile attempt to stop herself from crying.

Magda caught her just before the dam burst, holding her tightly as the first few sniffles and sobs left her. The two sisters held each other tightly, the eldest not uttering a word as she just held her, rubbing her back as she cooed softly, "It's okay honey, let it out. It's okay,"

Theo couldn't stand to watch anymore, stepping forward to throw his arms around the pair. Greg followed suit, a solemn scene in the antiquated kitchen with the despair finally being lifted from all of them. Eva had so much anger she was still holding on to, but in this moment she couldn't care less. This mess was finally over, tremendously and brutally over, and all she wanted now was to go home...

"... we didn't really plan for a proper Thanksgiving, so we kind of threw some stuff together last night and called it a day," she finished off, her gaze having never left the ceiling, "And Magda's boyfriend got me a last-minute ticket this morning. I was on the second standby out of town,"

Remington stayed beside her the entire time, listening intently, his mind blown at the full revelation of Eva's trip. He was relieved on the one hand knowing she wouldn't have to go under the knife after all, on the other hand he could see how such a plot twist had rattled her, dredging up old feelings she was sure she didn't have to deal with again.

"Holy fuck..." he gaped in awe, "She just threw away her family like that? No explanation, no nothing?"

"Straight to the calculating point, it's her pattern," she sighed, chuckling with pity, "It's classic: she'll let him play as her white knight until she gets bored and finds someone else to pull into her web. She's never gonna' stop, Rem,"

"And that's not your problem," he cuddled up beside her, gently drawing his arm around her body, enfolding her in the embrace of his chest, "I'm so sorry, Eva,"

"Why?" she glanced up at him.

"Because, you went over there with the best intentions and it just -- I just don't want this to affect you more then it already has. I'm worried, is all," he explained.

"I'm okay, Remington," she turned over onto her side, coming nose-to-nose with him, "I'm okay, I swear to you. I'm a little worried about Theo, but Greg assured me he's gonna keep an eye on him. He's done nothing to deserve any of this,"

"Neither have you. I'm proud of you, though," he said.

"Why?"

"You made up with your sister. That's not nothing, believe me," he chuckled at the end, "And you and Greg got closer, and you gaped bridges with Theo and his dad, that's not nothing,"

Eva simpered quietly, "I think you meant 'mend bridges'? 'To bridge a gap' means having the qualities of two different groups or things or... stuff,"

All Remington could do was laugh, at her train of thought, at the sleepy slur of her voice, how her lips curled when she knew she was correcting him but she tried to play it off as no big deal. Words alone couldn't express how much he missed this girl, and how it would be a long damn time before he spent such time away from her again.

"There's my girl," he awed, pressing kisses to her cheeks and her nose, "I missed you so fucking much,"

"I missed you, too," Eva giggled, squirming in his arms but she made no move to push him away; she was just so happy to be home again. She sighed when he let up, pushing loose locks of blonde hair behind his ears, "Do you think you're ever gonna' cut your hair?" she asked curiously, "Not that I don't love this look on you,"

Remington scoffed, "It is getting a liiiiittle long," he admitted, "You miss my spikes?"

"Yeah! They're so quintessentially you!" she replied, "But then there's so many more layers to you than just your hair. I love every side of you,"

With no hesitation he buried his face in the crook of her neck, overwhelmed in her familiar scent, pressing soft kisses to her pulse point as she wrapped her arms around him, "You're so fucking cute. I love you so much," he mumbled.

Eva smirked back, her fingers threading through his hair the way she knew he melted at, "Mmm, I think I love you more," she said.

"Not possible," he squeezed her tighter to him to make his point.

"I don't know about that," she teased, "You're only the greatest thing that happened to me in my life, so..."

Remington couldn't keep the beaming smile off of his face, shifting up so they were at eye-level with each other. His next words spilled out before his brain could catch up, impulsively escaping from his lips:

"I'm gonna' marry you one day,"

To say Eva was a little taken aback was an understatement, "What?" it took her another minute to process what he'd just said to her.

Remington chuckled bashfully, "Not like -- now or anything. But one day down the line... when you're least expecting it, I'm gonna' ask you to marry me," he decided.

"Oh really?" Eva cocked a brow, resisting the urge to bite her lip, "And you just assume that I'm gonna' say yes?"

"Of course I do," with tender affection, Remington traced small circles under Eva's sweatshirt, his touch light and comforting. She turned towards him, a soft smile gracing her lips, and met his gaze with a warmth that spoke volumes, "I love you. I'm a way better person everyday because of you. You are every reason, every hope, every dream I've ever had and no matter where we go in the future, I will always be yours," he brought his hand up to her cheek, caressing the soft skin as though she were porcelain, "And you, my darling, will always be mine,"

Earlier that day, Eva had sworn to herself she wouldn't cry upon her return. Yet, despite her determination, she couldn't stifle the swell in her chest, the insistent pull at her tear ducts, nor the overpowering wave of affection she had for Remington. Each word he spoke felt like a lifeline, flowing from his lips in his husky voice, and she clung to them fervently.

"Oh my God," her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to bury her face in the sheets, "I take it back: that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard you say,"

Remington's expression softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips, "Better than William Blake?"

"So much better,"

Closing the distance between them, Remington reached out to brush a stray tear from Eva's cheek. His touch was tender, his fingers lingering against her skin as if tracing the delicate contours of her emotions.

Their connection intensified in the silence that followed, a subtle electricity lingering between them. Remington gently tucked a loose strand of Eva's hair behind her ear, his touch a tender gesture filled with unspoken affection.

Eva's gaze met Remington's, a softness in her eyes that spoke volumes. In that moment, amidst the quiet intimacy of his -- their bedroom, they shared an unspoken understanding, each wordless glance conveying a depth of emotion that transcended spoken language.

#palaye royale #remington leith #emerson barrett #sebastian danzig #eva kuznetsov #remington palaye royale #remington leith imagine #remington leith smut #palaye royale imagine #sebastian palaye royale #emerson palaye royale #original story #original female character #band blog #band imagine blog #band imagines #the bastards #fever dream

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the-world-is-spinning-round · 2 years

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This Grave I Call My Home - Palaye Royale fan fiction (Spooktober Writing Challenge)

He’s still going at it, still ignoring everyone. Can you get here any quicker?

Vic slammed the car door shut, shouldering her rucksack as she headed towards the football pitch.

Across the car park, her younger sister watched her with wide eyes - but Josie didn’t move away from her boyfriend’s side to come and talk to Vic. It wasn’t just because Andrew had an arm wrapped around Josie’s waist; Josie was one of the ‘cool kids’ now, and Vic most definitely was not.

Neither was the reason Josie had texted her.

Remington was in the middle of the football pitch, shovel in hand, dressed only in a cheap (and thin) looking black slip, digging what looked disturbingly like a grave.

It was no wonder Josie had asked her to come talk to Remington. Despite their separation, Sebastian and Emerson - two of Josie’s friends, who happened to be the leaders of their little clique, and Remington’s brothers - still cared about Remington…at least in their own weird, shallow kind of way. And what they cared about, the rest of the group cared about, in their even weirder, even shallower kind of way.

Hence why Josie had text Vic. As Remington’s…sort-of friend, Vic was probably the only one who might be able to talk to Remington when he was in his current state.

Not that she was overly hopeful.

Still, she made her way over to where Remington was clambering down into his makeshift ‘grave’, disappearing from view entirely when he lay down inside it, and plonked herself down on the edge, legs dangling into the hole.

A hand shot up to grab her ankle, but Remington didn’t shove her foot away or pull her leg any further into his grave, he just…grabbed her ankle, and then seemed to freeze.

“So, I’d ask if you’re okay…but I have a feeling the answer is no.” Vic announced, knowing that she was unlikely to get a response.

Remington was capable of speaking, but he didn’t do it often. He was quiet by nature, and even more so when he was in this kind of headspace.

Fortunately, Vic could speak enough for both of them: “I’m pretty sure if nothing else you most be fucking freezing. It’s cold as shit out here, even for October. Not that the dress doesn’t look amazing by the way, it’s great, but it just seems like more of a summer night kind of dress than an autumn-winter night dress, you know?”

Still nothing, but Vic could tell Remington was listening to her - if only because he was starting to frown at her like he was talking absolute nonsense.

Which, to be fair, she was.

Because she knew it would eventually get a response.

She just had to be weird enough.

“Do you think I’d look good in a slip like yours?” Vic asked, saying a quick prayer no-one would remember this part tomorrow morning, before she reached up to push her tits together and up, like she was wearing a push-up bra: “I think my tits are too big. Or not big enough. I think they’re kind of an awkward size, you know? Like, too big to be small, but too small to be big.”

Remington was frowning even deeper now: “Too…big to be small?”

“Yeah! Like, mid-sized, but…also not, you know? Maybe if I got some interesting tattoos, like a treasure map with some dragons and flamingos, it would be a distraction? Or maybe I could get a desert scene with a cow’s skull…”

Eventually, Remington laughed: “You’re…you’re just so fucking weird.”

Vic grinned: “You say weird, I say interesting.”

“Interesting?” Remington repeated, still laughing: “Okay, let’s go with ‘interesting’.”

Vic nodded in agreement, but let the conversation drop.

She could tell Remington was more present now; his grip on her ankle had moved so he could tug absently at her laces, wrapping them around his fingers before unwrapping them, flicking at them before catching them again. Vic was kind of reminded of her cat, Walter…and honestly, Remington probably wouldn’t mind that comparison. He’d be the first to say he was cat-like - although he’d probably like Vic to say it was because he was graceful and mysterious, rather than because he was sometimes weirdly obsessed with odd bits and pieces shoelaces.

In truth, it was a bit of both.

Remington could be extremely self-confident and could carry himself with all the grace and self-assurance in the world…and then other times he could be her dork of a friend who just wanted to be near someone. Vic wished he had more options than just her for times like that, not because she didn’t want to hang out with him, but because she wanted him to be happy…

…but as it was just her, Vic would try and do her best to make sure her friend was okay.

So she sat on the edge of this grave Remington had dug, lightly swinging the foot Remington wasn’t holding onto back and forth, until Remington was ready to speak.

Eventually, he sighed, and leant up on his elbows: “Are they all watching?”

Vic didn’t turn and look, but given that she had been ignoring the feeling of eyes digging into her back the whole time she’d been sitting here: “Probably, yeah.”

“I…I don’t know why I did this.” Remington admitted with a weak voice: “I just sort of…did what I felt like I had to do.”

“Fair enough.” Vic nodded, knowing it was best not to question Remington when he was feeling a bit fragile: “Want me to get rid of them?”

“If you think you could…”

Vic pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her texts with Josie.

Can you get everyone to go somewhere else? He doesn’t need everyone staring at him.

Yeah, give me five minutes.

“Five minutes.” Vic told Remington: “Then I’ll check.”

“Thank you.” Remington sighed, clearly relieved: “And thank you for, you know, coming down here.”

“Remington,” Vic said softly: “You don’t have to say thank you for that. If you need me, then I’ll be here.”

Despite the stragglers of the group behind them still being in view of the pitch, Remington carefully clambered to his feet so he could stand in front of Vic and throw his arms around her hips, burying his face in her shoulder.

Vic didn’t hesitate in hugging him back, wrapping her around his neck, holding him close.

They held onto each other in silence, waiting for the last of the group in the parking lot to leave and for Remington’s shivering became too noticeable to ignore before eventually separating - maily so Vic could open up the rucksack she’d brought with her.

Remington smiled when he saw the blanket she pulled from her bag, and dutifully allowed her to wrap it around his shoulders.

“You kept it?” he asked, running a hand over the faded chequered pattern.

“Of course I did.” Vic responded, getting to her feet and reaching down to help pull her friend out of the pit: “You gave it to me for sake-keeping.”

“Like five years ago.”

“Yeah?”

Remington accepted her hand and clambered up out of his pit, and hanging onto Vic’s hand as they headed towards her car - the only one left in the parking lot. Josie had been as good as her word, and gotten rid of everyone, but Vic didn’t doubt that she’d be grilled about what happened later.

She couldn’t bring herself to care - it was a problem for another time.

Perhaps after she worked out how Remington could not get caught for digging a fucking grave in the middle of the school’s football pitch if they were caught by the groundskeeper locking up for the night.

As if sensing her thoughts, Remington looked over his shoulder to the pile of mud and hole n the ground he’d left in his wake, and then looked back at Vic: “I’m a little bit fucked, aren’t I?”

“Not if we get out of here quickly.”

#Palaye Royale fan fiction #Palaye Royale fan fic #Palaye Royale fanfic #Palaye Royale imagine #Palaye Royale drabble #Palaye Royale #royal council #mine

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strange-birb · 3 months

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INDRODUCING: ROY HARPER “ the P U N K” 🤘🤘

Finally finished I actually had such a hard time with him Ngl but I love him

He is backup guitar sometimes lead

Him and Jason had a make out arch while guitar barreling ….. how you ask ? No idea but they did lol

He is super fun with the crowd

Matches Jason with subtle green stiches and jewelry

Flips while solos

Climbs on shit

Upside down I’ve the crowd playing

Smashed guitar at end of show

Neon green strings that light up under black light

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messwritten · 2 years

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Hi, my name is Beau and I miss writting. Taking requests for imagines or short stories.

#palaye royale imagine #5sos imagine #ATL imagine #band imagines #may 2022

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officer-opportunity-effect-int · 16 hours

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#wwe #cemetery #punk fashion #nana anime #minions #chifuyu matsuno #papyrus #beşiktaş #palaye royale #brittana #dollhouse #the office #brockhampton #eddie munson imagine #lapidot

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investment-between-choose-buil · 8 days

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#nana anime #minions #chifuyu matsuno #papyrus #beşiktaş #palaye royale #brittana #dollhouse #the office #brockhampton #eddie munson imagine #langst #wicked

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open-your-heart-and-your-eyes · 1 year

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Every band has….

The parental entity that makes sure no one dies.

The one with an arrest record from here to Chicago, probably for doing alot of dumb things

The really nice/wholesome one… who would kill you in your sleep if you crossed them. They know where you live, and will see you under your bed tonight

The one who could throw you into the sun with their pinky finger, either through strength or determination

The overgrown twelve-year old

These can mix and match even if there are two members and can apply to more than one person/ same person.

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grav3yardbb92 · 5 months

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Sebastian Danzig x f!reader

"We're the Baby Bats, thank you so much for having us. " I shout to the crowd of the sold out show " now, I'm proud to introduce, the real reason you guys are here....Palaye Royale" the crowd erupts in loud screams as my band mates and I pack our instruments and exit the stage. We are met with smiles and high fives from the Kropp brothers as we pass them. But I'm suddenly stopped by Sebastian, when his hand grasp my wrist.

" your voice is amazing" I studdered out a thanks, and I'm sure my face is cherry red right now, thank God for the darkness of backstage. " I'm seb..." his introduction is interrupted by Emerson yanking on his ear.

" I'm y/n" I shout back, hoping it wasn't drowned out by The Royal Council.

*6years later*

" y/n, I know you're nervous, but if you don't quit squirming, this iron will burn you" my best friend warns me, as she holds a fistfull of my hair, attempting to curl it.

" I'm sorry, I can't help it" I explain, trying my best to be still. I look down at my phone, smiling at the picture of me and my fiance, then quickly glance to my left at my wedding dress. Oh. My. God. I'm getting fucking married.

Hair. Curled.

Make up. Perfect

Dress. Laced up

Flowers. In hand

Music. Playing

Here I come Sebby.

My father and I make our way down the gold carpet in the tea room of a gorgeous, vintage style Hotel I smile wide and concentrate on breathing slow and steady. In, out, in ,out. My e/c orbs meet his beautiful green ones, and his smile mimics mine. I fall in love all over again. It seems like forever before I am finally beside the man of my dreams and my father removes my hand from his, placing it in Sebs.

Twenty minutes, vows, tears, two " I do's" and one deep passionate kiss later and I'm walking back down the isle, hand in hand with my husband.

The reception is just as insane as I expected. Pictures, cake, toast, dancing, laughter, and many more kisses. Hours passed and my shoes are now in my hands as we say goodbye and goodnight to all the guest. Seb and I have the honeymoon suite for the night before leaving tomorrow for our honeymoon, to where? Only Seb knows. He insisted on planning it to a surprise destination. And I'm so excited to find out where we will be spending the next two weeks. But, that will have to wait till morning, because the night is not over.

We walk hand in hand, to the elevator, which we have to ourselves and of course he takes the moment to share our first private kiss since we tyed the knott. The doors open and our fingers are intertwined again and he leads me to our grand suite .

He slides the card, opening the door slightly before smoothly scooping me up into his arms. I giggle softly and kiss his neck as he enters and closes the door behind him. He then places me back on my feet and i immediately connect our lips.

His scarf is removed and his shirt is unbuttoned and he slowly unlaces my dress, and it becomes a pool of lace at my feet. His eyes widen at the sight of my light purple, lace lingerie, and I smile at his reaction.

" see something you like Mr.Kropp?"

He pulls me close, leaning into my ear before responding with a whisper..

" you are stunning Mrs. Kropp"

#palaye royale #band imagines #sebastian danzig #palaye royal imagines #royale council

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sleekervae · 10 months

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Clamshell [0.1]

Masterlist

A/N: Hello, I'm back. Still working on some old drafts and had some requests for some new ideas. I'll get to them for sure! I thought up a cute little backstory for how Remington met Vera -- back before she had any idea of this robbing business. And this chapter includes an actual bank robbery now. Happy reading!

Las Vegas, 2017

Remington had smoked the same brand of cigarettes from the time he was thirteen, and he hated the way they had been reformatted and manufactured. The taste and zing had been dulled down in order to meet the standard regulations of whatever federal ball-busting association had these cigarette companies bent over a desk. Perhaps he could still enjoy them the same way if he found the same thrill at thirteen, rifling through his older brother's things one day to knocking some off to seem cool to his friends.

The cigarette flew from his fingertips and was lost in the blustering wind, try as it might it could not tousle through the layers of hairspray he had sprayed on his spikes that morning. Down the freeway he and his brothers drove, feeling as free as the birds that migrated above their heads, unaware and uncaring for the chaos and treachery they may find in the big city. Sebastian had to go to work, because of course someone had to pay their bills legitimately; though Emerson and Remington were off to pull some work of their own.

Their long time confidant and friend, Andrew was driving upfront in their beaten up, unassuming mini van, his shaggy mullet was cloistered under a straw hat. Emerson wasn't much of a fan of said hat.

"You look like a farmer," he pointed out for perhaps the fifth time that morning.

Andrew scoffed, glaring at him through the rearview mirror, "Because you look so much less unassuming in yours," he was referring to Emerson's floppy, wide brimmed slouch hat.

"Well, I'm not gonna' be wearing it for the job," he replied.

"Just leave him alone, he likes it," Remington cut in, trying to sprawl his long legs out in the back seat.

Sebastian was sat shot gun, dressed in his jacket for his line cook's job. He kept glancing back at his younger brothers, seemingly uneasy.

"Are you sure you guys wanna' do this without me?" he asked, perhaps for the third time that morning. His brothers had been planning this job for months, a smaller heist in comparison to others they've pulled, but the diner Sebastian worked for was severely short staffed and he was being scheduled more and more until more bodies could be hired. Of course, neither of them could afford to lose their jobs, so Sebastian had to put his heist planning to a pause while he covered as many shifts as he could.

While they figured they could wait this out, Remington and Emerson were eager for another job soon enough. And so, they had spent some time drawing up plans for a smaller bak heist. After all, living in Vegas was no cheap and easy feat for anyone.

"Of course we are, we've planned this perfectly," Emerson assured, turning to his brother, "Right?"

"Right," Remington sat up and reached over to grab Sebastian's shoulders, "We got it all under control, you just do your thing; flip your burgers, dress your salads, pour in half a bag of sugar into your hollandaise sauce,"

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to," Sebastian grumbled back, looking forward as Andrew pulled over to the cafe he worked at. Sebastian turned in his seat again, "You guys be careful, and don't do anything foolish for the love of God,"

Remington put his hand over his heart, "Swear on mom and dad's graves, we'll be good,"

"Better than that, we'll be slick," Emerson grinned.

Still unconvinced, Sebastian turned to Andrew with grim reprieve, "Make sure they don't get themselves killed,"

"You got it," Andrew gave him a high-five, "I'll come pick you up later,"

Sebastian hopped out and hadn't even shut the door before the minivan pulled out again. They travelled through the smaller outskirt suburb of Vegas, where the main strip was still within clear view. Remington and Emerson were getting their gear together in the meantime, guns, duffels, and of course, their balaclavas.

The Lieseil Funds Bank was a smaller bank chain, handling business ventures from blue-collar start ups to college-fund investment plans. It was a more obscure target that wouldn't be a considered target for crimes such as this, and it sat right across from Bobbie Trap's Pub. It was there one would find a raucous commotion emanating from the back of house, a young waitress being scolded by her manager.

Of course, it wasn't initially the waitress' fault, a customer, still drunk from the night previous, decided to try and take a handful of her behind. But of course, when she turned to defend herself, one thing led to another and she tossed a glass of water over his head. Despite how she tried to explain her case, her boss rattled on about how irresponsible and hysterical she was, so he took her by the arm and practically dragged her out of the establishment and threw her out onto the street, tossing her ratty apron after her.

"Go be somebody else's problem, Vera!" and he slammed the door in her face.

That was how Vera found herself sitting on the sidewalk outside of the bank with said ratty apron and her scuffed up converse kicking at the pavement. This was the third job she had lost in four months and she was cussing herself out for being so reactive and explosive. Just her luck anyhow, the volunteer at the women's shelter had lobbied hard for her to get that stupid waitressing job. Never the less, seeing the inevitable disappointment on the volunteer's face when she came crawling back would be absolutely gruelling.

She ran a hand through her tangled, dry hair, her brain racing for some sort of answer to her predicament, she hadn't paid any mind to the minivan that had pulled up in front of Bobie's.

Remington glared through hooded eyes at the bank, mentally flashing through the blueprints that Emerson had drawn up of the building, running through the response time it would take for police. He looked to Emerson, his face covered in his own lint-littered balaclava, then to Andrew, his head down and his straw hat pulled just over his eyes. Morning rush hour was over and the street was relatively quiet, perfect for their quick getaway.

They were just about to hop out when a man suddenly emerged from the local bar, his head down as he counted the stack of money bills in his hand, clearly out for a deposit. He didn't even give the random girl on the corner a second glance. Remington licked his lips hungrily as he watched the man cross the street and head into the bank. Sebastian was going to be so proud of their score.

With one final bow of confidence, Remington and Emerson jumped out of the minivan and hustled across the street, slipping into the bank. The few people within the bank paid no mind until Remington held up his automatic weapon and fired a few rounds into the ceiling. There were screams of terror, plaguing confusion as bank tellers and bystanders ducked for cover. And of course, the one security guard they had proved to me less than efficient as Emerson knocked him out with one swift blow from his gun.

Remington, ever one for great theatrics, leapt onto one of his desks, brandishing his weapon and tossing the duffel at the bank teller, "Ladies and gentlemen! I beg you all to remain calm, you are not in immediate danger! However, if it wasn't obvious: this is a robbery!"

Vera had her head in her hands, none the wiser to the chaos within the bank until she heard the first gunshots. The windows were dusty but when she turned around she could make out some of the pandemonium from inside, and her heart began to race as she realized she was witnessing a full scale bank robbery. It was so close, all playing out in front of her and yet she felt like she was watching some sort of scene from a movie.

"Holy shit," what should she do, call the police? Maybe somebody already had? All banks had those little panic buttons, right? There was more yelling, some banging, and Vera watched in disbelief as one of the robbers leapt onto the desk, almost performative in his clear threat to the public. She was frozen, out of fear or fascination she wasn't sure, but all Vera could bring herself to do was watch.

Remington and Emerson had gathered what money they could, as well as other valuable personal pieces and spare cash the customers had on them. The man from the street had a cool five hundred dollars he had a hard time letting go off, but Remington shoved him down and cleared up as much of it as he could before he and Emerson took off.

Not even five minutes passed before sirens could be heard in the distance, and the robbers were making out with their loot: two big duffels full of cash. The time had come for Vera, she started crossing the street to get herself away from the chaos. The first one raced clumsily towards the idling minivan and the second was close on his heels, or he would've been if one of the bank bystanders hadn't chased after him.

"You get back here! Vera! Stop him!" Vera was shocked to find her boss coming after the second robber with a clenched fist. He was closing in on him, and Vera wasn't sure what had come over her, glancing between the robber and the minivan his partners were waiting in, and then she glanced at her former boss. Her petty anger riled up within in, and as quickly as she could, she put out her foot and watched with with subtle glee as he face planted into the road.

Remington stopped short when he heard the thud, staring in disbelief as he saw the large man trying to gather his wits. His gaze then shifted to the girl who had clearly tripped him, their eyes locked. She was a young, unassuming type, slender and yet she had a mousy attractiveness.

"Move, man!" Emerson called from the van. Remington only had time to throw one callous wink at the girl before he leapt into the van, the dark ink of an X on his right knuckle fleeting as the van door closed behind him. About a minute later two police cruisers arrived, one of them taking off in the van's general direction.

When he had recovered, Vera's former boss dusted himself off, his mean gaze narrowing on the young girl. He stomped up to her, seething like a bull in Pamplona.

"What is the matter with you!" he shoved her, "You let them get away with my money! Are you just that stupid?!"

Vera, playing up her nonchalance, simply shrugged and smiled politely, "I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you should go be someone else's problem?" and with that, she turned on her heel and walked in the general direction of the women's shelter.

The Bastards crew had made a hasty, but clean getaway from the cops, and Sebastian couldn't deny how impressed he was with his brothers' spoils. They celebrated greatly with some cheap bottles of gin and pizza, though Remington found himself too preoccupied for celebrating. That girl had intercepted and nested in his brain, he had laid eyes upon her just for a moment yet he could see her so clearly. She was reminiscent of a manic pixie dream girl from a Bertolucci film, yet her dim confidence and outlandish pulse reactions were outstanding.

He sat on the porch of the bungalow they shared, a shabby little place in a run down lower-middle class neighbourhood. The air was dry, the heat unbearably humid, though it didn't stop Remington from enjoying his beer as he looked out into the saturated sunset. He had never found himself so curious over someone, especially over a girl. Why had she decided to help him, who was she? And of course, what bone did she have to pick with that bar man?

Out of all the chaos from the day and the questions spinning in his brain, he at least had one answer: Vera. It was a pretty name for a pretty girl, and as he lay in bed that night, tossing the sheets on and off because it was just too damn hot, Remington decided that he wanted to try and find her, to thank her at least. Would she react badly? Maybe. Would Sebastian absolutely end him if he found out? For sure. Never the less, Remington liked risks, and he certainly hadn't met a challenge he wasn't willing to take on.

And as he showered off the night time sweat in lukewarm water, he had successfully made up his mind.

Vera had crawled back to the women's shelter with her tail between her legs, having to sheepishly explain to the volunteers how she'd lost yet another job. Despite their clear frustration with her, they promised they were going to help find her something that would stick.

Empty promises, empty promises.

All night she couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in her brick-hard bed as sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes she kept reliving the chaos from the morning. She hadn't told the volunteers about it, they would panic and worry about Vera being a witness and wonder if she was a liability to the rest of the girls in the shelter. She had seen it before with girls who had witnessed things they shouldn't have, and of course in Las Vegas, there were a plethora of things you would often wish you never had to see.

However, Vera found she wasn't traumatized so much as she was fascinated by it all. It all happened so fast and yet she could remember every detail so clearly, how sharp the gunshots were, how the clear leader of the two was so ostentatious in his crime, how he even took the time to stop and wink her, almost as a thank-you for letting them get away. She couldn't see his face of course, but she could remember those eyes so well; chilling, almond in shape and dark to the point where his eyes almost appeared to be blacked out entirely. Nevertheless, Vera found she wasn't afraid; perhaps she had become so numb to the tumultuous ongoings within the city? Or deep down she was content with the fact that the balaclava-clad stranger wasn't going to hurt her. Not like she would know him if she passed him on the street.

In the sizzling afternoon heat, Vera was wandering an outlet market, a pretty inconspicuous cover as she read her magazine from the news stand. Every time she turned the page she found an ad for some luxury perfume, designer bag or exquisite jewelry piece. She ran her fingers over a bejewelled necklace that Lily Collins was wearing for Cartier, wondering how it must've felt to be and live so rich. All Vera had ever known was cold floors to sleep on and living paycheque-to-menial-paycheque.

This part of Vegas was a bit quieter than the strip, nonetheless bustling with professionals and cars would line up and funnel out to make their way to their destinations. Vera took a deep breath of cigarette smoke, dust, and exhaust, the white noise somewhat calming her. She was none the wiser to the young man standing at the street corner, his hands tucked into the pockets of his denim jeans, seeking refuge in the heat under a shaded tree, his dark eyes locked on her while his cigarette sizzled between his fingers.

"Hey! You gonna' pay for that?" the clerk at the newsstand barked at Vera. She refrained from rolling her eyes as she placed the mag back on the rack with a polite, sickening grin. The clerk came around, grumbling to himself as he had to reorganize his selection of reading material, none the wiser to Vera plucking a candy bar from the opposing display while his back was turned. But Remington found himself impressed as he followed just a few feet behind her.

Vera ate her candy bar without much thought as she skimmed the display tables of shirts and knock off hand bags. Nobody paid her a second thought, she seemed practically invisible as she was bumped and knocked aside by the bustling crowds. She flinched as an associate from the church of scientology tried to shove a pamphlet into her face, ducking swiftly towards the other end of the market. She suddenly found herself in front of a jewelry table, it was nothing too opulent, but the pieces were beautiful and Vera couldn't resist.

She picked up a simple gold necklace, the chain was delicate and in the middle hung a beautiful, pearly clamshell charm. The clerk was too busy bartering with another customer while Vera plucked the clasp apart and slipped the necklace onto herself. It was absolutely gorgeous, the cold complimented her complexion exquisitely and the clamshell glistened in the sun's reflection. Nevertheless, the price swayed Vera much more than the look could; it was forty-five dollars and Lord knew she couldn't afford anything more than a happy meal at this rate.

Remington had broke through the crowd, dodging the scientologist and finding Vera at the stand on the other side. She was twisting from side to side in the mirror, her chucks strained in the soles as she stood on her toes, she seemed almost childlike. Remington couldn't help the curious grin on his face as he debated to himself, how should he approach her? And hell, would she even bother to give him the time of day. He was a relatively good looking boy, though the city was filled with fast-talking leeches and he wouldn't blame her if she told him to buzz off.

However, Remington's opportunity hit sooner than he'd prepared for, whisked out of his head as he heard someone shout.

"Take that off!" the clerk at the jewelry display scolded Vera, making her and the few immediate customers in the vicinity jump. The slender Filipino woman charged over to her, a deep scowl carved into her face as she waved her finger at her, "You can't just take from my table and try the stuff on!"

Vera cocked a brow, "Then what's the mirror for, then?" she asked simply.

"Didn't you read the sign?" the older woman pointed her bony finger to the sign by her register: please ask before trying on jewelry was scrawled out in just legible handwriting, "You want to try? You ask me first! You could be stealing for all I know!"

"I'm not stealing it, I'm trying it on!" she snapped back.

"Are you going to buy it?" the clerk asked.

"No,"

"Then take it off!" she waved her hand at her to hurry along, "Go shop at Value Village or something, you probably can't afford this anyway!"

Vera did her best to bite her tongue as she reached for the clasp, not wanting to give in to the woman's very clear opinions of her, "Okay! Okay! Here!" she barely had a handle on the latch of the clasp before a sudden, sharp odour of cologne filled her nose, and she was surprised to see a young man taking step beside her.

"Hold on a sec, there's no need to be nasty about it," the boy told the clerk, trying to de-escalate the tension between the ladies.

"Who's being nasty! She can't buy anything so she's wasting my time!" the clerk cried, drawing a few side-glances from passer bys.

"Who said she can't buy anything?" he popped a brow, then turning to Vera, "You like the necklace?" he asked.

Vera wasn't sure as to whether she was embarrassed, scared, or relieved, seemingly having this stranger on her side. He seemed harmless enough, smiling gently and persuasive in her mannerisms. She never broke eye contact with his dark eyes, nodding slowly.

"Yeah,"

Remington's smile got wider as she nodded and he pulled out his wallet, flipping through the bills. The clerk had certainly stopped talking once she saw the wad of cash he had on him. Remington pulled out forty-five dollars and handed it to the clerk, plus a five dollar tip.

"There you go, forty-five bucks. Plus a little something for the misunderstanding," he assured her. The clerk glanced at the money, dumbfounded at first. When her train of thought finally caught up with her tongue, she placed the money into her pouch and reached for her register.

"I -- I... thank you. Uh -- here. Let me print you a receipt --"

"Don't worry about it," Remington nodded politely, subtly knocking his elbow with Vera's, "You have a good day,"

For the second day in a row, Vera felt as though she had been stuck in a hallucinatory dream. She nearly tripped over her feet as Remington nudged her to start walking, following in quick step with saucer eyes as she watched him in utter disbelief.

"You good?" was all he said, not bothering to make eye contact.

"Yeah, I guess," Vera huffed, her voice bordering on a gasp and a chuckle, "You didn't have to -- I mean -- I would've put it back no problem --"

"Don't worry, she had it coming," Remington assured her, "Besides, the pendant looks good on you,"

Vera denied the urge to reach up to clutch the clamshell, becoming frustrated at this stranger's nonchalance. Annoyed because he had been so vague and so smug, rebelliously handsome, "Okay then,"

Remington sensed her agitation and capitalized on it, "You could say 'thank you'," he said.

Vera stopped walking then, staying put on the burning cement as she glowered, "Well, who exactly am I supposed to be thanking?"

Remington turned back and extended his hand to her, smiling warmly, "I'm Remington,"

She was tentative at first, her fight, flight, or flee modes were snapping through her brain like the slides on a slot machine. Despite everything though, he did buy her an expensive necklace and so far was asking for nothing in returned. 'So far' being the optimal phrase.

So she shook his hand, "Vera. Thank you for the necklace, Remington,"

The flush in his face he blamed on the heat, but hearing his name roll off her tongue had bells going off in his ears, "You're welcome, Vera,"

They kept walking together, his hands deep in his back pockets while she fiddled with the strap on her bag.

"... So, what's the catch?"

"What catch?"

"The part where I dubiously repay you for buying me a fifty-dollar necklace,"

"You don't have to give me anything," he assured her.

Vera scoffed, "Right, you just did it out of the kindness of your heart, right?"

"You don't believe so?" he asked.

"Nobody ever does anything for free. Especially not in this city," she kicked a loose pebble across the cement.

Remington nodded, "Fair enough. How about a coffee, then?"

"That's it?"

"That's it,"

Vera shook her head, "So you're offering to buy me a coffee to in debt myself to you even more?"

"No, you can repay your debt by spending forty five minutes having coffee with me. One minute for every dollar,"

She exhaled softly, looking briefly around the market as nobody was paying them any mind. If she needed to she could slip into the crowd and disappear so easily. However, he seemed harmless for the most part, he held the aura of a curious, twenty-something young boy who was probably just out to show off and nab himself a piece of tail. Forty five minutes was nothing, after all.

"Forty five minutes, that's it?"

"That's it,"

"Swear on the bible?"

Remington simpered as he raised his left hand and placed his right hand over his chest, "Hand of God, Mary, and Joseph," he promised.

Vera's gaze flickered to the X tattoo on his knuckle, a sharp chill running up her spine. Nevertheless, the chill wasn't fear; it was a gnawing curiosity in her gut as she realized who this man actually was. Her poker face never slipped, however.

She smiled politely, "Okay. Let's go,"

#palaye royale #remington leith #emerson barrett #sebastian danzig #palaye royale imagine #remington palaye royale #remington leith imagine #original story #original female character #band imagine blog #band blog #band imagines #the bastards #fever dream

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the-world-is-spinning-round · 2 years

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Beastly - Emerson Barrett fan fiction (Spooktober Writing Challenge)

The full moon hung heavily in the dark sky, steadily climbing upwards, prompting Gwendoline to walk a little faster.

It was the first full moon of the year - the Wolf Moon - and she could already hear the sound of howling beyond the village walls.

Most nights, those walls were enough to keep the forest’s wolves out of the village, but on the night of a full moon? And on the night of the Wolf Moon of all full moons? The walls were no obstacle to the monsters that lurked within the trees. Once the moon was at its highest point, those howling beasts would vault the wall that separated them from the humans in the village, and Heaven help those humans then…

Which was why Gwendoline had to get home quickly.

She knew she didn’t stand a chance against a hungry wolf, especially not one that had probably been starving all winter. Hunger made monsters of them all, and for a creature that was already beastly…

Another howl split the quiet night air, sending a cold chill down Gwendoline’s spine.

Time’s running out.

Almost running now, Gwendoline rounded the corner that was the end of her street…and froze in her tracks.

In the middle of the narrow street waited the very kind of monster she’d been afraid of coming across, watching her with cold, hard yellow eyes.

Gwendoline felt the heaviness of it’s gaze like the leaden merchants’ weights from the market, pinning her in place, making her shiver even in her thick woollen dress and even thicker shawl. Fear shot an icy trail down her spine, sharp like a claw dragged down her skin - just like the claws of the monster watching her.

He might not look it yet, but the yellow eyes were a dead giveaway, even as they looked at Gwendoline from a deceptively handsome young man’s face. And if they weren’t, the smile he gave her - more of a baring of too-sharp teeth than anything close to an expression of happiness - was the final nail in the coffin.

The final nail in her coffin.

As if there’ll be enough of me left to need a coffin.

The beast took a step forward, prenaturally graceful and with all the precise measurement of a predator, and everything in Gwendoline screamed at her to run, but she knew that that would only entice the beast.

It was a hunter. And just because she was its prey didn’t mean she had run scared like a fawn or a rabbit.

She drew herself up to her full height, even if it wasn’t much, and stared straight back at the monster. Then she simply waited for it to lunge.

Only it didn’t. Instead, it tilted its head to the side and watched her with a curious expression, before eventually speaking in a voice that was rough and croaky as if from disuse: “Not running?”

“I thought you’d be thanking me for that.”

The monster pouted - like a child: “Not fun.”

“I won’t apologise for taking the fun out of my own death, creature.”

Now the monster smiled: “Emerson.”

“Excuse me?”

“Emerson. ‘S my name. Not 'creature'.”

Gwendoline was about to tell the beast that she didn’t care what his name was, considering that he was about to kill and eat her, but then he tensed as if to finally leap at her, and all her willpower was spent locking her trembling knees and forcing herself to stand tall where she was.

She wouldn’t die on her knees. She wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t plead.

If she was going to go, it was going to be with dignity.

The monster didn’t leap, though. It watched her brace herself, and when she didn’t scream or flee, it relaxed with a mysterious smile on its face.

“More fun than I thought.” he said, nodding approvingly.

Gwen was, once again, about to tell him that she didn’t care about any of this - his name, his ideas of fun, his ‘approval’, but then he was slinking towards her, and she considered it might be smarter to keep her words to herself, lest her voice shake and give away her fear.

The beast approached her with all the predatory grace of its less human form, taking its time moving forward until it was just inches away from her, filling her head with the scent of the frozen forest: pine and ice and cold water, and leaning down so that it could look her closely in the eye.

“Definitely more fun than I thought.” he murmured softly, reaching up to run the pad of his thumb along Gwendoline’s lower lip: “I’ll be seeing you again soon, little rabbit.”

Gwendoline didn’t think - she just tried to bite the monster’s thumb where it was still pressed to the corner of her mouth: much to his delight.

He merely laughed at her, trailing his fingertips over her cheek and down the side of her neck, before stepping back and removing his hand entirely.

Gwendoline forced herself to ignore the way she missed the feeling of his calloused fingers on her skin.

“Go home, rabbit, and lock your door. Keep yourself safe.” he smirked at her: “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”

He loped away, radiating self-satisfaction and smugness, and Gwendoline watched him go, uncertain whether or not this was some kind of joke…but then he didn’t reappear, and neither did any of his packmates, and Gwendoline turned to run to her cottage at the end of the row.

She’d, somehow, been given a second chance, and she wasn’t going to waste it dithering in the street.

She slammed the front door shut behind her, pressing her hands against the silver studs that ran through it, her heart hammering in her chest and her thoughts whirling in her head.

Everything that had just happened - right down to the fact that she was still breathing - felt impossible. It felt like it shouldn’t be real…but Gwendoline just didn’t think she was creative enough to dream anything this nonsensical up.

And she wasn’t sure if she was terrified by that…

…or perversely relieved.

#Emerson Barrett fan fiction #Emerson Barrett fan fic #Emerson Barrett fanfic #Emerson Barrett imagine #Emerson Barrett drabble #Palaye Royale fan fiction #Palaye Royale fan fic #Palaye Royale fanfic #Palaye Royale imagine #Palaye Royale drabble #Spooktober 2022

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