#at least there was one day we got to listen to midnights but I didn’t know what else was going on

[lesbiansanemi]

Do you think if I wish hard enough my mom will get electrocuted by a string of Christmas lights and just go up in a cloud of smoke. It’d be a Christmas miracle

[iwatcheditbegin]

Honestly it would still suck it I didn’t have tix regardless. But I think what’s eating me is the fact that I didn’t even get a chance to try. I was stuck in treatment without any access to electronics when both the announcement and sale happened.

[jenchan-writingmultis]

What do the dorm leaders + a few more students do when you leave them without saying goodbye / you go missing? (Series)

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Genre: Fluff/ Angst Pairing: Riddle x Gn Reader

A/n: I wanted to get this idea out of my system, maybe I should have written this into a full fanfic, but what do you think? Let me know your thoughts in the comments (If you want to). This was supposed to be all the dorm leaders, but Riddle’s got too long so I’m going to separate them into series, most likely every character in Twisted Wonderland once I get ideas, some of them would link to each other's one-shots If I got enough smarty juice for it, but first let’s go for our boy Riddle, I hope you like it! Again, I'll make this into a series I hope you stay tuned!

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. NOT BETA READ! Masterlist Part two: Leona x Gn reader -----------------

Sypnosis: You went off already, actually, they didn’t even know where you were right now, Grimm was worried about you, where have you gone? You just vanished into the mirror that you were talking to every midnight, he knew that he should have listened to his gut feeling when he realized that you were warning him about your sudden disappearance. The moment he went dashing out of Ramshackle, paws cold from the snow that he stepped on and it was really bad that when he needed Hornton he wasn’t there. 

Heartslabyul:

Riddle: He was the first to respond, he was a light sleeper due to his mother’s sudden outbursts in the middle of the night sometimes, so when he heard Grim’s cries from outside, he went to investigate immediately, especially since he saw that you weren’t with the little cat.

“Riddle!” Grim cried out, clinging to Riddle’s shirt “They’re gone!” He looked confused before grabbing Grim under his shoulders and lifting him a bit “What? Where did you last see them?” he questioned, Grim who looked miserable and seemed shaken as well “I don’t know they-!” he sobbed out “The moment I woke up, there was a gush of wind and the mirror shaking, and they were gone!”

 Riddle inhaled and sighed deeply, trying to remain composed “Would you like to rest here for now? I don’t want to wake the others up, we can look for them tomorrow” he went to open the door much wider now, while his thoughts were focused on you, he didn’t want to try to find you when it’s so dark out but at the same time, he wanted to throw away his rationality and go search the campus from up to down; you were always good to him, you saved him when he almost died, you’re basically a good friend to him; however, it was too dark outside, finding you would just be useless; but Grim seemed to think otherwise, he let out a loud whine which made Riddle wince at the noise. “Riddle! Please!” he begged, clinging again to the guy’s leg “I can’t leave Prefect alone!”

“Alright, alright,” Riddle said, sighing “Have you really checked everywhere?” He asked, and that’s where they started to plan out how to find you, he went to wake up the others, Trey, Cater, Ace, and Deuce to help with the search, of course, all four students agreed to help despite being late. 

Although they’ve been out for hours, there was nothing, no trace of your presence anywhere, where the hell did you go? Riddle’s eyebrows were basically knitted tight together for hours now, he can’t sense you, why? Where are you? 

The moment that the sun rose, not one idea or clue did the housewarden get from any deep search about you, and it left him frustrated. He decided since it was morning, Crowley might have any leads. 

And that’s where the matter was off of his hands… somehow, he still got updates, and he made his own investigations to try to find you, at least any leads; but nothing, even if he did get any leads it got him into a dead end. 

Days passed, weeks passed to the point it went into years passing, you still weren’t around, Grim was under his supervision, he basically got half custody with all the housewardens, especially when Grim seemed to not want to do anything else, other than get upset and lash out, he knew that feeling all too well when everything feels like it’s suffocating him. 

While he did pass everything in his academics, and now he’s graduating, he didn’t think that the impact of your presence before would make so much difference to him right now, he struggled and almost failed some of his subjects due to the lack of sleep and his mental health deteriorating. 

And throughout all of those, he realized that he actually loved you, isn’t that funny? He never thought that his affection for you would be anything more than just being acquaintances with you, the lingering stares he gave and the little adjustments he made of your uniform cause you weren’t wearing your tie properly, the way you never made him feel like an outsider, and everything else. The moments you and he were alone, he never made a move to get to know you better, he was the only one being asked questions about his family, his stories, and his future. He knew that saying he loved you was stupid, especially when he didn’t make any more effort in understanding you and knowing your story. 

The moment Riddle was wearing his Toga, something he was aiming for years, to become the valedictorian of his whole batch, he knew he should feel elated, his mother giving those business smiles he always see, Cater and Trey being there with him, graduating with him; Ace and Deuce watching their Housewarden graduate too. He was supposed to be happy; he was supposed to be-

But…

Where are you? Why aren’t you here with him? 

Riddle felt tears strolling down his cheeks when he was delivering his speech, an encouragement that he was supposed to give, yet here he was, tears strolling down his pristine face, in front of everyone, in front of his mother who looked shocked and pissed at him suddenly for showing such a shameful façade. 

“Riddle!” His mother shouted, almost wanting to stand up from her seat, but Trey stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and shaking his head. “There was one person that changed a lot of the student's perspective in magic… and how much they changed me as well.”

After that, Riddle stood in the bathroom, looking down the sink, face wet, he was crazy, telling everyone how Prefect, a missing student for years changed his life, and how he basically confessed how much he loved you, is he crazy? Maybe he went insane, now thinking about it, maybe all those searching for hours and sacrificing his sleep for you might be the reason. 

But even so, his heart yearned to see your face again, he missed you so much and he knew that he wasn’t the only one. 

He lifted his head, staring into the mirror, his eyes were puffy from crying, he looked pathetic, and he wanted to laugh about it.

Suddenly, the mirror started to wobble…? Was he hallucinating or does he see your face? 

“…iddle?” an echo of a voice all too familiar rang in his ears, his eyes widened as the wobbling of the mirror started to go harder, “Riddle… away… get away… the mirror” while he understood what “you,” said, he still didn’t budge, and that’s where the mirror spat you out, making him catch you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, he was shocked when he looked at you, you looked… the same? You looked a bit older, more gorgeous for sure. 

“Riddle!” you chirped, wrapping your arms around him, “You’ve changed so much!” he grew a bit, you were the same height now, but the other seemed to be surprised, his grip on your waist never leaving as he stared at you, “Riddle?” you asked, a bit worried.

 

“… Prefect?” he placed his hand on your cheek, rubbing it fondly with his thumb “Is that really you?” 

He wanted to kiss you, you stupid idiot, why did you vanish for years and come back looking prettier than you used to?

So, he did. He kissed you deeply, all the yearning and pain he felt for years, he put it in the kiss he gave you.

Welcome back, Prefect. 

Word count: 1,266

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Pearls.

Synopsis: Raising a child was the hardest thing a mother could do, especially alone.

A/n: I was listening to Pearls by Sade and thought of Alastor’s mother, so I decided to write about it because I feel like no one talks about how much of a godsend that woman is. Everyone’s always talking about Alastor and the reader, or Alastor this and Alastor that , we need to thank the woman who gave us Alastor. (Vivziepop) HIS MOMMA THE SWEETEST WOMAN IN NEW ORLEANS LOUISIANA DAMNIT, anyways hope you guys enjoyed :)

Pearls by Sade

Warnings: Mentions of Cheating, mentions Racism, typical 1900’s - 1930’s stereotypes, NOT AN ALASTOR X READER, just a background one-shot on Alastor and his Momma because we need more of them out here

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

There is a woman in Somalia

Scraping for pearls on the roadside

There's a force stronger than nature

Keeps her will alive

Sylvie tried her hardest. She was raising a son on her own, working anywhere she could. Lord knew things weren’t easy, but what was? Life was hard, and it wasn’t going to go soft on Sylvie just because of her newborn son. If someone would have told her a year ago the man she fell in love with would have left her with a child, she’d have incense all over her all the time.

Alastor’s father was not a bragger. In fact, he hid Sylvie as best as he could. Giving her money every week by midnight, enough to keep her mouth shut, though she would never tell anyone, but not enough money to last her and her son. Babies were expensive, and things were only becoming worth more and more money. Who in their right mind would hire a black woman to work for them? Hell, even showing her face was a bit risky, the only reason she hadn’t been thrown into jail was because of her son. Though she didn’t like admitting this fact.

She dressed in her best clothes, shined her shoes and kissed her son goodbye, leaving him with her most trusted support, her mother. Sylvies mother knew of her, frivolous activities, to say the least. But, that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to be there for her daughter any less. Sylvie tried her best to straighten her hair, despite her mother’s warnings not too. She needed to look pretty, tamed, and well kept. Having her large fro wouldn’t land her a job anywhere. She needed to look her best, even if it came off as a desperate attempt to survive. But she needed too.

She stands in front of the mirror, brushing her now straight head of hair as carefully as she could. A red hat sitting perfectly on her hair, her long beige skirt stopping just below her knees. Her long sleeve white shirt embellished with a perfect pearl necklace. Ironically, it wasn’t hers, but her mother’s. Her father had worked hard to get enough money to gift it to her mother. She sighed, mentally hoping that she got this job. It was hardly anything, fifty cents an hour. If she worked every day for a week, four hours the way the ad in the paper said, then she’d have ten dollars a week. With the money from Alastor’s father, that left her with thirty five dollars. The heat alone was forty dollars. She’d be five short, but thankfully living with her mother made things a bit, easier.

“Are you leaving in time?” Sylvie’s mother asks. She stands in the doorway with the small child in her hands, gently rocking him. He’s silent, soft snores flowing through Sylvie’s ears and she smiles. She walks toward her mother, away from the mirror and stops. She reaches out slowly, and her mother gently hands the child to her. She takes her son in her hands and smiles, turning away from her mother while slowly rocking her son. Her mother reaches forward to close the door quietly, letting Sylvie have her time with her son. Sylvie smiles down at him, sitting at the edge of her bed slowly.

“I’ll give you the best life I can.” She whispers, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I promise.”

This is how she's dying

She's dying to survive

Don't know what she's made of

I would like to be that brave

By the time Alastor was five he knew how to read and write fluently. He could read books for days and knew all the latest dances as Sylvie made it her priority to make him versatile. She wanted her son to be the best little man he could, well, little now at least.

“I don’t get it. Romeo was in love with every girl he saw.” Alastor said, adjusting his skeeters to look at her better. She stood at the stove, sliding peppers, onions and a few other spices into the pot in front of her. It had been two years since her mother passed, and she stayed in her house with Alastor, wanting to raise him around love. She knew her mother was looking down on them, and one day, hoped to be with her too.

“Honey, stories aren’t for you to understand. They’re just there to make you think.” She says, swiping her hands over the pot after putting the cutting board down. She smiles and turns to him, stopping her movements. She pinches his cheek before smiling. “From the looks of it, seems like it has you thinking too.” She says, before letting go to walk to the sink. Alastor follows behind her quickly, still speaking.

“Maybe, I’m not sure. Do you think they deserved to be together?” Alastor asked, before Sylvie shrugged, letting the cold water hit her hands. She cleans her hands off, shutting the water quickly before wiping her hands on her towel tucked neatly into the waistband of her apron.

“I think they deserved to be happy, and if that means the two of them being in love then, yes.” Sylvie says, perking up at the music flowing through the radio. Though fairly new, the small box was her favorite thing in the world, and raising Alastor with that love almost made it feel genetic. “Oh look honey, our song is on.” Sylvie says, turning the volume up a bit. Suddenly, Alastor begins dancing quickly in his place, and as Sylvie turns back to him, she finds herself laughing, watching her son dance his heart out all on his own, albeit a bit odd, but he was having fun, and that was what mattered. She danced her way back over to him, holding her hands out for him to grab, which he did, happily spinning around his mother with laughter.

“Oh the food!” Sylvie said through her laughs, walking back over to the pot while Alastor continued to dance until the songs end. He sits on the floor, watching his mother stir the pot, fixing his skeeters.

“What’cha making?” Alastor asked, standing on his tip-toes to see, leaning against the counter.

“Jambalaya.” She said with a wink.

She cries to the heaven above

There is a stone in my heart

She lives a life she didn't choose

And it hurts like brand new shoes

Alastor was eight years old when Sylvie found out his father was married to another woman. He was eight years old when the woman showed up to their home, her two kids with her. He watched the woman yell at his mother in their doorway, her kids behind her as they observed Alastor standing behind his mother.

“You filthy slut! Sleeping with my husband! How dare you?!” The woman screamed, jabbing her finger into Sylvie’s chest. She was in tears, embarrassed, confused, heartbroken and ashamed.

“I didn’t know! He didn’t tell me anything! I never knew you were married or even had kids!” Sylvie defended, an arm in front of Alastor to shield him from her. The woman stoped, looking at Alastor with disgust, before dread washed over her.

“Don’t tell me that boy is his…” She trailed off, voice getting quieter. Sylvie said nothing, turning to Alastor with a sad smile, teary eyed.

“How about you go, go to the sitting room. Okay?” She asked quietly, giving him her best smile. He nodded, giving the woman and her children one more look, before listening to his mother. Once he was out of earshot, Sylvie turned back to the woman and sighed. “Yes, that is his son. He doesn’t come to see us, and he never has.” Sylvie said, before looking at the woman’s children, a boy and a girl. Both were pale, with light blue eyes and lighter hair to match their mother. The boy looked more like Alastor’s father, and Sylvie couldn’t deny the way it hurt to look at him, so she looked away. “He doesn’t come here anymore. I haven’t seen him since I told him I was pregnant. That was eight years ago.” Sylvie said. The woman’s eyes widened.

“Eight years ago?” She asked in a whisper. Sylvie said nothing, smiling at the two kids.

“Please don’t let this tear your home apart.” Sylvie said, her heart going out to the woman’s children. “They don’t deserve that. It was in the past and I-… I’ve moved on.” Sylvie said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself. In truth, she had been jumping from job to job at night, while homeschooling Alastor during the day. Paying for good paper, school books. It was bad enough she had been wearing the same clothes for years, only spending money on Alastor. His clothes were larger than him, it was easier to buy them bigger so she didn’t need to keep wasting money on out-grown clothes.

“I see…let’s go children.” The woman said, putting her hands on the children’s shoulders and guiding them down the porch steps, which had been rotting away slowly due to the old wood. When they were finally out of sight, Sylvie shut the door, sighing with a heavy heart. She walked through the halls of the home and to the sitting room, finding Alastor sitting in silence, looking down at his hands, radio playing softly in the background.

“Hey honey.” Sylvie said softly, the boys head looking at her quickly.

“Hi momma.” He said quietly. She gave him a sad smile and sat down next to him.

“You okay?” She asked, and he just sat in silence again, looking down at his hands.

“Who was that?” Alastor asked, and Sylvie just sighed. She knew one day she would have to tell him, but so soon? Sylvie took a deep breath, her gaze fixed on Alastor’s questioning eyes. “Alastor, those children… they’re your father’s, and that woman is their mother,” she began gently, choosing her words with care. “Your father and I share a past that happened before you came into this world. It’s a complicated story, and I’ve been doing my best to shield you from it, wanting to give you a chance at a simpler life.” She paused, gauging his reaction before continuing, “Their family is a part of your history, and while I’ve moved on, it seems the past has a way of catching up with us. I want you to know that whatever happens, we face it together, as a family. You’re the most important thing in my life, Alastor, and nothing will change that.”

Hurts like brand new shoes

There is a woman in Somalia

The sun gives her no mercy

The same sky we lay under

Burns her to the bone

Alastor was ten when the topic of his father came up again. It was after Sylvie and him had come back from groceries. Sylvie was still working multiple jobs at night, leaving at eight once Alastor was tucked into bed and sound. She had begun to sell some of her things, he was growing quicker now. He was up to her shoulder, and he was only ten. Sylvie was average height, five feet and four inches, with Alastor at five feet and two inches. His hair was getting straighter the more he grew, his tight curls softening into looser ones, but still made him handsome nonetheless.

Walking up the stairs to the porch, Sylvie and Alastor stopped dead in their tracks upon seeing two children, around his age, sitting on their front porch chairs, plates of hot food in their hands. Sylvie had remembered them instantly, the boy especially looking like Alastor’s father.

“Hello. May we help you..?” Sylvie asked carefully, Alastor staring the two children down. The girl just frowned and looked to the ground, while the boy stood up. He was the same height as Alastor too.

“We wanted too… speak with you Miss..?” The boy questioned, unsure of Sylvie’s name. She lied on the spot, giving him some dumb white name instead of her own.

“Adam’s.” She said quickly. Alastor said nothing, but his face said it all as he watched his mother open the door to their home, paper bags in hand. Alastor held the rest, all the while staring at the young boy and girl. “Would you like to come in?” She asked the children, and the boy shook his head.

“No thank you Ms. Adam’s, we just wanted to ask you something. Is that alright?” The boy asked. Sylvie nodded slowly, opening the door wider for Alastor to step in. Alastor stood behind Sylvie, curiously watching.

“Oh alright, just a moment please then.” Sylvie said with a small smile, and the boy nodded back to her. Sylvie shut the door, and Alastor turned on his heel to the kitchen.

“Momma, are those the kids you told me about?” He asked, knowing Sylvie, his mother, had given him bits and pieces of his father’s history, his children and life. Sylvie said nothing until the two got to the kitchen, placing the groceries on the counter. Sylvie gave Alastor a thoughtful look, uncertainty clouding her features. "I'm not sure, honey. They didn't mention the reason," she admitted, her voice tinged with a hint of worry. "It seems they're here with questions or concerns. I'll find out when I talk to them." Alastor, sensing his mother's concern, stepped closer to her. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her in a reassuring hug. Sylvie embraced him back, the shared warmth a silent acknowledgment of their unbreakable bond.

"Alright, Momma. Let me know if you need me," Alastor said, offering his support as Sylvie prepared to face the unexpected visit from his half-siblings. Alastor stood in the kitchen, putting groceries away per Sylvie’s request. Sylvie steps back outside, nodding to the two children.

“So, what can I help you with?”

Long as afternoon shadows

It's gonna take her to get home

Each grain carefully wrapped up

Pearls for her little girl

Alastor moved away from home when he was eighteen, going to New York to pursue his career in journalism. Sylvie supported him fully, saving money every month since he was thirteen for the occasion. She’d have him read her the paper while she made dinner, listening to him talk and perfect his voice.

Recently for his birthday, Sylvie had taken him to see a play. Romeo and Juliet, the first ever ‘complex’ book he’d read, so naturally it was only right his first play follow the same format right?

“Take care of yourself for me, okay honey?” Sylvie asked as she stood at the station with Alastor. He just smiled down at her, watching her dust off his shoulders and straighten his tie.

“I will, don’t worry about me, please.” He said with a smile, allowing her to fix his hair and shift his skeeters, knowing it was just her nerves.

“You know I can’t help it.” She said with a soft smile, hearing the train horn go off again. “Go, before you miss your train.” She said quickly, stepping on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek before stepping away. To her surprise, her son, who usually truly disliked anyone touching him, embraced her. She smiled and patted his back softly, trying her hardest not to cry right there. “Write me when you get there.” Sylvie said, and Alastor just nodded.

“Love you momma.” He said quietly to her, before he pulled away, a bright smile back on his face. “I’ll write you as soon as I get to the city.” He said, and Sylvie nodded. Watching her son get on the train and leave, adorned in his best suit, brand new as Sylvie had saved so much for it just for this moment.

Sylvie returned home that day, walking into her now empty home with tears in her eyes. She went to her bedroom, opening a small box out from under her bed. Tears streamed down her face as she opened the box, picking up a small bottle from inside, popping the cork off and tracing her finger along the rim. Then, quietly, she spoke to herself.

“s'il vous plaît, ancêtres, protégez-le aussi longtemps que vous le pouvez” ( “please ancestors, protect him for as long as you can”)

In the bustling city of New York, Alastor found that it was a bit easier to land a job, though not much, it was a start. He settled into the fast-paced rhythm of city life, immersing himself in the world of news and media. Soon enough, he climbed his way to the top, changing his accent and becoming so well known his mother listened to his broadcast everyday.

Back home, Sylvie eagerly awaited Alastor’s letters, cherishing every word that bridged the distance between them. The letters became a lifeline, a way for mother and son to stay connected despite the miles.

As Alastor navigated his way through the competitive world of journalism, he found success, but the city’s relentless pace also brought its own set of trials. He was a mixed man, people did not take kindly to that fact. But status meant more than anything and he had the money to get by. With each triumph and setback, he continued to write to Sylvie, sharing his experiences and seeking comfort in her unwavering support.

Their bond, though physically stretched, remained unbroken.

Hallelujah

Alastor was twenty three when he came back home. He had gotten a transfer and began to host his show in Louisiana. Living with his mother hadn’t been a difficult adjustment. In fact, to Alastor, it felt like things had fallen right back into place. Until it hadn’t. As Alastor grew, the shadows of both the roaring twenties and the practice of voodoo cast their complex hues over their lives. Sylvie, a practitioner of voodoo, had passed down the sacred traditions to her son, weaving a tapestry of mysticism and heritage into the fabric of their existence.

In moments of desperation, Alastor found himself drawn to the potent rituals he had learned from his mother. The voodoo practices, once a source of connection and understanding, became a tempting tool to manipulate circumstances in his favor. Alastor, in the pursuit of success and happiness, began using the ancient arts for personal gain, delving into a darker side of the mystic practices.

Sylvie, sensing her son's divergence from the righteous path of voodoo, couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. Yet, beneath her disapproval, a mother's unwavering love persisted. She yearned for Alastor's happiness, even if it meant witnessing him tread on ethically murky grounds. Sylvie grappled with the conflict between her teachings and her maternal instincts, understanding that her son's choices were his own to make. However, it was easier to ignore things when the shadows around her home didn’t taunt her, despite her son’s warnings to them. Often times, she’d find him tracing symbols onto his hand during a conversation with someone, always behind his back as he spoke. She’d find small towers made of sticks her backyard sometimes, hanging around tree’s and something’s hiding in bushes. She said nothing, deciding it was his choice, but she’d always cleanse her area, and began to beg the spirits to lead her son in the right direction.

Their home, once a haven of warmth, now harbored the echoes of decisions made in pursuit of desires. Sylvie, despite disapproving of Alastor's misuse of voodoo, remained a steadfast pillar of support. For a mother's love, resilient and unconditional, transcended the boundaries of right and wrong. The tangled threads of voodoo, jazz, and maternal love wove together in the backdrop of their lives, creating a narrative of complexity and nuance.

Hallelujah

It was when Sylvie fell ill that Alastor had begun to change his ways, or partially. Becoming bedridden, Sylvie could no longer do things. Her son had grown into a well respected man, one she loved and cherished so much. But, she feared her time was coming soon and thus could no longer keep him safe anymore. He had done so well as an adult, he made something respectable out of himself. He became someone. Her biggest hope for him had come true, he had made a name for himself, left his mark on the world through radio. She was so proud of him.

In Sylvie’s final days, Alastor found himself torn between the guilt of his previous actions and the desire to make amends. The echoes of the past whispered in his ear, urging him to rectify the missteps that had strained the sacred bond between mother and son. He knew his mother disapproved of the way he used her teachings, but it wasn’t easy living in the world, fighting to make ends meet and fighting for respect.

One evening, as the dim light of a fading sunset painted Sylvie’s room, Alastor made a silent vow to honor his mother’s teachings. With a heavy heart, he delved into the mystic arts not to manipulate fate, but to seek guidance and help. The flickering candles cast dancing shadows as Alastor immersed himself in the rituals he had once misused. He had tried everything, saving money for the best medication, home remedies, having specialists see her, everything.

As Sylvie’s condition worsened, Alastor found solace in being by her side, tending to her needs with a newfound tenderness. The past haunted him, yet the present held the opportunity for redemption. In caring for his ailing mother, Alastor discovered a profound connection that transcended the barriers of time and choices made.

The world outside continued to applaud Alastor’s radio success, unaware of the internal transformation transpiring within him. Sylvie, weakened but perceptive, observed the change in her son with a quiet pride. As Sylvie lay in her bed, the fragility of life evident in her every breath, Alastor approached with a mixture of reverence and regret. The room was adorned with flickering candles, casting an ethereal glow that danced on the walls.

“Mother, I… I’ve come to seek your guidance.” Sylvie, her eyes conveying a deep understanding, nodded weakly.

“Honey, my time here is waning. But I feel a shift within you. Talk to me, what’s wrong?” She asked, tightening her grip on her son’s hand. Alastor hesitated, the weight of his past actions pressing upon him.

“I’ve used the mystic arts for my own gain, tarnished their sanctity. I’ve tried everything to help you- I… I tried so much.” He said, at a loss for words. Silent tears bordered his eyes, Sylvie, though weakened, managed a gentle smile. “I should have listened more, learned more. I should’ve been better.” He said frustrated, angry tears slipping from his eyes and down his cheeks. He looked down, skeeters fogging as he fought his tears, holding onto his mother so tight and afraid to let go. “Is this my fault?” He asked quietly.

“No, never dear.” Sylvie said shaking her head softly. “I know you tried your best. All will be okay. I taught you well, raised a good man. You will get everything you want and more in this life, I promise you.” She said weakly, coughing a bit with the tissue in her hand. Finally she calmed down, speaking again. “The world is a stage. Make it your own.” She said smiling at him, and he just chuckled. She sighed and spoke again. “Life is a tapestry, my love. We learn, we grow. I know you are hurting.” She said, placing her hand weakly on his chest, but she continued. “I know you missed out on so much. So much I tried to give you, but you turned out so wonderful, so special. You did not disappoint, and I would do it all again to love you dear.” She said, hand cradling his cheek. “Don’t stop living when I’m gone.” She said to him, and he nodded, teary eyed, holding onto her hand.

“I love you momma.” He said, smiling sadly as he cried to her. Sylvie just smiled back, tears welling in her own eyes as she held onto him. She sat up slowly, beckoning Alastor to lean closer. She placed a kiss on his forehead with shaky hands, pulling away with a smile.

“I love you too honey.” She whispered.

As Sylvie’s final breaths approached, Alastor held her hand, seeking solace in the fragile yet profound connection they had forged. The room, filled with the scent of candles and the soft strains of jazz, became a sanctuary for a son bidding farewell to his guiding light.

The final moments with Sylvie became a sacred passage, where Alastor whispered words of love and gratitude, promising to carry forward the legacy she had bestowed upon him. As the room filled with a bittersweet melody of jazz playing softly in the background, Alastor prepared to face a world without his guiding light, determined to walk a path worthy of her memory.

She cries to the heaven above

There is a stone in my heart

She lives in a world she didn't choose

And it hurts like brand new shoes

Hurts like brand new shoes

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 11

Again, I am working on Paper Hearts and Sweet Home Indiana until they are complete and Paper Hearts just snuck in another chapter so that was fun.

In this we have Corroded Coffin trying to change the culture of metal and the band meets Bob Newby.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

****

Celeste Baptiste was a miracle worker in her field and everyone knew it. Producers and recording studios were chomping at the bit to work with The Fallen the second she put out feelers that their current producer and studio just weren’t meeting the band’s needs.

They decided to go with Starcourt Recording studio as it was closer to home for a lot of the members. Which of course pleased Spence to no end, as it meant that he got to spend more time with Nadia.

They were currently interviewing for producers and had yet to find on that worked for them.

Enter Bob Newby.

****

Bob wasn’t used to working with bands that had alter egos. He heard of them of course. Slipknot, Daft Punk, and others. But he wasn’t a fan of secrecy for the most part and beyond the basic NDAs of contracts, he wasn’t a fan of those really, either.

But there was something about these four men that pulled him in. Especially when he learned that their previous producer had been trying to do with them. It was like he hadn’t listened to them at all and was trying to force them into what he thought metal meant.

So he thought he’d at least speak with them. If they didn’t like him or he didn’t like them, he’d walk away, no skin off his nose.

They walked in all wearing more casual versions of their onstage personas. They wore hoodies and masks of their colors to hind their face and hair, but the rest was all very down to earth. Bob supposed it made sense, after all, they couldn’t record in their tight leather outfits.

He was surprised to see that the drummer’s mask’s eyes were covered unlike the rest of the band and he couldn’t help but wonder if his eyes would give him away, like having some kind of heterochromia or something like that.

“Hey, I’m Bob Newby,” he greeted. “Everyone take a seat. Thanks for coming to meet me at my house studio, I’m two days away from a deadline and am really crunching it.”

“Of course,” the one in white said. He was the only one’s whose mask didn’t completely cover his face. “I would apologize for the subterfuge but it’s kind of our shtick.”

Bob smiled. “So I’ve been told. Tell me a little bit about yourselves.”

The one in white smiled. “I’m Abbadon, I’m the lead singer. I can play guitar, piano, and violin, but we don’t usually incorporate that stuff into our music.”

“Is there a reason why not?” he asked, clasping his hands together and leaning forward on his knees.

The band members looked at each other in shock.

“The label wanted us to stick to metal,” the one in blue said, “They were okay with Abbadon on rhythm guitar to help fill out the sound, but they didn’t want any of that other ‘stuff’.” He put air quotes around stuff.

“They do realize that metal and heavy rock have been using piano for as long as the genre has been a thing, right?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Again the band looked shocked.

Bob sighed. He held up his hands. “Wait, wait... we’ll get into all that once all the introductions have been made.”

The one in red and the one in white shared what he assumed was a concerned glance.

“You weren’t told about us?” the one in red asked.

“Oh, no, I was,” Bob replied with a grin. “But I want to hear it from you.”

So they went around and introduced themselves and he was starting form a picture about the band’s dynamic.

“Right,” he said, “I’ve listened to your other albums, seen recordings of your live shows, and even watched interviews and this is my takeaway on your sound. Your last producer was trying to force you into harmonies and melodies of early thrash metal of the 1980s, which isn’t your style at all.”

Astraeus, the one in midnight blue, spoke from his place on the floor, “That’s what we kept trying to tell him. He said that the sound was coming back and if we wanted to compete with the likes of Metallica and Corroded Coffin then that’s direction we needed to be heading as a band.”

Bob let out a long exasperated sigh. “But you can’t compete with them.” He held up his hands when Azrael, the one in black, and Asmodeus, the one in red, bristled. “I’m not saying you’re not as good as they are. Absolutely not. But you’re not in the same genre of metal that they are. It would be like comparing the Rolling Stones and Beatles because they were both British rock bands.”

Astraeus and Azrael shared a glance, one Bob couldn’t interpret with their masks on.

Azrael rolled his eyes. “We’re what our detractors love to call nu metal as if music can’t have more than one sound.”

Bob nodded. “Yeah, that sounds about right. You’re vocals tend toward the melodic over the screaming or more guttural sounds of thrash metal. So I would focus on that. The label sent me over the demo and you’ve got a lot of great stuff here. Stuff the other guy didn’t want to touch. Some of the more...” he cocked his head back and forth, “blatantly queer? LGBTQ+? Gay stuff?”

“Queer works,” Abbadon said with a wry note to his voice.

Bob nodded again. “Who is the writer/writers?”

Astraeus and Azrael raised their hands.

“With a little lyrical help from Abbadon,” Asmodeus said darkly.

Abbadon rubbed his back to calm the other man as he bristled at his other bandmates.

“So how does your writing process work?” Bob said ducking his head to his smile.

Astraeus explained how Abbadon would write down his thoughts and feelings and that he would turn them into lyrics for Azrael to turn into songs.

“So I’m guessing that at least either Abbadon or Astraeus is some variation of the rainbow spectrum?” he pressed the band.

The two men in question shared a glance, Astraeus nodded.

“I’m bi and Astraeus is gay,” Abbadon confirmed. “Is that going to be a problem?”

Bob threw laughed. “No not at all. In fact just the opposite. I want you two to come out.”

He couldn’t see their faces but he could feel the blank stares as their eyes bore into him.

“I understand that is a daunting feeling,” he murmured kindly. “But I think it would really boost your image, allow you to be more open with your songs, especially with Starlight Eyes, and it would make more metal artists be more comfortable with an LGBTQ+ label. Because right not a lot of metal stars are out and all of them have come out while being so massively famous that they could ‘take the risk’.”

Asmodeus and Azrael shared a look.

“The two of us are straight though...” Asmodeus said, “I’m literally famous for women throwing themselves at me, is them being out going to hurt either us or them?”

Bob tilted his head to the side. That was a fair question and one that should be considered. But he shook his head. “It shouldn’t. No one is going to expect the whole band to be queer. Take Corroded Coffin for example. Other than their bassist, Brian Martin being ace, he is still attracted to women romantically,” he held up his hands in defense when it seemed that a couple of the band were about to interject, “and I’m not saying he doesn’t count as queer, because I’m not. But the only one with what the average person would consider queer is their frontman, Eddie Munson. He is an out gay man, but even he didn’t come out until they were selling out arenas.”

The other members started teasing their lead singer, ribbing him and making low probably ribald comments.

Bob raised his eyebrows and cleared his throat.

Azrael turned him and Bob could feel the absolute glee radiating off the man. “Abbadon here, has a crush on Eddie.”

His face split into a large grin. “Aren’t you scheduled to tour with them next year?”

Abbadon coughed and cleared his throat. “Yeah, we’re working on that.”

Their manager who had been waiting in the corner on her phone for the meeting to conclude turned to the band. “What do you think, boys? Is Bob our man for the job?”

He looked up at her and then back to the band. “So what do you say? You ready to rock the metal world?”

Abbadon spoke for all of them when he said, “Yeah. Yeah we are.”

****

In the end it didn’t matter what Steve and his band wanted for the tour dates because Gareth’s little stunt landed him in rehab. And Corroded Coffin’s label refused to tour without him.

Which had pissed Eddie off. They had made a deal with Gareth and he had broken the deal first. And as shit as it was, getting a touring drummer was easier than replacing anyone else in the band.

Eddie and his band were doing an interview about Gareth’s sudden stint in rehab, talking about the future of the band.

Only they weren’t dressed like they normally were. They were still in jeans and t-shirts. But their jeans were in various shades of blue and Brian wore a plain white tee, Jeff wore a Taylor Swift Eras band shirt, and Eddie wore pale pink tee with David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust on it.

In short they did not look like a metal band. They looked like three guys, just shooting shit.

It had been a slow change over the summer. Every time the band went for an interview that wasn’t at an event one of them would dress slightly different. Then two or three of them would wear something a little less ‘metal’, until they were all dressed like they were.

The interviewer, Jenna Peterson looked as uncomfortable to be interviewing them as they looked to be interviewed.

“So let’s start with something softer,” she said, crossing her legs and simpering, “so why don’t we first first talk about your shift in style.”

Jeff threw back his head and laughed. “Good god! We don’t wear the ‘uniform’ for a couple of interviews and we get the clothes question.”

Brian shook his head.

“You think all those leather and chains and shit is comfortable?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe, maybe not. But it sure is hot as hell,” she said cocking her head.

Jeff snorted and ran his tongue over his lips. “We were getting tired of the hate metal stars get for wearing anything but leather and black denim. Do you know how fucking hot that shit gets?”

“Like there was a bassist from a huge metal band,” Eddie said, agreeing, “that was papped wearing a graphic tee and cargo shorts standing outside of a shop where his wife was shopping and suddenly everyone was talking about how he sold out and that he was disrespecting the genre. Dude was sixty or some shit. If he can’t wear what makes him comfortable without being told he’s selling out, than what hope is there for up and coming bands from being shunned because they ‘don’t conform’ to the aesthetic of being in a metal band.”

Jenna smirked and tilted her head. “Is this about The Fallen and their assertion that they wouldn’t have been welcomed if they had been themselves.”

Jeff and Eddie shared a glance.

“I won’t lie,” Jeff said, “and say that wasn’t a part of it. But it was also because one of my good friends from high school was a huge metal fan. Loved all the greats. Metallica, Iron Maiden, Dio, Black Sabbath...like was the biggest fan of all of them. Had all their albums on vinyl, posters on her wall, but other than the odd band t-shirt she sure as hell didn’t dress like a metalhead.”

Jenna leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand, elbow propped up on her knee. “So what did she dress like?”

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. “She was a cheerleader with a fondness for pink and frilly. She loved floral prints and cardigans for fuck’s sake.”

Jenna sat back in shock. “Wait, really?”

Brian nodded, scratching his cheek thoughtfully. “Yeah. She’s our manager now. But the push back she would get for not dressing like a metalhead and just being a girl was repulsive.”

“We apologized to her about not trying to change the culture around what a metalhead should look like,” Jeff said, “and she waved us off. Said that if it had bothered her she would have said something herself. But she was the one that helped carefully curate what we wore so that it went smoother.”

“We’ve been talking to other bands, too,” Brian said. “Getting them to help. We are supposed to the genre about non-conformity but here we are pushing a conformity on people in the same story, different font.”

Jenna returned to her simpering, she batted her eyelashes at Jeff. “Is The Fallen among those you’ve asked to help?”

“No,” came Eddie’s blunt answer.

She reared her head back in shock and blinked at him for a moment. “Why not? It seems to me that of all the bands to need to dial it back, The Fallen would be at the top of that list.”

Brian snapped his fingers. “And that would be why. They don’t need to dial it back. Maybe they would be as famous as they are without the masks and shit, but now it’s integral to who they are as a band. And we aren’t going to make them change to make other people more comfortable.”

Jenna uncrossed and crossed her legs. “Well, good luck. So you just finished your ninth album, tell me about that process.”

They talked about the album and Gareth’s battle with substance abuse.

The interview never got less awkward, but Corroded Coffin handled it with such grace that a lot of people were calling Jenna out on social media for being the absolute worst choice for that interview.

****

Part 12

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

@messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi

@i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy @irregular-child

@yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

@genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet

@ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart

@dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot

@papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33

@child-of-cthulhu

[temis-de-leon]

Day 25 - New Year's kiss

Characters: Mammon x fem!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: a bit of self insert (my parents are not every one's parents), Mammon is taller than MC and they have a well established relationship, they are whipped for each other

A/N: we're finally here. Time passed so fast, I'm gonna miss this. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Next will be the 500 followers celebration, see you there :) (if you want to ofc)

.

“Shit!”

MC could only watch as Mammon kicked the wheel and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. He seemed desperate, embarrassed and defeated, jewellery sparkling under the faint light of the rural streetlamps and eyes glistening with unshed tears. In a way, he also looked beautiful, and MC felt incredibly guilty for the thought alone.

He was wearing a suit, chest buttons opened and sleeves rolled up, ignoring the cold with nonchalance. Lucifer begged him to put on a coat to, at least, pretend that low temperatures did bother him a little, but Mammon wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t ignore his older brother’s suggestions. In the end, the coat ended up on MC’s shoulders.

The cold cut her skin when she got out of the car, but what hurt her the most was Mammon’s avoidant gaze. He was ashamed, but there was no way he could've known the engine would fail and leave them stranded out of town. The car wasn’t even his! It was rental!

“Things like this happen” she said in a low tone, grabbing the belt loops in his pants to pull him close to her. A blush immediately appeared on his cheeks and MC wasn’t able to hide her smile on time.

“Do they, tho’?”

“It’s an old car, so yeah”

“Well, it wouldn’t have if Lucifer let me bring my Lexura” he groaned, messing up his hair again “It’s his fault”

“It’s no one’s fault”

MC’s interruption went unnoticed and Mammon kept complaining to the air, growing aggravated without letting her get too far, her fingers still anchored to the loops.

She could understand him. It wasn’t the first time they celebrated the new year as a couple, but it would’ve been the first time spending it with her family. It was a milestone in their relationship he was eager to reach and the disappointment was evident in his face.

“You can fly us there and we can spend time with them still”

“But we’re not gonna be with them when the year starts”

His voice was meek, truly beaten, as if not being there when the year ends would bring bad luck to the new year. A superstitious thought that she wouldn’t have assigned to him before, but maybe this first impression was far more important to him than MC believed to be.

“Baby, come on… I swear it’s okay”

MC called his name, moving her arms to hug his waist, and a wave of relief covered her body when he hugged her back and let his cheek rest on top of her head. Although she couldn’t see him anymore, she knew he was blushing and that made her smile.

Not that far away, crossing the darkness of the countryside and beaming with street lights and firecrackers, the sound of chimes broke the silence. People screamed in excitement and anticipation and Mammon sighed with sadness. Only half a minute of the year remained and they were lost in the middle of the road, the asphalt too old for her to comfortably walk on and the distance too long for them to arrive in less than forty minutes.

Her parents would have to wait, but she knew they wouldn’t feel insulted. And frankly, it’s not like she was sad either. She was with Mammon, after all, listening to the weak ringing of the chimes with poorly hidden joyful agitation, and the closer they got to midnight, the faster her heart beat.

Mammon looked at her in surprise, keeping her close to shield her from the cold. The artificial light from above crowned his hair like a halo and MC was too happy to comment on the irony.

“Are you seriously okay with this?”

“Of course I am! As long as I start each new year with you, I’ll always be okay!”

The chimes got louder and people started to scream the countdown. Only 12 seconds left.

They were both smiling like idiots, the disappointment of not arriving on time slowly disappearing. MC stood on her tiptoes and Mammon leaned down.

“Stop being so cute, dammit”

She chuckled and he kissed her and the scream got louder. Fireworks exploding in the air while he spread his hands across her back and she cradled his face, keeping him where he was for a few more seconds before he managed to pull away.

With eyes half closed and a flushed expression, he murmured against her lips.

“Happy New Year, treasure”

“Happy New Year, Mammon”

MC smiled while he kissed her, repeating the gesture again and again until they started laughing. Then, they kissed once more.

.

.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation  @owlisbuffering  @chizukimp4  @ravenredwine @darkflowerav  @craftysclown @mehkers

[icallhimjoey]

bestie *grabs you by the face and makes you listen to me* i am obsessed already! there isn't going to be a day where you don't know how to captivate me with your words, it's not fair! so... we're in a wedding dress and we've passed out and joe is wearing the unseen but already infamous olive green vintage suit... now what???

excellent question! here we go (smallest teeny tiny little tw: mention of the thought of someone committing suicide) Wordcount: 2.9K

---

Between Floors and Feelings

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Joe wasn’t exactly sure how this worked, but being put into a position where he had to take charge, where there didn't seem to be any other choice but to take charge, made it really easy to actually do just that. He took charge.

He just... did it. Went with it. Felt he was doing an okay job at managing it, too.

Sure, he was stuck in a tube station lift after midnight with a pretty girl who had panicked, had seemed to entirely forget how to breathe properly and had made herself pass out, but... he felt like he’d been in worse spots.

At least he knew for certain where you were. Had eyes on you. Could see and would know that you didn't... you know, make silly permanent decisions to what likely were temporary problems.

Because all problems were ultimately temporary, weren't they? Joe believed so, at least.

You’d only been out for a few seconds, hadn't gotten hurt in the process, and from his crouched position next to you, Joe had tried to speak to the lady on the other side of the intercom.

That didn’t work. She asked again if their services were needed, clearly not hearing any of what Joe was trying to tell her.

“Hang on!” Joe shouted over his shoulder towards the corner of the lift, and it made you wince at the sudden loud noise.

Waking up after involuntarily blacking out was awful. Disorienting, unsettling and confusing. Embarrassing too. It also took you a second to fully understand where you were and what had happened, and nothing really clicked into place until the strange man that hovered above you shouted.

Pounding heartbeat.

Lingering headache.

So drained.

“Here,” Joe capped the water bottle he was holding, and placed it down where you could see it. “Can you do one thing for me?”

You tried to sit up, tried to engage your muscles to help you move your head up from the floor.

“Two things!” Joe held up both hands, universal sign for stop. It made you lay back down and relax the muscles of your neck. “Two things, can you do two things for me?”

You groaned, knowing it was important to take things slowly, but you couldn’t feel anything down past your knees and as you told your brain to tell your toes to wiggle inside your shoes, you weren’t sure if anything was even happening down there.

“Don’t move,” Joe counted on a finger held over your face so you could see. “And focus on breathing, okay?”

You felt shaky and your face felt cold – wet – and you lifted hands to touch, to wipe, but your arms were too weak and moving them became just a weird trembling hover of clammy palms over white fabric.

Joe saw, took hold of them both and squeezed.

My God, those were possibly the sweetest most expressive eyes you had ever looked into. This guy looked at you like he'd known you all his life, like he knew exactly what had happened to you earlier that evening, like he could feel everything you were feeling right now.

And it helped.

“Just focus on breathing, nothing else. S’all you’ve got to do,”

Behind him, the static of the intercom died, and Joe muttered, “Oh, fuck,” before quickly getting up and moving towards it, pressing the emergency button once again.

“Inhale,” Joe said, bent with an ear close to the speaker, but eyes on you. One of his arms was stuck out to you, which didn't do anything, but it was nice anyway.

You decided that having just one job to do was actually... sort of nice.

You didn’t need to think of anything else for a second. Didn’t need to think about how the entire night had unfolded. How you’d seen you boyfriend – ex, oh my God, ex-boyfriend now, Jesus Christ. How you’d seen him excuse himself to go to the toilets, but then had seen him walk in the opposite direction.

You couldn’t believe you’d actually seen it.

With your own two eyeballs.

“Exhale,” Joe said and demonstrated an excruciatingly slow escape of his breath through his mouth.

“Keep going, take a minute, all right?”

Focussed. Eyes on the weird ceiling light boxes of the lift. Inhale. You could stay focussed. Just one job. One small task. Exhale. You could do this.

Slowly, you noticed that you could actually feel your feet fine. That your headache wasn't that prominent. Just a background sort of thing, probably because you were slightly dehydrated from the crying, and you listened to the intercom lady talk to Joe.

“Emergency services, how can I assist you?”

“Yes, hello!” Joe sounded unusually upbeat seeing the current situation you found yourselves in. “I am– we are stuck in a lift,” Joe waited a second, hoped maybe some form of acknowledgement would come through. However, it stayed silent, so he continued, “It's just me and one other person in one of the Covent Garden tube station lifts, and–”

Joe got cut off right in the middle of his sentence.

“Hello, emergency services. You have pressed the emergency button in one of our lifts, are you in need of any help?”

Joe stared and blinked at the little holes that formed a larger circle.

“Yea, we're stuck,” you tasted a tinge of annoyance in Joe's tone. “The lift stopped moving and the doors–”

“Hello?”

“Hello?!”

Joe looked at you questioningly disturbed, as if to say, am I crazy? What the fuck's happening?

Then the static of the intercom stopped again. Like they'd hung up on you.

“I think it's broken,” you said, voice way too small for your own liking.

Joe tried again, pressed the emergency button, waited for the static to come on, but the same thing happened. A voice asked if you needed assistance, if you needed any help, but it seemed like the microphone on your end wasn't working properly. They weren't receiving any of what you were saying. Of what Joe was trying to articulate slowly, to enunciate distinctly, and he grew more and more irritated each time he had to repeat himself.

Cool time to feel the urgency within your body that came from your bladder that needed emptying.

You needed to piss badly.

Joe pressed the emergency button again. And then again. Checked his own phone to be presented with the difficult truth that he also did not have any service underground, and then, pressed the emergency button yet again.

What else was there to do? How else were you going to get out of there?

“At some point they must understand,” Joe explained, and you agreed. There was going to have to be a point you could reach by just pressing this button over and over for people on the other side to realise that this wasn't kids just pranking them, or an accidental press of a button. Maybe they could somehow see where you were, have someone locate you and get you out... you didn't know how emergency buttons in lifts worked.

You just laid there and listened to Joe pressing a button, to a lady asking the same urgent question that didn't get an answer she could hear until you could no longer feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

Slowly, the acceptance that this was going to probably last for at least a little while settled within you.

You told your bladder to keep it together.

Shit.

It all made fucking sense, didn't it? Your worst-night-ever bingo card hadn't had "stuck in a lift" crossed off yet, so of course, this had to happen. Almost felt like it was written in the stars a little. Meant to be. One bad fuck up right after the other. Life really knew how to kick you right in the shins when you'd just been knocked over the head.

“I'm going to sit up now,” you announced, because you felt like you couldn't just move without letting him know. Not after the whole can you do two things for me.

Before you could even attempt to slowly pick yourself up off the floor, a tweed-cladded knee pressed into the tulle that felt like it engulfed you entirely, and two hands helped pull you up into a sitting position.

“Here, against the side,” Joe said, hands softly guiding, but persisting you moved to sit with your back leant against a side panel of the lift.

God.

You'd forgotten what it was like for someone to fret over you like this. All worried and distraught. All caring and shit. Attentive, almost doting. T'was cute.

Like, you were fine, but it was kind of nice. Kind of fed your self-pity a little. Made it go, yea, see?! we are sad and we do need taking care of.

“Are you all right?”

A careful second passed where you tried to really feel within your body if you were. And... you were, so you gave a small nod.

Then, the water bottle got kindly pressed into your hands again.

“I won't force you, I know I drank from that, but I promise, you will probably feel better if you just had sip,”

The faintest of little smiles appeared on your face when you finally took the bottle from Joe's hands, and you'd have taken hold of it much sooner had you known the facial expression it would bring about from him.

You still weren't going to take a sip though. Didn't want to fill up your bladder more. It was already painful enough as it was.

Joe got up and went to press the emergency button again.

A silence passed. Just static.

Joe pressed the button over and over, waited for the same question to be asked, waited for the static to stop, and then, he'd just press it again.

This was ridiculous.

Your gaze went from looking up at Joe down towards your hands in your lap. Water bottle immersed in bridal fabric.

You had seen your boyfriend make out with your boss whilst she was pulling off his tie.

You had pissed in her handbag.

You were stuck in a tube station lift with a faulty intercom and a handsome stranger.

Ridiculous.

You huffed a laugh that surprised you a little.

Fuck, this was so fucking ridiculous.

The huff turned into soft giggles, which turned into a louder chuckle, and when you looked back up to make eye-contact with Joe, you squeezed your eyes shut as big belly laughs escaped you.

“This is so ridiculous!” you laughed, and when you looked again, you saw Joe was biting back his laughter until it loudly escaped from his throat through his teeth. “What is even happening right now?!”

You felt delirious, overtaken with giggles that you couldn't stop because you were far too tired to work against them.

You laughed and laughed, drowning out the lady asking if you needed assistance. You had to wipe under your eyes where you found tears in the corners and you didn't mind wiping these away. These were good ones.

Joe ended up throwing his head back, shoulders slack from his giggles, then bending forward, nearly tumbling over which only made you laugh more. He leant against the wall opposite you, laughed and slowly slid down until his bum reached the floor and his trousers had ridden up, bright yellow socks now revealed to you.

You laughed until it slowly fizzled out into smaller giggles. Then a last huff, maybe two. Then silence again.

The atmosphere had gone from strangely tense to stupidly playful. This was nicer. Made you relax into yourself a little more.

“I'm sorry you had to deal with... that,” you said through a stupid smile, vaguely motioning with a heavy arm to the spot in front of you where you'd passed out a little earlier.

“Nah, don't worry about it,” Joe scrunched up his whole face as he shook his head a little. “I hope you didn't have urgent plans,” Joe made a face, tucked in chin, eyebrows raised high, followed by small nod with his eyes trained on the tulle of your skirt. Like a wedding, he meant jokingly.

You snorted. Made Joe laugh again.

“Because, we might be stuck in here for a while.”

It made you frown and groan.

“This is just my luck.”

“You um... you seem like you've had quite the evening,” Joe treaded lightly, sounding like he was just making conversation but was very clearly pointing out the elephant in the lift. The big, poofy, white one.

“This isn't,” you shook your head and winced at yourself. “This isn't what it looks like, sorry,”

You saw confusion strike, and you bit your lips into your mouth as you squinted, contemplating if you should tell him. If you did, it had to be the full story. Just going, “oh I'm not a bride, this isn't my wedding day” would only lead to more confusion, because that's what it looked like, wasn't it?

But lying felt worse.

Joe was right. You might be stuck in there for a little while.

So, you thought it over for maybe three seconds, then stuck out a hand for Joe to shake and you introduced yourself. Said your name, and Joe repeated it back to you.

“Joe,” he then said, reintroducing himself.

“I'm not a bride,” you followed up.

“Cool, neither am I,” Joe said and smirked. Pulled another giggle from you.

Shit.

“This is fancy dress,” you motioned both hands up and down your frame.

“So is this,” Joe did the same, copying your movements.

“No it isn't,” you laughed. That suit looked far too expensive to be fancy dress.

“No, it's not,” Joe agreed and laughed along.

Fuck, it felt good to laugh.

Flirty bastard.

Joe looked up towards the emergency button above him and reached a hand, pressing it again, not even bothering with waiting for the intercom to spring to life. He just needed to press it to press it. To let people know you were still stuck. While the intercom static filled the lift car once again, he turned back to you and continued the conversation.

“Bridezilla?” he questioned.

You slowly inhaled a deep breath. “Well... ex-wife, or so it turns out,”

Oof.

Joking about it felt wrong and made you itch all over. Too soon. Far too soon. Big nope.

Jesus, that nearly made you want to cry again.

Joe saw, read it in your face, and straightened his own.

“If it's of any consolation,” he started, then squeezed is eyes firmly shut as he said, “You look fantastic.”

It burst another laugh from your chest that immediately made you sit up straighter. “Stop, stop,” you pleaded. “I'm going to pee myself,”

“No!” Joe lurched forward, added “Sorry, sorry!” with a joyfully painful face so full of empathy, you didn't really know what to do with all the care they held for you.

You winced through half laughs with tensed shoulders until they died down, then made awkward eye-contact and passed Joe's water bottle back to him.

“Oh, yea,” Joe took it, held it up a little to drive home the point that he understood why you hadn't taken a sip yet.

Your eyes shot back up towards the emergency button. Joe saw, reached a hand up, pressed it once more and said, “They must come soon,”

He just said that to make sure you stayed calm, you understood. But you wanted to be realistic. Needed to at least speak the question that played on your mind into existence.

“What if they don't?”

It made Joe look at you a second before he turned his head and inspected all four corners of the lift.

“If they don't, we'll just... we'll move closer to here,” Joe pointed towards the corner he was closest to. Closest to the intercom. “And we'll use that corner to pee,”

Another snort laugh.

Another wince.

Another, “Sorry,” from Joe who couldn't help the pursed little smile on his face at the fact that he'd made you laugh again.

“They better fucking hurry,” you said mostly to yourself, and Joe leant forward, reached, and somehow knew exactly where to grab to get your knee through the layers of your skirt. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and said, “We'll be out of here in no time. You watch.”

He said it mostly to make sure panic wouldn't get a hold of you again.

Wished he was right so you wouldn't actually need to resort to assigning a certain corner of the box you were trapped in to be the bathroom.

Wished he was wrong because, strangely, this didn't actually seem so bad.

Joe’d been in worse spots. Way worse spots.

He was stuck in a tube station lift with a broken intercom after midnight with a pretty girl who had made herself pass out and who really needed the toilet, but... she laughed at his jokes, giggled at the faces he made and it was now all he wanted to do for the rest of the night.

Make her tear-stained face spill over with joy for however long he was granted the time to do so.

Just your luck? Just Joe's luck.

Yea.

This wasn't so bad.

Joe’d been in far worse spots.

---

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(taglist currently full, sorry)

[pretty-blkgirl]

Lixie Day

//gn!reader x Felix//

Synopsis: You surprise Felix for his birthday

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/N: It’s our Lixie’s birthday (in Korea at least lol). I actually like this a little, it’s super sweet. I love writing cute stories for him lmao

~~~~|~~~~

It was around 2 AM when you crept back into the apartment you shared with Felix. He just came back home after the first leg of the group’s tour, while you had just gotten back from a business trip.

You told him you weren’t going to be back in time for his birthday, which made him incredibly sad. He missed you so much, but because of your jobs, you two rarely saw one another.

He expected you back at least a week from now since that’s when you told him you’d be back.

What he didn’t know was you were given the opportunity to come back home a lot earlier than planned.

You were going to tell him as soon as you got the news, but you wanted to surprise him, so you took the first flight you could back home.

Even though you were beyond tired, you were grateful for the fact that you were arriving on his birthday- super early at that. You two would have the entire day together.

When you landed, you got a ride and basically had them speed all the way to your apartment.

Han’s birthday was the previous day, and the guys had a tradition where they’d celebrate Han’s birthday all the way until midnight, and then they’d sing Happy Birthday to Lix.

You texted Chan when you landed so he’d keep Felix out a little longer.

So when you walked into the apartment, you swiftly showered, put on some pajamas, and then grabbed the gift you had gotten him from your suitcase.

It was a diamond bracelet. You know he hates it when you spend money on him, but you remember him talking about it, so you immediately bought it.

It was truly gorgeous, and you felt jewelry so pretty needed to be worn by someone just as pretty.

After a few minutes of waiting, Felix came home around 2:45. You were sitting on the bed, listening nervously as he said his goodbyes to Chan and closed the door.

You listened to his footsteps before they suddenly stopped.

“Y/N?” He yelled, making you panic a little. You started to wonder how he realized you were home, but before you could guess why, he ran into the room.

Tears immediately started to pool in your eyes when you saw him. He looked so good despite only wearing a green hoodie with black sweatpants. His hair was tied back into a bun, and his freckles were on full display.

“Hi baby,” You smile. He’s still looking at you, a fond smile on his face.

“You’re here? Am I dreaming?” He asks, making you laugh

“I’m here! Surprise!”

You were about to start singing Happy Birthday until he tackled you on the bed. You began to giggle wildly as he lay on top of you.

“Baby! You’re heavy”

He ignored you, starting to kiss all over your face

You let him kiss you for a while before trying to push him off you so you could sit up, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Lix, can we get up?”

“No. Can’t we just lay here?”

You sigh lovingly, “We can, but I wanna give you your gift.”

He lays his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling slightly. You two lay in silence before he gets off you and helps you to sit up.

You take another good look at his face and catch a few tears leaving his eyes.

“Lixie, don’t cry! If you cry, then I’ll cry.”

He pouts and looks away. He desperately tried to hold in his cries, but it didn’t work for long. He missed you so much. He dreamt about you daily. He thought about you 24/7. He was so upset when you said you wouldn’t see him for another week, but for you to surprise him like this- he was beyond ecstatic.

“Sorry, it’s just….you just make me happy.”

You knew you would start crying if you looked at him for too long, so you grabbed his gift and gave it to him.

“You make me happier. I hope you like this.”

Before he opened it, you wiped his tears away. He rolled his eyes playfully but kissed your cheek in appreciation.

“Open it, Lixie”

He did as told. His eyes immediately widened when he saw what was inside.

“Y/n…” He says, making your stomach drop a little. Did he not like it? He didn’t look happy…but he was not sad. Just shocked. Maybe it was a good type of shock. Or not?

Your mind continued to race until he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I love it,” He says, making you relax.

You two stayed in the hug for a long while, mainly because you missed one another. You let go eventually, taking the bracelet out and helping him put it on.

“I remember you talking about how much you liked it. So I got it for you.”

He admires the jewelry, “Thank you, baby. But it’s so expensive.”

“Doesn’t matter. I got it because I wanted to make you happy. I love you.”

He takes his eyes off the bracelet and looks at you, eyes full of nothing but pure love, “I love you more.”

He leans in, giving you a long, sweet kiss.

When you pull away, you say, “Happy birthday Lix.”

[lives-in-midgard]

Afterglow

(Musician AU Part 5)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: After Steve made a bad decision he tries to apologize and get you back but can you forgive Steve?

Word Count: 2270

A/N: This is officially the last part of this AU with Steve! I'm sad to post the last part because I really enjoyed writing this AU but who knows maybe we will read about them again. I hope you all enjoyed this series and of course the final part!

I chose Afterglow as the titel of this part because I think that this song from Taylor Swift has a few lyrics that fit very well with it.

Divider made by @firefly-graphics .

Part 4 | Part 5

Masterlist | Musician AU

 It’s been a week since Steve published your song without asking or telling you. You haven’t spoken to him or seen Steve since you yelled at him that night. Steve tried calling and texting you a few times, but you never picked up or looked at his messages. You were so mad at him but also sad because he stole your song. You had known Steve long enough to know that he would never do anything without a good reason, but you needed your time to think about it.

You didn’t want to spend another day alone in your apartment and decided to go to Romanoff’s bar to visit Yelena at work. After the bodyguard Alexei let you in, you went straight to the bar to talk to your friend. Yelena greeted you with a smile and then you talked for a while.

“Have you listened to the song?” Yelena asked.

“No, I…can’t.” You answered. You really haven’t listened to the song yet. Every time it came on the radio, you quickly put on something different. But you saw the fan reviews and saw that the people love The Midnight Rockers’ new song but you couldn’t listen to it, you just can’t.

“You should hear the song Y/N. You really should.”

“You like it?” You nervously asked her.

“It’s so good Y/N, they did such a good job in recording your song.” You talked for a while until you decided to drive home. When you got home you couldn’t stop thinking about what Yelena said. So you sat down on your couch, opened YouTube and clicked on the new Midnight Rockers song. The melody started and you couldn’t believe it. With every lyric they sang, the song got better and better. You could hear drums and a guitar in the background. You knew what part of the song was coming next, and when you heard Steve singing it, a tear ran down your cheek. This lyric means so much to you and you still can’t believe that so many people heard your song. When the song ended, you played it again and then looked through the comments.

“I.love.Steve” commented “OMG this song is so good. I love Steve’s part so much!!”

“Samsgirl” commented “Why does Sam only have one solo part??? But good song though.”

“BuckyBarnesStan” commented “Why is this so good?!”

“Bartonfan” commented “This is such a masterpiece!”

You were smiling, but the last comment remined you of what Steve did. The fans and Yelena were right, the song sounds really good, but that doesn’t mean you can forgive Steve right away, but you also don’t want to lose him again.

You sat there for a while until you heard a knock on your door. You got up and walked to the door. When you opened it, you saw Bucky standing there.

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey, Buck.”

Bucky came over and tried to convince you to talk to Steve or at least let Steve talk to you. He said how sorry Steve was and that he never wanted to hurt your feelings.

“I’m not sure if I can forgive him so easily.” You said after a while.

“I can totally understand that, but just think about what I said, okay?” Bucky asked and you nodded. You hugged Bucky as a goodbye and then thought about what he said.

It’s been two days since Bucky visited you. And well, he was right, you should listen to what Steve has to say to you, especially if you don’t want to lose him again. You walked around the room, trying to think of an idea what to do.

Should you just call him? Or maybe drive to his apartment? But if he’s not there, what then? Maybe you should text him?

Yeah, that’s a good idea, you thought and clicked on his number, trying to form a good sentence but you immediately deleted everything you wrote. You were just typing your next idea when you suddenly received a message from Yelena.

“Turn on your local radio!”

You were about to ask her why when another message came through.

“Don’t ask why, just do it.”

You chuckled and then did as your best friend said. When you turned the radio on, a song was playing. After a few lyrics you had to smile because that was one of the songs you and Steve used to listen to when you were in high school. The next song came on and again it was one that reminded you of a moment with Steve and you had to smile. The third song that played was the first song that Steve and the band covered in high school and played for you. You looked out the window and then noticed that it was starting to rain and heard the rain splashing against the window. Then another song came on, one by the Midnight Rockers. One that Steve told you is about you.

"For most of you these were just a few random songs, but for Steve from Brooklyn these songs have a special meaning to him and also to someone very close to him. So, here is Steve who has a message for this special girl." You sighed and a slight smile grew on your face. That must be your Steve.

"Hey love. I'm not sure if you’re hearing this now, but if you are, I want you to let you know that I'm so sorry and I regret that I did that. I hope you can forgive me one day. And if you want to talk to me, please just call me."

The message ended and you didn't have to hesitate. You pulled out your phone and dialed Steve's number and it only took a few seconds for Steve to answer.

"Hey, Steve."

"Hey." He softly said.

"I'm so sorry." You both said at the same time and then chuckled.

"You first." You said that again at the same time, making you blush. You stayed quiet for a moment, waiting for Steve to talk.

"I'm so sorry for what I did. Please let me explain it to you."

"Maybe you should come over. It's better to talk about it in person and I‘d like to see you too." You suggested.

"Then you should go to your door because I'm already outside of your apartment." You had to smile, but then you remembered that it was raining outside.

“Steve, it's raining."

"I know, so would you please come down and open the door for me." You opened your apartment door and ran down the stairs. When you got to the front door you could hear that it was raining quite heavily. So you quickly opened the door and saw Steve standing in the purring rain. You just looked at each other and it felt like the time stopped for a moment. Coming back to reality, you grabbed his hand and pulled Steve inside.

"Hey." Steve said and smiled.

"Hey, come on let's go upstairs to my apartment where it's warm." You said and you both walked up the stairs to your apartment. When you reached your apartment, you opened the door and walked inside. You looked at Steve who was standing there completely soaked from the rain.

"Oh, Steve, how about you change into some other clothes and then we can talk?" You suggested and Steve nodded. Steve followed you into your room and watched as you picked out some fresh clothes that he had left there a while ago. As you handed it to him, your hands touched and both smiled at each other. You went into the living room and sat down on the couch while Steve put on some fresh clothes.

After a while Steve entered the room with new clothes. He smiled slightly at you and then sat down next to you. You were looking at each other and silence began to grow. Steve took a deep breath and then decided to tell you everything.

"It all started when I had no inspiration for a new song. Tony, my manager, was getting on my nerves and then when I wrote one and he didn't like it, I remembered your song and how good it is. How much people would like it and how much I love it..." He paused for a moment, considering how to say the following things.

"Then I kind of panicked and took a picture of it, composed the melody to it and showed it to Bucky, Sam and Clint. They all liked it and so did Tony. I know it wasn't right, but in that moment it seemed like my only choice. I'm really sorry. " You were sorry and sad that Steve couldn't talk to you about it.

"Why didn't you tell me how you felt?" You asked him and he looked at the floor.

"I'm not sure."

"But I want to do this right. I want to tell it Tony and if it's okay for you then I I’ll announce that it wasn't me who wrote it, but a very talented woman." You reached for his hand and smiled at him.

"Is it okay if I think about it and then tell you?"

"Of course, swe-" Steve held back from saying “sweetheart” because of the argument you had the last time he wanted to say it.

"You can say it, honey." You said, making Steve smile.

"I missed you so much, sweetheart." Steve finally said it again. You placed your head on his shoulder and sat there for a while. You thought about what he said and if he should tell the world that you wrote the song.

After a while you looked up to him, held his cheek and kissed.

"I forgive you, honey. I know you didn't want to hurt me, but I won't forget it anytime soon." Steve sighed but nodded.

"That's okay and I understand that. I'm just glad to have you back."

"Me too." You said, laying your head back on his shoulder.

A week passed and almost everything was back to normal. Steve was back in your life, and you spent a lot of time with Bucky, Sam and Clint. Steve told Mr. Stark, his manager, about the song, your song. You still haven’t decided if you want the world to know, but after thinking about it and talking to Yelena and also Bucky, you’ve decided to tell Steve what you think he should do.

The movie you were watching ended and you laid there cuddling with Steve for a while.

“Stevie?” You looked up after a while.

“Yes, honey.” Steve smiled at you.

“I …I think I want the world to know that I wrote this song.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked and you nodded.

“Okay, then I’ll tell Tony tomorrow. If that’s okay?”

“That’s okay.” Steve smiled at you and then kissed you softly.

When Steve got home from the meeting with Tony, he was really excited and said that his manager wants to meet you. You were nervous, but then agreed to come to a meeting with Steve. The other band members of the Midnight Rockers were also there and gave you comforting smiles.

The meeting started and Tony greeted you and after a while he finally said why he wanted you to come to the meeting.

“As we know, all the fans love your song and so do we. And I was wondering if you have a few more songs?” You got nervous and Steve took your hand and gave you a smile.

“Yeah, I have some more.” You said and Tony nodded.

“They’re all very good too.” Steve suddenly said and Tony nodded again.

“When Steve told me this song wasn’t his or the other members’, I came up with this idea.”

“What if you were the new co-writer of the Midnight Rockers?” He said and you let his words sink in. You as a co-writer that would change so much! But it would be a great chance…people would hear your songs. You would work together with Steve, Bucky, Sam and Clint.

“Of course, you can think about it first.” Tony said.

“No, I don’t think I have to.” You said and Tony nodded, thinking that would be a no.

“That’s okay.”

“Because I would really like to be the new co-writer of the band.” You said, seeing that Steve had a proud smile on his face just like the boys.

You signed a paper and talked about how the band would tell the fans about it. After talking for a while, they all agreed to make a video on Instagram where they say that the new song was written by their new co-writer, who also happens to be Steve’s girlfriend.

From that moment on a lot changed for you and also for the band. You had a press conference with them as their new co-writer. Then you had to quit your job and started writing songs with Steve and sometimes professionally with the others.

There were days when you and Steve would lie on the floor with papers and the guitar, trying to write a new song, or you would go to places where you could both find inspiration. You laughed and enjoyed so many great and funny moments together and were always so happy when you finished a new song. Seeing them record your songs and then sing them in front of an audience made you so happy. Steve is so proud of you and you are proud of him.

You had such great moments together and it was just the start of the beginning.

Taglist:

@jamneuromain | @magnificentsaladllama | @armystay89 | @marvelogic | @rogersbarber | @eviebuggg | @nicoline1998enilocin | @nekoannie-chan | @kandis-mom | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @noellez-best-life23 | @sgtgarricks | @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 | @cutedisneygrl | @mrsbuckybarnes1917

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

hey baby, I would like to request something? if that’s okay💗

angst with rick grimes, if you can? can do a happy ending, don’t have to.

love you💗

.⋆｡I Forgot To Say Goodbye｡⋆.

Rick Grimes x plus size reader

Arguments were not uncommon for you and your husband but they were always resolved by sunset. This time is different

Warnings: ANGST, death, canon typical violence, arguments, canon mc death, brief mention of Carl’s death, pregnant reader

WC: 1.1k

Minors DNI

A/N: I hope you enjoy my love 😘

Follow and turn on notifications for my library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

“It’s too dangerous! There’s so much that could go wrong!” Your voice was strained and nearing its breaking point. It felt like you had been fighting for days at this point, neither of you willing to back down and admit that you were wrong.

Rick ran a hand through his silvery hair and breathed out a heavy sigh of frustration. “It’s the best plan we have but you’re right, it is too dangerous. So tell me, what great idea do you have that will save us all?” He asked sarcastically. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. You know that this is a bad idea too. You’re gonna get all of us killed!” Your eyes burned with tears but you wouldn’t cry, you couldn’t let him think that he got to you.

“At least I’m actually doing something to try and keep us safe.” He spat. Your entire body seized and Rick’s eyes widened. “Darlin-“

You held up your hand, stopping him in his tracks. “I have followed you for years Rick. We’ve survived so much together. I trust you with my whole being but this, this is something that I can’t stand behind. What if the explosives don’t go off in time? What if the bridge doesn’t fall? You’re running into this whole thing blindly and it’s gonna backfire!” You were begging him to listen for once, you needed him and he was ready to kill himself over a plan that you knew would fail.

“What happens if you die? What am I going to do without you? Judith needs you, I need you. Please Rick, we've already lost too much.” You looked at Rick’s old sheriff hat which sat proudly on the mantle in your home. Your husband deliberately looked away, taking a step back.

“Don’t try to tell me what’s at stake. I’m doing this for you! I’m keeping you and Judith safe. I couldn’t-“ He choked on his words for just a moment before he swallowed thickly. “-I couldn’t save Carl but I can do something to save you now. I’ll be back by nightfall.” And before you knew it, his gun was gone from the side table and the door slammed shut behind him.

——————

Judith had been fussy all day- refusing to go down for a nap, throwing her food, even hitting you when you attempted to sooth her. It drove you both to tears and made you feel physically sick. You knew she wanted her dad but she was just too little to understand why he wasn’t there. 

Eventually, exhaustion won out and she fell asleep in the bed both you and your husband shared, her little blonde eyebrows scrunched in anger. You tucked a small blanket around her and laid a soft kiss to her forehead. “He’ll be home soon baby, I promise.”

As the sun began to get lower in the sky, your anxiety grew. You busied yourself with chores that had been long put-off, trying desperately not to think of your husband and the horde of walkers he would be facing. But no matter how hard you tried, your mind was fixated on one thing.

No matter the circumstances or how long you two would be apart, Rick always kissed you goodbye. He would always tell you that he loved you like it was the last time he would ever say it. But today, he just left and you didn’t stop him.

The roar of the motorbike drew you from your thoughts. It was well past midnight now but you sighed in relief. You didn’t care about the fight anymore, you just wanted Rick home. Abandoning the laundry you had folded more than three times, you approached the front door just as it swung open.

Daryl stood alone in the doorway, unable to meet your gaze. “Where’s-“ You couldn’t even get the question out before he shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of his face. “Daryl.” Your voice cracked, just the same as your heart.

“He said ta tell ya tha’ he loved ya.” Your ears rung as you collapsed to your knees, shock making your body numb. Vaguely, you could feel Daryl’s hands on your shoulders, attempting to shake you out of it, but you were lost. 

He was gone. The love of your life was gone and the last thing you ever did was fight with him. When was the last time you told him that you loved him? He would never know how much you regretted fighting with him. He would never see Judith grow. He would never know-

You were fighting for air, barely able to fill your lungs as your mind spiralled. You could see the way that your friend’s lips moved as he desperately tried to speak to you, but you could hear nothing. Black dots littered your vision, quickly getting larger until the blackness consumed you.

——————

“Mama.” A tiny voice cooed as a little hand pushed against your face. You groaned and tried to roll over but the overzealous toddler followed you.

“Rick, could you get Judith?” The floorboards creaked and then her weight was lifted off of you as Judith squealed. “Thank you.” You stretched out on the mattress, savouring the early morning sunlight on your skin.

“Derl! Derl!” She excitedly yelled. Confused, you forced your eyes open. You were briefly blinded by the brightness of the room before your vision adjusted and you were met with the sight of your dearest friend, holding his niece close to his chest, his blue eyes firmly fixed on you.

Your mind was blank for a moment before last night’s events came rushing back to you. Tears rolled down your cheeks and Daryl panicked. “He’s really gone?” He nodded solemnly, his arms squeezing Judith even tighter.

“‘M sorry. I tried ta stop ‘im.” You waved him off, instead sitting up in the now painfully empty bed.

“I need Judith, please.” Immediately, she was thrust against your chest, Daryl stepped away like you were a wild animal ready to pounce. Your daughter settled easily, her chubby hands curling into your shirt as she laid her head on your collarbone. She breathed out a contented sigh, going limp in your hold.

You wiped away the tears from your face before they could fall into her hair. “You can go. I need to be alone for a while.” His jaw clenched tightly.

“Let me get ya some food. Ya need it for the little one.” But he wasn’t looking at Judith. He left the room quietly but not without dropping his bandana in your open hand, and walked mournfully to the kitchen.

You kissed Judith on her temple and leaned against the headboard, letting the tears fall silently. Rick would never know the child growing steadily in your womb.

TWD Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐁*𝐓𝐂𝐇 ; 𝐆𝐔𝐍-𝐖𝐎𝐎 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋? 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋.

summary: getting to y/n, the hard part is coming only now. how much can the new girl fit into the trio?

wordcount: 3.209k (seems too short idk)

tw: swearing, y/n is a little bit bitchy (but only if it's needed, we aren't pick mes don't worry girlies), woo-jin is a tease, terrible written chat messages, gun-woo is still a cutie and i love him sooo much.

author's note: i made a spotify playlist for this fanfic, like it and listen to it if you want babies

part 1 playlist link!!

gun-woo tossed and turned after he got into bed, kissing his mother goodnight. turn after turn, sigh after sigh, his eyes constantly returned to the paper that y/n gave him. he wanted to talk to her, to continue their conversation about boxing, martial arts and other things like her job. she seemed so cool with her tattoos, and could absolutely imagine her as she poured drink after drink, mixing cocktails and counting money with that fast, bill-flipping technique, collecting receipts from the counter, shouting at rude customers as the neon lights changed on her skin. she also guessed that he wasn’t a drinker –he wasn’t as cool as woo-jin, yeah… and he also wasn't a man of words. as gun-woo thought these things, he realized that he weighed his chances for y/n. no, he can’t do that! y/n surely has a boyfriend, or many guys who want to be her boyfriend, who can tell jokes… and tell their thoughts about things… damn, again.

turning on his side, grabbing his phone and the paper, he typed in the number. gun-woo hoped that the girl wasn’t giving them a faux number, as they upset her at the beginning. but the words she wrote, that they’re gonna figure out these things… maybe he should just trust his luck. but what to write to y/n? 

are you awake? 

no, that’s so oblivious that he wants to talk to her. 

did you get home safe?

another no… too emotional. looking at y/n, she sure doesn't like guys who drool over her and looking for her safety and needs. gun-woo thought about calling woo-jin to ask him about this, woo-jin seemed like a guy who was experienced, but after the first fiasco in the restaurant, gun-woo came to the decision that woo-jin can’t know about this. and after that, he would scold him for waking him up at midnight. 

gun-woo

are you sure about this? that you’re in? it’s gunwoo.

 

maybe this will do it. gun-woo didn’t think much, he just sent. after seeing the delivered bubble, he instantly knew that this was a bad idea, y/n was surely asleep. and after that, it’s rude to question someone after they made a decision or a promise so heavy like in this situation. gun-woo wanted to delete the message, but before unlocking the phone, he saw that y/n sent him a message. his heartbeat got a little faster, and his pupils narrowed –maybe from her, maybe from the sudden light. 

y/n

are you doubting me now, gun-woo? 

gun-woo

no, of course not! it’s just dangerous. 

y/n

you think i don't know danger? i meet danger every night when i don’t serve the customers who are drunk as skunks.

gun-woo smiled. on the screen he saw that the girl began to type again, but she stopped, and waited when he began to write the answer.  

gun-woo

aren’t you tired? working and training all day is surely exhausting. 

y/n

only a little. but why aren't you sleeping? i thought i’m the only one who was awake. 

he sighed. 

gun-woo

just thinking about what’s gonna happen tomorrow. 

y/n

be cool, i’m not gonna fight if hyeon-ju is okay. 

gun-woo

no, not about that! about catching those men who are behind smile capital. but that’s nice from you.

y/n

oh, yeah. well, don’t worry. i saw your friend on the tv, he’s good, and you’re good too. and not to brag, but i’m good too. really good. 

smiling, gun-woo turned on his back. it was more comfortable to type this way. he imagined as y/n laid in bed the same as him. maybe she was smiling too, at least he hoped. 

gun-woo

i believe that. otherwise, hyeon-ju wouldn't want to talk to you. 

he typed again.

gun-woo

don’t tell this back to woo-jin, but when you went out, he said he felt himself in life danger when you grabbed his wrist. 

y/n

hahaha

this one is funny. 

i just wanted to be ready for possible harassment. a couple weeks ago, some creep was walking on those streets, a girl who i know called the police but they weren't catched. 

gun-woo

i would never hurt people who are weaker than me.

y/n

i don’t even talk about you, dummy. but that’s good to know. i can protect myself if needed. 

gun-woo

i know, just in case. you can never know.

y/n

you are nice, gun-woo.

watch out for yourself, people these days are using this for no good. 

gun-woo

i’m going to, thanks y/n. my diligence and good heart are my two mainstays. 

y/n

it was good talking to you, gun-woo, but now i’m going to sleep. it’s nearly two am. 

gun-woo checked the time. damn, it really was that late? he needs to sleep, too. but it was so nice to talk to her. maybe tomorrow, they could talk about it further. he really inquired himself about who y/n was, and what she did, even if they just met today. 

gun-woo

you are right, i’m going too. 

goodnight, y/n!

y/n

good night to you too, gun-woo. 

don’t be late tomorrow!

locking his phone, gun-woo looked out of the window that was beside his bed, and after a couple of moments, he let the idiot smile spread on his lips, just as the warmth under his skin. he didn’t know why it caused him so much giddiness to talk with her. but he sure gotta hide it tomorrow. anyway, yang jae-myeong was still on the streets, stealing IDs and making more and more money to smile capital, and the director of smile capital was still beating off little people with his toy-soldiers, tying roguish loans. they're gonna catch him, and then move onto the next step. 

with y/n.

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

tomorrow noon, gun-woo walked to the place they came to an agreement. he didn’t write to y/n, he had to help his mother and didn't want to seem clingy, but he hoped that the girl would be there. seeing woo-jin on the corner, the other also looked across the crossway, but there was no one who seemed like y/n. 

“i hope she comes, otherwise we can’t go to hyeon-ju. it would be terrible” woo-jin said instead of saying hello, but gun-woo had to agree with him. on the other hand, she wouldn't chat with her if she wasn’t gonna meet them, would she? 

“she sure gonna come, she said to me yesterday that this is a personal business to her.” at his words, woo-jin began to smirk, nudging his shoulder. 

“really? and where did she say this? between the bedsheets?” gun-woo rolled his eyes. 

“woo-jin, give me a break! there’s nothing between us, why would there be any? we only met yesterday, she’s nice, that’s it.”

“well, you wasn't the one who almost broke your wrist and got beaten up.” 

“stop dramatizing, woo. she’s just afraid because there were some creeps on the streets a couple weeks ago.” he replied, looking constantly in every direction. 

“yeah, yeah… wait, what? how do you know this?” he asked, and gun-woo suddenly felt exposed. 

“it was… it was in the news, you didn’t read it? or… social media, instagram?” gun-woo tried to cover the truth, but woo-jin totally saw through his façade. 

“you have her phone number, don’t you? you got it, and used it for yourself too!” he spoke up, louder this time, gun-woo didn't want other people to look at them, like in the restaurant when woo-jin got to know that he is an ex-marine just like the other, and was afraid that y/n accidentally gonna hear it, too. 

“no, not! i have her number, but only for hyeon-ju! after all, this was our task too!” 

and in the worst possible moment, gun-woo’s phone pinged. 

“who is it?” woo-jin asked, tilting his head. warmth began to spread on gun-woo’s neck, as always when he was nervous and flustered. somehow, he knew that woo-jin knew who it was. 

“i don't know, maybe hyeon-ju? how would i know?” he responded, searching for his phone in his pocket. his heartbeat increased a little bit. a little bit? i’m not gonna be a liar, gun-woo’s heartbeat increased from sea level to the tokyo tower in one second.

 

y/n

gonna be there in minutes. my boss is a literal asshole.

gun-woo’s brain had to figure out the last word, because in the next moment woo-jin took away his phone. trying to get it, gun-woo leant for it, but he couldn’t get the phone from his friend as he turned his back. gun-woo got around him to take his phone back. 

“you not only seduce the new girl, but you are a liar too!” woo-jin 'tsked with his teeth and slapped his shoulder. gun-woo locked the phone. 

“no, i’m not! seriously, woo-jin, just get off from the topic, and–” before he could continue, his friend pointed in front of them. there she was, y/n. wearing baggy jeans and a sweater, she bidded with her hand before she crossed the crosswalk. in the last moments, gun-woo turned to woo-jin, trying to mutter.

“don’t say any word to her about this, okay?” 

“about what?” y/n asked, tucking away her earphones. gun-woo looked at him, and then looked at woo-jin. 

“about… that we are going to hyeon-ju. so the two of you can talk. is that okay?” he asked, y/n nodded, and waited for them to show the way. woo-jin wiggled his eyebrows, gun-woo rolled his eyes. this is gonna be a long day. 

arriving at the library, they rarely talked, but on the threshold of the gates, y/n stopped them. taking off the mask, she looked at the two. 

“seriously, before i go in… does hyeon-ju have any obsession or craze?” 

“why?” woo-jin asked. y/n sighed, and began to talk. 

“because i don’t work with crazy people! my boss is crazy enough, and i won’t gonna die or get seriously injured because somebody gets itchy in its mind!”

“don’t worry, y/n, hyeon-ju doesn’t have any obsession. maybe she’s grumpy, but… only a little bit.” 

“not so little bit”, woo-jin murmured, but before y/n could make reservations, gun-woo shook his head. 

“i think… you’re gonna get along with her. it’s gonna be fine. please, trust us enough to have a talk with her.” 

y/n looked in his eyes, then looked away. breathing in and out, she shrugged her shoulders. 

“whatever, i have to see her with my own eyes to make a decision. please, lead me in.” 

with much pleasure, gun-woo opened the door. 

[ 𝐘/𝐍'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕 ]

strangely, gun-woo’s personality was calming to her. she just got done with her work –listing the drinks they need to drink as she was the so-called little boss of the bar she worked in– when gun-woo wrote to her, but it lit up her night. y/n thought about it, about him at night, from the second she got home, as she underdressed, showered, washed her teeth, removed her makeup, cleaned her face, creamed her tattoos, and got into her pajamas, to the second she got into bed. she had many experiences with guys, and although on the outside, her co-workers always saw her with another guy, in reality, she never did anything with anyone. everybody wanted to be much better than their usual selves on the internet, or for a little while she served them drinks, bragging about cars, chicks and parties, but in the meantime, y/n knew that all of this is a monstrous humbug. for a while, she stopped meeting or dating anyone because of this –disappointed about the people she was working with, but also sad because which good, handsome and good-hearted guy would want a girl who has tattoos, fights in gyms and works in a bar? the guys she wanted to date could never introduce her to their families, and the ones she knew could easily give her away to human traffickers in exchange for some drugs. but, maybe these things were called consequences, isn't it?

she also didn’t know why she told gun-woo about her job and stuff. maybe, it was just good to talk to somebody without bad intentions, with someone who didn’t want to seem more than he already was. when she told him she thought he’s not a drinker, he wasn’t beating the table and calling her out to drink, and when she suggested that he wanted to protect her, he also didn’t want to be a macho man. maybe it was the whole guy’s simplicity that got her –or maybe his cute eyes and the way his eyes scrunched when he smiled. 

following the guys, she took off her jacket and mask, looking around. a simple bookstore, nothing else –but at the same time, it was everything that her father told her about. she was interested in hyeon-ju, she worked with girls constantly in the bar, but in a life-danger situation… it’s gonna be different. 

“are you two here?” it was surely the other girl, and then y/n saw her: they were almost the same height, showing off two entirely different worlds. hyeon-ju’s hair was cool, actually, but y/n could never imagine herself with a hair short like this; she liked to twirl and style it. hyeon-ju seemed to be clear and determined – y/n liked it. 

“yeah, and we brought y/n with ourselves!” woo-jin sang, hyeon-ju sat down, and pointed to the chair across the short table. y/n looked at the guys behind her, then looked at the girl. 

“you want me to sit there?” she asked, scratching behind her ear. 

“yes, please.” y/n nodded. she won’t do anything without a ‘please’, especially not in the beginning. giving the respect for each part of the deal was the most important deal. 

“okay… so, i heard from these two that you are working on dragging smile capital down. i’ll answer everything you ask, but i have questions too.” she began. hyeon-ju nodded. 

“i heard about you from my granddad’s phone calls. do you or your family know my grandfather?” 

y/n shaked a little bit. that night’s memories were sharp, like she was there again. 

“yes, my father. he… knows sir choi. and his friends too.” 

“how did your father get into connection with my grandfather?” 

“sorry, but i don’t answer personal questions. but i can tell you, that my father is not an enemy, and it isn't about the loans.”

“what is that you can’t tell? did something happen to your father?” y/n furrowed her eyebrows at this question. it made her a little bit uncomfortable. 

“why, what did happen to your father if you live with your granddad now?” 

hyeon-ju looked at the guys. a pregnant silence fell on the atmosphere of the bookstore. 

“i should have asked my granddad about you. maybe he would tell me that you are mocking and taunting people.” 

y/n scoffed. brushing the tattoos on her fingers, she looked into the girl’s eyes again. she felt that the guys beside them were nervous, but she didn’t care. gun-woo was fine, woo-jin was okay, but this girl… this girl was bitter. 

“i taunt you because i feel cornered. anyway, why does my personal intentions matter if i want to help? my purpose is to kill that fucker who’s behind all of that smile capital shit. if our purposes match, i think we should work together.” y/n leaned forward. 

she didn’t want to sell her every secret. why would she need it? it was much deeper than she could just tell it in the beginning. and maybe, if being a little bitch because she doesn’t tell her deepest, darkest memories, then so be it. maybe, another time she’s gonna tell them… if they survive, or if they can make a deal. 

hyeon-ju sat in silence, looking at the guys, then looking at y/n. furrowing her brows, the girl sighed. 

“if i say that we are going to stalk a man from smile capital tonight, would you come?” she asked. y/n thinked a little bit, scratching her chin with her nails. 

“i think so. my tuesdays are always free.” 

“okay then, i have to make sure that you’re in, and you're not gonna back out if things get serious.”

“wait, wait, wait, what is the plan? because, i guess the three of you already talked about it. if it’s just stalking and some sneaking, then i’m in. but if it’s some dead-beating or weapon kinda shit, then i’m out.”

“what difference does it make?” woo-jin asked, getting a glare from hyeon-ju. the three looked at y/n, who picked at her nails, shrugging her shoulders again. 

“i guess, in the beginning, maybe we couldn’t work out together. and if we get into life-threatening danger immediately, we die right then and there.” 

hyeon-ju nodded. maybe they finally agreed on something.  

“okay, then it’s just sneaking and following around. there’s a man, yang jae-myeong, who took a loan from my grandfather. i got to follow him, but i want the three of you to go after him. watch what and how they do things, how many they are, if they use weapons, or anything. that’s all. if you’re as good as my grandfather said on the phone, then we can talk about more things later. deal?” 

hyeon-ju offered her hand to y/n to shake it. y/n thought about the risks: if they get caught by this yang jae-myeong, then, possibly this girl’s further plans’ gonna unravel. because a girl like this, with dark clothes and leather jacket, she sure has a bigger plan than these hide and seek and tag-games. swallowing, y/n looked at gun-woo. he hadn’t had a mask on, his lips were full, and a massive band aid was on the left side of his face. his eyes had faith and determination. 

nevermind. if she can’t avenge what happened to her family, what happened in the past, then at least she’s going to work on a better future. 

reaching for hyeon-ju’s hand, she shook it with a little, devilish smile. 

“deal.” 

[ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐏 ]

after the ‘meeting’, woo-jin, gun-woo and y/n went to eat somewhere. woo-jin talked on his phone with someone, while gun-woo and y/n got into a conversation. 

“do you think i’m always gonna have a shitty relationship with hyeon-ju ?” y/n asked, lamenting about the conversation. gun-woo looked at her. 

“no, hyeon-ju’s just a little bit… harsh. but don’t be angry at her, please.” 

the girl shook her head,

“i’m not angry at her, don’t worry. just became a little bit pissed about her questions. you know, the personal ones.” 

“is it… really that bad? that bad that sometimes… you don't even want to think about it?” gun-woo asked. y/n looked away, pulling the hem of her sweater on the back of her hands. pulling up her eyebrows, then letting them fall, the right corner of her lips twitched. 

“yeah. but… if we get along well together… maybe i’m gonna tell you. but for now, i gotta make it right with hyeon-ju. it wouldn’t be good if we get into a fight in the middle of a fight, isn't it?” 

gun-woo laughed. deep inside, he wanted to know what happened to y/n, and wanted to comfort her better than anything. but that’s for later. 

“no, that wouldn't be good. remember, no claws, okay?” 

now y/n was the one who laughed, as they turned down on the street. 

"yeah, i know. only strokes."

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.

author's note: thanks for the likes on the first part girlies, here's the second part. if work lets me, i'm gonna post every 2-3 days, i think that's okay. and like the spotify playlist!! i often gonna add new songs. bye babes

taglist: @fairyhani @castleninja

(ask for tag in taglist in comment or here)

[andreafmn]

Bound | Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.9K Warnings: implied/referenced SA, trauma, trauma responses, mentions of death, torture, mentions of DV

Summary: Rosalie always carried the resentment of not being able to fulfill the image of the perfect family she had in her head. But the universe had set out to grant her everything she could've hoped for in the most unconventional way and in the form of a witch. Can their love withstand the promise of forever or will Rosalie and (Y/N) succumb to the grapples of time?

A/N: So, I noticed that the time span of Rosalie's kills take around a year according to Midnight Sun (which I have yet to read) which is why the timeline won't match up very well, but I think it still works... maybe... hopefully. Sorry it took so long to update this story, I honestly did not have time to keep writing it for a bit. This was meant to come out yesterday but I fell asleep 🫣🫣 Also, to any and all survivors of SA that you are not alone and what happened to you is not your fault, it never will be. I hope you have healed or are healing. And if you ever just need an ear to listen, I am here. 🤍

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Three months had passed since the night that changed Rosalie’s life for eternity, and the Hubert brothers had been found dead. Two, since Ulysses Levitt ran out of town with a girl his family would have never approved, and the body of John Harris was found in his hotel room, asphyxiated and with a broken neck. 

Word had spread through the town of a killer that was taking the lives of prominent young figures. They had ransacked through two families already, and it was rumored they had taken the Levitt son hostage, regardless of the letter left. It made families hold their young ones closer to them, hypervigilant of their every move.  No one wanted their child to be next. No one wanted to weep for their child. Not even for them to go missing. 

Because none of them knew that they had nothing to worry about. 

Well, other than the King family. The royal family of Rochester, New York, would suffer a great loss that night at the hands of who would have been their greatest acquisition. She would take his life into her hands the way he had done with hers. He would clamor for mercy, beg for forgiveness, plead for another chance. And she would laugh in his face. 

There weren’t many places Royce could hide in that Rosalie would not have found him. He could have hidden a thousand feet underground, and she would have carved at the ground with her own hands until she got to him. He would not get away from her without paying for what he had done. She was judge, jury, and executioner, and she would make sure his sentence was fulfilled. 

In the Cullen residence, the other three vampires walked on eggshells around Rosalie. The anger that radiated from the girl was hot enough that any closeness could leave them burned. Even if their words and worries came from a place of concern –at least from Carlisle and Esme– she did not want to hear them. All she had time for was her revenge. There was nothing else she had to look forward to. 

She didn’t want to be angry. It was an all-consuming emotion that she did not wish to impart on the family that had “rescued” her.

“Good morning, Rosalie,” Esme called the girl’s attention as she readied herself for the day. “How are you feeling today?”

“As well as I can be while my rapist’s heart still beats,” she shrugged, brushing the golden curls in her hair. “Apart from that, I guess not worse than I felt yesterday.”

“That’s good, I think,” the woman offered a smile. “Hopefully tomorrow is better.” 

“Oh, it will be. Once Royce gets what’s coming for him, the universe will balance itself out. After that… well, we’ll see when we get there.” 

Esme remained quiet for a moment, weighing whether or not her words were welcomed in the blonde’s space. The last thing the woman wanted was to make something snap inside the girl. She was already fragile as it was, even if she wouldn’t allow herself to be, and Esme didn’t want to be the drop of water that made her cup overflow. “May I offer you some words?” she asked against her better judgment.

“If you’re trying to get me to see how wrong it is to take a life, please save your breath,” she responded, holding in her laughter at the irony of her sentence. “Carlisle and Edward have tried, and I can tell you there is nothing you can say that will make me desist from my plan.” 

“Well,” Esme sighed with a smile on her face. “Then, can I tell you about my story? I can’t say that I lived through the horrors of what you did, but I did have my own monster.” The blonde simply nodded in approval, her attention fully on the woman before her. “I didn’t envision my life turning out this way, much like you. When I was younger, I dreamed of being a school teacher. I wanted to mold the minds of my students and help them navigate this crazy world. But my parents wanted me to be the perfect wife. They wanted me to stay home and marry. And I did. I thought then that my life would be better. That’s what my parents had promised, so that’s what I believed. 

“Yet, the man that I married became the monster in the fairytale my parents had designed. He was abusive. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He made me feel like I had no escape. And my parents perpetuated that behavior. They told me to keep it quiet. That no one in town would ever believe that he could do anything like that,” the woman continued. Rosalie could tell how difficult it was to tell her story. She could see the fear flashing in her eyes and the tremble in her hands as she felt the ghosts of her past creeping up her neck. And she wondered if that was the way she would look. Regardless of her impenetrable body, anyone would be able to see the pain plastered on her face. “There was some solace when the Great War passed. He was drafted, and I had months of peace. I learned that you don’t know how deep in the chaos you have gotten until you see a way out. Deep down, I hoped he never returned. It was easier to be a widow than to live the rest of my life in fear.

“But, much to my dismay, he came back once the war had ended. I knew my sentence was until death did us part. Until I became pregnant a few months after his return, and there was a new life to fight for,” Esme said. “I ran as far as I could. I needed to protect my baby, and I couldn’t do that if I was dead. He found me the first time, though. So, I ran again. For some time, I even became a teacher. For the first time in so many years, I was happy. I had fulfilled my childhood dream, and I was building my own family. But all of that ended when my baby died only two days after being born. I had changed my entire life for my son, and he had been ripped away from me in just 48 hours. With him gone, I had nothing left to live for. And well, after all that, Carlisle changed me. 

“I will say that I assimilated to this life quickly. It was easy when the alternative had been so horrendous for me. But, the reason I’m telling you this is not because I just wanted you to hear my sorrowful story,” she chuckled softly. “A couple of years after I was changed, Edward grew rebellious. We didn’t have a bad life, much less a bad relationship. But he was only a year younger than you are when he was turned, and he was growing angsty with our way of life, especially our diet. He went on a rampage, finding the worst of the worst among humans using his ability. He only returned to us two years ago. But he told me who his first victim had been. It had been my ex-husband. He told me how he made sure he suffered, that he yelled for mercy, and pleaded to God to save him.

“It should have made me feel better that he was gone. That he couldn’t hurt anyone any longer, for the world had to be a better place without another monster walking in its midst. I did feel relief for a second that he could not get to anyone else, but it didn’t really matter. He had still hurt me, and his being dead didn’t change that. All I could do was try and move past it. Not forgetting what he did to me, but learning to live with it,” she explained. Esme approached Rosalie, taking her hands in hers and staring deeply into the red eyes before her. “Killing Royce won’t stop the hurt from taking over your heart, Rosalie, just as I know that killing those other four men hasn’t satiated the ire inside you.”  

“Even if it won’t fix what they tore inside me, I can make sure it doesn’t happen to any other woman. At least, the ones that would have fallen victim to them if they weren’t dead,” Rosalie said through gritted teeth. There were no tears to hold back, as much as she wanted them. She wanted them to make her eyes burn with anticipation, and she couldn’t almost remember that feeling and trick herself that it was happening. But the stream never came. “I cannot let him walk free on this earth after seeing just how well he can hide the kind of monster he is. If he was going to marry me and he did what he did, I don’t want to imagine what he would do to a woman he doesn’t even know. I’m not doing this to heal anything inside me or because I am seeking inner peace. I am doing this so they can never do this again.”

 Esme knew there was nothing she could say that would deter Rosalie from finishing her plan. Instead of drowning with more words, she simply smiled and told her she understood. Before leaving the girl be, she turned and said, “You should take a stroll through the garden. This summer the nightshade has sprouted beautifully.” 

Rosalie stared at herself in the mirror, and the vision that stared back at her startled her. Dressed in a strikingly white dress that was as close as possible to the one she had picked out with her mother was unsettling. Much more knowing that to that day, she should have been already three months married… or three months dead. 

But she was neither. 

No. Her blood-red eyes reminded her that she was not married and she was stuck in a land that was not quite living but not quite dead. She was stuck as she was in a world that was no longer hers for the taking. Still, if there was one thing that was still hers, it was the ability to taste Royce’s death already. 

She had found his hideout rather quickly. He had trapped himself in the basement of an abandoned bank building that was still under his family’s possession. Little did he know that in his hiding, he had given her the perfect place to rid the world of the monster he was. His soul would forever be trapped somewhere that perfectly represented him –cold, dark, and made just for money. 

Everything was already going to plan. The crate of whiskey had been delivered on time and sent directly into the vault with food and other necessities. All she needed to do was wait it out for an hour. Sixty minutes to allow the paranoia to set in, for the hallucinations to fester, for all the pain and discomfort to rip its way across his body. She would allow the little plant to set her stage because she would be the main act that day. 

Rosalie waited until she could not wait any longer. Until she knew his mind would have started its descent into madness. She wanted him to be trembling in his skin before she made her grand entrance. 

From the bank's main lobby, she could hear Royce’s racing heart, his breathing heave, and his frantic steps. It would have been the most intoxicating song had her heart not been filled with dark hatred. His suffering meant nothing to her until it was her own hands inflicting the pain. She had to get into that room sooner rather than later. 

Though Royce was her main target, she needed to get past the two men that guarded the vault door. Innocent souls that had to be reaped because of the sins of a monster. Her parents had taught her the just paid for the guilty. And in matters of love and war, all was fair. That afternoon, two souls would join the five that had shredded her own. She would grant them a quick and painless death, and go on with the rest of the plan. 

And so, she snapped the men’s necks and laid them on the floor. She closed their eyes and prayed to whatever higher power that was out there to forgive their trespasses, granting them safe passage into the afterlife. There wasn’t much she believed in anymore, but she needed to believe that at least the innocent made their way to something better. 

With those men out of the way, Rosalie could finally accomplish what she had to do. It’s showtime, she told herself. No turning back now. 

The door wasn’t locked, only put together to give Royce the semblance of security. Not that it would have mattered. Supernatural strength and speed allowed it not to matter. Without even knowing it, Royce had written his death sentence the second he had left her for dead. 

“No. No. No. No,” she heard him mutter. “It’s not my fault. It’s not. I didn’t do it.” 

Delirium. Truly perfect. 

“Honey,” she smiled as she burst through the door, making the entire building tremble under her strength. “I’m home.” 

“No, God, please,” Royce cried as he cowered in a corner, his eyes growing as big as saucers at the vision before him. Locked inside that room, he had felt he had started to go crazy. Hidden in the shadows lived the person that had haunted his friends and was haunting him now. He knew whoever it had been was bidding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike. What he had not expected was to see her. “How are you here? How are you showing her to me?” 

“I am not a mirage, dear Royce,” Rosalie said, smoothing down her gown. It dragged behind her as she walked, the sound of the fabric swishing on the ground mixing beautifully with the sound of his racing heart. “I am actually here. Standing before you as I would have months ago.” 

“But you died… I mean, you had to have died.” 

“Oh, I did,” Rosalie sighed. She crossed the room elegantly, taking in how it had been transformed. An elegant bed was pressed against one of the walls, the sheets perfectly done as though no one had ever dared sleep on them. Truly, the entire place had been decorated to portray a luxury suite, like the ones in the many hotels the King family frequented. Beautiful and expensive. Much like the armchair she sat on to face the man directly. “You see, I stand before you today completely dead. Well… technically undead. I’m living, but I’m not alive, Royce. I’m what you might call a vampire now.”

“That’s not… no. That’s not possible!” Royce exclaimed, trembling. The bottle he held in his hands spilled with every shake of his limbs, soaking his shirt. “You’re a ghost. The same one that’s been haunting me for months.”

“I know you wish that were true, Royce. Because maybe then I wouldn’t be able to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” he said as he cowered deeper into the corner of the room. “Why would you hurt me?” 

“Oh, Royce. I knew you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn’t think you’d be this cretinous,” she scoffed. “Do you really think I’m here just to say goodbye? Darling, I’m here to do so much worse. I’ve already started, actually.” 

“W-what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you can feel the way your heart is racing, how your skin has gotten clammy, and how your brain is all delirious. That was a little gift from me,” she grinned devilishly, examining the perfection of her cuticles. “I know how you can’t resist a glass of whiskey no matter the time of day, and I knew you had a few scheduled shipments of bottles. So, with the help of a beautiful blue flower and absentminded delivery boys, I was able to slip some deadly nightshade into those bottles. Hence, the reaction from your body and your delusions.” 

“You poisoned me? How could you, Rosalie? I don’t deserve this.” 

  “Oh no, you don’t get to speak my name,” Rosalie spat. In a matter of a second, she had killed any distance between them  “My name is the only thing you will never have possession of. Not anymore. And to think you have the audacity to question what you deserve.”

“But I don’t, R… I don’t deserve this,” he cried as the girl balled his shirt in her hands. “I made one mistake.” 

“What you and your friends did was no mistake, Royce. It was a deliberate and brutal robbery of my innocence, of my life. It was a testament to your true character and the monster that lay beneath sheep’s clothing,” she seethed. “The worst part of it all is that I would have lived with your sins had you simply given me the life I had dreamed of. I would have let you drink until your belly was full of nothing but liquor and beer. I would have let you cheat as long as you came home to me. I would have let you take everything as long as I had my children to care for. And what a waste of a life that would have been.” 

Fat tears fell from the man’s eyes, connecting with the slobber of boogers that escaped his nose, and it disgusted Rosalie to be so close to him. But it was the dangerously fast pace of his heart that thrilled her. It was the perspiration on his skin that edged her on. It was the unnatural dilation of his pupils that made her want to dance in victory. 

She knew he was in pain. She knew that his body wanted nothing more than to reject the poison of the deadly nightshade, but it would never be able to. Not while she was there, witnessing the demise of the worst kind of monster. 

Royce pleaded under his breath, trying to appeal to the human side of Rosalie without understanding that the part he was begging to had died that night. The humanity left inside her dwindled as she stared at the pitiful man. She couldn’t imagine a world where she had ended up with him. At least, for that, she was grateful. 

“You‘ll never find love,” Royce suddenly spat, a sudden rage boiling inside him, giving him enough energy to yell at her. “Not as the abomination that you are.”

“And what is that, Royce?” She said through gritted teeth. “Because the person I thought I loved was you.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he barked.  “Don’t think I don’t know about your inclinations. I saw you with my own eyes.” 

“Whatever you think you might have seen will go with you in death. At least you’ll have that memory then to keep you company.” 

“The title of murderer is less vile than the other name. You’re lucky I took pity on you and showed you what you were missing out on.”

“Pity? You took pity on me?” Rosalie took hold of his shirt, lifting him from the ground as though he weighed no more than a dress. “You destroyed me. You defiled me. You took my life. Whatever it is that you think you may know about me did not give you the right to do any of that.”

“I saved you first from a lifetime of embarrassment,” Royce choked, his voice trembling as fear overtook him. “Your lifestyle would have gotten you killed regardless.”

“The only lifestyle that killed me was the one where I chose you,” she spat. “You did this to me, Royce. And now you have to pay.”

She let him drop to the ground to cower into the corner. One second, the man was back to crying and begging. The next, he was clutching at his chest and groaning in pain. “Please stop this,” he groaned. His heart had started running at a desperate pace, trying its best to pump blood to his body. But his arteries were contracting as the seconds passed, and his body would start shutting down soon after. “I know you can. Just please, I promise I’ll be better. Just give me a chance.”

“You had a chance, Royce. This life. This was your chance, and you wasted it. You decided to use your one chance to be a despicable man —driven by your greediness and your ego. You could have led a long and beautiful life,  but you weren’t satisfied. You wanted more and more until there was nothing left to take. Now, you won’t take anything from anyone else.” 

“Please,” he sobbed, but his words came out slurred as the poison kept rushing through his bloodstream. A rash had started peeking through his clothes, burning it way through his skin. He couldn’t choose between scratching at the patches or clutching at his chest, his entire body quickly starting to betray him. “I don’t wanna die.”

“Funny,” she laughed. “I didn’t either.”

Royce didn’t take long to deteriorate. His body was already weak from a diet of fear and whiskey—and the lethal amount of nightshade that she had injected in the bottles. He had gravitated onto his bed, barely hanging on to the little life that was left in him. His lungs wheezed and his skin reddened, his limbs spasmed and his lips trembled, and his eyes never left hers. 

And she stared back. 

“Soon enough, you will stop breathing,” she sighed. “I’m sure you can barely feel your arms and your legs. Just like I know you’re trying your hardest to take in a single breath. Isn’t it terrifying? To lay there and feel your life slipping through your fingers, all because someone else decided that you weren’t worthy of your own life.” 

“P… ple… please,” he managed to croak out. Tears stained his face, mixing with the sweat on his skin. “H-h-help… m-me.” 

“It’s too late, Royce,” she smiled deviously. “Don’t you get it by now? You are dying today. You will lay there and suffer and beg. And then, you will die. Not because it’s justice for what you did to me. But because no one else in this Earth will ever have to meet a monster like you. And I will stay and watch until you take your last breath.”

And so, he begged. Royce begged until the lack of oxygen forced his eyes shut. 

And Rosalie watched. She watched until he took his last, wheezing breath. 

Once she could not hear his heart beating anymore, she spared him one last close-up glance. She stood over him and looked over his corpse, wondering who it would be that would find his body. What would they think happened? The easiest explanation would be a heart attack, but the bodies in front of the vault would paint a different story. It wasn’t because she was worried she’d be caught –there was no way she ever would be– but rather because she wondered what plot would be spun to glorify Royce’s life and condemn his killer. And she was absolutely certain they would never believe a woman had been the one to kill him, let alone the other six men. 

“Rot in hell, Royce,” Rosalie whispered against his ear. “Say hi to your friends for me.” 

The girl thought she had merely spent an hour or two inside the bank, but as she slipped back into the alley, she noticed that the morning had come and gone, and the moon had started to peek its way out on the horizon. She quickly changed out of the wedding dress, ripping it from her skin as if it was suffocating her. Her lungs ached for a breath they didn’t need as something deep inside her snapped. It seemed that Esme had been right. Killing Royce didn’t make her feel better, but it had satiated her conscience. He could not hurt anyone else. 

Rosalie placed a hat on her head to conceal her face as she walked through the barely crowded streets of her home. Whispers on the street spoke of the demented killer that had taken the lives of four young men. Even if it had been a while since he had killed, everyone knew he was still out there. She had expected that much. The fear of the unknown was enough to rattle an entire town, and after Royce, it would be the only topic on everyone’s tongues for a long time. 

What she had not expected was to come face to face with a picture of herself. 

Taped to a lamp post was her last photograph taken with the words MISSING in bold on top of it. Under, a brief description of who she had been was printed, her family calling for any information regarding the whereabouts of their daughter. But that didn’t strike her as odd. She knew her family would be worried—had been worried for months. 

No. It was the small message posted under her family’s plea that made her stop in her tracks, a sudden wave of sadness numbing her limbs. She ran her pale fingers over the withered paper as though she could hear the voice if she touched the words. 

Please help bring our Rosie home, the message read. There are people here who love her more than sunflowers love the sun. 

There was no need for a signature for Rosalie to know exactly who’d had that message printed. She ripped the message from the page, folding it into the bag she had buried the wedding dress in, careful not to wrinkle the paper. 

Her heart wrenched inside her chest as she remembered the last time she had seen this person. The last time she ever would.

Only a week before her wedding, Vera had told her how much she wished Rosalie a long and happy life. As the blonde carried Henry in her arms, her friend placed a soft hand into hers, squeezing comfortingly as she smiled. 

“You deserve happiness, Rosie,” she had said that afternoon. “I just wish…”

“There’s no point in wishing,” Rosalie sighed, her eyes transfixed by the baby in her arms. She had been afraid to look Vera in the eyes —the beautiful gemstone eyes she had adored. “You have your family. And I’m on track to have mine. It is all we ever dreamed of.” 

“But it was supposed to look like this,” Vera had sighed. “Not quite like how it really is.” 

“We knew from the start that it would end this way, V. This is just the world we live in. At least this way, we can still be in each other’s lives.” 

“Even with all your high-class parties and important people to attend?” she had joked. “You really think you’ll have time for me.” 

“Always,” Rosalie had smiled. “Forever.”

“Really? You mean that?”

“Does a sunflower love the sun?”

Now, she had all the time in the world. So much time it could never run out. But there was not a second more she would be able to spend with Vera or with Henry. She’d never again brush away the little boy’s dark curls as they fell in front of his eyes. She’d never again hear Vera calling her name as she laughed. She’d never have everything she wanted —anyone she wanted. 

After what felt like a lifetime of staring at her own face, Rosalie straightened out her dress and made her way back to the Cullen residence as though nothing had happened. She cleared her mind of all thoughts about her best friend and walked inside, ready to shut herself in her room until it was time to feed. 

“You really did it, huh?” Edward taunted. “You really went through with it.”

“Please spare me the mocking tonight, Edward,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “My patience is wearing quite thin, and there’s no telling if I might snap. I have heard that us newborns have a tendency to be twitchy and rather strong.” 

“You’re such a…”

“That’s quite enough, Edward,” Esme interjected before he could go any further. “Leave your judgment inside your head.”

Edward muttered a complaint as he disappeared into the backyard, acting as a teenager reprimanded by their mother. Which, in a sense, he was. 

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Rosalie,” the woman smiled. “I hope that whatever happened today and all those months before brought you some type of solace. I know it will never be enough, but I hope it’s a start.”

“I hope so, too.”  

But she knew her heart would need much more mending than only a few deaths. 

That night, she had pulled out the message from her bag alongside a picture she had managed to take with her of Vera and her in their class banquet. They had worn beautiful gowns and were smiling from ear to ear as they danced together. It was a memory she would carry for the rest of her life. But, then, she had laid in the bed she did not need, pressing the picture and the message close to her chest, and closed her eyes to pretend she could dream she was back there.

Next ->

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[changingplumbob]

Pancakes Household: Chapter 9, Part 8

Fergus concludes his birthday party and we get some news.

CW: Unicorn zombie with minor carton gore

Calista: Ready to lose all your sleep ins

Eliza: What do you mean

Calista: An adoption fell through at the last minute and my husband put you two forward before they had time to go to the waitlist

Eliza: Wait, really? You're not tricking me?

…

Aaron: So she’s an infant born this morning. There was a family set up but they got cold feet about not having access to parents medical histories so I just told them how reliable the two of you are together. She’s got African American descent so they were keen for at least one of the parents to match

Bob: Thanks Aaron, I really can’t thank you enough for this

Calista: Apparently the birth mother didn’t want to name her, she wanted to avoid attachment, but you didn’t hear that from me. Anyway better get brainstorming

Eliza: Oh Bob already has quite the list, trust me

...

Aaron: There’ll be papers but legally she’ll be seen as yours and Eliza’s from the get go

Bob: I’m sure we can handle not knowing the medical histories, we’re interested in her future. I know it’s selfish to want an infant-

Aaron: Hey, you can always adopt or foster an older one later on. You’re still bringing a child into your family, that’s generous no matter their age

Of course it is Fergus’ birthday party and he spends some time eating cake with his friends. Since aging up has already happened this rotation most of them are teens now to.

In the lounge the adults take over the TV.

Calista: Which button is the gas

Artemisia: Crash ma, crash!

Bob: It’s one of the right ones I think

Artemisia: It’s left ma! Other left! Watch out for-

Aaron: *sighs* You’re not being very helpful Emisia

Artemisia: *tuts* Blame Bob for not having enough seats at their table *leaves*

Eliza: There will be even less when we break the high chair out of storage

Artemisia: What are you doing out here

Beth: You’re all tall now, it’s weird

Artemisia: It’s not my fault that you’re younger than the rest of us

Beth: Whatever

And of course compulsory photos with friends! Chasity and Artemisia below.

Most of Fergus and Artemisia’s friends are born from in game couples. The first two below are Brianna Fryes and Drake Bheeda. Maybe people with better eyes can see the family resemblance but I cannot… Then we have Anya and Atlas

After the party Eliza heads out for a jog with Strawberry but when she gets home it’s Ginger who needs a bath? Keen to dust off her bathing small creatures skills Eliza takes her for a bath. Ginger is very appreciative, even if she shakes off a puddle into the corner.

When Eliza eventually gets to bed Strawberry feels like cuddles and wakes her up.

Eliza: Strawberry! Tomorrow is a big day, mother needs sleep, don’t wake up sleeping sims

Strawberry pretends to listen but she’s stubborn so I’m quite sure it makes no difference to her, especially since Eliza does cave and give her snuggles. Before going back to sleep Eliza decides to check on the dust bunny. Dusty gifts her a fire opal! Not wanting Ginger to feel left out of the snuggle-fest she cuddles her before heading back to sleep. Where is Bob?

It may be half past midnight but Bob is determined to finish his latest book. He’s not particularly good at writing but he needs to save up for his future restaurant.

Strawberry: *yaps* Play time dad, play

Bob: Sorry Strawberry, dad is busy just this second

Strawberry: *yaps* Ginger, come get dad to play

Ginger: *barks* Sure, oh... oh no... he’s on the computer!

To Bob’s confusion Ginger bolts out of the room and is followed by a curious Strawberry. Bob doesn’t have to much time to wonder on it though as he needs to keep writing.

Strawberry: *yaps* Why are we under here

Ginger: *whimpers* hiding

Strawberry: *yaps* Wait, what are we hiding from

Ginger: *whimpers* the computer

Strawberry: *yaps* come on, we’ll crawl out this side and we’ll be away from it. Let's comfort eat

Ginger: I suppose that's what dad does

Ginger reluctantly follows Strawberry out and does her best to forget that Bob is on the computer.

At 2:30 Bob finishes book number 4! He also reached writing level 4, hopefully soon he’ll be able to do more than self publish. Getting ready for bed he is giddy with excitement for his growing household.

Previous ... Next

[alwaysjustmina]

Whispers of Rain

Chapter 9: The Vicious Cycle Was Over

Artwork for this story by the most amazing @kamonart

Thank you to @papaslittlesunshine for betaing and @midnight-moth for listening to my depraved thoughts as always.

Read below the cut or on Ao3

The week leading up to Beltane was difficult to say the least. Ifrit kept having Dew visit him, dinner was becoming a daily occurrence that he would be forced to endure. The last one he went to, Ifrit pulled him into his arms and forced his mouth on his.

Dew was unable to school his reaction, he thought Ifrit had decided to wait to touch him until after the ceremony. When Ifrit grasped his lithe hips between his large hands and pulled him close, the look of revulsion that passed over Dew’s face just made him laugh harder. He invaded his mouth with his tongue, biting Dew’s lip hard before releasing him.

Tears slid down Dew’s face as he looked at Ifrit in shock, blood joining the tears as they dripped down his chin from his lip, he was positive that Ifrit had pierced it clean through. Ifrit grabbed his groin looking at Dew with no love on his face. “You know you're gonna have to get used to this, just a few more days. Fuckkk, Droplet, I can’t wait to have you underneath me again. I don’t know why we are waiting.”

He pulled him back to his body, licking along his chin, gathering the blood and tears on his tongue, moaning at the taste. Dew wanted to ask him why he was doing this, but he already knew. Ifrit liked inflicting pain on others, he got off on it. His hard cock was evident of that already.

Ifrit released him again before giving him over to the servants to take back to his room, telling him to be ready, just a few more days.

The only bright part of his days besides his dreams of Rain, was Eidolon. He had proven to be an amazing friend and they deeply cared for each other. They’d sit on the floor talking for hours. They often ended up holding hands finding comfort in the other's touch. It quickly became the only peace either of them felt, Dew would share stories of topside. How he joined the band, the instruments he has played, what he liked about them, how he learned them. When he described the band and his friends, Eidolon was particularly interested in them, hearing about Mountain, Swiss, the ghoulettes, to hear what Aether could do with his powers, it struck something in him that he needed to explore more.

“What is he like? I’ve heard of powerful quintessence ghouls but have never met one that I’ve remembered at least.”

Dew explained that Aether was a kind heart, he would take care of his pack, he vaguely touched on how he healed him the last few weeks, months, above. He tried to avoid topics of Ifrit and what he had done to him, what he did to Aether, what he did to Rain, but Eidolon was smart and while he didn’t want to push he didn’t understand why Aether didn’t tell the others what Dew was going through with Ifrit.

“He was protecting someone he loved, he never told us who it was, just that Ifrit was hurting them,” Dew sighed sorrowfully. “Aeth had his reasons, I never faulted him for it. Fuck, I did the same thing to protect someone I loved.”

He swallowed harshly at the past tense, he hadn’t loved, he loves, love. Rain would never be a part of his past, he would always be with him. Death was not always the end, right?

“I wish I could meet him, I feel like he could show me so many things.”

Dew gripped his hand, squeezing tightly, thumbing over his knuckle is a soft caress. “Me too, I think you would like him, I will do everything I can to make it happen.” Dew meant it too, he would do everything to protect Eidolon, Ifrit could do what he wanted to him, but the thought of him doing anything to the other ghoul stopped his heart. He would never let him touch Eidolon, he had already failed Rain, he wouldn’t do it again.

The smile Eidolon gave Dew was powerful, lighting up his eyes, showing his adoration for the other, the love. Both knew they felt something deeper for the other, the most Dew could give though was his hand, his support, his protection. That was enough for Eidolon. For now, and forever if that is all he got.

The reprieve that Dew and Eidolon felt was quickly squashed by Ifrit. Ifrit decided Dew needed something to wear for the ceremony and while he had already picked it out, he demanded Dew go to the tailor to get it just right. In other words, molded to his body. Being that it was only two days before the event, Ifrit of course was very busy so he had Eidolon stay with Dew while he ran other errands in town after dropping them and a servant (henchmen) off at the tailor.

Dew only sighed in resignation when he was put in the outfit, it was tight, revealing, he felt like someone's property in it. He was someone’s property. Ifrit’s. Eidolon, seeing the look on Dew’s face, longed to reach out and touch him, to offer him comfort, but held back. Eidolon had to hand it to Ifrit, he knew Dew’s body and what worked on him. The pants could have been leather for how they poured over his legs, shaped to his legs, the hint of muscles he had before the weeks of torture still evident. Eidolon wanted to touch the pants, to feel his body under them, the pants did exactly what Ifrit wanted. As your eye traveled up the lean lines, they passed over the outline of Dew’s cock, not leaving anything to the imagination, before stopping just short of his hip bones. The pants were a walking ad for sinning, and Dew was Eve in the garden, while Ifrit was the snake, ready to pounce.

The shirt, or lack of, was open, flowy, not the traditional buttoned up look that most ceremonies used. Every eye that wasn’t on his bottom half, would be on his chest, his stomach, looking at the myriad of bruises and bites along it.

When the tailor was done, he motioned for Dew to dismount the raised platform and to undress and put the next outfit on.

“Next outfit?”

“Yes, I was instructed you would need something for before the festivities, something open.” The tailor looking anywhere but at Dew as he explained.

Dew didn’t know if he could cry anymore as he slid the new “outfit” on, it had pants, yes, but they were open in the back and front. Only held together by a string that would wrap around those openings for easy access. If you pulled on the string the flaps would open, he wouldn’t even need to have his pants off. A long jacket was for the top, it had no closure and fluttered behind his small body as he walked.

The tailor made sure the flaps worked as they should, exposing Dew to the room, to his shame. Just adding one more degradation to a long list. Eidolon vowed not to look, to subject Dew to more eyes. As he turned his face away, he noticed the servant looking though, and grabbing at his groin, not even hiding his desire. It sickened him.

When the tailor motioned he was done and that Dew could change back, the relief evident on both of their faces. Dew quickly vacated to the dressing room, but after a few moments calling out to Eidolon for assistance. When Eidolon ducked through the curtain, he found Dew with the cloak off, but the pants were thrown around his body in such a way you could tell he was struggling to remove them. Guess the perfect sex pants were not so perfect.

“Can you help me? I think there is a knot in the string,” Dew asked.

Eidolon got to work quickly, having to kneel in front of Dew to see the issue. He was quickly able to untangle the offending knot, before releasing him from the offending garment. Still on the floor before him, he made the mistake of looking up at Dew’s face, who was looking back at him. From this angle he could see all the marks Ifrit had left on his body, he reached to touch the rather horrible bite on his hip, before pulling his hand back at the last moment.

“Oh, Dew,” he mumbled under his breath as tears gathered in his eyes.

Dew reached down bringing his hand to caress along Eidolon’s chin, “It’s ok, Eidolon.”

Unfortunately, at that moment Ifrit pulled the curtain back on the room. The look of fire in his eyes was indescribable. He went to pull Eidolon away from what was his, before remembering where they were. His eyes told them this wasn’t over, but his voice was calm, saying to hurry along, they had reservations for lunch with some of Ifrit’s friends.

Eidolon helped Dew redress, trying not to let his hands linger anywhere. When he was done, Dew reached and grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly before exiting the room.

The tailor assured Ifrit the garments would be delivered to the venue for the festivities and would be in Dew’s tent when they got there.

Ifrit herded them down the street to their next destination, opting to walk the short few blocks. Ifrit wanted everyone to see them, to see what was his, the power he possessed over both Eidolon and Dewdrop. And seen he was, probably by more eyes than he would have wanted to.

*************************************************************************************************

Was that Dewdrop? He craned his neck to look across the busy intersection, his eyes trailing the silvery locks as they flowed behind the small body. He looked so much thinner, there was no way it was him. Right?

Rain couldn’t stop himself from following the group as they walked down the street, leaving Aether behind at the store he had gone into. He knew he should wait for him, but, Dew. He tried to get closer, watching the trio move through the other people on the sidewalk, the leader pulling the other two along. He wished he could get a look at the person in front but all he could see was the silver hair.

He yearned to shout Dew’s name out, to see if it was him, but knew it wasn’t time to bring attention to himself yet. He would follow and watch, see if he could catch any more glimpses.

The group stopped outside what looked like a restaurant, waiting for a few moments. The man in front, pulled the shorter man to him, placing his arms around his midsection, grasping him. Rain tried to get to the other side of the street to see if he could see his face but they entered the restaurant before he could. He debated if he should pursue him further, when he found his feet already walking through the doors to the restaurant.

He quickly found a place hidden from their view at the bar, mumbling an order to the bartender, while he peered around the bar to see them closer. It was definitely Ifrit, luckily he had his face pointed away from where Rain sat, but he knew it was him, he’d know him anywhere. You don’t soon forget someone who stabbed you both physically and metaphorically, the one who took his baby away from him.

He was terrified to move his eyes from Ifrit, to see Dewdrop. He knew he would break down, seeing him again after so many months. He had to remember, he had to be strong. He slid his eyes from Ifrit, not able to wait any longer. He was in front of him, again. The same pull was present that was there the first day he saw him. The same indescribable attraction. It went so much deeper than that though, he could feel the thread from his heart to Dew’s. He longed to reach out and touch him, to run his fingers through his hair. To take away the pain.

And he could tell there was pain, he saw it written on every surface of his body. His hair, once like liquid silver glitter was caught in the gossamer strands, now hung limp and dull. Rain could tell he was trying to hide behind those strands as much as could, the tilt of his head gave it away. He moved from his hair, to his body, he had definitely lost weight that he couldn’t afford to lose. He sat in the seat, that was too close to Ifrit’s side, crumbled over, his spine curved, his arms wrapped around his body. His hands curled in, his thumbs held inside his other fingers, when he wasn’t fidgeting around his nail beds, peeling the skin back. He heard babies held their thumbs inside their other fingers as a method of self soothing.

Rain’s body doubled over just watching him, what would he see on his face? He couldn’t stop himself, he wouldn’t. The gasp he emitted from within caught the bartender's attention, before Rain quickly shook his head, going back to his work. Ifrit had stopped having anyone heal Dew it seemed. The bruising around his eyes was haunting, the colors on his face ranged from purple, blue to yellow and green, old and new bruises. His perfect lips were puffy and red, a large gash across the bottom lip, open and oozing. Dew kept pulling it into his mouth, trying to lick the blood that still seeped from the wound. What Rain could see of his neck, was littered with bites and fingerprints.

That wasn’t the worst though, when he finally looked and saw his eyes. His beautiful sunset eyes, that held love and happiness when he last saw them, were dead. There was no light there any longer. Any light he held inside was extinguished.

Rain quickly looked away, tears sliding down his face at the realization of what Dew had gone through the past few months. He cursed himself for taking so long to heal. He cursed Aether for not letting him come sooner, he cursed the abbey, he cursed the fucking congregation, he cursed Lucifer himself for letting this happen. Rain knew what had happened, or at least some of it, the friends that Dew had seen in the hallway at the one event, who told Aether what had taken place, and in turn who told Rain.

Rain pushed his hand to cover his mouth, to quiet any sounds he was emitting before looking back at the table. When he looked back, he could see that Ifrit had his arm on Dew again, how Ifrit couldn’t see every indication of how Dew was repulsed by him Rain didn’t know. He leaned away from his touch as much as he could, but even Rain could see the way Ifrit squeezed his shoulder, and the pain that flashed over Dew’s eyes. He watched as Dew’s eyes flashed to another person at the table, Rain’s eyes following.

The other person there didn’t look much better than Dew did. While he didn’t have any bruises, he had the same bent look Dew had, the same sad face. What Rain did notice though was how the other ghoul looked at Dew, his eyes instantly softened when they made contact with Dew’s. A friend, maybe? He wondered who he was, what they had shared. The pang of jealousy made him want to throw up, he should be happy someone else was here to help Dew through this. He mentally chided himself.

“Rain, where are you?” Aether had found when he was back in the pit he could communicate telepathically again. Rain quickly summoned a picture of the restaurant and the trio in front of him, so Aether knew where he was. He could hear the mental gasp from Aether through their bond.

“What,” he asked, jared from his thoughts of Dew.

“It can’t be, it can’t,” is all Aether offered back before he continued, “I will be right there, it can’t be him.” He shut off further communication before Rain could ask.

Rain was back in his own world watching Dew. Trying to think of better times.

He remembered when they were on tour and to keep appearances up they went out to dinner with the other ghouls. It was torture, they just wanted to find moments to spend together. Rain was seated across from Dew, he wished they were beside each other, so he could touch him. He would have to settle for catching quick glances of his face, the small smiles they shared, the sparkle in his eyes when Rain made little noises of laughter.

Rain found himself playing with the ring Dew had given him last night, they had decided to keep the black band outwards, the red stone might be more noticeable to the others, especially when Dew didn’t have it on his hand. As he spun it around his middle finger, touching the stone, he remembered the kisses they shared after he had given it to him. How could he miss someone who was right across from him? They’d have to tell the other ghouls soon, he didn’t think he could hold this happiness in much longer.

“Earth to Rain,” Swiss chided from down the table, breaking Rain out of his pleasurable thoughts.

“Hmm?”

Dew spoke up with a smile on his lips, “They were asking if you wanted to split a pizza with everyone.”

Rain looked at Dew as he spoke, did he say something? Why was he looking at him with those eyes? They were his fuck me eyes. How was Rain supposed to concentrate?

“Damn it, Rain, yes or no?” Mountain poked him from his side.

“Yes?” He answered back, what was he answering? Dew laughed at him from across the table again.

The others spoke amongst themselves, deciding they would get the pizza, Rain who was lost in his own thoughts could have some if he ever came out of his stupor.

He looked back down at the ring, biting his bottom lip as the corners of his lips went up. He felt a foot nudge him under the table, he quickly looked up to see Dew staring at him. Rain’s brows pinched together before moving his foot closer to Dew’s. Watching as Dew smiled at him, and ran the tip of his shoe up his shin. This little amount of touch had him craving for more, desperate for Dew’s hands on him without the restriction of clothes or people around them.

He could feel his cock harden as Dew caressed his foot, noting the way Rain’s face changed as he got higher up his leg. Dew reached under the table feigning that he had dropped his napkin, grabbing Rain’s foot to bring it into his lap, pulling him closer to the table. His warm hands felt along one of his favorite places on Rain, the ball of his ankle. He knew what it did to Rain now too. Pushing the hem of his pants up Dew wrapped his fingers around his ankle, just softly rubbing his fingers back and forth.

Unfortunately for Rain, what Dew was doing precluded him from being able to adequately participate in the conversation. The other ghouls just looked at him a few times, deciding he must just be really tired and gave up trying to engage him. Dew would offer comments from time to time to keep the looks off of both of them.

Rain was lost in his own world of Dew’s touch. His mind was fully focused on what he was doing to his ankle, which was nothing overtly sexual but his touch always made him get butterflies. How was he this lucky that he found him? That Dew was his? He still couldn’t get over that he even looked his way. All he wanted to do was run away with him, talk about their future. Imagine their life, together always. He wanted to know if Dew wanted kits, if he saw them with him. He saw them with Dew for sure, little spitfires with long dark hair, sunset eyes, a mischievous smirk always on their face. A little one that no one could resist. He wandered what Dew would look like pregnant with their child, or would he want Rain to carry them. He would. He would do anything for Dew, anything he wanted. He would be happy also if it was just them forever, but he wanted to ask the question, see what Dew saw.

A little house by the lake filled with love. Filled with Dew. It is the only thing he wanted.

He was broken from his daydreams by the pizza being brought to the table and a plate being put in front of him. He looked up, startled by the intrusion of his perfect dreams, his eyes narrowing at the plate in front of him, his lips pursed. His eyes rose from his plate as he heard Dew’s laugh from across the table. Rain’s face quickly changed from annoyed back to longing.

He pulled his foot from Dew’s lap, to his dismay and asked where the restroom was. Dew quickly pushed back from the table and said he would show him the way. As soon as they were out of view of the others he grabbed Rain’s hand. Pulling him along, rubbing his thumb along his palm.

When they got to the restroom, Dew did a quick look to make sure they were alone before pushing Rain gently up against the wall to devour him in a deliciously indecent kiss. Swallowing Rain’s moans with his lips, exploring his mouth with his tongue like it was the first time. When he pulled back from Rain, he followed his retreat with his blown pupils. Dew pushed him back against the wall, pushing his forehead to Rain’s emitting a deep sigh.

“This is torture, I miss you and you are right across from me,” Dew lamented.

Rain found himself nudging Dew’s neck to the side as he placed featherlight kisses on his jaw, trailing down his neck to suck at his pulse. He wasn’t sure if he could go back out to dinner, he wanted Dew. He loved listening to Dew’s little moans as he ravaged his neck, his hands sliding around his waist to pull Rain closer, before grabbing his ass.

“Fuck, Rain. You are perfect.”

Before Rain could respond Dew’s phone dinged multiple times. He hated having to drag himself away from Rain, but he had a feeling it was the guys. And it was, wondering where they were, did they get lost. They needed to get back.

Rain turned to the sink to wash his hands, Dew draped over his back his head peeking up over his shoulder as they stared at each other in the mirror. The smile on Dew’s kiss plumped lips was enough to break Rain down again completely, asking why they came out for dinner.

Sunset eyes meeting vibrant blue before saying, “I love you, my future mate.”

Rain averted his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips, before he had added quietly, “my mate.”

Rain was pulled back to the present as Ifrit’s voice raised at his companion in exuberance. Rain wanted to rip his throat out, even more so as he pulled Dew to his lap. He could see how Dew hated it. The tightness around his eyes, the set of his mouth growing more pronounced as Ifrit’s tongue ran along his neck. It took everything in Rain not to rush the table and pull him away, but they agreed the public was not the place to take care of him. They needed to get Ifrit alone. So he waited, he would wait. Dew would be back with him, and Ifrit would be dead.

*****************************************************************************

Aether rounded the corner into the bar breathless after running the whole way there, seeing Rain sitting by himself, his hands in a tight fist. Following Rain’s eyes he looked over at the table, seeing Ifrit, Dew and the two other table mates. His eyes grew larger, as he took in the one with his dark hair and pale lilac eyes, the only other person beside Dew at that table that cowered away from Ifrit.

He whispered, a wish, prayer, hoping it was him.

“Phantom?”

Authors note: anyone see this coming?

Eidolon definition: a Spector or a Phantom

[loki-laufeyson223]

Wedding Bells At Midnight

Warnings: Really not any unless you count tooth rotting fluff as one lol.

Word Count: 3.5k+

Idk how other people are but if I read something, I like to see pictures of descriptive things so if I need to post the links for the wedding look lmk!

It has officially been 3 months since  Loki proposed and we were excitedly awaiting the wedding. The date had been set to be when I finished my college degree so we could have a long honeymoon without any distractions so, the date would be May 24th. I already had my dresses picked out and bought, stored away from my mischievous fiance’s eyes at Natasha’s place. Both me and the groom had been working hard on our vows since we weren’t doing them the traditional way. And since we weren’t doing the traditional vows we also decided that we wouldn’t be spending the night before apart. 

The wedding was 2 days away and it was all either of us could think about. Loki had been nagging me to see the dress since the day I went and bought it, taking quite a chunk out of the bank account. We had agreed to let the Avengers   set everything up at the venue without our supervision, the anxiety levels were high to say the least. True they were our most trusted friends, some more than others, but we still had our worries. Loki was going to be wearing a black suit with a dark green tie and Thor would be his best man with Tony Stark and Vision as groomsmen. All of the groomsmen, including the best man, were going to be wearing black suits.

 My matron of honor is Natasha with Wanda and Pepper Pots as my bridesmaids. Obviously Thor and Natasha would be walking down together with Pepper would be going down with Stark and Wanda would be going down with Vision. All of our bridesmaids and groomsmen were already married with two of the couples walking down together with Thor and Natasha being the only ones not walking down with their partners. The bridesmaids and matron of honor would be wearing dark gray dresses and the groomsmen’s ties would be the same color. 

The night before the wedding we didn’t have a rehearsal dinner and the wedding party had a get together for us all to maybe try to take some of the edge off. We all arrived at Thor and Jane’s house at around 6 pm and left at 9 to try and get some rest before the big day. 

Loki and I were laying in bed cuddling and I was laying on his bare chest listening to his heartbeat while he was tracing soothing patterns on my shoulder. My arms were wrapped around his waist and there was only a single candle illuminating our room with a gentle yellow glow. I looked up at him, propping my chin up on his chest. Loki looked down at me pulling his mind away from the book he was submerged in, quirking up an eyebrow curious of what I’m going to say. “Hey Lokes?”  “Yes darling?”  “What if we got married?”  “We are to be wed tomorrow dearest. Why in the Nine Realms are you asking me this question now?”  “Well I know that but, what if we got married like right now?”  “Now?”  “Yeah, like we could seal the marriage with a kiss at exactly midnight so technically we would be staying true to the date.”, he takes a minute to think about my proposition and looks back at me before saying, “I think that would be a lovely idea, my dove.”  “Really?! Ok then, let me call everyone!”, he laughs and grunts a little when I excitedly push off of his chest and jump off the bed. I call the group chat of everyone who’s supposed to be at the wedding and everyone agrees to meet us at the venue. “You truly are crazy Persephone. You know that right?”  “Yes of course I do. Now get up, we have a venue to get to!”, I say playfully annoyed, pulling him off the bed.

 We get to the venue and get into our separate dressing rooms with our groomsmen and bridesmaids. At 11:50 we all get lined up with Loki already being down the aisle. Heimdall is our officiant so Loki walked down with him. Since I didn’t have a father to hand me off to Loki, one of my closest friends from the military, Shane, would be handing me off. Before the doors open I get behind a second wall and Thor and the rest of the groomsmen turn around and tear up at the sight of me in my dress. 

The dress is a dark green and is long enough to cover my feet. It has flowers adorning the bodice curving around my body, stopping at my waist. It’s an off the shoulder dress with long and flowing pieces coming off the back of my shoulders. It flows out from the bodice in a slightly puffed skirt. My ash blonde hair braided and wrapped around into a bun with delicate and small white flowers intertwined. My eyeshadow a dark and glittery gold color with a smokey eye. The look completed with my lips painted a blush pink. My bouquet is made up of blush pink and dark green roses. My heels are a golden color with pointed tips with white and gold flowers adorning the heels. Frigga had brought my jewelry from the palace vault and said they were mine to keep, as her wedding gift to me. It was also her way of welcoming me into the family. The necklace is a line of diamonds starting from the nape on the left side of my neck and wraps around to the right that comes down to right below the center of my neck where a small emerald lies. Where the few diamonds rest on my nape emeralds pick up on their trail. The emeralds on the left don’t connect to the one in the center. The earrings having a celtic design and are silver with a green stone at the bottom. To top off the entire thing a thin and intricate headpiece made with a similar celtic design with a single green stone that rests in the middle of my forehead.

Thor takes in the sight with a thoughtful look and gives me a smile. “Well what do ya say we get this wedding started.”  “I think that’s a great idea.”, I say with a smile. Thor knocked on the door letting the people outside know we are ready to start. Roslyn by St.Bon Iver begins playing as the wedding party walks down the aisle. When everyone is settled into their places, the door opens once again and I begin my walk down the aisle, my arm linked with Shane’s. Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez plays as I make my way down the aisle. I look at the man I’m to be wed to and make eye contact, seeing tears falling down his face at a slow pace and I know The God of Mischief is a changed man.

It takes until we get to the end of the aisle for me to finally take in the beautiful white rose arch above us with fairy lights intertwined. Loki takes my hand as Shane hands me off with tears threatening to spill from his eyes at any moment. Loki kisses my hand and whispers in my ear, “You look incredible darling.”  “Not as good as you honey.”, he smiles at that with a small laugh. Heimdal goes through with the Asgardian wedding customs and then hands the situation over to Loki and I, “I believe the bride and groom have prepared their own vows. Is that correct?”, he looks at us both and we nod with a smile. Loki recites his first, “My dearest Persephone, I promise to always make you laugh and we will laugh together. I vow that we will be a family forever and all of eternity. I could never get bored with you and I will most definitely make a point to never let there be a dull moment as long as I’m around. Together we will always have trust because our promises of honesty and love will be our strength. I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”, we are both crying at this point and my throat is tight with a sob that I let out with a ragged breath right before I begin, “My one and only love, Loki, I vow to love you even when I’m upset or angry with you. There will be no running- ever, even in the toughest of times. I will not walk out on you no matter what happens. I vow to take care of you even if we ever become old, senile, and smelly. I walk down this aisle tonight and recite these vows because, to me, you are worthy and will never become a burden to me- ever. I’m in love with every part of you, including the beautiful cobalt blue and ruby red eyes part. I love you with my entire soul and body, even more than any being can ever begin to comprehend.”, by the time I finish with my vows I can tell Loki is holding back sobs by the way his Adam's apple bobs. Heimdall comes up behind us and asks for the rings and Thor and Natasha hand us the wedding bands we picked out for each other. Loki’s is black with a dark green marble design and mine is of the same style but thinner to go underneath my silver band with an emerald sitting in the middle. We slip them onto each other’s hands and Heimdal comes up behind us to finish off the ceremony. “Loki Laufeyson, do you take Persephone Alexandri to be your lawfully wedded wife?”  “It would be an absolute honor.”  “And you, Persephone Alexandri, do you take Loki Laufeyson to be your lawfully wedded husband?”  “I didn’t spend all of that money for nothin’.”, Laughs were scattered throughout the venue and Heimdall looks between us with a smile. “Then in that case, you may now kiss the bride.”  Loki holds the sides of my face gently and pulls me in to bind our lips together at exactly midnight. He grabbed my leg, smirking into the now deepening kiss. I instinctively snake my arms around his neck. Getting lost in the moment we hear Thor yell laughing, “Save it for the honeymoon lovebirds!”  We pull away and Loki puts his forehead against mine and rubs his nose to mine playfully. Laughing with joy filled eyes and faces, we make our way back up the aisle, arm in arm, with everyone cheering us on as newlyweds. 

Loki pulls me away from all of the festivities and into the bridal dressing room. “You look absolutely stunning tonight darling.”, he whispers against the shell of my ear. I pull away and lock my hazel brown on his shimmering ocean blue and press my lips to his. His soft lips envelope mine in a breathtaking kiss. The physical bond is only the cherry on top to our soul's bond that can never, ever be broken. We become completely lost in each other until we hear three quick wraps on the door. “Come on Beauty and Beast, wrap it up. Y'all got a first dance to attend to.”, we hear Natasha laugh outside of the door. 

Loki and I make our way out to the separate awning for dancing and everyone starts cheering as we walk out. We make it to the middle of the floor and assume our positions with each other. “I can’t help it” by JVKE starts playing and we begin the well rehearsed dance. The song starts off slow with only a piano to start off. Soon after we have close to 10 seconds of a more formal way of dancing the beat drops into a beautiful symphony and when that first strong beat released itself Loki grabbed my hips and lifted me into the air, bringing me back down gently. After we finish our first dance we walk out and everyone comes out onto the dance floor, dancing and laughing the night away.

Half an hour later everyone’s still on the dance floor when the music and lights suddenly cut out. The beginning of “Electric Love” by BØRNS starts playing and Loki and I run our way out to the middle of the dance floor. In the time we were gone I had changed out of my wedding dress and into a short gold halter neck dress and Loki had just taken off his suit jacket and his tie, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. We had rehearsed the other song we had been working on as a funny surprise for our guests and our own fun and pleasure. When I say we danced like no one was watching, we did just that. The music flowing through our bodies like blood. The short and calculated movements were less precise and more emotion filled as the song went on and with each meeting of our eyes.  The song ended and everyone erupted with cheers, leaving Loki and I grinning like two kids on Christmas. 

I was making my rounds talking to everyone who was attending the wedding and all I could think about the entire time was how my somewhat socially awkward husband was having to do the very same thing, or at least I thought he was. That is until I felt his large hands wrap around my waist and lift me up above his shoulders whilst I was talking to Frigga, making me shriek. “Loki honey, what by the roots of Yggdrasil are you doing?!”, he let out a small chuckle and just kept on moving. We rounded a corner and he sat me down in front of the bridal dressing room door and pulled me into a tight hug, leaning down towards my ear, “We have to sign our wedding certificate darling.”  He pulled away and opened the door revealing that Heimdall, Thor, and Natasha were already waiting for us. We had discussed at an earlier date that Natasha would be my choice of witness and Thor would be Loki’s. Heimdall handed us the certificate and Loki looked at it with a face filled with disapproval. With a slight turn of his pointer finger the once plain piece of paper that officiated our marriage now had golden cursive lettering with green, white, and gold flowers adorning the corners and edges. Beside the paper two gold fountain pens appeared beside it on the table in front of us. Loki hummed his approval and picked up one of the pens, handing me one as well. We signed the certificate and handed the pens over to Thor and Natasha. The two witnesses signed the page and handed it over to Heimdall who then placed a magical bond over it, sealing our marriage document.

Later after most of the attendees said their goodbyes, Loki and I grabbed our bags for the honeymoon. Steven Strange was already waiting for us with his sling ring on, ready to transport us to Greece. Tony had offered to pay for everything as his wedding gift to us and we gladly accepted. He set up two new accounts linked to his and gave each of us our own separate cards. He had also gone ahead and paid for our hotel, which was of course the best one there and booked us the honeymoon suite. 

We went through the swirling orange circle and immediately landed in the hotel lobby. I handed our bags over to the hotel service and helped a little while Loki went up to the counter and checked us in. I sat down on a leather chair in a far corner of the lobby and waited for a while. Five minutes later Loki stalked over to me and offered his hand to me, I accepted it and squeaked when he pulled me around to his back and pulled me up towards the mid-section of his strong back. “Please tell me we’re at least taking the elevator.”, he just chuckled mischievously and took off running. Loki stopped at the beginning forked hallway, right side leading to the elevator and the left leading to the stairwell. “Loki babe, please take the elevator.”, I laughed, pleading with my husband. “Darling.”  “What?”  “Where’s the fun in that?”  Next thing I knew he had started running again and took a sharp left. “Are you sure you can even run up these stairs with me on your back?”  “Oh my dear, why must you insult me in such a way?”, and off he went. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the fact that my husband was trying to have some fun before we went to bed, exhausted from the long night since it was 6am and the ceremony was at 12am. To add on to that we had been up from the break of dawn the day before without any sleep. Also, the honeymoon suite was on the 10th floor. We had arrived in our room within 5 minutes because Loki decided he was tired as well and ended up teleporting us to the door on the 6th floor for a shorter arrival time.

Did I forget to mention that we may have a little too much to drink so when we opened the door, we stumbled our way to the bed and fell face first. Laughing until our stomachs cramped, we got out of the sweat soaked clothes and showered. After the very relaxing and hour-long shower, we slipped into some matching Mr. and Mrs. sweatpants both dark green with gold embroidery and I put on a comfy sports bra while Loki decided to go shirtless for tonight. Though he was slightly uncomfortable being in his Jotun form in a place he had never been, I had reassured him it was perfectly fine, I was just happy for the cool radiating off of him. We peeled the covers back and climbed into bed, snuggling into each other’s embrace. Loki grabbed the blanket and pulled it over us. Once settled underneath the blanket, Loki wrapped his arms around my waist but not before grabbing my left hand and kissing my wedding band. “I love you so much my dear wife.”, he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead and looking down at me with a loving and exhaustion laced smile. “I love you too.”  I raise my head and press my lips to his. I pull away and pull his face to mine, closing my eyes. “My love, my Loki.”

[smittywing]

FicBit 7: Jason Todd/Tim Drake

Previous parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

This was not one of Jason's better ideas.

~

Jason tried. He did. He went to the nightclubs and the bars and he asked guys out on dates and kissed guys on the dance floor. Not one of them was Tim Drake. Sure, some of the kisses were interesting and one guy put a heavy hand on Jason’s lower back and pressed him close in a way that he liked, but when he went home, when he went to bed, there was only one person on his mind.

Maybe, he thought, he was trying too hard. He was in the back of a nightclub nursing a drink and watching the couples and throuples on the dance floor. He had discovered a few things that he liked and didn’t like and he could build on that. But his heart wasn’t in it tonight and he knew it.

At least it wasn’t until a slim, dark-haired guy leaned into the bar to speak to the bartender and Jason knew him. He would know Tim Drake anywhere. Tim got his drink and backed up, his eyes casing the room. There was nowhere to go, so Jason just braced for Tim’s gaze to sweep over him and lifted his glass in acknowledgment. Tim nodded and started filtering his way through the crowd toward Jason.

“Hey,” he said, a few inches below Jason’s ear. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Jason shrugged. “Research,” he said. “Where’s Cannon Fodder?”

“I’m working tonight,” Tim said, sliding up against the wall next to Jason and taking a sip of his drink. “It’s drugs,” he said from behind the glass. “Want to help?”

“Hell yes,” Jason said. 

~

For the record, Jason would be down with taking out some pushers even if it didn't involve Tim murmuring in his ear for the next ten minutes. 

But it did. 

“It comes in on motorboats small enough to come up to the dock,” Tim explained. “They cut and package it in one of the rooms upstairs - I haven’t gotten in there yet - and then they have the dealers take it to the floor. A little dancing, a little grinding, hey you want to do some powder, and they’re making bank before midnight.”

“So we want to be on the docks,” Jason reasoned. “Pushers aren’t getting us anywhere but the cutting room. If we can get onboard one of those boats - “

“This is just evidence-gathering,” Tim told him. “If we can catch the actual sale, I’ll call Detective Williams and he can - “

“Don’t you want to get the big bad,” Jason asked. “Cut this ring off at the head?”

“Do you have anything that even resembles a plan?” Tim returned. “We don’t have gear. At least I don’t.”

“I came here to get laid, not bust a drug ring.” Jason shrugged. “But I like to think I’m flexible with my plans.”

Tim stared at him a moment, eyebrows furrowed, mouth slightly open, and Jason suddenly realized what he’d said. Well. Who cared, anyway. One of these days he was going to get laid at one of these places. He didn’t have to tell Tim that it wasn’t actually going to be tonight.

‘Come with me,” Tim said suddenly, looping fingers around Jason’s wrist and tugging him around the crowd, up to the bar. Tim left his half-filled glass on a tray and waved down a handsome blond guy at the edge of the room. For a moment, Jason thought Bernard was actually there, but then realized the guy was too broad and too sharp-featured to be Tim’s boyfriend.

“What can I get for you, Mr. Drake-Wayne?” the man greeted them, hardly sparing a glance for Jason. “Or for your friend, perhaps?”

“Listen,” Tim said, sounding impatient and bored for someone who had summoned the guy in the first place. “My friend - “ and at this point, he slid his hand into the back pocket of Jason’s jeans - “is looking for a bump but frankly, I’m a little concerned about the quality of the stuff here. How do I know it's not cut with fentanyl or something else that could cause some…bad press?”

Wow, Jason almost said because he knew Tim had some bastard in him but he delivered that line so coldly, Jason wanted to shiver. 

There were other reasons he wanted to shiver, starting with the hand Tim had firmly tucked in his back pocket. He was starting to regret wearing the tight jeans that night. 

“Understood,” the man said. “If you like, I can show you the process from receipt to delivery. The package comes to us pure and the division of assets takes place upstairs.”

“Please,” Tim said disdainfully. “I do enjoy an efficient operation.”

They followed the man down a back hallway, past the bathrooms and the kitchen, and finally out a set of double doors onto the freshly salted air of the courtyard. 

Under the light of the new moon and the motion-activated security lights on the building, Jason’s pants were definitely too tight. He tried to adjust himself subtly but Tim noticed and a blush spread across the bridge of his nose and over both cheeks. He did not, however, remove his hand.

“Mr. Drake-Wayne,” the man said, nodding to the water. 

Tim looked at his watch. “On the nose,” he said. The speedboat pulled up alongside the dock and the pilot looped heavy rope lines around the pylons of the dock. 

“Pure bricks,” the man said, breaking one in half. White powder puffed upward in the moonlight and Jason threw up a little bit in his mouth. He tapped a finger against the split edge and held it up to Tim’s face - to smell or taste, Jason wasn't sure. “A sample, Mr. Wayne?”

“Drake-Wayne,” Jason said. 

“Excuse me?” the man said, looking vaguely horrified that Jason dared speak. 

“He uses both names,” Jason said. Tim was the only one of them to use the Wayne moniker - mostly because Bruce had suckered him into working for the business - but he made sure to acknowledge his birth family as well, and Jason respected that. 

“Of course,” the man said. The expression he cast at Jason was most definitely in the sneer family. “Any other requests?”

“Well,” Jason said, deciding to go for broke. “I don’t suppose we could have a tour of that ship?”

Tim’s hand spasmed. Yeah, this was definitely one of Jason’s better ideas.

~

This turned out not to be one of Jason’s better ideas.

Jason hit the water feet-first and sank like a rock. He exhaled some bubbles and followed them to the surface with brute strength strokes. His head broke the surface and he immediately looked around for Tim as he blinked water out of his eyes. For a long moment, he couldn’t see Tim, could barely see anything, and his heart seized up as he reoriented himself, finding the ship behind him and the lights of the marina in the distance. He shook his head and his ears popped and there, finally, Tim’s head broke the surface twenty feet away.

Jason used a powerful crawl to close the space between them. “You okay?” he called, spitting out vile Gotham river water that lapped into his mouth when he opened it.

“Yeah,” Tim called back, spitting out his own mouthful. His hair fell into his eyes and he shoved it back out of the way. “Make for the marina. My boat’s not far.”

‘Not far’ was a relative statement, Jason found, as he followed Tim through the water toward the lights. Tim was a graceful swimmer, cutting through the water swiftly and quietly. Jason had the strength and endurance, but he wasn’t as fast as Tim and trying to keep up was actually a little bit of a workout.

“Here,” Tim finally declared, grabbing the ladder on the outside of one of the boats and hauling himself out of the water. Jason followed closely, feeling the weight of the water fall off him as he pulled himself up the rungs.

“Ugh,” Jason said when he hit the deck. “Gross.” He was drenched through and while he was glad he’d been wearing clubbing clothes instead of his armored suit, he was drenched and the night air was chill.

“We probably need a course of antibiotics now,” Tim said, and Jason coughed out a watery laugh. Then Tim sat straight up. “Oh, shit.”

“Oh shit, what?” Jason asked but he didn’t have to wait for an answer.

Cannon Fodder was on the dock and hopping onto the boat. He was a good-looking kid, Jason had to admit, taller than Tim, lean but fit, with dark blond hair falling over his eyes. 

“Tim?” he called. “Tim’s friend? Are you okay?”

“Hey, hi,” Tim said, scrambling to his feet and reaching for Bernard. “We’re fine, it’s all good.”

“Were you *swimming*?” Cannon Fodder asked in horror and reared back when Tim leaned in to kiss him. Jason couldn’t really blame him. Gotham’s water wasn’t exactly potable on its own and the river caught the worst of it. “In the *river*?”

Tim raked his hair back. “Um. Jason fell in and I jumped in for…solidarity.”

“Solidarity,” Cannon Fodder repeated.

“To help him get back up to the boat,” Tim amended hastily.

“Help,” Cannon Fodder echoed. His eyes narrowed at Jason and Jason immediately felt guilty. This was the guy who made Tim smile like Jason had never seen before, Tim’s *partner* and Jason couldn’t stop himself from wanting to wrap Tim in his arms, kiss him, steal him away for his very own. 

Did Cannon Fodder know he was the guy Tim had kissed? How had he reacted when Tim had explained? How had he *felt*? Was the context enough? Empathy might not be a trait people immediately associated with Jason, but he was having a hard time not putting himself in Cannon Fodder’s shoes right now.

“I fell in,” Jason said. “I was chasing my, um, hat. I had a hat and I thought I could grab it. Guess I was wrong.” He could feel Tim’s eyes on him. Ugh, selflessness was the worst.

“Sorry about your hat,” Cannon Fodder said. “You might want to hold on to it better next time.”

“Yeah,” Jason said, entirely aware there was no wind that night. “Or maybe not wear a hat.”

“Also an option,” Tim agreed. “Um, Bernard, this is my friend Jason. Jason, this is my boyfriend Bernard.” And then he fucking blushed at calling Cannon Fodder his boyfriend. “Look, we should get some dry clothes. Um. Jason, I’ll see if I have anything that will fit you?”

That was unlikely. Jason might be able to squeeze into a t-shirt that was oversized on Tim, but there was no way pants were going to happen.

“Uh, thanks but I think I’m just gonna…Uber?”

“Uber?” Tim repeated.

“Uber,” Cannon Fodder said firmly.

Somehow Jason’s phone survived its bath in the Gotham River, courtesy of the weatherized case Barbara had left in a gear drop. There was awkward silence as Jason waited for his ride.

“Thanks for the save,” Jason said stiffly when his ride was a minute out. “Bernard, good to meet you, man.”

“Same.”

Yeah, Cannon Fodder definitely knew who he was.

Jason collapsed in the back seat of the car and closed his eyes. He’d given an address two blocks from his closest safehouse but chances were he’d have to burn the place anyway. River stench lingered.

He tried not to picture Cannon Fodder taking Tim below decks and stripping him of all those wet clothes, wrapping him in towels, running a hot shower, getting in with him, soaping him up, and - 

Yeah.  Not picturing that at all.

~