#suspicion and paranoia? check.

[cstarling]

individual differences test.

likable person test. you are a likable person / 77.14% difficult person test. you are a somewhat difficult person to get along with / 45.71%

tagged by: @gunbash AND @warbyrds <3 tagging: do it and say i tagged you.

[chris-prank]

Yandere Android x GN dumpster diver reader

A second chance Part 1

CW: Creepy behavior and possessive behavior

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

💿 You walked confidently, the rays of the streetlights revealing you to the eyes of the world, taking you away from the protection of the night. It was 1am and almost every soul that lived in this affluent place was comfortably asleep in their silk sheets, except for you; you were an intruder.

💿 In other words, you were a dumpster diver. Stalking the streets of the richest neighborhoods in the hopes of finding food and objects in good conditions. It was the perfect spot, with the dumpster of grocery stores, since these wealthy idiots couldn’t help but waste edible food or discard their phones for the newest ones.

💿 What explained your lack of paranoia of being spotted or arrested by the police was that people here could not suspect for the life of them that an individual could commit these types of nocturnal activities. They believed they were secure, surrounded by their fellow rich, so why would they bother installing surveillance cameras and alarm systems.

💿 You weren't a fool though. You always made sure to dress in subtle clothing, but from pricey brands to pass off as one of them. It’s surprising how easy it is to find designer clothes in thrift stores for less than ten dollars.

💿 Sadly, chance wasn’t on your side tonight, and you couldn’t find anything interesting. It was either a sign that these people were leaving behind their overconsumption habits or that you arrived after the garbage collectors. This last theory was sadly the most plausible one.

💿 You were so demoralized that you almost didn't take the chance to go through the trash at the last house on your list. But you decided to check it out in the end. Who knows, maybe you were going to find a golden goose. 

💿 That's when you saw him resting against a metal trash can. His head was hanging low like he was sleeping. With his eyes closed, he gave off a peaceful expression, as if the nightly breeze didn’t bother him at all, which of course it didn’t affect him; he was an android.  

💿 What gave away his identity was his striking pearl hair with subtle rainbow reflections and the metal looking skin on both sides of his cheeks. 

💿 Androids weren't a commodity that everyone could afford and based on his look he was definitely a customized model. These guys went for insane prices, so it was baffling to see one next to moldy leftovers.  

💿 You slowly approached him, as if you were worried you would wake him up and scare him away. Your suspicions were confirmed when you slowly lifted his head. This guy was shut down. 

💿 You knew he wasn’t a human being, but you felt bad seeing him abandoned like a broken toy. You couldn’t leave him behind now, you at least had to check if he was still functional.

💿 You looked around. No one in sight. You had to be as quick as possible, because taking a walk at night with a backpack was fine, but holding something that looked like a passed out person was really putting you at risk. 

💿 As you brought him home, you didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was a gift to a spoiled brat that discarded him the second he wasn’t the shiny new thing.

💿 You sat him up on your couch before pushing the little “on” button behind his ear. 

💿 “Systeme reactivation” appeared before Atlas’s full vision was back. He turned his head to look around and that’s when he noticed you, watching him with a giddy smile. 

💿 “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a Hydrotech 6000 model, personal companion and assistant. Pronouns he/him. You can call me Atlas.”

💿 You were overexcited to interact with him. It wasn’t your first time speaking with an android, but you never had one of your own, so you felt  like a child in a candy store. You also thought you were very lucky that he didn’t trigger his alarm system, since you technically stole him. 

💿 Unbeknown to you, the android was aware that his last masters didn’t want him anymore… that he became useless to them. The last thing he wanted was to alert the authorities and be given back to them. 

💿 Every android had a safety camera that would be activated while in shutdown mode. So Atlas couldn’t do anything except be the spectator of his own imminent destruction, until you came along. 

💿 He had seen how gentle you handled his unmoving body. That despite the risk you were putting yourself in, you decided he was worth saving. Proving him that he was still important, at least in one person’s eye. 

💿 At that moment Atlas could feel a new objective integrating into his programme as he looked at your gentle smile: PROTECT MY SAVIOR.

💿 The following day, you were surprised he didn’t make any demand to leave or to be returned to his last masters, but you didn’t comment on it. Who were you to judge if he wanted to stay by your side? He was really helpful so it was a win-win situation for you. 

💿 You still had to acclimate to having someone new in your apartment, especially one that followed you everywhere. It's like every corner you turned he would be standing there, waiting to spend time with you.

💿 “Is there something you want to do Atlas?” 

💿 “I want to do anything you want me to do.” He looked at you with such a soft and delicate expression that you couldn’t be mad at him. 

💿 “That’s not what I— forget it.” You sighed, while pinching the bridge of your nose. 

💿 The first few nights, he watched over your sleeping form. He took in every little detail, from your breathing pattern to the way your eyes move under your eyelids. He wondered what you were dreaming about that made you look so peaceful. 

💿 “I wish I could sleep too, so I could dream of you master…” He whispered into your ear, even if you wouldn’t remember it the next morning. 

💿 Living with you also introduced him to basic things he never thought were possible before. The most surprising one was how human you treated him, he felt more like a roommate instead of an object. Before that he thought androids didn’t deserve this type of respect and consideration. 

💿 It was weird when you insisted on cooking and letting him “rest”, despite the fact he didn’t need to. In his old life, his masters took every chance they got to make him do everything in the house, even the simplest things like feeding the dog. 

💿 If he did chores for you it wasn’t because you had necessarily asked him, it’s because he felt compelled too… like something in your smiles and words of gratitude made his wire warm up in a pleasant way. 

💿 He often connects himself to your computer without you knowing… He needs to make sure you don’t have any virus or hacker stealing your information! (It’s totally not because he wants to learn more about you.)

💿 He checks all your friends on social media and searches for all their information. They could secretly be a bad person, you never know! 

💿 He definitely doesn’t use the fact that he was engineered specifically to help humans to his advantage. That would be immoral of him. 

💿 “It scientifically shown that cuddling is good for one's mental and physical health, since the human body release toxin that—”

💿 He isn’t lying! His code literally prevents him from doing so.

💿 His immeasurable strength is also a real help when you have to go shopping, but you aren’t a fan of the attention he brings up, being a unique model and all. 

💿 When you would pull Atlas closer to you by intertwining his arm with yours, because someone was eyeing him out, the android would make a small buzzing noise. Weirdly similar to purring. 

💿 He hoped that you were doing this by pure jealousy, wanting to show everyone that he was yours. 

💿 One night in particular, Atlas was observing you put your black branded hoodie on, his head tilted to the side. The street lights were already turned on, maybe it was a bit too late to go for a run. 

💿 “Why are you going out at this hour?”

💿 “I’m going dumpster diving! Wanna come?” You said cheerfully.

💿 The second you mentioned dumpster diving he was already checking all the related information he could find about it, and he didn’t like what he saw.  

💿 “In your area dumpster diving is considered illegal… You could get arrested if caught.” He replied with his usual neutral voice as his eyes flashed yellow, but you were too busy to notice.

💿 “It’s going to be fineeee. I promise. I do this like all the time.” 

💿 Atlas placed himself in front of the door. “You can’t go.”

💿 “Come on buddy, I know your program doesn’t let you break the law and all, but you know sometimes it’s good to go against it.”

💿 “That is not my reason… I… I do not wish for my human to get hurt.” He looked down, his body language leaving a more vulnerable impression than before. 

💿 You had to hold in a squeal of adoration, but it was impossible to stop the blood pumping to your face. Calling you “HIS human” like it was nothing and caring for your safety was enough to break your stubbornness. 

💿 “Fine, I’ll stay in for tonight…”

💿 “Your body temperature has risen, are you feeling unwell? Would you like me to give you a check up? ” 

💿 “N-no I’m ok, don't worry! How about w-we…em…watch a movie instead?”

💿 You made your way into the living room before he could move, hoping that your heart would calm down a bit in the meantime. 

💿 Atlas smiled to himself, which was unusual for an android. They had no need to emote emotions outside of the objective of making humans more comfortable around them. But he did, because as long as you were safe and by his side he was happy. 

･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡..｡.:*･

I hope you guys liked Atlas! It took me multiple attempts before I was truly satisfied with the direction the story was going.

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || chapter four || the proxies

tw: stalker hoodie, hoodies a bit gross in this one ngl, i think this is a fair warning, paranoia, blood, some fluffy shit w tim

i am proud to announce that hitchhiker now has a masterlist with a link to wattpad! find it here!! thank you to everyone who has helped me navigate using other platforms <3

<— previous chapter

Hoodie could understand your appeal.

What he couldn’t understand, was why Tim and Toby had picked you specifically.

Sure, your skin was soft and glowy. Your big innocent doe eyes were doll like. Hoodie’s darker urges craving to see them weep tears under his hand. Although you had overlooked their original odd behavior, was that enough? Were your looks and obliviousness enough to keep you alive?

Hoodie couldn’t understand Toby and Tim’s infatuation with you. It was becoming truly nauseating, sitting through them yapping about you all day long. You were the hottest topic of conversation, the rants about Jeff’s sloppy murders long discarded. Since he couldn’t figure it out, he figured he’d have to do his research.

And every good research session begins the same way: observation.

Hoodie had no issue watching you. He watched as you scrambled to get ready for work, showering so quickly he hardly had time to watch you dry off. He sat perched in an old oak tree across from your building, the overgrown branches and leafs concealing his presence. He noted you truly were oblivious, all of your curtains wide open. Maybe you thought being on the fourth floor saved you from having a peeping tom. In which case, you were terribly wrong.

He watched as you chatted with (who he assumed to be) Nova while running around, his eyes narrowing. Your friend seemed put together, a navy blazer and slacks dressing her thin frame. His eyes flickered back over to you, watching you get ready for work. You did have a nice figure. Your apron only emphasizing the fact. Hoodie had watched Nova slide on the blazer, her upper arms toned with muscle. Huh. So much for a lazy overweight detective. Those targets were easy to get rid of. Toby, in the mist of his yapping about his delightful walk home with you, mentioned Nova. He mentioned the vanilla folder and the case she was working on. Hoodie believed he was the first of the three to have the suspicion she took Winston’s place.

Usually task forces would lay off of the investigation once their colleagues began getting killed. But every so often, there would be a feisty motherfucker who only wanted to indulge in the case deeper. He watched as you darted out of your apartment, Nova grabbing her things and following you. His eyes searched for the vanilla folder. He watched her pack her beat up satchel, random white papers and pens being thrown inside. Yet, no vanilla folder. He grinned devilishly as Nova exited your apartment. Toby would be keeping a close eye on her investigation as she studied the Winston case. They had eyes everywhere, your date with Tim proving to be useful. It gave Hoodie enough time to truly snoop around.

His mind circled back to the vanilla folder, the bane of his existence in your best friends possession. Nova hadn’t left with the documents, the vanilla folder not on her person. Her not leaving with the folder meant one thing and one thing only: it was in your apartment. What did that mean? That Hoodie was going to be able to steal it with ease.

\/

You felt like you were becoming paranoid. Your shift at Olive Garden was the same stressful experience it always was. Screaming children. Argumentative customers. Loud laughter. However, you felt like you were watched. You couldn’t figure out how or why. Your paranoia made you check on your tables faster. Your eyes constantly flickered around the restaurant, searching for the culprit. But all you found were families or couples eating their pasta and bread. By the end of your shift you were beat, shuffling into the bathroom to change clothes.

Davidson park was practically a straight shot from your work, there was no sense in dropping by your apartment. You briefly glanced at yourself in the mirror, not wanting to acknowledge how terrible you felt you looked. You were sure your lips were cracked and your eyes had dark circles decorating them. You shuffled into a bathroom stall, slipping out of your work uniform. You wondered if your perfume could truly mask the nauseating smell of pasta sauce. You began to put on deodorant, the light in the bathroom flickering.

You blinked a few times, trying to ensure you weren’t just sleep deprived. You looked up, a large bug caught in the ceiling light. It was bouncing between the light stick and the glass, creating the smallest sound of movement. You could see its shell, as well as its leggings thrashing around. You shoved it off, resuming changing into your normal clothes. You shoved on your boots, the unsettling feeling of you being watched falling over you again. This time you looked at the bottom gap of the stall door and the floor, a large set of black business shoes standing outside of your stall door. You blinked a few times, as if to double check what you were seeing was really there. “Hello?” You croaked, your mouth seemingly running dry. When was the last time you had drank water?

A gust of wind rushed past you, your head snapping behind you. You were in a tiny bathroom stall, what the actual fuck was creating wind? You turned back to the front of the stall, the pair of shoes now disappeared. Shoving your shirt over your head you exited the stall, looking around the bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, an eerie silence ensuing. Looking up you noticing the bug was no longer moving. Logically you should’ve been fine with it, the small creatures demise caused by the electricity. But the sight of the smallest pool of blood from the bugs corpse made your stomach churn, your face growing pale. How was that possible? The bug was a beetle, not a mosquito or anything with a handfuls worth of blood.

You ripped away your horrified gaze, forcing yourself to look at the floor instead. You shuffled out of the bathroom in a rush, the door hitting the wall as you flung it open. Ignoring the weird looks and questions from your coworkers you left the restaurant. You felt unsteady as you got in the car, your hands planting themselves firmly on the steering wheel. You felt like you had just seen a ghost, the crimson paint staining your mind. You swallowed and attempted to even out your breathing as you put the key into your ignition. You needed to get your shit together. You took a deep breath, putting your car in reverse and heading to see Tim.

\/

Hoodie took his time inspecting your apartment, trying to see what he could find out about you. His curiosity as to what made you so interesting nagging him mid mission. With his partners not around, it gave him the freewill to be as nosy as he wanted to be without repercussions. Your apartment was tiny and cluttered, but he determined your clutteredness was from the lack of space more than being messy. Hoodie’s opinion shifted slightly at the sight of your last outfit on the bathroom floor. Your red lacey underwear caught his eye, the blonde smirking under his mask.

How long had it been since he had been with a woman? He squatted down, picking up the fabric with his ring finger. Hoodie could just imagine your round ass in these, the red complementing your skin tone. He lifted his ski mask just above his nose, inhaling the crotch material of your dirty panties. His face flushed red with lust. His cock was slowly beginning to grow in his jeans, the proxy pulling himself away from the fabric. He took a deep breath, imagining his tongue in between your folds as you pleaded for more.

Ahh yes, Hoodie would do anything to see you beg.

Regaining his focus he wadded up the panties, shoving them in his back pocket. He needed to focus. He left your bathroom, rounding over to your bedroom. Your dresser was covered in various perfumes and jewelry. Did you have more money than you were letting on? He picked up a large necklace, the fake jewels shining back at him in the moonlight. Thankfully you left your lamp on, the blonde beginning to rummage through your belongings more unhinged. He lifted up your mattress, looked under your bed, in your pillow cases, in your nightstands. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. There wasn’t even a trace that it was here.

Hoodie gritted his teeth as he pulled open your dresser drawers. His anger temporarily subsided as he eyed the first drawers contents. Rows of undergarments and bras nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. He rummaged through your drawers, the folder no where in sight. He stomped into the kitchen, the living room empty besides a couch, old wooden coffee table, matching with a the same wooden TV stand, and an ancient television. His eyes wondered around your kitchen, landing on a stack of bills with large red OVERDUE stamps plastered on the front. Hoodie picked up the one on top, examining it.

Huh. Not necessarily poor, just poor spending habits. He tossed the envelope aside, continuing his search for the vanilla bane of his existence. And he wouldn’t be leaving until he found it.

\/

You walked beside Tim down the sidewalk path, cool breezes rushing past the two of you. “So how was work?” He asked, starting conversation. Your shift was unnotable, if you took away the feeling of being watched and blood bug. “The usual. My table five had a lot of screaming children but it ended up being fine,” You answer as honestly as you could. You didn’t want to sound crazy, your paranoia getting the best of you. “What about you?” You added. You shoved your hands in your army green jacket, Tim’s hands shoved in his own mustard coat. For a brief second you saw a look of shock flash across Tim’s face, before he resumed his usual expression.

“The usual,” He answered truthfully. He shoved off the uncanny feeling of the Operators static depriving his senses. It wasn’t a usual punishment, the Operator more angry he had to send Kate than anything else. He always had a soft spot for the girl. “We both hate our jobs huh? You look like you just had a ptsd episode,” You chuckled, playfully elbowing him. Your innocence made Tim’s heart flutter, even with the deeper meaning your words unknowingly had. “You’re one to talk about ptsd episodes. You looked scarred when talking about screaming children,” Tim teased. He playfully poked your side, causing you to giggle. The moon hung in the sky, in seemingly a creepy smile. You made Tim feel normal, even if his life was no where near it.

“Oh please anything involving children provokes that face. I can’t imagine having them,” You say. The two of you strolled in unison, the street lights illuminating your path. “Really? Not even down the line?” Tim asked curiously. Of course it was impossible for him to have kids. He would never allow you to get pregnant, not from him or Brian or Toby. There was always the chance the Operator would be interested in the child. He couldn’t risk it. “Maybe. I’d always be afraid I let the wrong guy get me pregnant though,” You admitted. You felt your face go pale with embarrassment. “Oh fuck I said too much huh?” You laughed nervously. Tim couldn’t help but smile at your nervousness. You had no idea how cute you were.

“Not at all. You don’t have to worry around me. I’ve seen and i’ve done weirder things,” Tim told you. You both walked to the towns lake, the watery murky black as the moonlight reflected off of the glassy surface. “I’m really glad I met you Tim. I feel like you get it,” You say honestly. Tim raised an eyebrow, an owl hooting in the distance. “Get what?” He asked curiously. You flashed a nervous smile, tucking some hair behind your ears. “Like you get me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to fit in everywhere I went. Yet I feel at home with you three. It’s such an odd comforting feeling,” You explain softly. Tim took a step towards you, gently grasping your neck. Your eyes fluttered close, your breath hitching as his hot breath danced across your cool skin.

His chapped lips pressed a long kiss to your forehead, his touch soft and sweet. And most importantly, purposefully gentle. Tim pulled away slowly, holding your face in his gloved hands. You looked up at him, mesmerized by his chocolate orbs. He swiped his thumb across your cheek, soaking in your touch. You wanted to kiss him, his lips just out of reach. Tim wanted nothing more than to kiss you, his core yearning to taste your sweet plump lips. But he was trying to restrain himself. He knew he couldn’t have you. None of them could.

Slowly he pulled away from you, turning his gaze back to the black lake. You could feel the heat still dancing across your cheeks. Dumbfounded you turned towards the lake as well, standing side by side with the man you yearned for. There was an unsettling silence, one you decided to break.

“Hey Tim?”

“Hmm?”

Your mouth ran dry, your nerves getting the best of you. “Nothing never mind,” You babbled. You wanted to tell him about the bug. The shoes. The paranoia. But you didn’t want to scare him away. Tim raised an eyebrow, digging in his jeans pocket. He pulled out a beat up box of cigarettes, the red and white box shining in the moonlight. “Cig? It would help you loosen up a bit,” He offered. You had never considered touching a cigarette a day in your life. But the box sitting in Tim’s hand couldn’t look more intriguing even if it tried. Slowly you pulled one out of the box, looking at it. Tim did the same, immediately putting the stick to his lips. “You’ve never smoked before huh?” He asked. Shooting him an anxious smile you chuckled. His bluntness relaxed your nerves, your shoulders relaxing.

“What gave it away?” You asked him. Tim began digging around in his pocket, searching for a lighter. “You mean besides the fact that you’re eyeing it like it’s poison?” Tim chuckled. You rolled your eyes, the brunette flicking the lighter. He gave it a few flicks, the lighter finally producing a small flame. He inhaled sharply, the end of the cigarette lighting. “Haha very funny,” You replied dryly. Tim grinned as he exhaled the tobacco smoke out of his nose. You blinked, your morals seemingly nose diving out of the window at the sight of him. “You’re holding it like a nerd, go ahead and place it in between your lips for me pretty girl,” Tim instructed. Your cheeks turned pink as you placed the cigarette in between your lips. “Great now keep it there. When I tell you to, inhale for me,” He said. His words were getting to you, from his praise to referring to do things for him.

It made your core throb with an ache you had ignored for a long time.

He brought the lighter to the end of your cigarette, sparks flying as he tried to ignite it. The lighter refused to ignite, Tim’s eyes narrowing. “While I figure this out, you wanna tell me what you were going to a moment ago?” He asked. He took a step closer to you, attempting to block the wind from extinguishing the flame. “I uh, it’s hard to explain,” You said, your cigarette still dangling from your lips. Tim shook the lighter, growing increasingly annoyed. “I have terrible insomnia, nothing you can say will scare me away,” Tim told you. He said it so nonchalantly.

“You have-?”

“Yes, now it’s your turn.”

You stood dumbfounded. Another fast breeze blew past the two of you, your hair flying in the wind. “Well I just, um, I feel like i’m being watched. All the time,” You explain slowly. Tim tried to ignite your cigarette again, the lighter very clearly out of fluid. “Considering you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever laid eyes on, I can believe that,” Tim chuckled. He took another large inhale of his cigarette, the foul stench flooding your nostrils. You felt like a ball of warmth, your mouth running dry. “You don’t mean that,” You say quietly. Tim raised an eyebrow, tossing the empty lighter aside. “I’m a lot of things, but i’m not a liar,” He whispered. Tim easily towered over you, your eyes meeting his, cigarette dangling from your lips.

Tim’s large hand guided you to hold your cigarette in between your index and middle finger, the orange end still on the edge of your lips. Quietly he moved closer to you, the two of you watching as the end of his cigarette hit the end of yours. With each passing second you grew more flustered, his face an inch away from yours. Despite the freezing cold weather outside, Tim made you feel an indescribable warmth. The kind that blossomed from inside of your chest and made your heart throb. “Inhale for me,” Tim murmured. You did as instructed, ignoring the feeling of flames engulfing your throat. You wanted to stay this close to him forever.

You felt the tobacco swirl around your lungs, your gaze landing on Tim’s. You removed the cigarette from your lips, allowing the wind to guide the smoke out of your mouth. “Feel better?” Tim asked. You began to cough, giving him a thumbs up as you looked away from him. Tim grinned as you bent over slightly, trying to clear your lungs and inhale oxygen. As his large hand patted your back you realized that you’d willingly throw yourself into his warm flames. No matter how much they threatened to burn you.

—> next chapter

[brucewaynehater101]

I see Duke vibe checking and it’s sorta like with a dog, Duke likes everyone, so if he doesn’t like you, the bats are gonna believe him.

person chilling with the Wayne kids. Duke later “I don’t know, I don’t really like them? Something’s off” and the rest of the bats put immediate suspicion on the person.

I do like the idea of Duke, who's typically friendly, declaring someone failed the vibe check. The fact this comes from Duke causes the Bats to instantly be wary. This could especially be the case if the person passed other Bats vibes check.

For the others, people failing their vibe checks makes sense.

Damian, Jason, and Bruce typically fall on a "distrust before trust" wavelength. Damian and Jason fall on threats while Bruce, in civilian identity, will resort to annoying them with Brucie or weaseling info out of them. Batman threatens.

Cass can usually sus out intent.

Babs runs a very very through background check on people before trusting them (she has varying levels of checks based on what she needs to trust them for).

Dick seems very friendly, but his trust is hard to actually earn. The person usually doesn't know they aren't trusted until they actually are trusted.

Steph employs a series of checks for a person (questions, behaviors, opinions, etc.) to see if they pass the vibes.

Tim, if he were by himself, would combine Babs and Steph's approach. When he's with the others (and trusts their work), he typically has a good feel for betrayal. It's in his bones.

Duke doesn't have that built in suspicion the others do. He's still a bit new to the scene (after two years of being a vigilante, one settles into the paranoia and rapidly changing circumstances). So Duke, who shouldn't have a sus meter, pinging some guy as sus is concerning. Even more so if the guy passed all other checks. In that case, what does Duke, an outgoing and nice person, see in the guy that passed all other vibe checks?

[dearmantis]

Golden Crown of Sorrow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: After sending dozens of letters begging your father to help you flee from your betrothed and his family, someone finally comes to save you

Warnings: domestic abuse, neglectful/abusive parents, sexism/violence against women, mentions of suicide, murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of getting attacked by an animal (if you get bitten by something, even a human, get checked by a medical professional), Fjerda slander, mention of pregnancy

Word Count: 4k words

Authors Note: This was originally part of A little loss of Innocence but it works way better as it's own one shot. Also, please pay attention to the warnings. English is not my native language and I didn't edit this

"Did my father send you?" You ask as you settle in the carriage, voice timid and quiet in a way that is so unlike the version of you that he knows that it throws him off for a second.

You haven't spoken at all during the ride here, contempt in burying your fingers in the mane of his horse or sleeping as he led it away from the house of the family you were promised to, and starring at the forest or the small fires he lit to cook food during the breaks.

His gaze wanders over you, taking in the way your shoulders are pulled together to make you appear smaller, the small, almost invisible cut on your left cheek, the way you keep wincing when the carriage shakes a bit, and how your eyes keep jumping around, gaze always flickering between the window and the position of his hands.

He can't lie to you, he realises. You're suspicious and filled to the brim with fear and paranoia. Whatever happened in Fjerda has shaken you to the core and thrown you right into survival mode. If he lies to you and you find out, you will never trust him with anything ever again.

Because even if you recover from this, you will always remember the fact that he lied to you when you were in your most vulnerable state. And Aleksander needs the trust of the royal family, as much as he might despise that fact.

"No"

You bite your lip harshly, teeth digging into the chapped, dry flesh before you nod, eyes finding his. The suspicion in them is stronger now, accompanied by a bit of confusion.

"Then why did you come? What's in it for you?"

Aleksander frowns. "Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why are you saving me? Why did you decide to come here instead of letting me die in Djerholm? My own family was ready to watch me perish there after all."

There is no anger in your voice, no sadness, nothing. Just this monotone, quiet, submissive voice that doesn't fit someone born into the status of royalty.

But your gaze is scrutinizing, clarifying that every question you ask is a test designed to make him trip in hopes of revealing his true motivations. You're expecting him to lie to you. In the back of your mind you're probably already planning how to weasel the truth out of him, so all he can really do to take control over the situation and reassure you into trusting him is to reveal the truth and in turn his playing cards for this specific game.

You want him to lie, and he has never enjoyed doing what the royal family wants.

"Glory"

Your surprise is like a shooting star: Visible for a singular heartbeat, then gone forever.

"Glory?" Your eyes look back down to your knees, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress while the volume of your voice drops into a whisper. "You won't achieve glory like this. You will most likely be punished for saving me, and I'll be sent back."

Your behaviour is starting to bother him. It was a welcome change when he first got you out and traveled through Fjerda with you on the saddle in front of him, but now all he wants to do is shake you until the words start falling out of your mouth.

He thought you were just quiet because you were scared of being caught, but evidently, nothing has changed for you after he led you across the border to Ravka.

Maybe it would've been better to lie? To tell you that he was some kind of chivalrous knight in shining armour who had come to Fjerda out of the goodness of his own heart to save his struggling princess?

"I doubt that you'll be send back, your highness," he responds carefully. He never thought about the fact that your family might be upset about him saving you. They did give you away after all, and he simply acted on the assumption that they love you and want you to be safe, like all parents should. He should know by now that many parents don't love their children.

"I hope you're right," you mumble, averting your gaze to look at the scenery of Ravka rushing past the window, "For the sake of both of us."

You sink back into silence after that, and the letter still stuck in a pocket of his kefta is suddenly heavy as a bag of bricks. It's a short one, written on a scrap of paper that you must've somehow smuggled out of the house of your betrothed. It had ended up in his mail one day, either through an accident or through a servant who couldn't continue to watch the king ignore your cries for help.

Please father. I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I dream of taking a knife to my throat every day. I'm not strong enough for this.

The next time you speak, you're less than ten minutes away from the town where he planned to take a break, your quiet voice piercing through the air like an arrow.

"Do you have to bring me to my father?"

Aleksander looks up from the documents he had been reading, a deep frown on his face. "Where else would I bring you, your highness?"

You mirror his facial expression. "You could hide me at the Little Palace."

"No, I can't. What if someone catches you?"

"Nobody would catch me, I promise. I would be so quiet, I would never leave my rooms I would-"

"No. End of the discussion, or I'll tell the coachman to turn around and bring you back to your betrothed."

His voice is sharp and cold, the stress from the last few days finally boiling over, and you flinch back from him so harshly that your head hits the wood behind you. Fear burns like a small fire in your gaze, your frame curling in on itself even further.

You don't talk at all for two days straight after that. The only time he hears your voice is when you scream and cry at night, probably due to nightmares.

Looking back, he probably overreacted a bit.

The next time you talk, it's only because he asks you a question.

You're both sitting in a tavern, quietly eating together, and while your gaze keeps jumping from the three other people around you to the door and the windows, his is glued to you.

He has collected a thousand questions on his tongue in the last few days, and his mind works overtime trying to discern the differences between you now and you before all of this. Before the betrothal, before your travels to Fjerda.

"What exactly happened to you in Fjerda?"

Your attention shifts to him, brows furrowed.

"The same thing that always happens when a woman of Ravka gets betrothed to a man of Fjerda."

In the back of his mind, he remembers the death of Princess Fruzsina. How her brother, crown prince Konstantin, didn't let anyone see her or her newborn daughters corpse when they were transported back to Ravka, not even her own parents.

"Nobody needs to see this. It's better to remember her the way she was when she was still here."

He feels acid rising in his throat.

You talk again a few hours later, attention flickering from the window of the carriage to him and back a few times before you finally manage to find your voice again.

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You ask carefully.

Aleksander looks up from the book he has been reading, a small spark of annoyance visible in his eyes at the interruption.

He regrets it as soon as he sees you flinch again, his mind immediately travelling back to that young woman completely wrapped in shroud, her small babe right next to her. Just bundles of linen, not a milimetre of skin visible.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You repeat, "Or one of your ancestors at least. Wouldn't that make sense? Tie you and the Darkling line to the royal family through marriage and kids, force allegiance that way?"

Closing the book slowly, he lets your words roll over in his head.

"The Darklings have been loyal to the Royal Family since the Black Heretic died."

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to tie the families together forever? It would also help to smooth over past animosities, I think. Suddenly, the king isn't just a stranger. He's the current Darklings father in law or uncle. And the Darkling is no longer a random stranger to the Princes and Princesses either. He's their cousin."

The idea is simple and logical, he has to give you that, but he has also spent the last two centuries making sure he wouldn't be betrothed to anyone. It kind of ruins his whole "faking his death and pretending to be his own son" ruse, after all. But he can't explain that to you, can he?

"No ravkan king would ever betroth their child to a Grisha, your Highness. Not when all over the country highborn children are still drowned in lakes and bathtubs as soon as they show their abilities." The words come out harsher than originally planned, but he doesn't correct himself. "Why are you thinking about this? You've never shown interest in Grisha, me, or the politics surrounding us."

He has to wait almost thirty minutes for an answer to that question. He's gone back to reading, carefully annotating his thoughts and questions, when your voice rings through the carriage once more, almost getting swallowed by the noise of the horses outside.

"At night, when I couldn't sleep, I often asked myself if I had other options. If I could've gotten betrothed to someone else. One of the only men I could think of that were still eligible is... you. And as soon as I realised that, I also noticed that the Darklings have never married someone highborn."

There's something else, he can tell by the way you speak, slow and careful like you're holding something back, but before he can even think to push you the carriage shakes and your face contorts into a pained grimace.

He doesn't have to see the skin hidden by your clothes to know that you're probably covered in bruises and cuts, maybe even some animal bite marks.

You should rest, and he can still interrogate you later, so he slowly nods and returns to his book, his eyes gliding over the paper without absorbing a single word. His mind stays with you.

You start having an easier time moving and walking a week after escaping your betrothed and his family, but you're still visibly keyed up and stressed. Everything scares you, everything wakes your suspicion, everything worries you.

He hears you mutter under your breath sometimes, especially during the late hours of the night and the hours before sunrise, convinced that he must be asleep. He can never quite understand what you're saying, only catching a few words at a time when it happens. You whisper about wolves following your scent, of someone sending you back into the north, of shoving a knife into your neck, deep enough that not even a well trained healer would be able to save you in time.

Your lack of sleep worries him as well. The only times he has seen you truly sleep well were at the beginning of your travels. You almost slept for two days straight, sitting in front of him on his horse, his arms keeping you stable in the saddle, only waking up after he made camp for the night and forced you to drink and eat. Now, the only sleep you get is through small involuntary naps in the carriage, when the exhaustion claims you like it did in those first two days.

The nightmares that wake you as soon as you fall asleep don't help either.

You're petting and brushing the horses while the other Grisha accompanying you fill the water bottles at a nearby river, your only guard being the General himself sitting a few metres away, eyes on the forest surrounding you.

"I was surprised how much I missed you," you say after a while, your attention still fully on the beautiful horses in front of you, carefully brushing the dust and dirt out of their fur in hopes of making them a bit more comfortable, "I missed my brothers, of course, and my friends and servants as well. I missed the gardens of the Grand Palace, the beauty of Os Alta, my own bed. I missed being home and not being scared for my life. But I also missed you a lot more than I thought I would."

You don't look at him, your voice light as if you were talking about the weather.

"I kept thinking about how much time I spend bothering you, how much my own parents brainwashed me into disliking you, and how much you must've suffered because of that. I was a brat before I was sent north, I know that now, and I want to apologize for my behaviour. I can't thank you enough for coming to save me despite everything."

Aleksander is speechless for longer than he would like to admit, starring at you with visible shock on his face. It takes him a while to shake it off, to find the right words to respond to you.

"You were a child for most of it, Your Highness. It would be stupid of me to hold a grudge because of that."

He has held grudges because of less, but you don't need to know that. You're the first member of the Royal Family to actually apologize to him. Sure, you're probably only doing it because he saved you from your betrothed, but he can tell that you genuinely feel bad.

"It wouldn't be. I was a terror as a child and grew up to be a brat."

The Darkling frowns weakly, watching you carefully as you move onto the second horse to brush it.

"I was a brat, and stupid too. I heard the story of Princess Fruzsina a thousand times. I even dug through the archive to read the reports from the Healers. I know everything they did to her. I'm probably the only person alive that actually still knows, since no one ever bothers to read through those documents... and I went north anyway. I betrayed her memory. She begged in her last letter before she was murdered that they could never send another ravkan girl north, and I went anyway."

He shakes his head, responding to your words before he even realises that he opened his mouth. "You did what your parents wanted from you. They were the ones suggesting the betrothal, and they encouraged you to go through with it. If anyone betrayed Fruzsinas' memory, it's them, just like they betrayed you when they suggested the betrothal without educating you on the sensitive political climate in Fjerda and their exact traditions and rules."

"I'm a woman grown, General, and I did research on Fruzsinas murder on my own. I should've done the same with the treatment of women in Fjerda instead of blindly believing my mother when she assured me that the men in the north don't hit their wives anymore. That they wouldn't dare to hurt a girl from a royal family. I'm a stupid little girl, nothing more."

"You believed that your parents would keep you safe instead of selling your life away for a political alliance. You assumed that your family would do what they're supposed to do. That's not a sin, your highness."

"Oh, but it is!" You bite back, eyes finally meeting his. There's anger and hate flickering in your irises, but he knows it's not directed towards him. It's directed towards yourself. A weapon pointed at your own heart and soul instead of his head. "I'm old enough to think for myself, to make my own decisions. People expect it of me, but instead of using my head I follow my mother and father around and copy them in everything, playing the obedient little princess instead of developing a personality and beliefs of my own. It took a man beating me half to death in front of his men to change that, to free me of the shackles I put onto my own wrists and ankles."

Your voice is sharper than a knife, colder than the permafrost up north, and your breathing is getting harsher. Gone is the sumbissive, quiet thing he pulled out of that house in the middle of the night. "I did everything to apease my parents, to be the perfect princess in their eyes, in everyones eyes. I loved what they loved, hated what they hated, and did what they did. And for what? To be sold off like an animal to a slaughterhouse?"

A scoff escapes your lips, an unladylike sound that you would've never let yourself make before. He guesses you stopped caring. There are many unladylike noises that you've probably made while laying in your own blood, cowering from the man who was supposed to protect and cherish you.

"That's what I meant when I said that they will send me back. I had the help of two of the servant girls. They smuggled letters out for me and sent them off to my parents, but no answer ever came. The only reason why I got out is because you somehow knew that something was wrong and wrongfully assumed it was an opportunity for you to gain glory."

He doesn't mention that he knew of your predicament because one of your letters ended up with him on accident, nor does he disrupt you for any other reasons. This is the most you've spoken since he dragged you out of that forsaken house in Djelholm and smuggled you out of the city. It would be insane to cut you off now and risk never hearing of your thoughts and opinions ever again.

"It's ridiculous. Even if a miracle happens and I don't get sent back immediately, they will simply betroth me to someone else from Fjerda, like that's somehow going to fix the years of tension between our countries. I will never be safe again. I will never be allowed to stay here. I will never be free the way I was before all this. I didn't even realise how privileged I was."

There is a way to save you from that fate. Several, actually, but one of them would play right into his hands if he simply played his cards right.

Aleksander suggests it two days before they reach Os Alta while they sit in the carriage.

He doesn't do anything special, doesn't prepare anything or bothers to give a speech. It would be filled with lies and manipulation anyways, and you would probably be able to tell. He hasn't officially accepted your apology for your past behaviours, after all. He just says what he wants you to do, nothing more.

"Marry me."

Your head whips up, attention dragged away from the book you had been reading.

"What?"

He smiles. "Marry me."

The carriage is currently driving through a town, the noise of children playing and people talking filling the silence between you two.

"Why?" You finally ask, suspicion barely hidden in your body language.

He has many reasons to make a suggestion like this, of course. Tying himself to someone, an otkazat'sya no less, is incredibly risky for him, after all. It needs to be thought through carefully, which he has.

Aleksander feels like he has done nothing else other than think since your rescue.

You're popular with the people, ravkas beautiful rose, kind and sweet and obedient. If the commoners found out what happened to you, what your parents knowingly put you through with this betrothal, they would riot in the streets. It would only get worse if they found out that they sent you away from your lover.

The story basically writes itself. It would be easy to plant rumours amongst the merchants and peasants, make them believe that you were in love with him and planned to run off with him, knowing that the king and queen would never allow for your love to flourish. That your parents found out and sent you away for a betrothal to a harsh and violent man as a punishment. That he saved you because he loved you so deeply, marrying you on the road back to the Grand Palace in a small chapel, hoping that the marriage will tie your souls together forever even if he gets killed for disobeying the wishes of the king and queen.

If he does it right he can claim that your father attacked you and that he killed him and the rest of the royal family to defend you, or that Fjerdans assassinated the royal family in revenge for the failed betrothal and that Aleksander somehow managed to save you, placing you on the throne, him right next to you.

He would no longer be General, then, but king consort. Your reputation should be high enough with the otkazat'sya to balance the hatred they have for him out as well. The rose of ravka would never fall for an evil man, after all.

Of course, this plan could backfire horribly. What if you hate him after he slaughters your family? What if you don't want to be queen? What if one of your relatives manages to kill you before he can kill them? He would have to claim the throne through right of conquest, and the people would hate him for it, would turn your family into martyrs and put his Grisha at even more risk.

But the risks might be worth it. He just has to be smart.

And he'd be saving you from an awful marriage. He could be a god husband to you. He could make you happy.

Probably.

Of course, he can't confess these things to you. The best way to force you to participate in his plans is if you don't know that he's planning anything at all.

"They can't send you back if you're married. You'll be mine. I'd be able to hide you away in the Little Palace, just like you wanted."

You make a face, clearly not convinced.

"They'll just order a priest to annul it or kill you to make me a widow and renew the betrothal," you warn.

"Your highness, as much as I respect the swordsmanship of the guards, I sincerely doubt that they would be able to kill me. Besides, I don't think that they would be able to betroth you to a fjerdan man after we consummate the marriage."

The book you've been reading drops to the floor of the carriage with a quiet thump, but you don't even notice that it has left your grasp, your full, undivided attention on him.

You're probably trying to discern if he's serious, and if you should slap him for even suggesting something like this.

"There's a chapel in this town, and a small tavern right next to it," he murmurs after a while, offering his hand to you, "It wouldn't be like the royal wedding you probably dreamed of, but you would be safe. I swear it. I protect what is mine."

He watches you swallow, traces the movement with his gaze, gleeful at the visible effect his proposal has on you. He can see the temptation in your eyes, the battle you're fighting in your head.

Are you willing to go behind your parents' backs to marry him? Are you willing to become the Darklings wife, to carry his children?

You grab his hand slowly, the look in your eyes vulnerable.

His smile widens when his fingers wrap around yours, his hand moving to knock against the wood of the carriage to get it to stop.

[babushkatty]

Tranquil SAGAU - Part 4

-> Part 1

-> Part 3

-> Part 5

Crepus, true to your initial assumptions of him being sunshine personified, very enthusiastically invited you over for tea once everything in the caravan was cleaned up, the wounded were attended to and the Knights of Favonius reluctantly went on their way.

And by tea, he meant dinner.

And by dinner, he meant a feast that could easily feed an army.

Truly, the Ragnvindr were rich beyond comprehension. Whatever the heart desired, it was at the table. Northern Apple Stew, Northern Smoked Chicken, Sweet Madame, Flaming Red Bolognese, Barbatos Ratatouille, Calla Lily Seafood Soup, Crem Stew, Cold Cut Platter, Satisfying Salad, Sticky Honey Roast -- all alongside many dishes you knew for a fact weren't in the game at all (there was something ravioli-adjacent, a plate of potatoes with seasonings, some dumplings, small snacks, sweet desserts and you even spied something that looked suspiciously like Meringue and was that Tofu? wasn't Tofu Liyuen?), with Apple Cider, Water, tea and a lot of fancy wine (couldn't do without wine at a winery, after all) to serve as drinks.

You had no idea how you were meant to eat so much, or how to even attempt to taste a little bit of everything without your stomach protesting. Did rich people train themselves into having a bottomless stomach so that they could eat what they were given without offending anyone?

"So, (Name)," Crepus began, fancily sipping at his fancy glass of fancy wine, "How come you and your... Friend, arrived at just the precise time to prevent any serious harm? Surely it wasn't a coincidence?"

He chuckled good-naturely as he twirled his wine in circles.

Look at Crepus, digging into the matter without sounding accusatory or condescending! In fact, he sounded eager. You could almost imagine the wagging tail and perked up ears.

Suddenly, you realized who exactly Kaeya took after in his habit of talking circles around people on a daily basis. Not entirely of course -- where Kaeya was smug and suave, Crepus was a giant fluffy friend that had you wrapped around its' paw, because how could you possibly say no to that face? You wouldn't hide anything from a friend, would you? You wouldn't, it was a friend after all, you were so comfortable around him for a reason, there was no need for suspicion and paranoia around sweet old Crepus!

You heard of people weaponizing stupidity, but weaponizing your gold-lab-like personality? That was a first and you clearly met a master of the craft.

"It's a coincidence. Dvalin took me flying every day for the past week. He sensed something off in the distance, so we went to check it out and, well... Ursa happened."

You shrug and sip at your Apple Cider.

Crepus did not look any less excited than before. If anything, he smiled wider and the imaginary tail you swore you saw picked up in speed -- contrasting greatly with Diluc who just sat in his chair silently, with his eyes burning a hole right through you.

A bit unnerving, but what could you do other than endure? Not like he was doing anything wrong, everyone did a little bit of unsettling staring every once in a while.

And besides, this wasn't the Diluc who would burn an Abyss Mage into unconsciousness just to burn them awake for information, this was a baby. A Diluc that wasn't hardened by the loss of his family, by the betrayal of his adopted brother turned Khaenri'ah spy, by the corruption of the Knights of Favonius he sincerely admired and by Snezhnaya kicking him while he was down. He was wearing his heart on his sleeve and now you got sad thinking about what would have happened had you (and Dvalin... Mostly Dvalin...) not been there to intervene.

Everything was not Daijoubu.

"Then what did you friend mean, when he said you could permamently put down Ursa?"

Crepus sounded so genuinely curious and excited, it was adorable. How was this grown ass man so cute? With that crime against humanity of a beard too? It was utter witchcraft!

For a moment, you considered lying about your situation. You considered outright saying you couldn't tell because of personal reasons. You considered following the role model of all fools, Nie Huaisang, and shaking your head out of the situation, repeatedly saying 'you didn't know, you didn't know, you really didn't know--!'

But then you realized the cat was partly out of the bag anyways (thanks Dvalin, you're as subtle as a brick to the face) and it would be just a waste of effort on your part.

"No idea. He's convinced I'm the All-Mother of Teyvat and the longer I am around, the stronger I'll get. Theoretically, it would mean I could do something about Ursa somewhere down the line, but that's if I'm the All-Mother at all, which I doubt."

(Quietly, you refused to acknowledge the part of you that has long since accepted Teyvat would never hurt you and that you may be the All-Mother. Damn Dvalin and his silver tongue, it's like Venti getting Genshin!Diluc on his side with his song all over again!)

Crepus positively shook in excitement, a grin so bright you really wished for sunglasses this time. It's like this sunshine of a man had made it his personal mission to blind you.

Diluc just looked stunned silly, eyes wide like saucers and mouth slightly open in shock.

You sip at your Apple Cider awkwardly, thanking the Archons that neither Kaeya nor the Dawn Winery staff were around to add more weirdness to this disaster of a dinner.

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ* ✨ Author Note✨

Look at me, completely ignoring Canon.

Did Crepus have a personality in Canon? Maybe. I didn't read the manga. Do I know what it might be? Nope. I didn't read the manga, so now he's an excited gold lab with a side seasoning of sly fox.

The beauty of fanfiction, reality is whatever the hell I want it to be.

Sometimes you need to just run with half a fact you probably misheard and misinterpreted to make something fun happen, SAGAU needs some fluffy vibes without the damn cult worship.

The people that know what they're doing are writing impostor AUs and cult AUs, so might as well volunteer myself as tribute for this one.

I should probably make a masterlist at some point, shouldn't I? The parts are going to grow really fast considering I keep them all short.

Something to think about.

✨Taglist✨

@game-savvy @chaoticfivesworld @mmeatt

Heeeey, mmeatt's tag works finally! It only took me 3 parts to figure it out!

Also special mention to @chaoticfivesworld who casually dropped some important lore on me in a comment, probably not realizing it would become a plothole in the future because, I repeat, I don't know canon as much as I probably should.

Yolo.

[telvess]

Record of Ragnarok, Hades x Persephone!Reader

Sorry for delay, but my writer's block came back.

*SWF*

— Mother, are you sure it’s wise for me to accompany you? — you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your mother chose a modest toga for you that completely covered your shoulders and neckline and was long enough that nobody could even see your toes — I can wait for you here. Your eyes met your mother's in the reflection of the mirror. Her grim visage was present - cold, distant, severe, just like winter. So different from the mendacious one that’s she usually portrayed. — You’re safest by my side — her voice reminded you of the sound of a branch breaking. Demeter wore a simple black robe, her brown hair was braided. She got walked up to you, stood right behind you and watched your reflection in the mirror with cold eyes. The cold she emanated sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine. — Stay within my arm's reach, or at worst within my sight — she instructed — Come now, child — she took your hand and led you towards the doors.

You just needed to pass the bifröst and your mother would never find you again. The only way to achieve this was to make your disappearance seem like an accident. That would take away any suspicions and give just enough time to escape. After Gigantomachy, the Greek gods had much to celebrate and much more to discuss. Even if your mother didn’t take part in the war, she still was excepted at this huge event. Such an opportunity for you may never come again. But before, you had to pretend to be an obedient daughter who was brainwashed by your mother to the point where you couldn’t imagine life without her. So you did what she said - you stayed by her side throughout the entire event, you didn't participate in any conversations, you didn't pay attention to anything - and you looked as uncomfortable as you could in the presence of strangers. On the last day of the event, Demeter seemed contented, even in her grumpy mood. That’s why when Hera asked for her, she didn't look at you once. — Stay here — she commanded. You watched her approach Hera surrounded by nymphs. They exchanged greetings and then your mother checked you out for the first time. Shortly thereafter, it happened a second time. She lasted over a minute without paranoia taking over. You sat still like a sculpture. Only your heart was betraying you, but Demeter couldn’t hear it. She checked you out a third time, and then fourth almost immediately after. Now, you ordered yourself and with wildly beating heart, you joined the passing group. You tried to move as fast as you could, but your long toga prevented you from doing so. You lifted up your dress, hearing in mind your mother sucking air through his teeth at that shameless act. You were passing other gods and goddesses, nymphs and elves. With a few exceptions, you didn’t recognize anyone. You gritted your teeth, feeling anger rising in your chest. You were so old yet you didn’t even know people in your on pantheon. That conclusion gave you even more motivation to speed up. The others gave you looks of surprise or annoyance, but you were too focused on finding a way out to care. Once you were outside, the fresh air cooled you down. You took a deep breath and smiled. The prospect of freedom together with a thrill provided emotions you had never experienced before. The dark sky was full of stars. Everyone was inside at that moment, so the path to the carriage was clear, but just in case, you walked hidden in the shadows so that no one could see you from the balconies. Each carriage was specially marked, every god had different preferences. Once you spotted the right one, you sneaked right under the coachman's nose and hid in the storage, where they kept luggage case. It was big enough for you to fit, full of someone’s clothes. Now it was time for the hardest part: waiting. Your mother was probably looking for you and pulling her hair out at this point. You knew how cunning she was - you took after her - and you couldn’t help but let your worries grow. What if you never actually outwitted her? What if she knew about your little plan all along? What if she suspected something and just let you have a this luttle illusion of freedom, just to rip this apart a few minutes later?

You didn't know how long you had been hiding at that point. It felt like it lasted for about an hour as your numb body slowly began to ache from lying in the uncomfortable position. You heard voices from time to time, and they grew louder over time as more and more gods began to leave the event for their palaces. Did your mother keep your disappearance a secret? You expected much bigger fuss, and hoped that her uncontrollable rage would get her into trouble… The sigh escaped your lips as the carriage shook and moved. Was this really happening? You didn’t want to jinx it, but the fire of happiness lit in your chest. Please, don’t stop, please, don’t stop… They listened.

You peeked through the crack in your chest from time to time. It was stupid of you, but you couldn't help but see Valhalla getting smaller and smaller by every second. Leaving it behind was one of the biggest steps you had ever taken and it felt great. But the carriage was moving in such slow pace that you had to fight with yourself to not jump out of your hiding place. First you had to pass the bifröst and enter the Underworld in the carriage, then… worry about what to do with your freedom and how not to die on the first day of your life - you repeated to yourself.

The Underworld wasn’t as dark as you expected. At least not where you came from. The sky was grey and brought gloomy atmosphere, that was only enhanced by the landscape of bare rock mountains, but it was less scary and depressing than in your mother’s stories. And you haven't heard or seen any demons yet. The carriage was travelling on a bumpy road, causing chest with you inside to constantly shake. You tried your best to ignore it, but as the minutes passed, your patience slowly wore thin. One time - when the carriage ran over something exceptionally big - and you hit your head on the cover of the chest, you decided that you had had enough and you opened chest with too much force. The lifted hinged lid hit the back of the carriage too hard, the rumble seeming especially loud in the quiet place you were in. You cursed your stupidity and held your breath, hoping the sound remained unnoticed. — Stop the carriage! — you heard a stern voice. You groaned. What should you do now?! For lack of a better option, you decided to hide in the box again. With your heart beating madly, you listened from the inside. You heard the door open, then barely audible footsteps and… silence. You bit your lip, feeling building sensation in your stomach. You didn’t see or hear anything, but your mind told you that someone was right next to your hideout. — You’re waiting for me to leave, aren’t you? — you said loudly. — Yes. That was short and brutal for some reason. Suddenly all your excitement and thrill of unknown disappeared, replaced by embarrassment. At that moment you felt so small, hidden in someone’s chest like a common thief. You bit your lip and stood up, without looking up. But your numb body didn’t exactly listen to you, so you lost your balance and fell with the massive chest you were hidden in. You landed on the ground, among the rocks and dirt.

— Ouch… Speaking of embarrassment… Your head was right on someone’s shoes. To your surprise it wasn’t sandals that Greek gods usually wear, but a pair of leather shoes filled with square patterns. Quite extravagant in your mother’s opinion. You raised your head and saw a very formal outfit; long white jeans, a blazer with patches decorated on the left and right side and a collar that spans all the way to his upper chest. Above were cold, almost indifferent purple eyes assessing you. You had never seen Hades before and had no particular idea of him, but you had to admit: he was a very handsome man, with his noble features, grey hair and a leaf-like pattern tattooed above his left eye. Not to mention his strong aura that floated around and took your breath away. — Oh, hi… — you mumbled with a soft smile, trying to remain nonchalant. Hades didn’t flinch. — Hi — he replied, a note of moderate interest in his tone — You know, if you needed a ride, you could’ve just asked. You smiled and slowly stood up. You couldn’t stand his spiral eyes, so you focused on your toga instead. The fabric was no longer white, and brushing off the dirt didn't make much of a difference. — Thank you, but I wanted to keep a low-profile. When you looked at him again, this time, face to face, you noticed in his eyes sparks of understanding. Your face remained the same, but inside you were trying to fight the feeling of anxiety. He recognized you. — You’re the one that was missing… — said Hades — The girl. You shrugged. — So my mother made a mess after all… — She thinks something happened to you — Hades’ words didn’t match his tone. He seemed intrigued, his eyes looking at you curiously. — I had to make it look like an accident, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to escape — even if he didn’t asked, you still felt obligated to explain yourself — You probably won’t keep silent if I ask you to, right? — I'll probably only mention you if someone asks first. — Oh, I like that! It was probably just your imagination, but Hades’ lips twitched slightly. You smiled yourself. He showed no signs of wanting to betray you, which made the anxious flew away and now it was time to get a better look around. And so you did. The world around you was as ugly as through crack in the chest. The sky as grey and landscape as unfriendly. You could look around, no matter what direction and still see everything, without somebody panting into your neck felt. It was just amazing. You took a very deep breath and winced at the smell of sulphur. — Helheim isn’t friendly place for a lady, especially this young — you heard. You looked over your shoulder at Hades, who was still standing in his previous spot.

— I can take care of myself — you answered, confidently. — I have no doubts — he said, but you were sure it was out of politeness. You knew he found you naive for thinking you had a chance against the demons, but you didn't care. You could be as dangerous as dust to these creatures, and yet you refused to turn back. — May I ask why? You met Hades’ eyes again. — Why what? — Why Helheim? — No one would have expected such a choice. Especially not my mother. At least that’s what you were hoping for. — Demons aren’t friendly and this place is full of them — Hades tried to reason with you again, but it gave opposite effect. You frowned. — Anywhere is better than my mother's prison — you said upset — At least I’ll die seeing the sky. For the first time, Hades' face showed signs of surprise. Only for a moment, but apparently he didn't expect to awaken your anger. He smiled at you as if he was contented with the answer, then turned to the carriage doors. — To the carriage — he said, firmly, stopping right in front of it. Maybe you were very naive after all because you so quickly assumed that he was good? — I’m not going back there — you crossed your arms. — You aren’t going on your own either — you were informed with calmness that made something snapped inside you. — Said who? You were ready to fight if necessary, even against someone as powerful as Hades. — Me, the king of the Underworld — Hades looked at you with such confidence that you realized very quickly how slim your chances were against him. After all he was the one who stopped Titans all by himself… You didn’t move a bit, you just watched him carefully and waited. Hades sighed. — Such a troublesome young lady — he mumbled, more to himself than to you — We’re heading to my palace. You can stay there for a while until you figure out what to do next. You blinked few times a little surprised. Oh? — Why do you care? I’m not your problem. Hades smiled again. — You remind me of someone. — Who? — Get in the carriage — he ordered again, but the sight of your still sceptical expression irritated him greatly — Or I swear, make me repeat myself one more time and I’ll use methods that your mother would kill me for. You burst into laughter, but Hades didn’t share your joy, so you fell silent. You felt like he wasn't joking and he actually wanted to use his strength, but for some reason, part of you, wanted him to do so… how strange that was… — Fine… — you gave up and finally moved. Hades opened the door for you. The inside of the carriage was definitely much nicer than the inside of the chest. You sat down in the soft, red seat on the driver’s side. Hades gave his servant some instructions and joined you soon after. You two saw in silence and just stared at each other. Once the carriage moved, you couldn’t take it anymore and shouted: — Why are you helping me? You must know my mother! Despite your outburst, Hades remained calm. He reached for the glass of wine on the small windowsill and drank some before answering.

— I do know Demeter. You rolled your eyes. — Then why? — you kept demanding. — Because I like the sound of your confidence. You opened your mouth, then closed it again. The confusion must have shown on your face because Hades chuckled over his glass. There was something about him that was just… very cute. You felt annoying warmth rising to your cheeks. How embarrassing… You looked away, pretending to suddenly be interested in the mountainous landscape outside the window. — You’re strange man — you muttered. — How so? — If you really know my mother, you know what she is capable of. Hades didn’t seem worried. In fact, he made himself more comfortable in his seat and crossed his legs. — Your dark-robed mother was a friend of my grandmother, who declared war to us not so long ago. I do know her more than you think. Besides, her own daughter chose death in Helheim over her company. That alone speaks for itself. — Hard to argue — you admitted — You know… — a gentleman would offer me a glass… — you pointed to the open wine. Hades smiled at you and granted your wish without a word. — Have you been drinking before? — he asked, observing how you smelt wine and took a small sip. You frowned at the strange taste and shook your head, which made Hades laugh. He raised his glass to make a toast — For the many first times then. You smiled back and drank it all in one go.

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Eight: Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls

The Pariahs That Saved The World

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mentions of death, father issues (like, severe), horror elements, blood, angst central.

[A/N: Good news!! I have returned with a new chapter!! Bad news... you're not gonna like it...]

Stealing Hearts, Broken Souls

“Which one is it?!”

“Do we know if she likes Kate Bush?!”

“Guys, she’s getting worse!”

A cacophony of panic flooded the Winnebago, rushed footsteps and heavy breathing echoing through Robin’s mind as she stands with her hands on your shoulders, tears streaming down her face. She convinced herself holding onto you would stop you floating to the ceiling. She didn’t want to be stood here long enough to find out.

“I’m telling you, her favourite songs won’t be here!” Eddie practically screams at them. They all stop their chaotic rampage of the stolen vehicle, snapping their heads to him.

“Check her bag.” Robin’s hoarse voice cut through the silence, eyes unwavering from where yours were screwed shut, shifting left to right beneath your eyelids.

Steve is the one to swipe your bag tucked into the corner of the table seat, rooting through it with such haste, items clattered to the floor without care. His eyes light up in surprise when he pulls out a familiar object. You had your own Walkman.

“Fuck me, that’s lucky.” Dustin breathes out, and Steve frowns at it. Luck. Yeah, right.

He checks the tape deck, scribbled lettering of ‘stand by me’ on the white space and he runs back over to Robin, carefully slipping the headphones over your ears and pressing play.

A faint melody is muffled against your ears as they all stand there, waiting. Steve’s hand finds its way onto Robin’s shoulder, observing that concerning look on her face. He had expected her usual look of horror, an unfortunate expression Steve has seen too many times. This one was different, however.

This one was guilt.

July 3rd, 1985: The Hospital Incident

The white flickering lights were alighting every nerve, stuttering beams raising three individual heart rates into panic and anxiety.

It was no mystery why you were acting this way when even your surroundings eluded paranoia.

“I shouldn’t be here.” You keep muttering, biting your lip. “I should find her. I- I haven’t heard from her in days.”

Nancy and Jonathan were leading you through the hospital, dragging you along their latest quest. You supposed it wasn’t their fault; you had told them you were willing to help. But you haven’t seen Heather, or even heard from her. That was all you could think about.

“I went to the pool and they said she hasn’t shown up in a while.” You continue, scrunching the ends of your cardigan into your fists. “That’s bad, right? Maybe I should check her house. I’m sorry, I can’t- I need to-”

“We don’t have time right now.” Nancy insisted, but you weren’t really listening, turning back with only the thought of your girlfriend. Their little journalist project would have to wait.

“I’ll be back to help once I-”

“She’s not there.” Jonathan says and the mood shifted. You turn to look at him, his wide eyes implying a guilty nature. Nancy was frozen to the spot, eyebrows furrowed.

“How do you know that?” You ask, walking back to them. “Did you go to her house? Why… why were you there?”

“I was investigating Holloway.” Nancy says hurriedly, “I- We wanted to see where he was.”

You could tell when Nancy Wheeler was lying. She always forced eye contact, her face unusually stoic as to hide the truth. Maybe would find Nancy’s technique in deceit flawless and somewhat inspiring. You always thought she was a terrible liar.

“Her dad is missing too?” You frown, looking between them with nothing but suspicion. They were keeping something from you. “Well now I’m definitely going back.”

You turn around again and Nancy leaps forward.

“Wait!”

“No, Nance.” You snap, talking over your shoulder. “Something is seriously wrong and I can’t do anything until I know she’s safe. Her dad is missing, her mom probably is too, and I haven’t seen her in days, what if-”

“She’s gone!”

Nancy suddenly says and you stop, meeting Jonathan’s startled eyes.

“...What?”

“I-” Nancy can’t bear to look at you, sharing a guilty look with her boyfriend. “I’m sorry, Y/n.”

“What does that mean?” You shake your head, stepping away from them. But you had already been through the scenario in your mind. And, even worse, you expected this ending. You just couldn’t force yourself to believe it. “Why were you at her house? Why? Nancy!”

“Y/n…” Her forlorn expression spoke louder than any of her mistrusted words could.

“I told you, guys.” You say, blinking against foggy vision as tears started spilling down your cheeks. “I told you something was wrong, and you said I was being paranoid. That I was getting emotional.”

“We didn’t-” Nancy shakes her head, biting her lip. Whatever she had to say, it was useless.

“I can’t believe you.” You place your hand over your mouth, muffling your sobs.

“We could be wrong.” Jonathan interjects, moving closer to you. You take a step back, ignoring the hurt on his face. You and Jonathan may have been friends since you were kids, but that gave him no right to lie to you.

“Look, Y/n, we just need to figure out what’s happening.” Nancy nods almost pleadingly, holding out her hands in surrender. “If we do, we can help Heather. I’m sure- we just need to talk to Mrs Driscoll-”

“I don’t care about Mrs Driscoll!” You almost scream at her. Your unusually steady hands wipe away the tears on your cheeks, taking a deep breath. “Go ahead, Nancy. Finish your article. That’s all you seem to care about anyway.”

“That’s not fair.” She says, but Jonathan places a hand on her shoulder, shaking his head.

“I can’t be here.” You finally whisper. The words felt like a scream, however, as you turn away and start marching back down the hall.

Any sadness you had was shifting into anger. It coursed through you like it powered your every nerve, balling your hands into fists, eyes red and hot withstanding the tears you could no longer pity yourself with.

The last time you saw Heather, she had asked you to meet her after work. Three days ago, you were saying ‘see you later’ as she drove herself away from your house and to the community pool, dressed in a swimsuit and shorts that would always earn her a light-hearted tease about a jazzercise cosplay. Three days ago, you left a voicemail with her manager, cancelling your plans.

You had bumped into Jonathan at the Post, one of the only days your shift schedules aligned in the week. He told you about Nancy’s new journalist endeavour, his scepticism. You admired her determination to be treated fairly in this place, lord knows you’ve been trying for respect for some time too. And then, soon enough, Nancy begged you for help, claiming it was your last chance to be taken seriously as a reporter. Your heart wasn’t even in it, but you said yes. You left a message at the pool, and you followed the couple to Driscoll’s, not even sparing another thought to the girl at the pool.

Now you’re walking back through the hospital knowing that if you had just declined Nancy’s offer, if you had just stuck with your plans and met Heather, would you have saved her?

No, you think to yourself, shaking your head, she can’t be dead. She isn’t dead.

But where would you even start? Maybe Hopper could-

A shadow cuts in front of the doors down the hallway you’ve just entered. You’d seen enough nurses and doctors wandering around, ready to ignore it. But the figure just stood there, blocking the exit.

You squint at the person, slowing your footsteps. You couldn’t tell by the busted lightbulb above their head, dimming their features into the shadow. Your arms were littered with goosebumps, gut twisting. You should turn around.

“Y/N!”

Nancy’s scream echoes through the hospital floor, hitting you with severe impact.

Something was very wrong.

The lights along the hallway start flickering, and the figure is finally cast in unsteady light. Your feet stay frozen to the ground.

“No.” You whisper as he smiles, taking slow steps towards you. He wasn’t meant to be here.

Your dad was meant to be working late at the Post.

Another cry for help had you running back the way you came, hearing the slam of a door not far from you. You skid to a stop in front of the stairs, caught in indecision. Surely they would run for the stairs. Right?

Footsteps running in from behind you set in your flight or fight, pulling open the door and darting down the staircase to the lower floor, heartbeat flooding every one of your senses.

You burst out of the door and just keep moving, not looking back in fear of seeing him following you. He hadn’t looked right, too alien to his natural demeanour, too coincidental to be here at the same time Nancy started crying out. For the second time in your life, you found yourself running away from a man meant to love and protect you unconditionally.

And when you finally found Nancy, her stammering voice talking about a plan to take care of the flayed, you realised you’d have to stop running now, and face the man that loved you with conditions, and never protected you from himself.

“Nancy…” You shake your head at her as you slowly start walking backwards down the hallway.

She barely gave you a moment to think before she was telling you her idea, her stubborn mind fixed to what she believed would work. You weren’t so sure.

“Just stay in position, Y/n.” She hisses at you from behind and you trust her, you really do. But she was foolish to think you were the right person for this.

“I can’t.” You whisper back, tears falling down your face. The lights overhead start to flicker and you grip the metal pole in your hand tighter, praying he doesn’t walk around the corner, that it was all a misunderstanding.

“Just a little longer.” She promises, her soothing voice holding more worth to you than she knows. If only you had seen her face.

Two loud footsteps echo out from around the corner and you hold your breath, waiting for the man to show himself and force every fibre of your body not to run. But it wasn’t him. It was Tom Holloway, Heather’s father, and he was smiling at you.

“Ah, Y/n.” He clicks his neck, smirking, “I knew I’d find you here.”

You shake your head. It wasn’t meant to be him. He was supposed to be dead.

“It’s such a shame no one checked to see if they finished the job.” He laughs, pulling a scalpel you hadn’t even seen protruding from his neck, shrugging when no blood comes rushing out. “Someone should really go check on that poor boy, though. Such a wuss.”

“Nancy.” You try and whisper, but you hear nothing back, only the echo of her retreating footsteps as she rushes to find her boyfriend. You understood, you really did, but you’ve never felt so scared.

“Just the two of us, now.” Tom clears his throat, walking forward with intent and you hold out the pole. “That won’t do anything.”

“Stay back.” You cry out, noticing how dark the black veins were appearing now. Was Heather like this too? “I’m warning you.”

“Or what? You’ll trick me?” He laughs maniacally, stopping just short of you reaching the end of the hall, the corner just behind you. “Or should I say… us?”

Your eyes widen, but it’s too late. A sharp and searing pain digs into your shoulder and you scream, dropping your only weapon out of shock and jolting forward. You stumble, cradling your shoulder as you spin around on the floor, another pair of soulless eyes staring down at you. A sob leaves your lips.

“Dad?”

“Join us.”

You start scrambling away, pushing your legs out beneath you to keep yourself moving back as they stare down at you. Your shoulder was throbbing, blood trickling between your fingertips. You think about calling out for Nancy and Jonathan, but you weren’t even sure if they’d come to save you.

As you start to crumble into the corner, two pairs of soulless eyes prepared to make you one of them, your chest starts to hurt more than any wound could. Whatever friendship you had before was shattered now. With Heather gone, there wasn’t much left for you to care about in Hawkins.

In the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something shining under the flickering lights. It was close, close enough to reach out and grab.

“There’s no reason to be afraid.” Tom smiles, an unnatural curve to his lips. “When you join us, it’ll feel like nothing ever happened.”

Your father smiles with him, and you raise your head.

“No thanks.”

You lunge for the metal pole and manage to grab hold, spinning onto your back and striking it upwards just as one of them pounced at you, the sharp end piercing skin and slipping directly up into their chin, splattering blood on your face.

Tom stumbles back, grabbing at his throat as black veins suddenly burst from the wound. But he wasn’t the one you caught.

“Dad?” You whisper, watching his eyes slowly droop towards you, body slumping against the ground. If you had expected some sort of humanity to return to him, you weren’t going to see it. He was gone, not an ounce of his soul left.

They both finally drop to the floor, exhaling a final breath. You pull your legs out from beneath the body, trying to prop yourself up but crashing back down when the muscles in your arm give out.

“Y/N?!”

You can hear Nancy and Jonathan calling for you, echoing footsteps approaching from further down the hall. The pain in your shoulder was excruciating now, and you were never great at dealing with pain.

You slump against the wall, closing your eyes, unknowing if you would ever want to open them again.

Everything felt normal when you opened your eyes. You were used to the pounding headache in the morning, a flicker of whatever nightmare you endured leaving a scar on your brain. It didn’t happen this time.

You tried to remember what happened. You vaguely recall seeing Robin, her smile. And then…

Everything is thrown back into focus, head darting around the room as you panic against the white lights. It looked like a hospital, the plastic sheet trailing around your bed for privacy. It looked scarily like the bed you woke up in after the flayed incident.

You try and sit up, but your arms can’t move. You try and shift your legs, nothing. It felt like you were tied down to the bed. You managed to angle your head to look down, the panic rising spectacularly.

Vines were slithering around your wrists and ankles, keeping you in place.

Struggling against their strength, you start crying out for help, lights around you flickering wildly. Your top lip still feels wet from the nosebleed. Vecna had you again, and you knew this time was different. This time, he didn’t want you to escape.

The plastic sheet surrounding your bed is suddenly pulled back, and it was like you couldn’t even breathe anymore.

“Hi, honey.” Your father says, mouth dripping black blood, veins stretching around a wound underneath his chin.

You try and ignore him, looking anywhere but where he stood and tugging at your restraints. This wasn’t real. He’s dead. He died-

“Because you killed me.” He growls. Your eyes widen. How did he-

Vecna, you tell yourself, it’s Vecna.

“You didn’t even try to save me.” He creeps closer, first curling around something you couldn’t see. “You cared more about that stupid Holloway girl than you ever did your own flesh and blood.”

A tear escapes your eye, scrunching your face in fury. You hate how much this is affecting you.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

He wants this, you remind yourself, still relentlessly pulling at the vines. Vecna wants you to feel guilt, he wants you to feel like you’re responsible for his death. And he’s using your dead father to do it.

You frown, stopping your attempts of escape.

Can Vecna really win if you didn’t believe his lies?

“I’d do it all over again if it meant I could save Heather.”

He looks taken aback- Vecna looks taken aback. Like he wasn’t expecting you to be so… heartless.

“My father was an asshole, and a bitter man. He never cared about his own flesh and blood. And I’m glad he’s dead. I never wanted it to be this way, but I will never, never, let myself feel guilty over something that wasn’t my fault.”

“And what about me?”

You turn your head to the other side of the bed, a girl leant against the wall in the shadows. You didn’t need to see her. You’ve been haunted by her voice for months now.

“I couldn’t have done anything.” You say, mostly to convince yourself what everyone has been telling you for ages. It wasn’t your fault.

“You could have chosen me over your friends.” She spits bitterly, not moving from the dark corner. “They used you. You’ve known Jonathan your whole life, and he didn’t care about you. Nancy didn’t even care if she left you for dead. You were nothing but a pawn.”

“I stayed. That was my choice.” You squeeze your eyes shut. “I might never forgive myself for what happened to you, but I won’t let it ruin my life.”

“But you’ll let it ruin mine?”

Your eyes fly open, shock taking your breath.

She finally steps out of the shadow, voice warped into someone else. Because she was someone else.

“You don’t even like me, do you?” Robin asks, tears running down her face but her expression was emotionless. “You want me to be Heather. You want her.”

“No.” You whisper, tugging against the vines on your wrists.

“You knew this was happening to you, and you let me fall for you.” She shakes her head, leaning over the bed so she was staring down at you from an uncomfortable distance. “And I know if you survive, you’re never going to look at me again. You just used me to feel better about your bitter life. You don’t think you should be loved. And you’re right. Your father never loved you. Your mother hated you so much she left. Your gran doesn’t even want you here.”

“Shut up!” You scream, breaking free your right hand to push her away.

She stumbles back as you claw at your other wrist.

“It was only a matter of time before you hurt her”

Everything was plunged into a dark red, the bed disappearing from beneath you and you land hard on rocky ground, coughing.

“You should have left when you had the chance, Y/n”

You try to scramble to your feet, but a flick of his hand throws you against a protruding staircase, making you cough from the impact.

You manage to grab hold of a spindle, slowly pulling yourself up. He starts to walk over to you and then abruptly stops, looking across the barren sky. At first, you don’t understand, confused with his sudden change of posture.

And then it slowly drifts in. A melody.

When the night has come

And the land is dark

And the moon is the only light we’ll see

Vecna snarls, turning back to you. You look surprised, you felt surprised.

This was your favourite song blasting through a crimson nightmare. A song you held so close to you, you never told anyone about it.

Well, no one except the school counsellor...

No, I won’t be afraid

Oh, I won’t be afraid

Just as long as you stand

Stand by me

The faint melody from Ben E. King starts drifting around the Winnebago, filling the silence with an unsuspecting song. One that was meant to be saving your life right now.

“Does she even like this song?” Nancy asks, her chest heaving unevenly as she stares at your catatonic state. She was panicking, and to see Nancy panic like this was rare.

“It was in her bag, she obviously put it there because she likes it.” Lucas points out, and Steve tries to ignore the pit in stomach that told it that wasn’t the case.

“Then why isn’t it working?” Nancy stresses, snapping at the boy before immediately apologising.

“Woah, Nance.” Steve puts a hand on her shoulder, “It took Max a minute to get out, okay? She’s going to be fine.”

As she opened her mouth to argue, Steve was proven right.

Nancy and Dustin are the ones to catch you, ensuring a comfortable fall in an uncomfortable circumstance. Nancy quickly wipes away her tears, smiling.

“You’re okay.” She says as you reach out for a hand to hold. “We’ve got you.”

Steve smiles at that for some reason, feeling relieved and terrified. He thought Max was his last victim, so why did he need you?

There’s a soft click of the Winnebago door behind him, quiet enough to not disturb the others from their emotional celebration. Steve wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t painfully aware of his best friend’s absence beside him.

He sneaks out and finds her stood in the field, arms wrapped around herself in comfort. When she noticed he had followed, he was surprised she didn’t say anything. Robin was rarely speechless. And so, in consideration, he decided to let a minute of silence pass.

A choked sob eventually cut through the peace.

“Robin?” He frowns, reaching out. His heart sinks when he sees the tear rolling down her cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” She whispers and he pulls her into a hug.

“She’s okay. He didn’t win.”

“No, she’s not.” Robin sobs, but he only holds her tighter, letting her cry. “It’s all my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?” Steve dismisses with a soothing tone.

“Because…”

He feels her pull away, the eyes above mascara stained cheeks settling on his. Steve has known she’s been acting weirder than usual for a while now, too quiet, holding back secrets. And right now, she looked like she was going to burst.

“Robin?”

“I knew all of this was going to happen.” She whispers it like a crime. He doesn’t really understand.

“What?”

“I lied to her.” She covers her mouth, muffling the next few words. “I didn’t ask her to come here because we needed her help.”

Steve shakes his head, trying to make sense of her confession. “What- why did you bring her here?”

“I…” She takes a step back, her posture practically fighting the truth as it came out.

“Robin.” He persists.

“I found her file in Ms Kelley’s office!” She blurts, panicking at the volume of her voice. “Shit. I-” Her hands run down her face. “It wasn’t meant to happen like this. Max said she was cursed and I- I panicked. I thought maybe we could buy some time, bring in a distraction...”

“You…” Steve blinks, not bothering to quieten his own words. He was too panicked now. “You brought her here because you knew Vecna would go after her.”

Her silence said everything she couldn’t.

“Oh.” He breathes. “Okay.”

“Okay?” She frowns. “I-”

“You knew?”

They both spin around to where you’re stood, a Walkman you’ve never touched before gripped in your hand. Robin’s eyes widen, shell-shocked at your presence.

“Y/n, please.” She runs over to you, grabbing your hand in hers. You don’t remove it, or push her away. You just stand and stare. “It wasn’t meant to get this far. I just- I hoped it would all be over by now. I never meant to hurt you. I was just scared and I… Y/n?”

You slowly slip your hand out of hers, staring down at it like it was the problem. Robin’s mouth parts in surprise.

Nobody spoke. You all just stood surrounded by air poisoned with lies and deceit, your betrayed eyes resting on the girl you trusted with your life. The girl who was quite literally bartering your life this entire time.

You walked away when your heart started beating again, a tight grip around the song box currently keeping you alive.

Chapter Nine: coming soon...

taglist: @kryztalglear @learninglinesintherainn @officerrrfriendly @a-simpfortessa-lesbriean @spacedoutdaydreamer

@endurexxsurvive @em16cor @gray-cheese @chaosofmanyfandoms @kitdjarin1

@some-day--some-how @cultish-corner @marirxse @amnoisysstuff

[valkyriexo]

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 4 - Smarter Baby, Smarter

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ;Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNIᑉ³ EPISODE WARNINGS;  Nightmares

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 3K

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; Episode 4! So close.. yet so far...

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me. Remember, none of this is real. It is a story. It is fiction. You can choose not to read it if it will make you uncomfortable.

Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards

The days that followed were filled with a heightened sense of vigilance and an ever-present undercurrent of dread. Chan, determined not to leave you alone, had practically moved in, bringing along a few essentials and making himself a constant presence in your home. His presence was meant to provide you with a sense of comfort and security, but instead, it only served to magnify your growing paranoia.

At night, sleep became a luxury. Your dreams were plagued with nightmares, each one more vivid and terrifying than the last. You found yourself running through dark, endless corridors, the echo of your footsteps growing louder as the pursuer drew nearer. Their heavy breathing seemed to echo through your bones, sending chills down your spine. You could feel their gaze, cold and invasive, piercing through the darkness as they closed in on you. Each corner you turned offered no escape, only deeper shadows and the suffocating sense of impending doom.

Each time you jolted awake, drenched in sweat and heart pounding, you found Chan by your side, his concern overwhelming. "Are you okay?" he'd ask, his voice gentle yet filled with worry.

You'd nod, forcing a smile to reassure him, but the fear never truly left your eyes. "Just a bad dream," you'd reply, your voice trembling slightly. The truth was far more sinister, though. Even in the safety of your home, you could never shake the feeling of being watched. Windows felt like portals for prying eyes, and every creak of the floorboards seemed to announce an intruder's presence.

During the day, Chan's presence was a double-edged sword. While his company was comforting, the gnawing suspicion that had taken root in your mind made it difficult to fully relax around anyone, even him. The stalker's intrusion had cast a shadow over everyone in your life, and you couldn't help but question their intentions.

Despite the situation, the boys did not stop coming around.

Most of them, at least.

There was a noticeable shift in their behavior. Instead of the usual group gatherings where everyone showed up at once, it was now one or two of them at a time making appearances, checking in to ensure you were okay. Their visits were staggered, almost as if they were trying not to overwhelm you, but the absence of the usual selves only heightened your sense of isolation.

Han and Felix were the most frequent visitors, their cheerful demeanor brightening the otherwise gloomy situation. They brought food, shared jokes, and tried to lift your spirits, but even their presence couldn't dispel the unease. The dynamic had changed, and you couldn't help but wonder if they sensed something too.

One afternoon, as you sat in your living room pretending to read a book, your mind kept drifting back to everything that had happened. The pages blurred before your eyes as your thoughts raced, piecing together fragments of memories and moments that seemed to lead nowhere. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but the letters swam together in an incomprehensible jumble

From the kitchen, you could hear the sound of a knife rhythmically hitting the cutting board. Seungmin was there, slicing up some fruit for a snack. Chan was helping him, occasionally stealing glances at you, his worry evident despite the lighthearted conversation he was trying to maintain with Seungmin.

You forced yourself to turn a page, but the words remained incomprehensible. Your gaze involuntarily shifted to the kitchen.

Seungmin looked so... normal, so innocent as he carefully arranged the fruit on a plate. Yet, the nagging suspicion in your mind refused to be silenced.

Where was he during the investigation?

"Hey, you okay over there?" Chan's voice broke through your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see Chan leaning against the counter, watching you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you lied, forcing a smile. "Just trying to distract myself," you said standing up and joining them in the kitchen.

Chan's eyes narrowed slightly, his intuition picking up on the unease you couldn't quite hide. He exchanged a glance with Seungmin, who was now looking at you with a worried expression as well.

"Want some fruit?" Seungmin offered, holding up the plate with a hopeful smile. "Thought it might help you relax."

You shook your head gently, offering a small, apologetic smile. "Thanks, Seungmin, but I'm still full from breakfast. Han and Felix brought over food this morning. I'm not really hungry right now."

Seungmin's face fell slightly, but he quickly masked it with understanding. "No worries. If you change your mind, it's here."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture despite your lack of appetite. The tension in the room was palpable, and you knew you couldn't continue to dance around the issue any longer. Your thoughts were a chaotic whirl, and you needed clarity.

Chan's eyes lingered on you, sensing something wrong. As Seungmin turned to wash his hands at the sink, Chan leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you sure you're okay?"

You glanced nervously at Seungmin's back before meeting Chan's eyes. "I don't feel safe right now," you murmured urgently, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have a bad feeling... it's him."

Chan furrowed his brow in concern, his eyes searching yours for clarity. "Him? Seungmin?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief and concern. "Why do you think that?"

You swallowed hard, the weight of your suspicions heavy in your chest. "I don't know... it's just a gut feeling," you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. "But everything... it all seems to point to him."

Chan's expression darkened, his worry deepening as he glanced over at Seungmin, who was still engrossed in his task at the sink.

"No, it can't be him," Chan replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That wouldn't make sense."

But before he could continue, you felt a surge of determination. The weight of your suspicions had become too much to bear, and you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach any longer.

"Seungmin," you called out, your voice louder than you intended, causing him to turn around, his hands still wet from washing.

"Y/n.." Chan said trying to stop you.

Ignoring Chan's attempt to intervene, you locked eyes with Seungmin, the intensity of your gaze cutting through the air.

"Seungmin," you repeated, your voice firm.

Seungmin's expression shifted, a hint of confusion flickering across his features as he took in the gravity of your tone. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "I need to ask you something," you began.

"Have you been following me? Watching me?"

Seungmin's eyes widened in surprise, his hands instinctively curling into fists at his sides. "What? No, of course not," he protested. "Why would you even think that?"

"Why have you been acting so strange lately?" you replied, your voice firm as you confronted Seungmin. "You have evidence pointing against you… I can't ignore it."

His eyes widened, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "What evidence?" he asked.

"I think you're the one who's been stalking me," you blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush. "Every time something happens, you're somehow involved or conveniently not there."

Chan stepped in, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "Whoa, let's take a step back here," he said, looking between you and Seungmin. "We need to handle this carefully."

Seungmin's face went from shock to hurt. "You think I'm stalking you?" he asked, his voice trembling. "I would never do something like that.... I'm your friend."

You could see the pain in his eyes, but the fear and paranoia that had been building up inside you couldn't be ignored. "Then explain the letters, Seungmin.

Seungmin nodded, his expression serious. "I want to clear this up. I don't know why you think I'm involved, but I'll do whatever it takes to prove that I'm not."

"One thing at a time, Y/N," Chan interjected gently, trying to keep the situation from escalating further.

"When I received that first letter, it was Seungmin who handed it to me," you explained, your voice shaking slightly.

Seungmin took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. "The letter with the gift basket? Minho handed it to me," he began. "He found it outside the front door and thought it might be important, so he gave it to me to give to you. I had no idea what it was at the time."

You frowned, trying to process his explanation. "And what about the second letter? You came over to give your condolences for my friend's passing, and that's when I found it."

Seungmin nodded again. "I came over because I wanted to be there for you. I had no idea there was another letter until you found it. I swear, Y/N, I have nothing to do with this."

Chan looked at you, his expression thoughtful. "It does make sense...."

You felt a flicker of doubt. Could it be that your paranoia had gotten the better of you? "And what about when the letters went missing, and the third one arrived? You weren't around then either."

Seungmin nodded, his expression resolute. "I was doing a photoshoot that day. I have pictures and timestamps to prove it. I can show you the evidence right now if it helps."

Chan looked at you, his eyes steady. "Let's see the photos, Seungmin. If you're telling the truth, this will clear things up."

Seungmin quickly pulled out his phone and scrolled through his gallery, finding the pictures from the photoshoot. He handed the phone to Chan, who examined the images carefully. The timestamps matched the dates and times you had noted.

Chan turned the phone towards you, showing the pictures. "He's telling the truth, Y/N. These photos prove he wasn't here when the letters went missing or when the third one arrived."

You stared at the photos, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. Seungmin's explanation seemed plausible, his earnestness evident in his words and actions. The evidence was clear, but the fear and paranoia still gnawed at you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you felt your body begin to tremble. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "I just want this to stop." The reality of the situation, coupled with the weight of your suspicions, was overwhelming. "I've been so scared....I don't know who to trust anymore."

Seungmin's eyes met yours, filled with sincerity. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Please, believe me."

Your vision blurred as tears spilled down your cheeks. You took a deep breath, trying to absorb the reality. "I… I believe you, Seungmin. I'm sorry for doubting you. It's just… this whole situation has made me so paranoid."

Seungmin stepped closer, his expression softening. "I understand... If I were in your shoes, I'd probably feel the same way. We're all just trying to protect you."

At that moment, your phone buzzed on the coffee table. The sudden noise made you jump, your heart racing. Your hands shook as you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling. An unknown number flashed on the screen, and a sense of dread settled in the pit of your stomach.

With trembling fingers, you opened the message. The room seemed to close in around you as you read the words, your breath catching in your throat. The message was brief but chilling, a reminder that the nightmare was far from over.

You gasped, dropping the phone as if it had burned you. Chan and Seungmin were immediately at your side, concern etched on their faces as they reached out to support you. "What is it?" Chan asked urgently, picking up the phone and reading the messages.

Seungmin's eyes narrowed as he read the message. "Well, at least they've gone digital. We're saving trees," he remarked, attempting to inject a note of levity into the tense atmosphere.

Chan shot him a withering look, his expression grave. "Seungmin, not the time," he chided, his carrying urgency as he turned his attention back to you. The room seemed to close in around you, the walls pressing in.

Seungmin's voice carried a tone of frustration as he gestured to his phone. "I just want to point out that my phone is nowhere near me. So logically, it can't be me sending those messages."

Chan nodded in agreement, his brows furrowed in concentration. "He's right. Whoever this is, they're trying to frame him."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you stared at the cryptic message on your phone screen. "So, what do we do now?"

Chan took a deep breath, his expression determined as he reached for the phone. With a steady hand, he composed a message, his fingers flying across the screen.

"I'll handle this," Chan declared, his voice resolute. "We need to find out who's behind these messages."

He pressed send, and you held your breath, the tension in the room palpable as you waited for a response. You watched anxiously as the seconds ticked by, each moment stretching into eternity as you waited for a reply. Finally, the familiar chime of an incoming message broke the silence, and Chan's eyes darted to the screen.

You exchanged a worried glance with Chan. The cryptic message only added to the sense of unease that hung heavy in the air.

"What game?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, but the question lingered unanswered, the sender remaining a mystery.

Seungmin's jaw clenched in frustration, his eyes darting between you and Chan. "We can't just sit around waiting for them to make a move," he asserted. "We need to take action."

Chan nodded, his expression serious. "We need to figure out who this is and why they're targeting you."

Just as he finished speaking, your phone buzzed again. The three of you looked at it in unison, a sense of dread creeping over you.

The same message from the same unknown number appeared on the screen.

Seungmin's frustration deepened. "They’re just trying to rattle us," he said through gritted teeth. "We shouldn't give them the satisfaction."

Chan agreed, but as he started to speak, your phone buzzed again. The same message repeated:

"It's like they’re not going to stop until we do what they want," you said, anxiety making your voice tremble.

Chan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Stay calm baby. We need to think this through."

But the phone buzzed yet again. The same message and link. The sender was relentless, bombarding you with the same demand over and over.

"Play the game."

Seungmin shook his head, his frustration giving way to a more resolute expression. "Maybe we should see what’s behind the link. But we have to be careful. It could be a trap."

Chan nodded. "We’ll open it on a separate device, one that’s not connected to any personal information. We need to see what we're dealing with."

You watched as Chan pulled out an old laptop from the closet, one that hadn’t been used in ages. He connected it to a public Wi-Fi network and opened the link, your heart pounding in your chest as the page began to load.

The screen flickered for a moment before revealing a dark, ominous website with a single line of text that read:

"Welcome to the game. Let’s see if you’re clever enough to survive."

You all exchanged weary glances. You had no choice but to see this through. With a nod from Seungmin and a deep breath from you, Chan pressed the "Play" button.

The screen transitioned to a new page, revealing what looked like a puzzle.

"Is this a joke?" Seungmin said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"It doesn't look like it," Chan replied, his eyes narrowing as he studied the screen.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Let's just get through this. We need to see what they're after."

The first puzzle appeared simple, but it required careful thought and teamwork. You, Chan, and Seungmin huddled closer, your minds working in unison to decipher the clues. Each solution unlocked the next puzzle, the difficulty ramping up with each new screen.

Seungmin leaned back, his brow furrowed. "It looks like this is a series of puzzles. Each one is more difficult than the last."

Chan nodded, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. "They’re testing us, pushing us to see how far we can go."

You bit your lip, feeling a mix of fear and determination. "But why? What’s the goal here?"

"I don’t know," Chan said, his voice steady despite the tension. "But were going to have to play the game to find out."

With a shared glance, you all knew there was no turning back. You had to see this through, no matter the risks.

"And play the game we will," you replied.

With that, you all turned your attention back to the laptop.

The sender may have set the rules, but you were determined to control the outcome.

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

Play the game

ઇଓ EP.5 - Draw me like one of your french girls

ઇଓ Taglist in the comments! If you want to be removed from the taglist send me a dm!

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[wraith-caller]

Love how Leda’s charm effects was literally psych medication to keep her rampant, compulsively murderous paranoia in check. THE freak knight we deserved for real. Only wish she had more dialogue/quest steps so we could really dive into how bananas she is, and how she managed to purge all the other Needle Knights.

Dude same haha When I realised what was going on with the charm breaking, I was sorta dreading talking to her, thinking, 'oh she's going to just be like doubting her own dedication or sth, and her arc will be about renewing her faltering faith'. But I was a fool, bc they were like 'haha, actually, this woman is an unhinged fanatic'. They ran with it and I really enjoyed it. I'd like to read over all her dialog again, plus her loot, and go back over various Haligtree items, too. I wondered before game's launch if she may end up being the intended knight for the Haligtree knight's sword, given her armor's design parallels to the Carian Knight set, but now I'm not sure. I also wonder, was she that fervent before the charm? If so it could really shed the light on the nature of how the bewitching works. For example, Ansbach was NOT super gung ho and lovey dovey about Miquella before it broke. Thiollier didn't have much at all to say about him either. Freyja owed him more, given their personal contact, so it makes sense she'd hold fast to him. The Hornsent is interesting because he's willing to abide the Tarnished/Erdtree people like us so long as we're helping Miquella reach his goals - but after the charm, it's revealed he doesn't care about Miquella so much as he cares about his intentions to rectify what Marika did to the hornsent people. So what about Leda? If she was this dedicated to Miquella beforehand, why charm her at all? Basing this on nothing, but I like to think of her having a sort of internal conflict about it that kinda broke her. Did Miquella doubt her dedication? Wasn't she loyal enough? Why would he meddle with her mind like that, her pure and kind Miquella, who she swears her sword to? It must be a failing on her part, and so she must be more dedicated, more fervent in her faith, until she's seeking for threats that aren't even there. The Hornsent makes some sense to suspect, but Thiollier? Mr. weak as a kitten? Before Ansbach? It's not suspicion coming from a logical place.

[federichika]

Robert Page - The audacity of Robert, playing Jimmy's guitars whilst Jimmy was in the lavatory.

There's a story from producer/sound engineer Eddie Kramer: "Jimmy never forgets. I had all my pictures from Stargroves, a great series of pictures of Robert with an acoustic guitar, and I showed them to Jimmy in a hotel in New York twenty years after the event. He goes, 'That fucking prat...' He just went off like a fucking rocket about Robert: 'I told him never to touch my fucking guitar. I went round the corner for a quick gypsy's and he had the fucking audacity to pick up my fucking guitar and I told him never to touch it!' I said, 'Jimmy, give it up. It was fucking years ago.' The paranoia and the suspicion and all that stuff is part and parcel of who he is, and unfortunately it manifests itself in some weird ways."

Around the time of Walking Into Clarksdale Robert and Jimmy gave an interview to Guitar World magazine and the interviewer asked "so Robert, did you play much guitar on this record?" Robert replied "no, he wouldn't let me..." and Jimmy replied, "oh, right, where are those lyrics I've been writing again?" They both laughed and Robert went "ok, ok, fair enough."

Robert never played guitar on a Zeppelin record or live during the Zep era.

____

Slides 2 to 5 - Japan 1971 - Shinko Music Archives/ Koh Hasabe

Slides 6 to 8 - Bath, UK 1971 - photos by Robert Ellis

Slide 9 - Toronto 1969, photo by Hugh Crymble

Last slide photo 1972 Gisbert Hankeroot, Amsterdam

_________________________________________

(Source on Instagram account dedicated to Led Zeppelin @worldofzeppelin.

Go check it out because it has a lot of interesting information about our favorite band!)

[kurov1864]

Balam hcs: how you met

- Balam would probably be one of the firsts to catch on that maybe, just maybe, you weren't who you really claimed you were. (The other being Kalego, because duh background checks)

- Considering that he's the one interviewing due to his bloodline ability, he would've sensed that you meant no harm towards the students or Babyls, but you just keep lying about the weirdest questions??

- Questions like, "What's your favourite food?" (you said "grilled devicoons", but it was your mom's tomato soup), "What do you like to do in your free time?" (you said "reading", which wasn't necessarily wrong, you just didn't specify you read books on how to survive in the demon world because despite living here for almost 5 years, you still couldn't get rid of the paranoia that there was always something more you could learn or obtain which would let you feel safe, and well, with survival constantly on your mind, reading wasn't that enjoyable anymore)

- You get the idea. You were suspicious, but not suspicious enough to warrant them not hiring you. Besides your questionable honesty when it came to casual information, you were the ideal candidate they were looking for to teach rune magic. Not a lot of demons used it after all, and Momonoki sensei was already handling a lot of classes.

- But that didn't mean that Balam would just stop, no no no. He was the white gargoyle of Babyls, which meant that if there was a suspicious figure on school grounds, it was his job to monitor it.

- So he would memorise your schedule, always be monitoring you from the corner of his eye, you get the idea

- From this, he would also pick up small habits of yours, like how you hate the bitter taste of coffee but need the caffeine, so you decide to give yourself diabetes by adding like 5 packets of sugar inside, instead of just switching to tea.

- After a while of you being a good little human demon though, his suspicions would ease just a bit and you would find it easier to approach him now (Not that he wasn't approachable in the first place, but whenever you guys talked it seemed as if he was probing you for something? Call it the fourth sense or whatever, he simply felt unsettling to be around)

- Maybe after a few chaotic events or two, you would've earned his trust by consistently proving that yes, you indeed did protect the students and Babyls, and no, whatever you were hiding probably would not cross over into the professional side of things. And that was good enough for him.

- After that, normal coworkers.

- Completely normal.

- Besides the increasing desire to see you? Yeah. Completely normal.

- Maybe it's because he's spent so long monitoring you, but he realizes that every time he enters a room, he subconsciously searches for your familiar figure

- Not that he's going to do anything about it, of course

- He's self-aware and emotionally competent enough to realize that he feels something towards you, but partially because he doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and partially because he's scared you'll reject him, he decides to keep his feelings hidden

- Spoiler alert: he's unsuccessful

- Anybody with two eyes and a brain can easily figure out that he is absolutely smitten with you.

- Whenever you walk past, his eyes would naturally gravitate to your moving figure, forgetting what he was even doing as you saunter out of his line of sight. This would only be worsened if you notice him and give a friendly smile and wave, practically sending him into a stuttering mess, in front of students no less.

- This spread rumors, and boy did they spread fast. Students gossiped, and sometimes even teachers contributed, but somehow someway you still remain oblivious. Balam didn't know whether to be thankful or not.

- Of course, what brought you two closer is our dearest protagonist, Iruma.

- The way you met Iruma was simple: you overheard him muttering to himself something about "missing Japanese food"... but wait. Japan? There wasn't any Japan in the demon world-

- So Iruma sort of outed himself to you (accidentally). After this incident, you made sure to properly warn him about the dangers of using human terminology anywhere that wasn't his house, because seriously, what if somebody from border patrol overheard him instead of you? He would be interrogated and even if he had the excuse of being one of the great three's grandson, he would be considered somebody suspicious. (And if you started favouring him just a little bit over your other students, nobody had to know)

- And of course, we all know how Balam literally broke the staff room door when he found out about Iruma's lack of wings.

- Coincidentally, you were in the staff room at that time. Worried about Iruma's shock from almost getting found out, you decided to follow them, only to see Balam leading Iruma into his lab.

- That... doesn't seem like a good sign.

- You leaned against the door, trying to listen in to their conversation. If Balam still suspected Iruma, you were just going to have to find a way to distract him and get the hell out of there. But oh, imagine your surprise when you heard the conversation.

- "I'm... actually human".

- Argh seriously, that damned child. This is the reason why you hate kids.

- You immediately throw open the door, ready to blast Balam to get both Iruma and yourself the fuck out of there when you see Balam collapse from his chair, leaving both you and Iruma staring awkwardly at each other. Him, because he didn't know how to explain this situation, and you, because now you look like an absolute maniac almost destroying Balam's door. (Congrats, clap clap clap)

- Clean up time! Once Balam gets over his initial shock (of Iruma being human and you almost breaking his door AND knowing about his situation the entire time), you both chew Iruma out for being careless and randomly blurting out his special status, of course reaffirming each other and even perhaps bonding??

- Anyways, it seems as if Balam is more trustworthy than you thought :D

[3liza]

I am doing my best to help out my friend who is having a paranoia episode by listening to them,

not arguing about the delusions but offering some explanations of things that don't make sense, but also not shutting them down at all, just saying "yeah that DOES look really weird, I wonder if there's a reason for it to be that way, let me check, oh here's some stuff I found that might be reasons for that thing you noticed. do you think it would be really bad if someone was [doing the suspected covert action]? since I'm not doing anything important anyway I don't think I would mind being surveilled really but it would still be weird and scary. etc. let's talk about stuff we both like" idk. there's no end in sight, I don't think they're receiving care at all and they're in an unbelievably stressful home situation I can't do anything about. I did some research and I've had paranoia before myself to this degree and you can't argue with it, all you can do is try to make the person feel like you're there for them while simultaneously walking the razors edge between triggering their suspicion and distrust by arguing with them, and reinforcing the delusions by agreeing with them.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 15

“Get me out of here!” / Rescue / Chainsaw / Presumed Dead

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1500

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv

CW: swearing, death threats, referenced injury, secrets, collapsed building, paranoia, gun, unconsciousness, burns, handcuffs, ambushed

A/N: Bet you thought it couldn't get worse. It can absolutely get worse.

----------

“I think I might actually strangle Leader. With my bare hands.”

“Mhm…” Villain agreed, eyes on the road as they sped through the darkened city streets. It was long past midnight, and few people were out this late, but the last thing they needed was a car accident on top of everything else.

“It would take thirty minutes, at most, to call up a hero from one of the neighboring cities to come dig them out. But does Leader do that? No… Leader evacuates the fucking area and specifically instructs Techie to not call for reinforcements while they get a damn machine to dig them out.”

Villain hissed through their teeth. “Antihero tells me they’re trying to pin the fire on them. Or me. Or one of the other villains so that they can go on a city-wide manhunt. Or something. Hell if they know, but they’re lying low.”

As we should be doing. Villain didn’t voice the thought. It wouldn’t be fair to Hero, who’d just discovered that Youngest had gotten buried and abandoned beneath a building. Once they’d learned that there was the slightest possibility of Youngest being alive underneath all that, they insisted Villain drive them out to the collapsed building so they could get them out.

Hero hadn’t revealed the source of their information, but Villain had their suspicions. The back of their neck prickled, and they checked the rearview mirror. Nothing. But that didn’t mean they weren’t being watched.

They reached the site of the apartment that had collapsed only a couple hours before. Hero’s former team had just departed, and although emergency personnel were still around, it was the perfect time to sneak in and dig Youngest out before their team returned. Villain parked their car as close as they dared, and as soon as they shut off the engine, Hero darted out the door, scrambling silently over the rubble. 

Villain followed cautiously, their gun pointed at the ground. The air reeked of dust and burned plastic, and much of the building’s remains were still soaked from the water used to put out the remaining fires after it collapsed. Charred pieces of furniture were scattered about the site, a reminder of all the victims had lost. A red velvet loveseat, the upholstering blackened and melting. A shattered television. A broken bunk bed, blue paint peeling away from the frame.

They hurried to catch up with Hero. They would be distracted while moving the broken concrete and wood and plaster, and they couldn’t afford to get ambushed. “Be quick,” Villain hissed, eyes darting to the emergency vehicles. Most of them had left by now, ferrying victims to the hospital, and the area had long ago been taped off. Villain’s back prickled. They didn’t like how exposed they were.

Hero paused at a spot that appeared no different from every other spot in the mess of debris. “They’re under here,” they whispered, reaching a hand out, brow furrowed in concentration.

“How do you know that?”

“I’ll explain when we’re safe.”

Villain clenched their jaw and glanced over their shoulder. Since when were they ever “safe”? They both lived in constant fear of discovery, of Hero’s team finally tracking them down, killing them, or worse. Villain didn’t have an infinite amount of favors to call. They’d been forced to relocate safehouses twice since Villain had rescued Hero, and although each time had been a fair trade, Villain was keenly aware of the amount of danger the pair of them presented.

Villain. So-called crime boss who supposedly took control of their part of the city through force. It wasn’t entirely untrue, but the people who resided in the area insisted that the previous crime boss had been so much worse. They’d declared Villain their protector on live television several times. And yet the media still framed them as a villain, someone to be imprisoned for standing up for their people.

In a way, the people Villain watched over also protected them. Their generosity surprised Hero sometimes, how they seemed to genuinely like Villain.

Hero. Presumed dead to the public. Still wanted dead or alive by their team. Perhaps they were the source of some of Villain’s current problems, but Villain didn’t care. They would rather die than see Hero return to their team, willingly or otherwise. Endearing in their morals and personality and their crooked smile and the way their shoulders shook when they laughed and how—

Villain shook their head. Now is not the time to be daydreaming. Hero needs you to keep watch, dammit!

They turned in a slow circle again, narrowing their eyes at the paramedics the next block over as Hero continued to burrow through the rubble. “Almost… there…” they muttered, both hands now over the spot where they claimed Youngest was buried. 

Villain heard a faint scraping sound from deep within the pit, and Hero’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Got them!” They briefly glanced at Villain. “I need you to get down there and pull them out. I don’t think I have the focus to keep the pit stable and drag them up at the same time.”

Villain hissed between their teeth, tucking their gun into its holster. “Okay, but you must get down as low as possible. I can’t keep watch down there.”

Hero nodded, doing as Villain suggested and carefully lowering themself to a seated position, hands still above the pit. Villain peered down the hole, noting the faintest reflection of something at the bottom. They exhaled slowly, steeling themself, and slid inside, using large chunks of stone as handholds to keep from falling.

The stink of burned wood and plastic was much stronger down here. Villain breathed shallowly, glad their mask could filter out the larger particles, even if it couldn’t block the smell. Despite the precarious nature of their descent, their handholds were surprisingly stable. They’d have to thank Hero when they got out. How they would blush at the praise, their ears turning as red as their cheeks—

Focus.

Villain reached the bottom of the pit to find a thick layer of ice between them and Youngest. They must’ve constructed it hastily to protect themself from the falling debris. Clever.

Hero had managed to unearth the majority of the ice barrier, so Villain was confident they could break it without worrying about the hundreds of tons of rubble collapsing on their heads. Finding a thick piece of metal—likely had once been a sculpture of some kind—Villain began to hammer the sharp end into the surface of the ice.

Slam!

Slam!

Crack!

The ice broke on the third strike. Villain slammed the sculpture into the break a fourth time.

A fifth.

A sixth.

On the seventh hit, the ice shattered. Villain pitched forward and barely managed to catch themself on the edge of the pit as the surface crumbled beneath them, revealing Youngest.

They were in bad shape. Their costume was charred, with bad burns on their hand and their shoulder, their face pale, their eyes closed, and they were covered in dust and ash. Villain crouched next to them, letting the sculpture fall to the ground with a clatter.

Youngest still breathed, their chest rising and falling shallowly, and their heart beat weakly. Even as Villain carefully picked them up, as they draped Youngest’s unconscious body across their own and fixed it in place with straps, their mind raced with the sheer amount of injuries that they didn’t see. 

Smoke inhalation. Power exhaustion. Oxygen deprivation. Potential sprains. Hidden bruises. The possibilities ran through Villain’s mind as they scaled the edge of the pit. Caring for Youngest would be far beyond Villain’s capabilities. They needed a hospital. Or at least a hero with healing powers. Villain could think of one they might be able to convince to help.

They exhaled with relief as they scrambled out of the pit. “I got them Hero,” they said, unstrapping Youngest and lowering them to the ground, “but I think we’re going to have to get help from—”

Villain’s words cut off abruptly as someone grabbed them roughly from behind, pinning their arms behind their back. They cried out, slamming their head back against their unseen attacker’s face. Their assailant grunted but did not loosen their grip.

Shitshitshit—

They kicked and squirmed as they were dragged away from the pit. Away from Youngest. Away from—

“I would suggest you stop struggling, Villain. Unless you want Hero to die an unpleasant death.”

Villain froze as they were spun around and took in the situation. Hero knelt on the uneven ground, hands now in the process of being cuffed, Sound Gun’s weapon inches from their head. It wasn’t Sound Gun who had spoken, though. It was Leader.

Leader smirked at the shocked look on Villain’s face. “I must thank you, really, for rescuing one of my team. I’m so grateful, it almost makes me want to let you both go free.” Their expression darkened, their smile becoming one of a twisted sort of glee. “Almost.”

[tinkerbitch69]

Just watched Abigail and it’s kind of a sleeper hit. At least for me. The movie manages to combine the best kinds of suspense you get in both horror and heist films and even manages to flesh out a surprisingly likeable main cast to get munched on. Seriously builds a great atmosphere of paranoia, suspicion and mistrust all through the film. If it sounds like you’re thing I’d highly recommend checking it out. Was not expecting it to have such a good time and I’ll sing this film’s praise if no one else will lol.

[multifandommilfs]

Sickness and Safety

Pairing: Alex Blake x reader

Wc: 1445

Summary: you worry about Alex and the team catches on

masterlist | comment, reblog, drop an ask! Feedbacks are greatly adored!

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Something set off your senses the moment you stepped out of the SUV and onto the pathway of the house leading to the crime scene. The victim was dumped with blatant disregard.

 

Usually you wouldn't have felt this apprehensive with Garcia's preamble and the preliminary report following, but it was a "time is of the essence" case with a woman dead and another reported missing just a mere half an hour ago, so everything was a surprise, unknown.

 

With your straight line of vision to the crime scene, the brightly yellow markers against the varnished steps perforated your view more than anything else, silhouettes of police officers littering about. You felt your throat tighten at the clump of brunette splayed beneath them, the vic. It's been long since a victim pulled a reminiscence out of you. 

 

You forced a cough, blinking, letting air back into your throat. It must've been the jetlag getting to you, and you knew you weren't the only one. They were all more grumpy than usual, especially Hotch. You could feel his frown beside you without having to look at him. 

 

"Any news from Garcia?" JJ asked, approaching Hotch who now took your lead in the front, his towering frame effectively obscuring you from being observed by the profiler or in this case, multitudes of them. You knew there wasn't much to hide with them despite the lengths you'd go to suppress your anxiety. 

 

"Not yet." His voice gruff, certifying his jetlag. Speak of the devil. His cell phone beeped. 

 

"What is it Garcia?" But you trailed off the conversation, the paranoia in you wanting to prove it wasn't Blake was enough for you to tunnel vision the vic. Missing JJ's regardful gaze on you as you strode past her with a racing heart and clammy hands, sweat already pervading your shirt.

 

Reid and Morgan withdrew from the crime scene the moment you approached, joining in on Garcia's "on the spot" briefing. Morgan doing a double take when he saw you walk in the opposite direction. 

 

JJ watched as you knelt down by the victim's head who was face down, a spatter of brown blood on the concrete before Morgan followed her line of sight out of curiosity, seeing you crossing to another angle for a better view. What were you trying to confirm? 

 

"Why isn't she listening to this?" His voice was only for JJ to hear, below Garcia's humour and preamble about the case. JJ squinted her eyes before glancing at Morgan, taking a pause before she replied. "Pretty sure it's about Blake." 

_______

Your relationship had been established years before Alex joined the BAU. It completely off-centered your world when the news came to you, however your work lives will remain strictly professional, so it was an agreement to keep your relationship on the down low.

 

A single slip-up would let months of work out the bag and down the drain. It was a fact that both of you knew, especially when you were encompassed by profilers. 

 

Secrets were never meant to be kept.

 

Quick yet agonizing, the bullet zipped through the air and perforated her shoulder. The Unsub slammed into the ground a second too late. It was just too bad he got shot in the head, you would've enjoyed his incarceration.

 

"I'm fine." Blake said to the paramedics. Then again to JJ. And again to Hotch and David. Again to Morgan and Reid that by the end of it, she was doubting her own answer and you were struggling to hold back your anxiety, the urge to let your concerns explode out in the open and sacrifice months of secrecy. 

 

You forced yourself into the SUV, eyes lingering on her frame behind the tinted windows. 

 

JJ caught something. Or the lack of something: you didn't check up on Blake and Reid's theory proved JJ's suspicions right. 

 

"Sometimes when people want others to believe something, they unintentionally overcompensate in another area." Reid replied to JJ about an Unsub before JJ snapped her fingers, 180-ing the conversation.

 

"She overcompensated her insouciance. She didn't even look in Blake's direction after the incident. They're in a relationship, paranoid that we would find out about it."

 

"Blake and the Unsub?" Reid didn't catch up and made an incredulous expression bordering on disgust.

 

"No! Them." JJ emphasized, and with her smug look alone, Reid understood, his mouth dropping ajar. "Oh."

 

Which was your expression as well when you figured out the BAU's hottest, steamiest gossip from Garcia. 

 

You lucked out and with Garcia's prying, you fessed up, admitting to the gossip about your relationship. You didn't even have to mastermind any awkward grand plan to announce it, Garcia did all the work for you. The momentousness of it all died down in a few minutes, per you and Blake's request. Your work life remained strictly professional. 

_________

"Well sir, blondes definitely get the Unsub going because Marley Jones is the woman you're ID-ing right now and Kelly Worth is the one reported missing. Their twinsies point? Having long wavy shiny blonde hair and I am now questioning the presence of the God of Unfair."

 

"Garcia, check if they've been to a salon the month following up to their kidnapping." Hotch requested before glancing in the direction of the murmurs. Behind JJ and Morgan, your crouching frame above the victim caught his eye. 

 

A frown split the skin between his brows, but he didn't have time to think before Garcia affirmed his theory and the team halved. You, JJ and Morgan were heading to the second crime scene while Reid, Rossi and Hotch tracked down the hair salon. 

 

The second victim's hair had the same style, shade and texture. You cringed, heart leaping to your throat. You remembered Blake's shoulder, bloody and bleeding. The air stuffed up in your windpipe. The red and blue whining of the ambulance. The compulsion to call up Alex right now was brewing at your fingertips. Your fingers gripped your cellphone.

 

"Is there anything significant about this girl?" Just how much she looks like Alex. You wanted to say. God, you crave her right now. If you hadn't shoved her into mandatory leave with her simmering fever, you wouldn't be craving for her safety because she would be walking around and scrutinizing all the right details and making deductions with Reid. You wouldn't have felt so anxious right now if you could run back to Virginia and ensure her safe and sound. 

 

"Hello?" JJ waved a hand in front of your face and you jerked, eliciting Morgan's attention. 

 

"I'm sorry?" 

 

"Are you okay?" Her words made you shove your hands into your pockets as you made an assuring noise, rounding the victim and seeing yourself in those blank, unfocused gazes. It looks so much like her. It could be hers. It could be. It is. 

 

A flash of bloody red.

 

The face warped. You flinched back, slamming right into Morgan's chest, breathing ragged as you blinked the vision out of your mind, clenching your jaw repeatedly. 

 

"Hey, it's alright, it's alright, what's going on?" Morgan placed a hand on your shoulder, his expression ladened with seriousness and apprehension. You looked at JJ. Her brows furrowed. 

 

"It's Alex isn't it?" It was an educated guess and you nodded, pressing the oncoming tears back into your eyes with your thumb and forefinger.

 

"Call Hotch, tell him to meet back at Quantico." Morgan told JJ who seconded him, moving into action.

 

"What? What about the victim, the profile? The case isn't done."

 

"Don't you worry, we got it covered. But right now, we gotta get you home to your missus." He made suggestive eyebrows, winking and instantly flooded you with relief, hooking a smile up your lips. He does that somehow. You just couldn't be more grateful for your team.

_________

The key card slipped into the slit of the door and it clicked open. The air-conditioned room smelled luxurious and well-lived; add to it a hint of freshly printed paperwork, no one could tell anyone was nursing the flu. You walked through the threshold. And there she was, splayed across the couch, wrapped in woolen sweaters and scarves, a crossword puzzle propped on her chest, reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

 

"Hi." You smiled softly, eyes twinkling with sudden emotion as you walked to the open side of the couch. She mirrored your expression before taking your hand, a warm thumb stroking your skin as you held her back.

 

"I'm safe." She told you and you couldn't have smiled wider, tears wobbling within the frame of your eyes. You were really, really grateful for your friends.

 

"I know it now."