#this is what happens when boredom strikes i tell ya

[hinakazino]

Uchiha!Child Reader meeting the senju's and getting fascinated with their hair.

Summary: This is apart of the uchiha princess series. Madara takes you on a trip with him to meet one of his long time friends, Hashirama and things take an unexpected turn.

Warnings: None, Just fluff!

As usual you were at the Uchiha residence, today just wandering around your house. Outside you stared at all the small wildlife, poking at the flowers and plants, clearly bored. Whilst getting lost in your thoughts you jump when you're suddenly covered by a shadow.

"Oh, grandpa!" you shout running up to him and hugging his legs. Madara smiled and picked you up in his arms, he was still strong as ever. "Whats got our little princess down?" he asks, you were never good at hiding your emotions.

Even now he can see the small frown of your face from boredom, ah, there were always those days. You weren't of age to go to school yet and often spent your time at home so it wouldn't be strange to see you get tired of it on occasions.

"mMm..it's just nothings been happening grandpa," you say with a pout. Madara chuckles, you had such an adorable voice. He softly tugged at your cheek with his fingers, "don't feel so down, I've got a surprise trip for you."

You whined at his teasing but quickly brightened at the mention of going out. "At trip? Really!?! Where!?!" you asked, practically bouncing from excitement, you and madara hadn't really gone anywhere together yet.

Madara felt himself smile more at your happiness, "we're going to meet one of my long time friends, I've told you about him before, Hashirama," he tells you as he sets you down. Ushering you towards your house to tell your mother.

Your eyes sparkle in admiration, "ohhh, you mean the man who you fought with! your equal grandpa??" you asked as you playfully skipped along back to your residence.

"Well, yes, but I'll admit he did defeat me," he responded watching you carefully as you mounted up the stairs. "No way, grandpa's the strongest!" you say gigging, running to Mikoto as she embraces you in her arms.

"Mommy Mommy!" you say as she plants kisses all over your face. "Yes?" she asks, "Grandpa is gonna take me to meet his friend!" you state to your mom. Quickly adding, "I'm big now, I can go!"

Mikoto smiles at your enthusiasm, you were quite the energetic child. "Yes yes that's fine," she affirmed, nodding towards Madara as a sign to keep you safe. Madara understood, he wasn't known as one of the strongest Uchiha for nothing.

Arriving at the Senju residence you were in awe, it was massive! You'd heard about Madara's friend before, mainly in his story. It was a long time ago when many nations were at war, that Madara and Hashirama became friends.

They managed to strike a treaty after awhile (Madara left out the sad details because he knew you'd cry) and the rest was history. Of course, you were also excited for other reasons, Hashirama was the first hokage!!

You and Madara were instantly led inside and sat in the living room waiting. No more than a few moments later Hashirama had burst it, "madaraaaaa!!! long time no see!!" he shouted happily. Before noticing your presence.

"Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!!" you shouted, matching his energy instantly. Hashirama walk over and sat down near you, "aha! you must be the Uchiha princess!" he said. "Mhm!" you nodded giggling, and that's when you'd noticed his hair.

Your eyes instantly lit up in excitement, but you remembered that it was important to ask first. "Ummm, can I play with your hair?" you asked, fingers softly knotting themselves together in anticipation of an answer.

Hashirama laughed, "of course, you can braid it all you want, I had a grand daughter just like you ya know?" You squealed in delight and got up to start playing with his hair. It was like Madara's hair, quite long. However, it wasn't fluffy and thus, easier to put into braids.

You developed a love for hair at a young age. Probably due to when you'd used to play hide and seek all the time with your brothers. Your grandpa's hair was big enough to hide you then, and whenever you saw it you knew it was Madara, it made you feel safe.

Madara smiled, this was quite a pleasant sight to see though he wouldn't admit it warmed his heart though. It was too bad Hashirama could see through him just fine though, "thought you wouldn't ever get a grandkid staying single for that long!" Hashirama joked.

Madara scowled at him, "that grand daughter of yours is already 50 something!! look at how cute precious y/n is!" he argued. Hashirama had to admit you were very adorable, he could feel your small hands tying his hair together.

You were definitely very proud of your braids, you'd only ever done this with Itachi before and that was only in private. But looking at your grandpa now, something might be wrong. Madara was trying hard not to laugh, your braid was indeed very messy.

Hashiramas hair stuck out in different angles and you seem to have forgotten the part of his hair that'd fallen over the front of his shoulder. Leading to a very odd look, but the mood quickly shifted when a new person entered the room.

"Brother! I know you really want to spend time with Madara but nows not the time to- .." Tobirama was at a lost of words. It was truly a sight he'd never seen before, a small Uchiha looking girl that had messed up his brothers hair so much it was actually entertaining.

"Who is the kid? Another Uchiha?" Tobirama wouldn't let his amusement show though, he'd dealt with the Uchiha clan long enough and still couldn't stand them. "Be nice Tobirama, this is y/n, isn't her braiding so cute??" Hashirama asked happily.

Clearly you don't realize what you look like, Tobirama thought. "Yes yes it is great," he responds nonchalantly only to be confused by your stare of awe. You were currently admiring Tobirama's hair, it wasn't long like your grandpas or Hashiramas.

It was white! You'd never seen that before, well, besides some old people but Tobirama's was clearly different. It was a pretty and natural color like snow. Also, you may have taken a liking to that fluffy neck collar he has.

"Um..hello!" you say looking up at him. Tobirama doesn't want to waste time but glances down at you in return, "hello, what is it that you want?" Tobirama can feel both madara and hashirama glaring at him. He doesn't really know how to deal with kids though.

"Can I ask you a question?" you ask, you remembered questions of age could be considered rude awhile ago. "You just did, but go ahead," Tobirama said with a hint of annoyance. You noticed this and got sad for a moment but quickly asked away.

"Your hair is so pretty and white! It looks so fluffy! How old are you? Not that it's bad to be old! Uh wait can I touch it???" you asked, eyes pleading. Tobirama honestly felt bad for a moment seeing your expression but sighed, you were just a baby, really.

"Yes you can touch, and this is my natural hair I'm not old," he said, sitting down across Madara with Hasirama as he let you pet his hair. Truthfully he hated himself from doing this but your soft wow's, ooo's, and fascination really got to him.

"Grandpa! I like his hair the best!" you declared happily, this made Tobirama feel good. Especially when he saw Madara's expression, he didn't approve of this. However, before he could say anything you had spoken again, "wait, oops-- whats your name??"

"My names Tobirama, I'm Hashirama's brother," Tobirama added for context. Tobirama was starting to get fond of you, just a little, he won't admit it. Eventually you had to just went back to Hashirama's hair and leaving the Senju compound you were met with a sad faced Madara.

"Is my hair not your favorite..?" he asked. You had replied, "No no you're definitely in the top 3 grandpa!" You hadn't denied or confirmed, but just giggled as you ran quickly upon seeing Itachi arrive home too. What an energetic child, Madara thought.

© 2023 by Hinakazino, do not translate/edit/claim or use my work in any form.

[kelp-person]

you know, i see a lot of genshin sagau fics/headcanons featuring the creator as some divine being who is either a.) from our world, where genshin is a game to them, or b.) an already immortal being who just vibes in the background without their worshippers knowing. and while i understand that those concepts have a charm and appeal to them, what about ...

��� a creator who hides away on the dark side of the moon in a large workshop, where they spend their days over an anvil with a giant hammer in hand as they craft something, anything that their heart desires. perhaps it's a new world, or maybe it's a weapon to gift to their creations, or maybe even a new animal for them to send off to see how it fares and how their other creations react to it.

᯽ a creator who does not bleed gold, or anything for that matter, for why would a being made of nothing need such mortal things to thrive? with this, the creator can be recognized by one thing and one thing only: the black markings that decorate their body - especially the upper half of their face, which also holds sparkling eyes of white pupils and vibrant, space-like colors of sclera; so bright that they glow even in the darkest of places.

᯽ a creator who has each world that they've carefully crafted on a pedestal, where they can watch their creations thrive and progress through their lives and take note of how they choose to live ( because even if the life they choose is one of darkness and cruelty, their creator will always love them, because after all: each of them were made with a spark of them inside their souls, although the creator highly doubts they'll ever know that ).

᯽ a creator whose ears are long and pointed and fingers are clawed, looking as if they had been dipped in pools of tar with the blackness that covers them. and if that fact alone doesn't seem monstrous enough, imagine a mere mortal's reaction when they see that their creator's hands can shift into anything they desire, such as a blade or - their personal favorite - a hammer.

᯽ a creator who looks on in pride behind their round goggles ( because although they are an immortal god, getting stuff in their eyes as they work is still a pain ) as two of their most recent creations ( who had given themselves the names of "lumine" and "aether" ) travel through the many worlds they had created and discover the many promises and gifts that lay beneath their surfaces.

᯽ a creator who, after witnessing the world-traveling siblings' separation, snarls in anger as one of their fellow gods dare defy them. the rage they hold for this act alone is enough to make their entire workshop shake and make the small stars that explore the place and peek through cracks shiver out of fear.

᯽ a creator who sends one of their stars ( named paimon ) down to the land of teyvat to act as a guide for the traveler as they help them search for their sibling ( along with the very god who dare cause this mess in the first place ).

᯽ a creator who is, most importantly, not a being of light, but a being of darkness. not because of what morals that lie within them, though, but because of the fact that they are willing to be known as the black sky of the night so that their creations - their moons and stars - can shine the brightest in front of them.

[babyboibucky]

The Match

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.

Word Count: 1,446

Warnings: HMMMM sexual tension 😏

A/N: I wrote this in a whirl and tried to format it through the app last night and it SUCKS so I’m posting this just now. Anyway, there will definitely be a smutty part two to this lmfao ya know it

Edit: PART 2 IS UP!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Saturday night and you’re on your bed, wine-drunk and all as you mindlessly swiped through Tinder. You start to frown when none of the guys impressed you enough to swipe right. Their bios were all the same, revolving around their egos only to end up with the good ol’ “DTF” line.

Bored and disappointed, you almost exited the app until a very, very familiar face appeared on your screen.

“Holy shitballs, it’s our boss.” You sat up immediately, bringing your phone to your face for a close inspection.

Indeed, it was your boss James Barnes but he was using “Bucky” as his profile name. You wondered whether it was his real account or a poser one. But then you remembered his closest colleagues calling him that.

You snorted as you checked out his profile. He didn’t have a bio but had a couple of photos uploaded. And oh wow, is that a shirtless mirror photo?

You rarely worked closely with your boss but goddamn, sometimes you wished you did because he was a hot piece of ass.

“Should I swipe right...” you mumbled to yourself.

Would it be unprofessional to do so? But then again, you never really interacted with him that much. Just a couple of polite nods and greetings whenever you passed by him at the office. You weren’t even directly reporting to him.

That being said, you were quite sure that he wouldn’t swipe right on you given that you’re his employee. Of course he wouldn’t want to be the unprofessional one so being tipsy and all, you decided to take one for the team.

“Tss, what the hell.” You huffed out and swiped right.

Not even a second later, the “It’s a match!” message popped up on the screen almost immediately. You choked on your wine and dropped your phone, eyes wide and heart racing because you just matched with your fucking boss.

“Shit!” You hissed, diving onto the floor the pick your phone up.

If the message popped out as soon as you swiped right on him, then that means...

“He swiped right on me first, what the fuck!”

-

Monday came quickly and you’ve never been this restless before. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you matched with your boss on Tinder. Neither of you messaged the other over the weekend but now that you were headed to work, you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

You debated whether to call in sick or maybe, pretend that you died? Pack your bags and perhaps fly to a different country and start anew? You were overacting but matching with your boss on a dating app known for hook-ups should be a valid reason to justify your thoughts.

Maybe James didn’t recognize you that’s why he swiped right. That was possible since you and him didn’t really work together. It’d be better if he swiped right by accident, his phone probably slipped from his hands. He probably doesn’t even know he matched with you, yeah, you decided to settle on that conclusion.

Taking a deep breath in, you fixed your hair before stepping out of your car. Mondays were meant for meetings so he probably wouldn’t be around the office anyway. You rushed over to the elevator and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t have to share it with anyone.

That was until someone managed to slip a foot in between the doors, catching up to you before the elevators slammed shut.

“Oh.”

Well, well, well if it isn’t James “Bucky” Barnes. Out of all the people you had to share an elevator with, it just had to be him! And judging by how his eyes widened at the sight of you, the Tinder incident wasn’t simply an accident.

“Good morning.” He greeted, clearing his throat as he stood beside you.

James’ scent wafted in the air as soon as the doors slid close and he smelled divine. He smelled like a man, a man man and it almost made your eyes roll. You greeted him back with a soft voice, fighting so hard not to look at him because as always, he looked pretty damn good.

He was restless beside you, adjusting his suit and then his tie. You could see him through your peripheral vision, he kept on fixing his hair as well. Did he get a haircut? It was shorter than before, not that you were paying way too much attention to him.

Meanwhile, you too were fidgeting with your shoulder bag, picking at the leather and praying for this torture to be over before you could even lose control and slam your lips against his.

“How was your weekend?” James asked, glancing at you.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with your boss. You weren’t even sure which was more awkward, striking a conversation after the match or simply remaining quiet for the entire ride up.

“Um, it was good. Yours?” You asked, stammering a little as you stole a quick glance at him.

James nodded, “Good too. Interesting actually.”

Fuck! He knows, he so knows about the match.

You would have preferred complete silence over the elevator music echoing in the air while the both of you were obviously feeling the tension. Was the elevator really this slow?! And when did it get this hot?!

You started fanning yourself when you started to sweat from the awkwardness of it all. Bucky too could obviously feel it, the tension and the elephant in the room waiting to be acknowledged. He loosened his tie all of a sudden, popping the top buttons of his dress shirt which quickly reminded you of the shirtless pic in his profile.

You could feel the heat creep up to your neck and ears. With how bright the lights were in the elevator, it’d be easy for James to notice how red you turned.

“Kinda hot today, don’t you think?” He asked.

You let out a mirthless chuckle, “Yeah, really hot. I think the maintenance should have the air conditioning unit checked.” You breathed out, clearing your throat again as you wiped the sweat forming on your forehead.

For a couple of seconds there was nothing but the collective sounds of you and your boss clearing your throats. The tension was so thick you can literally touch it if you tried. You wanted to address the unspoken issue but how the hell were you going to do that? Jump on his bones? It would seem like a good idea to do so except that he was your boss and that would result to you losing your job.

You wanted to ask James though, whether he was aware that you were his employee when he swiped right. Actually, you just wanted to bring up the topic just to get it over with. Acknowledge the match and then pretend it didn’t happen to save you both from the embarrassment. Yeah, you could do that.

Unable to hold back anymore, you broke the silence to ask James a question.

“Did you swipe right on accident?”

“So are you down to fuck?”

You and James asked at the same time, his straightforward question making you weak in the knees because what the hell...

James bit his lip, shaking his head in response. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” You blinked, unable to stop yourself from staring at James’ mouth when he ran his tongue over his lower lip before taking it in between his teeth as he looked you over with glazed eyes.

Damn that tongue, though. And damn those blue eyes too.

“Are you...?” He repeated again, reminding you of his question.

Your boss, whom you rarely interacted with in the office, just asked you whether you were down to fuck. Truthfully, you were only on Tinder because of boredom and it wasn’t your goal to actually hook-up with someone. But now that your hot boss swiped right on you and seemed to be really interested in you...

“I...uhh...” you stammered, not really knowing how to tell him that yes, you would very much like to be fucked by him.

The elevator dinged, interrupting the tension between you and James. The doors slid open and James quickly straightened up before walking ahead.

But not without turning around to look at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

Due to the pressure and the elevator doors beginning to close, you blurted out the first thing that you could muster.

“Yes, sir!”

You blushed at your response but it seemed to have stirred something in James because his eyes darkened as he smirked at you.

“Good. Then I’ll see you in my office in fifteen.”

-

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[shslrose]

SDR2 Boys React to You Flinching (Part Two)

Hajime, Kazuichi, and Izuru react to you thinking their going to hit you.

Hajime Hinata

Your boyfriend, Hajime Hinata, had visited you at your dorm in the Main Department building at Hope’s Peak Academy. What started out as a casual conversation quickly dissolved into a heated argument when Hajime started talking about how he needed to transfer out of the reserve department.

“Damnit, Y/N!” Hajime cursed. “Why can’t you see how important this is to me?”

“Hajime, please just listen to me,” you begged, trying to get him to see your side. “Talent isn’t everything!”

“That’s easy for you to say!” He exploded. His words increased the tension in the room tenfold, and you had a feeling things were about to get worse from here. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, almost daring him to continue. He held your gaze, refusing to back down. The look in his eyes was so intense, it was almost hard to look at him.

“You’re an Ultimate!” He spat, as though it were an insult. “You have no idea what it’s like, not having talent…!”

You had never heard him this fired up before, and it was starting to worry you. He sounded so… resentful. The intensity of it all almost scared you.

“What, are you jealous of me?” You asked. “Hajime, you need to understand that there are more important things than having an Ultimate talent.”

“I’m not jealous! But you… you don’t even value your talent!” His voice shook as he shouted. “I-It was a dream for me! To have a talent I could take pride in! To walk through Hope’s Peak Academy as an Ultimate! You… don’t deserve to be an Ultimate!”

As he spat those last words, he threw his hand up in frustration. Acting on pure instinct, your entire body tensed and you squeezed your eyes shut in fear.

“Y/N…?” He called out to you. “You..You flinched…? Y/N, I would never-”

“Please…” Your words were so soft, he almost didn’t hear them. “Just go.”

“What?” He sighed. An overwhelming feeling of guilt ran over him as he noticed the tears welling up in your eyes.  “I-I can’t just leave you, I mean, you’re crying! I...I made you cry.”

Gently, he wrapped his arms around you. He held you tight as he whispered apologies in your ear.

Kazuichi Soda

When the argument started, you had been spending some time with your boyfriend, Kazuichi, in his room. He been acting so possessive all day, and when you finally asked him what’s wrong, he admitted that he was upset about how much you had been hanging out with a certain classmate of yours. 

“Kaz, it’s not a big deal,” you insisted. “Just chill, alright?”

“How can I chill when my girl is spending all her time with some other guy?!” Kazuichi exclaimed, over-enthusiastic as always. “I swear, I’ll put him and his hamsters six feet under!”

“You need to calm down, Kaz.” You said. “Like I said, it’s not a big deal, we’re just friends.”

“Miss Y/N, you just don’t get it!” He said. “He’s a teenage boy, you know!”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” You questioned, your face burning at his suggestive words.

“Well… you know… like, when a teenage boy looks at you, he’s only gonna be thinking about one thing!” He said, blushing as he spoke. 

“Kazuichi, how can you say that?” You said. “Just because you’re a pervert doesn’t mean Gundham is!”

“H-Hey, why are you defending him?” Kazuichi asked. “I mean, c’mon, do you have a crush on him or something?!”

“You’re being irrational, Kaz.” You insisted. “He and I are just friends!” 

“Oh, he’s your friend, is he?” Kazuichi scoffed, as he puffed his chest. “Well then, since the two of you are such good friends, maybe you just date him instead!”

“Fine.” You retorted, fed up with this stupid argument. “Maybe I will.” 

You got up and started to storm out of the room. The moment your fingertips grazed the doorknob, you felt your hand get snatched back. Kazuichi let go of your hand as you turned to face him, and you watched as he leaned forward, placing his palm against the door, effectively pinning you against it while making sure it would stay shut.

“Kazuichi?” You gasped. 

“Why are you being like this?!” He growled, his jealousy having reached new heights. 

“Let me leave!” You yelled, the hint of desperation in your voice left unnoticed. He pulled his hand back off the door, but in your peripheral vision, you could have sworn his hand was going to strike you. Without thinking, you shut your eyes, hard, and let out a soft gasp. Kazuichi watched as you fell back against the door as you flinched.

Kazuichi had never felt more confused in his life. It took him a moment to even register what had happened. His eyes widened when all of the dots finally connected in his mind.

“Miss Y/N...did you think I was going to...ugh, I can’t even say it,” he paused for a moment before continuing. “I’d never hurt you, ever! Ya know that, don’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry, Kaz,” you apologized, but he quickly shook his head.

“No! I’m the one who should apologize, Miss Y/N! I got so worked up, just cause I was feeling jealous… so, it’s my fault! Please, forgive me!”

Kazuichi would continue to apologize, continuously, for the next several hours. 

Izuru Kamakura

Your childhood friend, Hajime Hinata, was gone. In his place was someone different, someone whose entire existence confused you. 

In a way, he could say the same thing about you. Everything about your existence confused him. Normally, he felt nothing but boredom and indifference. But when he met you for the first time…

“Hajime?!” You exclaimed, partially out of joy to see your old friend and partially out of shock at his appearance. 

“No.” The man who stood before you replied calmly. “The one called Hinata Hajime is gone. I am Izuru Kamakura.”

“...huh?” You felt confused as you tried to understand.

“Did you know him?” Izuru asked, but he already knew the answer. He could tell by your tone, the sweetness in your voice as you had called out his old name. There was also the fact that when he looked at you, he felt… something. Something he had never felt before. Something he couldn’t identify. He realised quickly that whatever it was, it must be some leftover remnant of Hajime’s feelings.

This feeling… he thought to himself. I like it.

That was a while ago. You’ve been by his side ever since. He still found you boring, like everything else in this world, but from time to time you managed to surprise him.

Most of the time you spent together was spent in silence. Izuru always seemed to know what you were thinking anyways, so talking was mostly pointless; and whenever the two of you did talk, you were the one who started the conversation. But today, as the two of you walked side by side through the streets of Towa City, he spoke to you.

“Did you love him?” Izuru asked you.

“What?” You could feel his gaze trained on you, observing your every movement as he made deductions in his mind.

“Hajime.” He stated plainly, and for a second you swore you saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “Did you love him?”

“Did I...wait, what?” You mumbled, unable to think straight.

“Are you truly going to make me ask again?” His voice did not waver. “You really are dull.”

“I-I’m not dull!” You defended yourself. “That’s just.. I mean, why would you even ask something like that?!”

“I’m...curious.” He stated, his voice seemingly as calm as ever, and for the first time, he looked away from you. It was relieving to not have his eyes on you while you thought of a reply, but you couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking.

“Curious?” You asked, but he said nothing back. Sighing, you decided to continue. “Yes. I...I loved him, I guess. He was my childhood friend...my best friend...how could I not?”

Still, Izuru said nothing. You looked to the side and noticed that Izuru was no longer next to you. He had stopped walking a few steps back. You turned around, and walked towards him until the two of you were standing face to face.

Sharply, he raised his hand. A gasp left your lips as you closed your eyes, bracing for an impact that never came. A moment passed and you opened your eyes; his hand was mere inches away from your face.

“Izuru…?” You asked. He had done it on purpose, you realized. “Why did you..?”

“You love him.” Izuru stated. “But, you fear me.” 

“That’s not it…” You said, breathlessly. “I’m not afraid of you, Izuru.”

“You should be.”

-----------

a/n - thank you so much for reading! requests are currently open so send some in :D 

[riverscyberwife]

The First Time She Met Daryl Dixon

Part of the 'Call Me 'Darling'' Series

(Daryl Dixon x unnamed female character)

The first time she met Daryl Dixon was not pleasant.

“Fucking Shit!”

It wasn’t long after the fall. The time of indescribable horrors. The day the dead began to walk the earth.

“You useless shit” a feminine voice rang out in exasperation, met only by the greenery that surrounded. Tears pricked at frustrated eyes as small, dirty fists beat aimlessly at the soft earth beneath. The roots of a nearby tree grazed along knuckles, breaking the skin there. An unintentional hiss left trembling lips as sad eyes observed the fresh blood appearing.

She had found herself alone in a dense wood somewhere near farmland in Georgia, drifting aimlessly, no destination in mind. Attention on the songs of the wild birds. The music of the forest being the only company had in days.

In dazed wandering, clumsy feet had met a large tree root protruding rather rudely from the ground. It met her right foot violently, causing herself to stumble harshly while holding the appendage prisoner. The attached ankle twisted painfully as her warn body was thrown forward and forced to spin, landing unceremoniously on her obnoxiously generous behind.

An advantage only when the clumsy feet betrayed her. Something that happened more often than her ego would like to admit.

A glare that could almost kill, along with some less than lady-like language was aimed at the battered ankle. It lay life-less and throbbing next to the offending root, almost mocking with its silence.

A twig snapped far too near for comfort. A rustling of leaves alerting to a nearby presence. In such a vulnerable position, the woman mentally chastised herself for becoming too distracted to hear the oncoming intruder. Almost definitely one of those undead fucks stumbling across a yummy young lady laid out like a buffet.

Her head whipped around to peer behind with enough force to cause the joints of her neck to let out a crack. A sound that went unnoticed as a sharp gaze found a man staring at the crumpled heap she currently was. He seemed alive enough as he pointed an intimidatingly large weapon at her head.

Is that a crossbow? The thought shot through her mind before returning swiftly to the danger that was presented. It wasn’t something you’d ever expect to see in real life, let alone have pointed at you. Far more intimidating than a gun it seemed due to its unexpectedness.

The man holding the weapon was rugged. Short brown hair and clothes had seen better days. Gaze locked with the most vibrant blue eyes. An intense silent battle taking place between said eyes and her own.

“Ya kiss yer mother with tha’ mouth?” His voice was gruff. Deeper than expected. It held a soothing quality even in its accusing tone.

“Not if she was alive” A deadpan tone returned, eyes narrowed as the gaze turned cold. He only grunted in response. A shiver ran unexpectedly down her spine. Probably just caused by the very pointy stick he had ready to be catapulted through her skull.

“What are ya doin’ round here?” he questioned more aggressively this time. The hints of playfulness had disappeared. This man meant business and she didn’t doubt he would shoot her with the intimidating weapon if he felt the need to.

“I’m having a teddy bears picnic, can’t you tell?” An overly sweet voice quipped back unwisely. Suspicious eyes only narrowed in return as the grip seemed to tighten on the bow.

“Okay” A tired sigh left dry lips. “I was just wandering, looking for her next meal and place to sleep. I fell over this damn tree”. Trying not to feel embarrassed by the statement, her gaze wandered the muscular upper arms visible due to the missing sleeves that seemed to have been forcefully ripped away.

“I take it by your defensiveness that your camp is near here” she queried. “Don’t worry, I won’t go near it.”

“Better not. Now get outta here before it ain’t a choice.”

Eyes rolled at his threat. “Not very welcoming are you?” The question was met only by silence.

“Fine, I’m going.” She stated as weak arms pushed herself to her feet, forcing the rapidly bruising ankle to take the weight. Attempting to ignore the pain in refusal to look weak in front of this rude man. The backpack that slid from aching shoulders during the fall was slung back into place and the dagger that had saved her life numerous times secured in a determined grip.

“Nice to meet you” her defeated voice rang sarcastically before turning and limping away as fast as able.

“Asshole”

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

Many months passed without a thought about the rugged man. Surviving alone could be very distracting after all. Jumping from abandoned house to worse smelling abandoned house with the hopes of a safe nights rest. Never knowing where the next meal would come from or even if there would be a next meal.

The weight dropped off at a concerning rate. Concerning only because there was a good chance of being eaten by the dead because her trousers fell down. What a way to go. She died as she lived. Falling over.

Eyes raked over the forest floor in search of life. Trusted dagger held securely in her dominant hand, poised ready to strike should dinner appear suddenly. An unexpected commotion seemed to begin somewhere to the left. Ears guiding rushing feet towards the sound in hopes of a large animal to catch. The grumbling of her stomach agreeing with the silent statement.

Upon the arrival at the scene, crouched down behind a shrub, her small body was easily hidden by the undergrowth. In immediate sight was the back of a man. Keen eyes would not have recognised him so immediately if not for the missing sleeves on the dirty brown shirt. He was facing off with four of the dead. A knife raised high in his right hand seemed to be his only weapon. A glance to the side revealed the crossbow a few feet away. Far less intimidating when not pointed at ones head.

Logic said he couldn’t reload the damn thing in time to shoot the fuckers one by one. She however had not been spotted by the dead and was only about 3 feet from the weapon.

Daryl began to panic as what felt like a never ending amount of walkers came at him. He couldn’t kill them all at once and his knife wasn’t doing much good. He’d resorted to desperately shoving them backwards.

The walker directly in front of him was big, standing at least 6 foot tall and charging with a purpose. It managed to knock him to the ground, the snapping jaws aiming to rip Daryl’s face cleanly away. It was prevented only by an increasingly weakening forearm to its neck.

Thick black blood oozed from the tear in its jugular, dripping grotesquely onto its struggling prays jaw and throat. Should Daryl open his mouth he’d be treated to a very unfortunate final meal.

‘This is it’ thought Daryl as he frantically felt around for the fallen blade. ‘I’m gonna fuckin’ die.’

Daryl’s rapidly beating heart seemed to stop dead as a bolt from HIS crossbow shot through the top of the walkers head to protrude from the now permanently dead man’s mouth. The sharp tip pointed directly between sky coloured eyes.

With a confused sigh, his head leant back to peer behind at the crossbow which lay exactly where he had left it. The unsightly corpse was shoved unceremoniously off of the hunter as he realised suddenly that there were no walkers after him.

It took a few seconds to come to his senses as he observed the 3 other walkers already dead on the ground nearby. Steely eyes flickered up to the small woman standing a few feet away, casually wiping a bloody knife on a large leaf. Confusion only grew as he stared at the calm woman who acted like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. A look of boredom on her face.

Smug eyes flickered to the side where the rugged man still sat stunned on the ground. An involuntary smirk forced its way onto her face. It was so difficult to keep the bored look when the handsome mans jaw was practically on the floor.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” This seemed to snap him out of his daze. His mouth clamped shut audibly as an irritated expression took over.

“Daryl” was all he said as he made his way slowly to unsteady feet.

“Well Daryl” she chimed nonchalantly “You’re welcome” before turning and once again walking away from the shocked man.

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

Most nights she dreamt of the undead. Snapping jaws, inches from her face. Dirty, broken nails on rotted flesh, grabbing at her skin. Thick black blood filling her mouth and claiming her lungs.

Sometimes she would dream of family. The life lived before. Laughing faces and sweet smiles. Little girls with pigtails and pink dresses. School days sat on the grass in the sun. Underage drinking in the park. Splashing in the cold sea. Golden sand between painted toes. Faces not seen in years.

And sometimes she would dream of the most beautifully pure blue eyes. Those eyes were the most haunting.

Stayed local to the area, familiar terrain was an advantage. It was only a matter of time until she stumbled across it. The prison. The opposing grey buildings would have been of little interest had it not been for the suspicious lack of dead ones.

Upon closer inspection there appeared to be crops growing in the grounds. A variety of luscious plants living in neat rows. Every so often a mop of brown hair would appear within the greenery. A slender teenage boy who tended the food.

Witnessing silently from the branch of a nearby tree, never daring to make a noise or risk being seen. People were after all, dangerous.

Many others appeared within sight in the hours observed. Some seemed to be on lookout. Some pierced the skulls of dead ones through the fence. Many simply socialised and basked in the sun. Although not terribly interesting, it was the most entertainment had in weeks. Quite like a trip to the zoo, watching them in their natural habitat. There seemed to be little of concern and just as the tired woman considered slipping away to find her own refuge for the night came the startlingly loud rumble of engine.

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

Far louder than that of a car, approaching the fence that opened in entrance to the structure was a motor bike. Another thing unexpected at the end of the world. The more shocking factor however being the slim figure and mop of brown hair that sat astride. The fear-provoking weapon strapped to a wing adorned back. Her rugged man.

Any idiot with half a brain would know not to approach the prison alone unless they desired an arrow through the head. But there was something about this man. The incessant need to see him again. To hear the drawl of his voice. To see that pretty face up close even in the snarl that was sure to be aimed at her. Luckily, Mr Dixon, hunter and gatherer extraordinaire didn’t seem to spend that much time in the prison. The outdoors suited him far better.

Daryl treaded stealthily through the thicket, bow aimed low and eyes alert. His ears strained in search of a living creature. He swore his heart leapt from his chest at the sudden noise slightly behind and above him. Startled feet spun so fast he stumbled.

“I like your hair. Suits you”

The feminine voice presented no unease due to the deadly weapon pointed directly at the source. A raised eyebrow prompted Daryl to lower the thing before accidentally shooting.

“Bloody ‘ell woman, where’d ya come from?”

“Bit of a personal question. Don’t you think? You don’t even know my name yet” the voice quipped with a smile. Feet landing gracefully on the ground in front of the alarmed man as she dropped from the low branch.

Daryl grumbled, dropping his eyes which only caused her grin to widen.

“What’s yer name then?”

“Can’t tell you that. Stranger danger.”

“Think yer the only danger ‘round ‘ere.”

“You think too highly of me, Darling.” Lips smirked as light fingers gently raised Daryl’s chin to meet devious eyes.

His shining orbs widened comically at the gesture. “Darlin’?!”

The outraged tone of the statement served to strengthen the ever present accent.

“Oh I do like that.” Smirk turned to a full grin. “Call me Darling.

----------

They couldn’t seem to keep away from each other. Well she couldn’t keep away from him anyway. He’d always go in search of food and the menace would always appear seemingly by magic. She intrigued the man and she knew it. The way his eyes followed her form was like he wanted to figure her out. Solve her like a walking puzzle.

She craved his voice. It soothed something inside her. Somehow made the state of the world forgettable. Hours were spent together without notice. He didn’t speak much but he always listened intently and usually had a smart remark to counter her regular jabs. Teasing Daryl Dixon was always her favourite part of the day.

He never asked where she was going, was staying or why she was always alone. He didn’t seem to want to burst the secret little bubble they’d made for themselves. Something both were happy to keep intact as curious eyes secretly watched the prison.

It was getting progressively more difficult to live alone in the wild. When Daryl went back to his cosy home with his friends at the end of the day her tasks were to go in search of food and a place to rest her head. She would never confess her struggles. He would want to help and her pride wouldn’t allow it.

At her lowest she found herself slumped in a corner of a dingy old house, curling in on herself. The small fire haphazardly made almost burnt out, the strength to go in search of more kindling evaded the weak woman.

Just as she hadn’t seen the face of her favourite person, her body hadn’t seen water in days. Food even longer. If this was how she was to go out then so be it. She’d survived this long alone and that’s all that mattered.

Her vision swam as black spots appeared. There was no control left of her body as it slumped sideways, striking her head against the wooden floorboards as unconsciousness consumed entirely.

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

Daryl panicked when she wasn’t at the usual spot. She was always there when he went to hunt. He had no idea how she knew when to find him but she did. He often questioned if she was real. This mysterious girl that no one else had ever seen could so easily be part of his imagination.

He remembered how Rick had seen Lori for so long after her death. He’d spent so much time alone out in the woods that it wouldn’t surprise him if his mind had made up the annoying woman that he couldn’t stay away from. No, she had to be real. Even Daryl’s mind couldn’t tease him like she did.

He began by wandering in the direction he had last seen her go as they parted, knowing there was a nearby town that could offer some food and protection. As gravel crunched beneath old boots in place of the usual dirt and neglected buildings began to rise on either side of the man, it became clear that the area was empty. Motionless walker bodies lay scattered around, each seemingly had received a knife through the head.

The smell was overpowering as the hunter contemplated why they hadn’t been burned. Perhaps she was only passing through. Perhaps she simply didn’t have the strength.

Tracks were clearly visible all through the town. Mostly bloody, they led into every single building. Daryl sighed. He was sure by the small stature of the print that they were hers. The woman that so desperately clung to his mind had clearly been here. Yet he had a feeling she was still here. She wouldn’t just leave him, would she?

Daryl could almost hear Merle’s voice echoing in his head, calling him a whipped little bitch. He scowled at the thought but just couldn’t stop. What if something had happened to her?

----------

Sharp eyes scanning the area, he could clearly visualise the woman clearing the place, killing walkers and scavenging for the food. His eyes drifted to the last house to the left. The windows were boarded and the door was shut. A trap lay set in front of the building. It was clearly the most secure place. His feet carried him almost involuntarily towards it. Towards her.

White light pierces blackness. Heart beat rising. Blood rushes ears. Footsteps sound a million miles away.

Gentle knuckles brush cheeks. Rough fingers press pulse point. Fluttering eyelashes attempt in vain to open.

The earth tilts sickeningly as her body is forced into sitting position. The sound of ringing slowly transitions to the calling of her name. The familiar voice causing an upturn of lips. Her rugged saviour.

Cold liquid is raised to parched mouth. Gulped down greedily without thought. Hands fly to grab the bottle. The best water ever tasted. An appreciative groan as eyelids are forced to rise. Blurred vision soon clears to reveal shaggy brown hair that begs to be touched.

His name leaves her lips in struggled whisper. His eyes are hard with judgment and underlying concern.

“Why the hell didn’ ya tell me?” some form of food is held to her chin.

She doesn’t take not what as her eyes shift away in shame and her arm weekly brushes it away.

“I don’t want your food”

“Well ya clearly need it. Ya look like hell.” His teeth grind in annoyance at the usually stubborn girl. Her head shakes in response, causing the black spots to momentarily return.

“I don’t need saving, Prince Charming.” He guffaws at the name.

“I aint no prince, nor ‘nything charmin’.”

She needed him gone. She couldn’t bear the look of pity in his eyes. The worry on his features. She wasn’t anyone’s problem.

“You shouldn’t be here. Just go back to your damn prison. The irritation clear in her voice. Almost missing the way his vibrant eyes widened.

Shit. She realised her mistake a split second too late.

“How the fuck do you ya know ‘bout tha’?” She’d never heard him sound so angry and even a little scared. Knowing full well that if they found she knew about their home that they wouldn’t just leave her alone. She was dangerous to them.

Nervous eyes flicker everywhere but at the face that stared her down.

“I’ve been watching. Had to know if you were dangerous.”

“An ya didn’ tell me”

“Would you have let me go?” It was Daryl’s turn to look away in shame.

“Nah. Would have to tell ‘em ‘bout ya” He sighed defeated.

“Exactly.” Their eyes clashed in a battle of wills, silently debating what would happen next. After a beat, his eyes shined in a way that determined a decision had been made.

“Yer comin’ with me” He stated assertively.

“No” she countered plainly, offering little room for argument.

“Wasn’ askin’.” Before further refusal could leave her, strong arms surrounded her. He rose to his feet, cradling the surprised woman to his chest. Her bag hanging from his right hand where it curled around her knees.

Her malnourished body was slow to react. Sluggishly moving to press at his firm chest in protest. He easily made his way out of the house and to the far end of the street where the bike sat undisturbed.

The fresh air aided in clearing her senses. The situation she was in becoming evident to her irritated mind.

Gently set down on the leather seat, she was released from the sure grip.

“Fine.” A resigned smile as the cogs of her mind began to spin. “I’ve got another bag though. Brown satchel. Must still be in the lounge.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll be right back. Don’ move.” Turning and jogging back into the house.

The moment his right foot made it over the threshold, the loud roar of the bike engine caused his heart to sink.

“Son of a bitch!” Fast feet threw him back out the door and half way down the street but it was too late. His mysterious girl was gone and so was his bike. A lone bag lay in the spot it had previously been in. His own bag containing the water and food he had offered her.

The walk back to the prison was long, made worse by Daryl’s rising anger. Refusing to interact with anyone upon his return, he had his way into the empty cell where he refused to sleep but went to for privacy. Throwing himself down onto the lumpy mattress, he glared at the underneath of the top bunk. His mind swirling with images of her devious smirk.

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

Two days later he was woken at the ass crack of dawn by Glenn frantically calling his name. As the sun had appeared over the horizon so had his bike, propped up on its stand just outside the gate. Next to it lay a cardboard box full of baby formula as an apology.

Daryl of course went looking for her, but she no longer appeared. Weeks were spent without a trace of her until another box of formula appeared outside the gates in the dead of night. Sat atop this one was a small stuffed elephant, the perfect size for little ass kicker. Soft and clean as if straight from a baby shop.

Next to it a small piece of paper. In loopy handwriting it read ‘Stop looking for me, darling. It makes me miss you more.’

He thinks he can let her go. Thinks he can carry on living. Barely thinking of her during the busy days but she appears in his dreams. Reliving the sweetest moments between them behind closed eyelids.

“Come back with me.” His sombre voice breaks the silence.

They had somehow ended up leaning against a railing on the edge of a rooftop. Forearms against cold metal, they basked in the glow of a setting sun. Features basked in orange light, he watched her shyly.

They both knew that they should retreat to safety before darkness fell but neither could bring themselves to leave the others company. Peace consumed them as they absorbed the view laid before them like a renaissance painting.

Her head tilted as her eyes searched his face contemplatively.

“Ya always leave me.” His dejected words caused an ache in her chest.

“Why won’ ya stay with me” He asks earnestly.

“I can’t” Eyes cast downward at the sudden urge to shed a tear.

“Why? They’re good people. Rick an’ Carol an’ lil ass-kicker...” His fists clench as the unfamiliar emotions stir within him. His stare fixed on the setting sun.

“Exactly. You’re a family. I don’t belong there. I can’t. I can’t lose anyone else.” Her eyes squeeze shut as pain consumes her.

“So I don’ mean nothin’ to ya?” His voice strains.

“You shouldn’t” Her voice is a soft whisper.

His head turns to question her answer but she’s already gone.

“Darlin’?”

He’s woken suddenly by the sound of Judith’s cries. Greeted only by the sight of the bunk above him. He decides he’s going to find her. He has to.

But he doesn’t. Because soon enough the sounds of gunfire and screams is all that’s heard as the prison falls.

A/N - Here it is, the first thing I've ever written recreationally. It was so much for difficult than i expected. I feel like i'm handing over a steaming pile of rubbish but here you go! I hope you enjoy.

@pandorahurtsx @winchestershiresauce @sunflxwerbullet @holliss @haruhey @lilythemadqueen @dixonextracts @daryloverdixon

[thetypedwriter]

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab

A Darker Shade of Magic Book Review by V.E. Schwab 

I should really trust myself more. 

Do you ever have that one gut feeling or you just know yourself and if you’re going to like something or not?

That was my experience with A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E. Schwab. I’ve read only one other V.E. Schwab novel and it was Vicious-you can read my review on it HERE. 

And while I by no means disliked Vicious, I was also not nearly as enraptured as everyone else seemed to be about the novel and about Schwab pieces in general. 

So when another Tumblr user recommended A Darker Shade of Magic I figured that I owed it to myself, this other user, and to Schwab to not write her off entirely and read something else she had crafted, even though I knew deep down inside that I probably wouldn’t like it. 

Buttttttt, the opposite has happened before, like with The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid. 

However, once again, while I by no means detested the book, I was less than enthused by the work and the reading experience as a whole. 

As a sort of flimsy disclaimer, I do generally tend to read YA and when I delve into adult fiction it’s often hit or miss with me as I usually feel bogged down by repetitious details and boring descriptive paragraphs that I find unnecessary and the main reason why adult fiction is so slow and banal (in my opinion). 

So, the amount of YA I read and the tropes and pace that comes with that kind of material is on me as I’m simply just very used to books working that way. But, once again, there have been outliers and I truly think that only so much of my boredom and dislike can be explained away due to what I’m familiar with. 

Onto the actual novel, A Darker Shade of Magic is really the story of two characters, Kell and Lilah, two separate people from literally two different worlds. You see, Kell is an Antari, a rare being that can tap into the pure magic of the world and wield it to his liking, allowing him to pass between the veil separating the worlds.

Lilah, on the other hand, is a conniving thief with the stereotypical heart of gold and tragic backstory. She inadvertently finds herself in possession of a magical stone and in the troubling presence of Kell himself, leading her on an adventure between worlds as they try to restore the stone to Black London where it belongs. 

Along the way, Holland, the only other Antari, is out to get them both and the stone, dripping blood in his wake, the stone itself is too powerful to resist with disastrous consequences if you don’t, a darkness of sorts is infecting the different London’s and the people in it, and political machinations run abundant and bloodthirsty as worlds crash for the first time in years. 

It sounds very action-packed and intriguing and for some of you it may very well be. 

For me personally, though, I just could never buy into this world that had been slowly crafted and built upon. Schwab does a great job of creating the world(s), the people in it, and finely tuned details so that each London had a distinct flavor with their own set of issues and conflict. 

I just didn’t care. 

Kell and Lilah were fine as characters. I found Kell to be whiny more often than not and he would constantly tell himself that he would stop doing something (like taking items from one London and bringing it into another) and then never follow through. It also irked me that Kell was this all mighty, all kind and altruistic person. I found that boring. 

Lilah, on the other hand, I liked a great deal more. It’s a bit tiresome to me that Kell and Lilah will no doubt develop feelings for one another, but it’s far from the worst pairing I’ve ever seen. Lilah is fierce and I often liked her lack of empathy and her cruelty, which I found much more realistic than Kell’s humble persona given her backstory and her circumstances. 

All the other characters didn’t even make a blip on my radar to be honest. 

Holland is evil. I got the impression that Schwab was trying to make him be one of those I-once-was-good-but-pain-carved-it-out-of-me-characters, but it just didn’t work for me. I found him empty and shallow and I didn’t have enough information about him to really care about his actions and motivations. 

The twins from White London, Astrid and Athos Dane, are almost comically vile and corrupt. Once again, I’m sure Schwab has a backstory on the ruling twins and their iniquitous ways, but I just couldn't shake off the indifference I had while reading this entire story. 

Rhy was simply there for comic relief and not much else. 

The writing itself was good and decently paced, although I did find some parts, particularly bits of Kell whining, to be monotonous and wearisome, the rest of the story was written just fine with some bits of well-timed action and riveting fight-scenes. 

However, none of it was enough to shake off my apathy. 

At the end of the day, the story and its characters failed to suck me in and engross me. I wasn’t attached to anyone and I didn’t feel the particular need to read the story at all. Towards the end, my motivation was more about finishing the book so I could move onto something else than it was actually reading the conclusion and wrapping up the tale. 

This book wasn’t for me. 

I tried, I truly did, and gave myself, this user, and Schwab the benefit of the doubt, but this was strike two. It’ll take a prodigious amount of convincing to get me to read another Schwab novel, and I certainly have no interest in reading the rest of the Shades of Magic trilogy.

  All that being said, even though this book and perhaps this author aren’t for me, doesn’t mean it won’t be for you or to your liking. If adult fantasy really tickles your fancy, this could be your great big love. Take what I’m saying with a grain of salt as I know I’m biased towards YA and my familiarity with that. If you don’t fall into the same category as me, it’s highly likely you’d really enjoy A Darker Shade of Magic. 

Recommendation: If all you read is YA like me then this is probably not your cup of tea. If you’re on the fence, then check it out from your local library free of charge and give it a spin. You might find that you crash and burn or that you’ve found the next exhilarating series to add to your magical fantasy repertoire. 

Score: 4/10

[yoondoze]

make a wish | jjk

jeongguk doesn’t know it, but his wish came true.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 3.5k

genre: angst, best friend!au

warnings: mentions of sex, language

a/n: uhh been in a jeongguk mood recently, so i’m riding it out through writing angsty drabbles :’) this is lowkey unedited so shh

You’re sick of sharing birthdays with Jeon Jeongguk. 

Yeah, your perfectly timed entrance into this world on the same date was the basis of your friendship, but every year? It made sense when you were kids and had to invite the entire class to your parties since everyone had the same friends. But now you’re sixteen, and things are different. 

While the two of you have always been close friends, what with growing up around the block together and spending the dog days of summer crossing between the sandbox and the pool with one another, you also have put together your own separate friend groups at school. And now that all of them are here together, it’s an awkward intermingling of teenagers that don’t have much in common, other than that they all suddenly forget who they’re here for when they see an attractive person their same age. 

The only good thing about it is that Jeongguk invited his cute guy friends. Not here for you, per se, but the attention is all the same. Especially when it’s coming from Park Jimin. The way he wished you a happy birthday earlier was the most charming thing you’ve ever seen to date.

Jeongguk, bowl cut and all, is having the time of his life. The fact that its his 16th birthday doesn’t matter as much as the fact that it’s his birthday. He doesn’t feel much different like he thought he might. Maybe it is because every cool YA protagonist he ever idolized was saving the world at 16. By now, he’s decided that all the romanticized versions of teenage lives he’s been sold on up to this very moment is a scam. Nonetheless, he’s a simple boy. He’s just enjoying the time bowling with his friends.

 ...Until the moment he lays eyes on you.

The alley is dark, and though it obscures your features, he knows you well enough to see you’re upset. Your friends are barely hanging out with you, seeming to have left you behind for his friends, who coincidentally left him behind for yours. He also knows you compromised for this party. You wanted painting, envisaging a lovely evening with your companions, seated behind easels and letting your creativity flow onto a canvas. You were eight hours older and therefore the one in charge of making the decisions - it was a no-brainer, in your eyes.

But Jeongguk, never one to give in, insisted on bowling. Your parents were forcing a shared party again this year, and with how you eventually accepted that Jeongguk would throw a fit if he had to paint on his birthday, you reluctantly agreed under the obligatory condition that he invited his friend Jimin.

Who he was starting to hate, by the way. You gave more attention to the kid you were crushing on from history instead of the best friend you’d grown up with your entire life. Every time he saw you stare longingly at some stupid boy that was as mature as a cucumber, he wanted to scream that the real pickle was standing right in front of you!

Give him a break. It’s the only analogy his sixteen year old mind can think of. 

The caring boy he is, he walks over to where you sit solemnly by yourself. All you’ve been doing for the past five minutes is tapping your feet to the overplayed pop music flooding the joint and continuously picking at your fingers - an unquestionably fantastic time. He shoves out his hand for you to take, which you willingly do in hopes for a cure for your boredom, and he drags you over to his lane. The way you roll your eyes at his enthusiasm only makes him like you more. That’s because it’s always accompanied by a fond smile, and he loves to see your dimples.

He’d never tell you, though. He’d definitely never tell his mom, because he knows she’d get too eager and tell your mom, and then she’d tell you. His mom has been rooting for the two of you since day one. She always was saying things like, “I’m not letting you date anyone unless it’s Y/N,” or, “I can’t wait until you and Y/N go to prom!” 

At one point he wondered if he actually liked you or if it was the result of his mom’s wishes manifesting into real life after such diligence. He has since then accepted his feelings as his own, but won’t deny how the ideas sometimes made his cheeks flush.

In the time since the party has started, your “friends” have disappeared to the bathroom twice. His friends are over getting snacks without him, but it doesn’t upset him anymore. He didn’t really want their company anyway. It’s just the two of you, how it’s always been, and how he wanted it from the start.

“Watch, watch, okay?” He says, excitement dripping off every syllable. He figures he can maybe lift your mood if his is high enough to share some with you.

“Okay, I’m watching!” you exclaim. Jeongguk swells as he watches your cheeks bounce.

He seats you behind the machine and hurries to pick up a fourteen-pound ball swirled with blue and purple.

Now that he actually has to do it, Jeongguk’s heart races just a little bit. He just doesn’t want to embarrass himself, that’s all. His skills have improved from practice and the bowling team at school and it would suck if he screwed up. Especially considering that the reason he was so certain about a bowling party was so he’d have the chance to show off to you. But then he thinks it might make you laugh if he embarrasses himself, so his reassurance is that it’ll be a win either way.

He takes a deep breath. He draws back skillfully and with four purposeful steps, his right foot slips behind him and his arm swings fluidly toward his target. The ball hits the waxed floor rolling. The tension in his body is stiff as it heads right toward the pins, and boom! All ten fall in a domino effect, the rough clattering echoing in the alley. A perfect strike. 

His fists pump into the air as his chest fills with pride. He spins on his heels, eyes sparkling as he hopes to find a smile on your face when he gets there -

But you’re not even paying attention. His ecstatic expression falls as quickly as his spirit does. Your head is turned from him, and when he follows your gaze, it lands on none other than fucking Park Jimin. There’s a subtle smile resting on your lips as you focus on his mindless laughter as opposed to Jeongguk’s imposing strike. Jimin is standing at the controls of a claw machine, working the joystick as his friends direct him to grab some stupid inflatable basketball the size of his palm. If it were Jeongguk, he’d go for the plush bear in the machine over and get it for you in one try.

“C’mon guys!” Your mom yells, breaking you from your infatuated stare. “Cake!”

The boys give up on their escapade and the girls magically apparate back from their fifteen minute long bathroom break. Thrilled jeers and whoops sound from everyone now filtering into the party room, somehow more excited about it than the birthday boy and girl themselves.

As you get up from your seat, you meet Jeongguk’s eyes with a quick raise of your brows, oblivious to the fact you just obliterated his heart without saying a single word. Then he’s trailing behind you, brushing his hair from his face with a sigh while everyone gathers around the table and lets you take your place at the head.

Amidst the singing and the cheers from your peers, Jeongguk can’t stop himself from glancing over to you. Right away, he knows the smiles you’re tossing out to your friends are forced. He regrets having this party in the first place. He hates seeing you disappointed and upset. He’ll choose painting any day if it means you won’t be like this.

You, on the other hand, are trying to get a peek of Jimin at every second possible. You can make out his voice among the others while singing. It’s just happy birthday, but his voice is actually really pretty, so you jot it down to reference in your next day dream.

“Make a wish!” 

He thinks hard, imagining everything he could want at this point in his life. The spot for team captain, to ace his next Chemistry test, for a new bike. But wishing for something like that seems silly when he already knows what he really wants. 

A big breath of air - “special for your 16th!” - and the two of you are blowing out the candles. One is all it takes for each of the waving flames to flicker out.

Jeongguk wishes that you’ll like him back.

You wish that Jimin will like you back.

☆☆☆ 

In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to shift your relationship with Jeongguk into something more than platonic friends. At this point, he’d call it friends with benefits. You’d call it getting your heart ripped out every time he dialed your number. Even worse, it was undeniably voluntary.

It was an awkward start. Both of you got drunk one night in his apartment, sitting on the cold tile of the kitchen floor, started asking heavy, slurred questions, and maybe admitted, “yeah, I’d fuck you,” on a whim. And then maybe you did just that.

It was supposed to be a one-time event. A weird moment in your timeline of friendship that you’d agree on forgetting. Something that you both would pretend never happened so things wouldn’t change.

However, Jeongguk’s life had been a roller coaster recently. He moved to the city with the intention of freedom only for things to get more complicated. His career was struggling, his girlfriend broke up with him, his friends barely spoke to him anymore. 

So it was just you and him again, like it had always been. You were the only one who still visited, who still called, who still cared. That’s what friends are for. Help when times are rough and be there when needed. That’s your part of the deal. 

Sex isn’t always included in said deal, but it is this time around. 

It’s not much different. You come over for a regular movie night like you used to, but sometimes it ends up in his bedroom, that’s all. To him, anyway. You’re not sure how he hasn’t caught on yet. He’s so preoccupied that he probably chalks your racing pulse up to being horny, or interprets the emotion in your kisses as neediness. The way you hold onto him or say his name as pleasure.

It’s that endless love you have for him taking its many forms. It’s dropping off extra meals to stick in the fridge and checking in to make sure he isn’t beating himself up to the point where he can’t get out of bed. It’s also letting him fuck you when he needs to feel something. 

He’s just in a rut. He just needs some time to get his life together and figure shit out. And from there it’ll be peaches and cream. When his life is on the upturn, he’ll realize you’re the one who’s always been there and who always will be, and then he’ll fall in love with you too. You’re not scared, you’re just helping your best friend through a tough time. But then he’s panting, rolling off you to take a shower right after.

It stings every time. Even when you think it will be different.

At the end of the day, if it makes him feel better, you’ll endure it a thousand times over. On a bright side that’s not all that bright, for the moments you spend intertwined, you can at least pretend he’s yours. You can imagine it’s just another hot night shared in your apartment as you live out your dreamy domestic couple’s life. It sometimes seems that way with how much you take care of him, but he’d never see it as anything more than platonic.

Jeongguk knows you love him, of course, but he doesn’t know the extent it reaches. He doesn't know that your heart shatters every time he gives you a kiss on the cheek and says he loves you. He doesn’t know that when you say it back, you don’t mean just as friends. He doesn’t know you’d drop everything and run if he asked you to. You didn’t even know it for a while. Because falling in love with Jeongguk is slow and comes day by day without realizing, until suddenly you’re stuck neck deep without an inkling in your mind of trying to escape. It’s a gentle, spellbinding bloom you wouldn’t trade for the world.

From this view on his bed, you can see a glimpse of his figure behind the foggy glass of his upright shower. You tug your t-shirt back on for some modesty as if it still matters, swallowing down the tightening in your throat. If he feels your eyes lingering on him, he doesn’t show it. For whatever reason, watching him wash his face in small circles makes your stomach sink inexplicably.

Jeongguk at the fresh age of twenty-one is a lot different than Jeongguk at sixteen. Gone is the bowl cut, in comes long wavy hair that hangs in front of his face, always seeming to fall perfectly to frame his features. His shoulders broadened along with his horizons. His personality hasn’t changed, but it’s easy to think it has with the dark cloud that seems to follow him wherever he walks nowadays. You never realized how cute his dimples were until they started showing less and less.

You toy with the idea of maybe just confessing tonight. Get it off your chest once and for all. It would save you a lot of heartbreak, but you can already picture yourself sputtering it out for tense silence to fill the air, and for you to walk out and never come back. You can’t decide if it’s really worth risking when he’s the only thing you’ve got. There are a myriad of directions your life could take, but you wouldn’t want a single one without him in it, even if it crushes you.

A deep sigh escapes you. It’s your birthday today - shouldn’t you be enjoying it instead of being so morally torn?

How is it that you had him so close for so many years yet still missed your chance?

The memory of wishing for Jimin’s returned affection as a teenager resurfaces and makes you wince. While he did end up liking you back, it was a mess of a relationship that left you moping back to Jeongguk after just a few months. It should have been obvious back then that it was him all along.

He was always right in front of you, doting on you, leaving his everlasting mark on your life without even meaning to. Charming and humble and telling jokes to make you laugh rather than to make you think he was funny, being kind out of the purity of his character rather than to be rewarded. Apologizing to ants when he had to kill them and then sulking the rest of the night, learning to braid your hair while watching movies, listening to your every rant and ramble with the utmost attention as if it was the only thing that mattered to him.

Then it hits you that it’s not just about you and never was. It’s Jeongguk’s birthday today, too. You wished it to each other when you walked through the door, but that’s not a celebration, and neither is sex. You’re reminded that your job is to be a friend regardless of how you feel because you know he’d do the same, and good friends wouldn’t spend your special day wallowing in their own self-pity.

With renewed vigor, you’re pushing yourself off the bed and padding out to his sorry excuse for a kitchen. There’s barely enough space to move around comfortably and you can’t imagine how he does it on a daily basis. The view beyond the counter-top and out the balcony connected to the living room is beautiful, though. It’s miles upon miles of shining lights and skyscrapers that embrace the velvet dusk of the sky. That’s broke city living, you suppose. You flick on the light, dim but just enough to see. 

His cabinets are an absolute mess. There’s no organization to it at all, no method to the madness. It’s blatant even from the unsteady view on your tippy toes. You catch sight of some peanut butter, bags of chips, packets of ramen, a box of cinnamon frosted pop tarts…

You almost lose your balance as you shift everything around, but the feeling of joy when you see that signature box is indescribable. It’s exactly what you need. 

The blue and white packaging of the Hostess CupCakes has been opened, and considering it was sitting at the back of the top shelf, probably forgotten about. However, you’re sure it’ll be enough for him.

You find the lighter fairly easily, pulling open all the drawers out and rummaging through them. As expected, there’s no organization either. Measuring cups and pens in one, scissors and a single oven mitt in another. It’s the third and final drawer you tug open to find something to possibly substitute what you’re looking for.

Not that you expected him to have birthday candles lying around, but you didn’t think you’d be using an old red crayon in ones place. It’ll make do. It has to, considering that the noise of Jeongguk shutting off the shower is already reverberating off the walls. It won’t be much of a surprise if he walks out here and asks what you’re doing before you can even finish.

With delicate fingers, you press the end of the crayon into the cake just enough for it to stay upright. The lighter takes a couple tries, as does getting the wax to melt down enough to reach the paper, but eventually a small glowing flame takes shape. Flickering orange and everything you need it to be. You can’t put your finger on why your eyes start to tear up when you look at it, but then Jeongguk is calling your name.

“One sec! Just sit down,” you say loudly, ready to shout at him to stay back if you hear a creaky foot step coming your way.

“...Why?”

“Just do it!”

“Alright, alright.” He surrenders, the weariness coating his tongue one that you hope you can wash away within the next few seconds. “I am sitting.”

Hands as stable as an anchor, you slide the cupcake into your palms and walk carefully so as to not put out the dwarfed blaze. You turn your back to push open the door with and glide into the room with an atypical but much appreciated vivacity.

His eyes widen and an open mouthed smile tweaks at his lips as he perches at the edge of the bed. The flame is already halfway down the paper, but he seems impressed with your extempore candle. It’s the only source of light in the room, and his face underneath the gentle glimmer is a sight that you know you’ll lock away forever to look back on with adoration.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...” you begin to sing, not bothered with the worry of embarrassment. Your lawless, flimsy tone elicits a bubbly laugh from Jeongguk. Suddenly, the bright Gguk you grew up beside returns, the one you love more than ever.

“Happy birthday dear Jeongguk-”

His voice harmonizes with yours, but he sings your name instead of his. He doesn’t even have to try for it to rattle you to your core. Your name off his tongue is by far the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Happy birthday to you.”

You extend your arms out so he can take in the makeshift festivity for all it is. His damp side-swept bangs reflect the pale gleam like black gossamer, and his eyes swimming with sentimentality.

“Make a wish,” you say, suppressing the wild flutter of your heart.

Jeongguk cups his hands under yours, pushing them back until the cupcake is equidistant to the both of you.

He says it firmly, not to be argued with. “No, together.”

You pretend to wipe the sweat from your forehead, thinking of what you might want this year. A job opportunity, to win the lottery, an easier semester at school. You don’t have to ponder for long. How could you, when what you really want has been sitting patiently at the forefront of your mind for almost a year?

Jeongguk sighs. If he could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?

In unison, you suck in a deep breath and close your eyes. You blow with all your might, extinguishing the flame together in one as the room falls dark again.

You wish that Jeongguk will like you back.

Jeongguk just wishes that life will get easier.

[andrewmoocow]

Steven Universe Alternate Future chapter 19: Change your Heart (originally published on July 19, 2021)

AN: So, trying to reform Kevin. Might be a Herculean task to some, but for me, I think I'll try my best. And given that this is almost directly after last chapter, Steven might find this just as challenging since he would continuously resist the urge to go pink and break Kevin's face. But more to the point, let's get things started.

Synopsis: Kevin comes back wanting to become a genuinely better person, but Steven gets suspicious.

Cast:

Zach Callison as Steven, Cactus Stevens

Andrew Kishino as Kevin

Jinkx Monsoon as Emerald

Melissa Fahn as Demantoid

Kari Wahlgren as Pyrope

Jennifer Paz as Laz

Michelle Maryk as Larimar

Deedee Magno-Hall as Volleyball

Auli'I Cravalho as Orange Spodumene

Michaela Dietz as Crazy Lace Agate

Colton Dunn as Mr. Smiley

--

A few days after Steven's faithful visit to the doctor, he went about today trying to keep a lid on his emotions as much as possible as he strolled through the boardwalk, passing by his Beach City friends and tourists along the way.

"Just gotta find something that always makes me happy to take my mind off all that trauma," Steven muttered to himself. He could go to the Big Donut, but something told him it just wouldn't be the same with Dewey running the counter instead of Lars and Sadie. He could also go to Fish Stew Pizza or the docks, but then he would just be reminded of Sadie Killer and the Suspects breaking up. However, there was still one local hangout associated with a friend that hasn't drifted apart from Steven just yet. "Maybe I could give the arcade a shot."

Walking towards the Funland Arcade, Steven found Mr. Smiley just getting done with carrying some new games into the arcade while a poster advertising those games was hanging outside the building. "Just came in: multiplayer version of beloved video game series Undiscovered." Steven read the poster. "Come one, come all."

"That's not all, the good folks at Sumy also have a ton of other classics downloaded too!" Mr. Smiley said to Steven. "Champion of Conflict, Pressure Scramble, Distorted Plastic, all of them GameStation legends! Come try one of them once in a while."

"Well, maybe Undiscovered could help me blow off some steam after the past two days." Steven realized as he stepped into the arcade to play some Undiscovered and pick the series' rugged, hot-shot leading man William Vespucci to play as. However, what he didn't realize until it was too late was that someone else had picked Vespucci's friendly rival Columbus.

"Well well well, been a long while, hasn't it….uh…." Kevin greeted Steven, only to stop short while trying to remember his young one-sided enemy's name. "Ben, was it? You look like a Ben. Or maybe a Finn."

"Hello, Kevin." Steven greeted the bad boy in a strained voice, resisting the urge to put the controller down and punch him in the face. "What brings you here?"

"Well, word on the street is that you've been teaching Gems that once tried to kill you how to be nice to others." Kevin stated. "And I thought, 'hey, why don't I have a slice of that pie?' So that's why I found you."

"Are you sure this is not another excuse to see Stevonnie again?" Steven asked as the game continued. "Because Connie and I are currently abstaining from-"

"Look kid, you were able to get a bunch of sexy galactic terrorists to stop being terrorists, so why not do the same with me?" Kevin suggested with a smarmy grin. "Well, minus the terrorists part. You still get what I mean, right?"

Steven paused the game and turned to Kevin suspiciously. On one hand, the older boy did seem genuine in his offer, but on the other, it seemed like just another excuse to hit on girls. However, Steven did give the likes of Peridot and the Diamonds a second chance, so as Kevin said, he could probably do the same to him.

"Alright, I'll help you." Steven accepted the offer. "After this round of Undiscovered, I'm gonna take you to Little Homeworld to show you around and teach you some basic kindness. But know this, I'm keeping an eye on you."

"Oh, don't you worry, I'm going to be 100% respectful of others the whole way through." Kevin stated confidently. "Now let's get back to gaming."

The two then returned to playing Undiscovered, and they kept on playing for most of the morning until Steven decided it was time for them to go.

--

"So, this is where the magic happens, eh?" Kevin asked Steven as he was driven out of Beach City and taken to Little Homeworld, where he watched many Gems of all shapes and sizes learn how to fit in on Earth and let go of their oppressive pasts. "Is it true that most of these babes were monsters at some point?"

"Yes, they were monsters." Steven answered. "And please don't call them babes, we discussed this."

"I know, but who's to blame for making them all women?" Kevin tried justifying his earlier comment while they got out of the Dondai.

"You know, I never once asked about where the Gem race came from." Steven came to a realization. "Might have to make a note of that later." As Steven looked around the Gem village to see who he can introduce Kevin to first, he could hear a certain voice crying for revenge.

"LET ME GO YOU TRAITORS!" Emerald shrieked while Demantoid and Pyrope tried to keep her from reaching the Warp Pad at the center of Little Homeworld. "I must find our master, she is the only one that can save me!"

"She's been like this ever since we were unbubbled and enrolled here." Demantoid revealed. "While Pyrope and I have slowly gotten more acclimated to the place, Emerald here hasn't."

"Can't you see this tiny slave driver has brainwashed you all?!" Emerald declared with a finger pointed at Steven. "I will never submit to your concentration camp, never!"

"Yeah, she's going to be one tough nut to crack." Pyrope remarked before she got a look at Kevin. "Oh, and who could this be?"

"Name's Kevin, nice dress." Kevin greeted the Garnet with a kiss of her hand. "And I see your little screaming friend's got one eye. Not gonna discriminate, I like that in a girl."

"Kevin." Steven scolded his rival. "I'm teaching Kevin here how to be nicer to folks and less of a pervert. I think he really wants to change, but I'm still keeping an eye on him."

"But I complimented Pyrope's dress. That's gotta mean something, right?" Kevin asked Steven.

"That's a pretty good start, I'll admit, but you gotta do more than that." Steven advised. "Try striking up a conversation with her."

"Okay, I'll see what I can do." Kevin said before turning back to Pyrope. "So, how did you first get here?"

"Well Kevin, it all began when my partner Demantoid and I attempted an uprising against Era 3 using the Light Prisms we owned." Pyrope began explaining her backstory to the human. "We believed the Gem race would be lost without order and sought to install ourselves as the new rulers in place of the Diamonds. However, that would turn out badly and we were poofed & imprisoned, at least until Black Rutile broke us out of our prison to recruit us into her own uprising. But that turned out badly too and we were poofed in the ensuing battle for Earth. Since then, the only other member of Black Rutile's resistance that remained beside the three of us was a belligerent Lapis Lazuli who decided to come here after a Jasper saved her from shattering."

As Pyrope went on, Kevin, out of boredom, rolled his eyes and began to walk elsewhere while Steven crossly looked at him and Pyrope realized too late that Kevin was gone. "Um, where is he?" she asked.

"I'll find him." Steven groaned exasperatedly and walked off after Kevin.

"Pyrope, while you were talking, Emerald had made her escape." Demantoid stated to Pyrope. "I was able to keep her from using the Warp Pad, but that didn't stop her from hiding."

"Oh dear, how could I be so distracted?!" Pyrope exclaimed and raced off with the other Garnet to find Emerald.

--

"Hey cutie, like your curls." Kevin said while trying to hit on a very confused Laz. "What's your name, Baby Blue?"

"Um, Gems here call me Laz." Laz awkwardly introduced herself. "And you are?"

"You can call me the boy of your dreams!" Kevin declared with a flip of his hair, but his advances would have to wait.

"Kevin!" Steven yelled crossly. "You shouldn't have just walked out on Pyrope like that! And you were making good progress too by asking about her story."

"Hey, sorry, she just went on a bit too long." Kevin stated defensively. "And hey, I'm even making a new friend too."

"I was just minding my own business when he walked up and started smooth-talking me, honest." Laz added.

"Well, how about we use this opportunity to give you another lesson?" Steven suggested. "Say you're crossing the street and a woman is in front of a big puddle. What do you do?"

"Tell her to just walk around it?" Kevin answered, causing Steven to facepalm.

"No, you gotta take off your jacket and drop it over the puddle so she can cross." Steven corrected Kevin. "Like in the super old movies. Laz, could you make a puddle?"

"Okay then." Laz complied and generated a small puddle that looked ready to be stepped in with some water nearby. "Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked Kevin. "Just toss the jacket!"

"Seriously?! This is expensive, ya know!" Kevin grumbled while taking off his jacket to spread out on the puddle. "I didn't sign up for this." Once Kevin shed his jacket, he dropped it on the puddle and allowed Laz to cross.

"Thanks, I guess." Laz thanked the human awkwardly before turning to Steven. "See you around Steven."

"You're welcome." Kevin replied with a bow while Steven picked up the jacket. "There, I learned basic politeness. How about that?"

"Yeah, that's a good start." Steven complimented. "Good job Kev."

"Yes!" Kevin cheered. "Wait, did you just call me Kev?"

"Yeah, I didn't know what just happened either." Steven admitted. "Let's go for one more trial for today."

--

At the greenhouse where Peridot usually had her classes, the Cactus Stevens, now freed from Black Rutile's control, were helping Volleyball, Little Larimar, Orange Spodumene, and Crazy Lace Agate with some gardening when Steven & Kevin walked in.

"Oh, hello Steven." Volleyball greeted Steven. "Haven't seen you in a while, how are things?"

"Doing fine, just had a little meltdown a few days ago, but I'm recovering." Steven replied. "And by the way, I heard what happened at that trial on Homeworld. How long were you spying on us for Black Rutile?"

"Since not too long after you faced White Diamond." Volleyball revealed shyly while tears began to leak. "I was only forced to do it by Black Rutile and Holly Blue, though. But can you still forgive me?"

Before Steven could answer, Kevin pretended to loudly clear his throat to get everyone's attention. "It's cute that Cyclops here wants to apologize for whatever, but remember me?!"

"Sorry, Kevin." Steven apologized before introducing him to the Pearl. "I'd like you to meet Volleyball. She was Pink Diamond's former Pearl before getting her eye cracked and later brainwashed by White Diamond. Volleyball, meet Kevin. I hate his guts, but he wants to become a better person so I'm giving him a chance."

"So, your eye is cracked." Kevin gestured to Volleyball's damaged eye. "What's it like seeing with one eye? Does it, like, affect your sense of direction or whatever?"

"Oh no, I get around pretty fine, especially after fusing with Pearl." Volleyball answered brightly. "Ever since then, the crack still's there but you can barely see a pupil now too."

"Cool, cool." Kevin responded, trying to sound interested before he started looking around the greenhouse. "So let me guess, you grow plants here?"

"Exactly Kevin," Larimar said while holding a potted plant in her hands. "Look at the hydrangeas I'm growing!"

"And my daffodils." Orange Spodumene added as she showed off her flower.

"Watching them all grow is the best part!" Crazy Lace Agate cooed while intensely watching the hyacinths growing in her pot.

"Wow, you are all really into flowers, huh?" Kevin wondered while looking over Crazy Lace's shoulder. "I mean, Steven's teaching you all how to be crazy for Earth, so I won't judge."

"See, you're getting interested in what they're doing, and no sign of hitting on them." Steven declared. "Good job Kevin."

"I mean, after you yelled at me for getting bored during Pyrope's story, I just thought I should wise up a little bit." Kevin stated. "Isn't that what humans do or something, learn from mistakes and grow from them?"

"Yeah, that's pretty profound." Steven answered. "Especially coming from someone like you."

"You're right." Kevin realized. "Did I really just change that fast? I mean, I heard you were able to get those Diamonds to play nice with a silly one-liner and they changed just as quickly!"

"Well, not quite." Steven said. "They still got a lot to work out. Everybody does, even you. And me."

"Uh, what do you mean by that, and why do I have a feeling I'm not going to get a good answer?" Kevin asked nervously. Steven sheepishly looked around at the Gems in the greenhouse before taking Kevin away.

"Let's take this outside." Steven declared.

--

Steven took Kevin back to his car and the two drove away from Little Homeworld all the way back to Beach City in complete silence. A silence that Kevin found a bit concerning before the two returned to town before he finally spoke up. "Uh, anything the matter?" he asked. "You've been quiet since we left the greenhouse."

"It's just about what I've been through lately." Steven finally spoke up while stopping the car. "Ever since we last saw each other at that party, I've learned that my mom Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond, went to Homeworld where I saw the Crystal Gems get turned into extensions of White Diamond, nearly got killed by Spinel while all organic life was at risk of being killed by her injector, learned that a sociopathic revolutionary wants to kill me & conquer the galaxy and nearly got thrown off a cliff to my death. And that's only a few notable incidents."

"Wait, thrown off a cliff?!" Kevin exclaimed while the two boys emerged from the Dondai Supremo. "Sociopathic revolutionary? Dang, you been through a lot."

"Yep, and after all that, I learned that I basically have PTSD and my body has been acting really weird lately." Steven continued. "I sometimes turn pink when I get real angry, and more recently my body started inflating out of control a few days ago."

"Yeesh, am I lucky to not have a mom who's a Gem, no offense." Kevin sardonically sympathized. "My parents are usually off doing business or going to fancy parties."

"You know, that reminds me." Steven said as he sat down on the front of the Supremo. "What was your life like? I don't think I ever bothered to ask. Or maybe I hated you too much back then to even think of asking."

"You want my backstory? Well, here goes." Kevin answered and sat down next to Steven. "Just like me, my old man Winston was a real player and a pretty well-off guy. His philosophy of using the right words and moves to win hearts was what won him a wife, my mom Venus, and then came yours truly." He explained. "I was kind of a bit like you as a kid, really sensitive and sweet. But when my girlfriend Sabina ditched me, that was when my dad decided to teach me how to be a charmer. But unfortunately, that didn't win me many friends, especially you. But after spending time with you and helping you get back together with Connie, I just thought it would be time to make a change, but you were too busy to hear me out."

"So, you been wanting this ever since that night?" Steven gasped in realization.

"Yeah, right." Kevin replied. "Then again, like you said, I still got a lot to work out. Which reminds me, what's the status on you and Connie?"

"That's the thing, Kevin." Steven blushed while curling up into a ball. "I tried proposing to Connie so that I'd know what my future would hold, but she said no, and I let it bottle up until the next day at the doctor."

"Wait, you proposed to Connie?!" Kevin exclaimed in shock. "I mean, like, marriage proposal?! Aren't you a little young to get married?"

"Yes, yes I am." Steven replied solemnly. "But still, it was nice getting to talk about it with someone, even if it was with someone I hated in the past."

"You got that right." Kevin declared. "We sure got off on the wrong foot, but even I know you've been through a lot."

"And I know you can be different from your dad," Steven responded. "like how I want to be different from my mom."

"Yeah." Kevin stated before looking at his watch. "Whoo, look at the time!" he realized before hopping off the Dondai's hood. "Got places to be, but maybe we can do this again sometime!"

"If you ever want more niceness tips, you know who to call." Steven said goodbye to Kevin.

"Likewise." Kevin grinned as he walked away. "Catch you later!"

After the two boys waved each other goodbye, Steven got off the hood of his car and began driving it back to the beach house while monologuing to himself. "If I can change Kevin, maybe I could change Black Rutile too." He muttered, but the mere thought of Black Rutile turned Steven's optimistic grin into a tense frown. "Maybe."

--

Well, this has been a more low-key chapter compared to the two chapters before it. But next time, we kick things up again as we move onto Gems' Night Out, which I am so excited to write! We got Amethyst & Lapis as Bond girls, Garnet & Bismuth solving mysteries together, Steven being gaslit by Black Rutile into believing no one ever cared for him & that he must fight back against his loved ones, and Pearl & Peridot mingling with some of the most unique kinds of human known to man: nerds. Like I said, I'm real excited for this.

[ly-canthropewrites]

Love or War

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 2998

Rating/Warnings: SFW. Brief mentions of previous season drama.

Summary: “I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage” 

You can feel the heavy gaze from across the field. Intense eyes fixated on your figure as you rattle the chain-wire fence that surrounds the newest section of Alexandria. The post-apocalyptic town has been thriving since the end of Negan’s reign and with the undead being the town’s only consistent antagonist, it has given the community an opportunity to expand their borders. The chain-mesh fence was scavenged from the Sanctuary before the community fell off the map and serves as a strong protector as the new plot of land gets tilled. But it remains fragile when leant against and it has become a daily task during guard duty to rid the walkers that stumble near the temporary fence, a job you jump at to vent your frustrations. 

The deliberate noise draws the attention of the few walkers close by and they turn, growling as they catch your scent in the wind and they shuffle your way. It’s second nature now, muscle memory, to shift your grip on the knife handle and strike at their heads, using the fence for leverage and stability. The motions do nothing to quench the frustration and fire that rages inside you and you growl, yanking your knife from the last walker’s head with more force than necessary. The bloodied blade gets cleaned on the rag that is tied to your belt loops and then you are left with nothing to do, no more walkers to distract you from the boredom or the swirl of emotions that fester inside. 

You find yourself glancing over in his direction, succumbing to the gravitational pull of the universe and you don’t find yourself surprised at all to find him still staring at you, a dark scowl painted across his face. You sneer back at him, standing strong with your own gaze. 

“Stupid, fucking redneck,” you mutter under your breath and the fire that burns in your chest grows hotter, feeding off of your anger. 

The swishing of grass on your left distracts you and you are met with Carol only a few feet from you. You nod at her, giving her a tight-lipped smile as well before turning to look at the perimeter, finding nothing in the wilderness has changed and you sigh. 

“I saw you staring at each other, I wasn’t sure if it was sexual tension or murderous rage,” Carol says lightly, walking to your side and mirrors your stance; arms crossed and back straight. 

You scoff, openly showing that you aren’t in the mood for her banter today but it doesn’t deter the older woman. 

“Most definitely murderous rage” you grit.

“See, I don’t know about that - I see a lot of passion,” She teases.

You throw her a withering look, disdain heavy in your eyes and if Carol isn’t careful; some of that murderous rage will be pointed at her soon. 

“So if it is murderous rage, how long are you going to remain angry at him?” Carol tries a gentler approach, obviously getting the message and you wince, guilt beginning to set in as you mentally chastise yourself about your unrestrained attitude. 

Shrugging, you refuse to make eye contact with your old friend. “I don’t know Carol, he humiliated me,” you breathe.

“He didn’t mean too, he was worried,” Carol begins to defend him but when she sees you shaking your head and the flash of hurt across your face, she stops herself. 

“But he did it anyway. He humiliated me, he berated me in front of everyone, undermined me, treating me as if I am some soft fucker who hasn’t been beyond the walls” you spit and you render the woman silent, unsure about what to say next. 

When the silence between the pair of you becomes stagnant, Carol realises it’s time for her to leave and she steps back a few feet, mulling over her next words. 

“Talk to him,” she pleads and you snort, “Fuck no,”. 

Carol says your name in warning, making you roll your eyes. “I’m not fucking submitting. If he wants to talk, then he can man up and come to me with a goddamn apology,”. 

You hear her heavy sigh behind you before her retreating footsteps, leaving you to stew in your malcontent alone. It is your stubborn pride and bruised feelings that prevent you from talking with your old companion, from making amends and burying the hatchet, an ideal that is important in this world because life is too short and unpredictable to be so petty. And yet, you cannot help yourself this time. He hurt you, deeply, a stinging wound that will take time to heal. 

It’s not like you have done anything wrong in the first place. With the apocalypse a decade old, resources are unimaginably scarce, leaving only items that are grown, hunted or handmade to be used. It was commonplace for you to be the first person out of the gates in the morning and the last to return in the evening, spending hours and even days hunting, refusing to go back to Alexandria empty-handed. You are too stubborn for your own good, too arrogant in your capabilities to survive and adapt to the dangerous world. As a repercussion, your last run was almost the death of you. 

Enemies are like hydras; one falls and another takes its place. Negan was once considered Alexandria’s greatest threat, but that fear was usurped by the latest peril; the Whisperers. Negan ruled with fear and violence. The Whisperers rule with death. Their ability to influence herds is an obstacle that the community does not know how to overcome. The capricious nature makes every run, every scouting mission, every patrol dangerous and life-threatening. Therefore, it became law that no-one is to go outside the metal walls without a group and without informing the council. It should have been expected that you would struggle with this rule, never been one to abide by strict regulations, but the thought slipped the minds of the council and you kept slipping outside the gates. 

Your last run is a perfect example of why the rule is in place; you got caught by the herd with Whisperers dotted within. Perhaps they tracked you down or perhaps it was just shit luck that you ran into them, but it resulted in a fight for your life and an injury that planted fear on sight. It was sheer, dumb luck that allowed you to escape with your life; an old tree fell whilst you were in the midst of swiping at walkers and humans alike, and caused a great enough distraction that gave you the opportunity to bolt. You damn well shocked Rosita who stood on guard duty that evening as you came sprinting towards the main gates, coated in two types of blood and clutching at your side, out of breath with wild eyes. 

That night you had Siddiq inform you that you got lucky the knife wound at your abdomen was free of infection but he was stern to chastise that only one hour more and you wouldn’t have made it, wound too deep to be stemmed by only pressure and the combination of exhaustion and blood loss would have defeated you. His words didn’t shake you that night, instead, you shrug nonchalantly and smirked, telling him that death in this world is inevitable and you would greet it like an old friend.  

You refused to stay in the infirmary that night, scrunching your nose at the thought of being surrounded by sick people in a sterile environment, rather opting for the privacy of your own place. He was unable to stop you, letting you go with an armful of supplies and a sigh, watching you stagger down the pathway. You made it only halfway home before you were halted by a loud yell, the noise capturing the attention of not just you but the other residents that were milling in the nearby courtyard. 

“What the fuck wer’ ya thinkin’?” Daryl yelled, storming towards you with a glare that would frighten Hades. “How fuckin’ stupid are ya?” he adds. 

He berated you in public that night, practically screaming in your face about your stupidity, your lack of respect to the council and their rules, your selfishness and conceited attitude. He didn’t let you get a word in to defend yourself as he raged, words becoming harsher by the second. You could handle the words but it was the venom in his voice that surprised you. It was filled with so much anger, so much hatred and spite that you lost the words that you wanted to scream back at him. Instead, when he took a moment to catch his breath, you just walked away, your eyes on the ground as you stifled the bewildered cry that ached in your chest. 

The incident happened two weeks ago and you haven’t spoken since, avoiding each other like the plague but the distance hasn’t stopped either of your from directing heated glares at each other, consequently deepening the rift in your friendship. 

                                                          ----

The guard changeover occurs on dusk and when your replacement comes, you greet them with a tight smile as you pass over the unused rifle before quickly leaving the post. You don’t head home after the shift and instead, you go down to the armoury with hopes that working maintenance on the weapons will distract you from the words Carol has lodged in your mind. Daryl worried? You scoff at the thought. In a previous time, those words would have made sense - you and Daryl have been partners in crime since the fall of the world, similar in too many ways and it made sense that you were friends. But after seeing the pure acrimony he directed at you, you fail to believe it stemmed from a place of compassion. 

It was well past midnight when the doors to the armoury creaked open. It was probably someone on shift wanting to pick up more ammo or something alike. What you didn’t expect was to see the rugged hunter ease into the room. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows and a twist in your lips, hands paused on the shotgun you were working on. 

“You weren’t home when I knocked,” Daryl states simply, gruff voice a melody to your ears after the long radio silence. 

“You know I don’t sleep when I’m alone,”

It’s true; you struggle to rest when there is no-one watching over you, a position that is usually filled by the man in front of you. 

Daryl nods, biting down on the inner side of his cheek as he reflects. Of course you don’t, you never have and he knew that. The poignant silence weighs heavily between you and Daryl shifts uncomfortably, moving further into the room to take a seat on the chair that sits in front of the sole workstation. You never sat at the workstation, preferring to sit on the floor so you had more space to work with but at this moment, you hated how you were positioned lower than the man. 

“Yer gonna use that thing on’ me?” There is a ghost of a sly smirk upon his lips, a sparkle of mischief in his eyes but you aren’t having it, you won’t befall to his sparse charm. 

“Don’t tempt me, Daryl Dixon,’’

The full use of his name and the stern attitude makes Daryl wince, the severity of damage he inflicted to you now evident before him. He nods silently, gnawing anxiously at his lip as you both fall back and stew in silence. You resume cleaning the weapon in your hands, needing to keep busy in an attempt to distract your mind from the chaos that sits in front of you. Daryl watches you, this time without the hatred and disdain, but his gaze is just as heavy as before. 

“Why are you here, Daryl?” 

He notes the tiredness in your voice, not the physical exhaustion that is a permanent state in this new world, but the emotional weariness that burdens you. 

“‘M here to apologise,” 

“Are you here because Carol told you to or because you actually want to?”

His hesitation is a loud answer and you scoff, glaring up at him with your teeth bared.  

“Of course not. Daryl Dixon never apologises because he actually wants to, no, someone else has to puppet him. You are so fucking incompetent,” you growl, “You can’t even do the right fucking thing. Whatever ‘apology’ you have concocted to make this all better; forget it, Daryl. I don’t fucking accept it!”. 

You take a predatory satisfaction in seeing the raw hurt flash across his face at your words. Your words are harsh, digging at old wounds that the man harbours but you can’t even conjure up the guilt or regret; hungry to dish out the same pain that you have received. Vexation and wrath raise its ugly head and you furiously rub at the long barrel of the shotgun, as if you would be able to transfer your rage through kinetic energy. 

“Yer keep sacrificing yerself for the group ‘n’ and I fuckin’ hate it,” He breaks the icy air. His voice cracks despite his whispered tone but you catch it the little hitch. 

Your cautious gaze meeting his is the signal he needed because he keeps going, as if the dam inside breaks and the words come spilling out; unrestrained, pure and honest. 

“You’v’ done it since the beginnin’. Take the burden of the group on yerself ‘n’ takin’ all the risks. We’v only survived this long b‘cause of ya. You’v always kept us goin’. When the prison fell, you wanted ter round everyone up ‘n’ then Terminus happened and..” he breaks off, eyes squeezing shut as he recalls the horrible and degrading things the savages there threatened you with; how they held the machete to your neck and how powerless he was to stop everything. You were so close to death that afternoon as well, mere seconds away from being just an empty vessel. 

“Then all the shit that's happened since. You’ve never stopped, never broke down. Just kept trudgin’ on. But it all caught up and you could’ve died out there… without me. ‘N I wouldn’t have known until it was ter late”. 

“But I could have died in here and you still wouldn’t have been able to do anything, Daryl - that’s life,” you argue.

Daryl’s head whips up so fast, you are sure he could have suffered whiplash, but you get distracted by the flames in his eyes. 

“It’s not life. You ‘ave no fuckin’ idea what yer do to me, woman,” Daryl groans, looking at you so helplessly, almost insulted at how you don’t get it. 

“Apparently I piss you off!” you retort, “Ya know, with my selfish attitude and lack of respect” you parrot his own words back to him, a glare resituating across your face. “You yelled at me, Daryl. You screamed in my face, in front of everyone, and then gave me the cold shoulder. Me, out of all people, your fucking friend”. 

He shakes his head while you speak, an action that only infuriates you more. You are ready to attack him about that, mouth already open as you reveal your disgust, “Stop fucking shaking your head as if I’m playing the vic-”. 

In your rant, you don’t acknowledge the scrape of the metal stool along the concrete, given barely enough time to react to the new stimulus of rough lips upon yours and a hand that grips your chin. Daryl swallows your surprise, mouth unyielding as he crowds into you, pushing you back against the back leaving you no room to run. He kisses you desperately. Frantically. It is messy and unruly, a bruising kiss that steals the breath from your lungs and makes your head spin. You can taste every single secret that has ever danced across his lips, taste the fear that dwells within him but has never been uttered to another soul. You learn more about Daryl in this instance than you ever will in a lifetime. 

You both are slow to break apart; lips barely separating as you catch your breath, greedily sucking in as much oxygen as you can to sate the burning of your lungs. 

“‘M so fuckin’ sorry,” he cries against your lips. 

His hand still has a firm grip on your jaw, which is sure to leave finger-shaped bruises in its wake, but like his kiss - his touch is desperate as well. 

“You’v neva been a victim. I was just so fuckin’ scared that I would lose ya. I can’t lose ya,” he stresses, a voice that sounds so pained and winced; it sounds as if the wounds were personally inflicted upon him. 

He drops his death-like grip on your chin, bowing forward to rest his head against yours, never straying too far from your space. Your arms wind around his hulking form; bringing him closer and Daryl lets himself slump against you, his head slipping to rest on your shoulder as he nuzzles into your neck and his body, although heavy, feels like comfort from a warm blanket. You can feel him utter endless apologises into the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your skin and you memorise the soft tone of his voice as he echoes “‘M sorry,”. 

You hush him, turning your head to press a gentle kiss to the dark tresses, whispering “I know,” to every apology he mutters. Eventually, the apologises fade and you are submerged in peaceful silence, curled into each other. You don’t need to ask why he couldn’t have just told you all those words at the beginning, to save you both the agony and trauma of the last few weeks. But your Daryl is complex, a stunning mosaic of intricate emotions that aren’t easily given and you accept that this is who he is. The man would go to war for love; for you.

Tags:

@guywithacrossbow​

@oncemorewithfeelingg

@rachelxxraucous

@gaenahelleborus​

[ontowanderlust]

Shaw+Self-blaming?

Blame., v.

Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

How long has it been? A few seconds? A few minutes? Or has it been a full hour?

All he knew was he didn't know how soothing it is to hear the steady downpour of the rain splattering on his skin as he sat on the bench, hunched over as the rain barely kept the onslaught of thoughts at bay.

He couldn't help but think back to their conversation earlier, his lips pulling into a bitter smile as he raised his head, closing his eyes as he let the pouring rain hit his face. Was it too late to take back what he- no. Even if there's a risk of losing her, he wouldn't take back what he said, couldn't take back what was already said.

I'm no good man, princess, he whispered, repeating what he had numerously told her before as if the words matter now. Was it wrong of him to try fitting himself into her life? Was it wrong of him to give in to his feelings knowing he couldn't give her what she wanted now?

Just as he was about to spiral under his thoughts, a warm breeze-despite the cold weather-passed by him. He didn't need to turn his head to know he wasn't alone.

"You look like shit,"

He let out a scoff, turning to meet those familiar set of amber eyes. "Thanks, you look shittier though." he bit back, assessing the man beside him for...something. "Did she call you?"

Now it's Gavin's turn to scoff. "You think so low of me, brother." he rasped out, gesturing to the weather. "You don't think I wouldn't figure out your moods by now?" he asked rhetorically.

"If it eases your mind, let's just say I'm on a patrol and I saw a suspicious man hunched on a bench under the pouring rain and I came to investigate if this suspicious man is a threat or just a lunatic. Turns out he's a lunatic. Is that better?"

He snorted. He had lived by himself for so long that he forgot his brother could be quite a...character when he wanted to.  "Alright, you caught me, officer." he drawled out sarcastically. "Can you fuck off now?"

A silence befell unto them-shrouded with tension so thick a knife won't be enough to slice through it. Even if that's the case, neither of them moved, thinking as if one movement will shatter the illusion they oh-so carefully weaved.

"I fucked up," both were surprised that he spoke first. He could've easily blamed the weather or his sleep deprived brain for speaking out of nowhere, for taking the first move but he's tired of it all. "I'm fucked up. I've got the nerve to ask her for her hand in marriage when I couldn't even give her the one thing she wanted- the one thing she deserved and it's all because I'm fucked up." he continued when he heard nothing from his companion.

"A family, can you believe it?!" he took a shuddering breath, hands trembling as he ran them through his hair, cradling his head. "I couldn't even tell her how much of useless brat I was- turning a fucking blind eye as that man laid hands on mother- god, I could still remember her swollen split lip!"

"Fucking useless for hiding behind you as you took the beating meant for her, no wonder you resented me back then huh? No wonder you took off the moment you had the chance. I-I'm a fucking coward, that's what and what, she thinks it's good to build a family with a shit like me?"

Pitter patter. Pitter patter. Pitter patter.

"I told myself she's better off with someone just not me. I told myself I should stay away from her because I'm not a good man, and I will never be but it fucking hurts to think I can never be enough for her. It fucking hurts that I...I'm not worthy of her, big brother."

A flash of lightning struck somewhere not far from them, revealing his devastated expression.

Gavin, for his part looked up, counting seconds for the rumble of thunder that he was sure to follow, only to turn his gaze back to the man beside him when the expected sound never came. He had never seen him so... defeated.

"You think so low of me brother," he finally spoke up, repeating what he said earlier, his voice pensive. "I swore that I'll be your shield no matter what, if it means taking a beating so you wouldn't have to be subjected to that, then so be it. If it means you needed to be blissfully unaware of how he treated mother, then so be it. I'll protect you no matter what happens, you remember that?"

Shaw turned sharply towards him, his eyes searching for the lie beneath his words.

"I never resented you back then," the older man continued, meeting his sharp gaze. "I left so I could give you your best chance so never think for a second it's because I've resented you for something you have no control over. What happened to us was never your fault...little brother."

And it was then that the thunder Gavin has been expecting had followed.  

Fuck. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please never let me listen to Amazarashi’s  Kisetsu wa Tsugitsugi Shindeiku (The Seasons Die Off, One by One) while writing angst please. For the sake of my sanity and yours. 

The song is the ending song of Tokyo Ghoul S2. If anyone’s following my main blog (that blog is a mess, i tell ya.), I may have mentioned there that that anime is a simp central and I’ve been simping for almost five- no, ten guys in just one anime. good lord, fml. Oh but the song is freaking good. I may have to write another prompt based on that if boredom comes to me or if I find a prompt relating to that song.  I do have some Gavin prompts lined up hmmmm.....

Ahem. Anyway, you did it anon! You’ve unlocked part two of Shaw’s family prompt. Uh yeah, it’s still angst though lmao. I’m sorry! Fun fact: I planned three routes for this prompt but then my playlist redirected me to Amazarashi and this happened. Welp. Another fun fact or easter egg or whatever: they say that when lightning strikes, you have to count before the thunder follows because.... ;)

Prompts are open so do send some my way!

MLQC Dictionary; Masterlist.

[wowzers-howzers]

Ok *slaps hands together* got some good good content right here. Rohan x wife!reader x Jotaro

Reader is joot’s wife, sex pollen stand trope, you know the deal. It’s obviously smut so like yea. Also, it’s a collab with @sacreddarknesss and we listened to Dreamscape the entire time we wrote. Brit Knee is an OC me and my friend came up with on the fly.

Mori mori mori moriocho radioooooo

Morioh was a quiet town, save for the occasional unruly stand user. Rohan sighed to himself in boredom. The only bad part of this town was the fact that there was nothing to do. When inspiration is lacking, the only thing to do was wander around until it struck.

The artist stands up, slowly stretching his back out. Hearing a few pops, he smiles to himself. Maybe he could go check on that new cafe downtown? Or maybe he could people watch down at the beach? Options.

Rohan checks his Rolex and notes that it’s a little after lunchtime, prime time at the cafe. He decides to go there and packs up his camera and a small sketch pad should inspiration strike him.

Walking briskly down the sidewalk, Rohan sees a streak of pink in the corner of his eye. Odd; He slows his walk to a stop and looks around cautiously. Something isn’t right.

Rohan’s emerald eyes flit across the street and at the various suburban homes lined up neatly as far as he can see. Nothing seems off, until he notices an unusual plant breaking up the monotony of the pristine lawns. It looks to be a large Calla lily in full bloom. That shouldn’t even be possible, Morioh doesn’t have the proper climate to support those. Odd.

Deciding to investigate, Rohan crosses the road and silently creeps toward the flower. Inspecting the leaves, suddenly a fine mist sprays out from the stalk of the flower. A sickly sweet scent envelopes Rohan in a stupor. His senses are overwhelmed with the strong smell and he finds himself on his knees coughing. His eyes are watering from the aroma.

“What the hell?!” He shouts, covering his mouth with his shirt. Rohan quickly scans his surroundings, hoping to find the stand user, but he has no such luck. Damn. He fishes his phone out of his messenger bag and dials Jotaro’s number. He was given orders to call Jotaro should any stand related problems arise.

Rohan waits with bated breath as the line rings several times. His hands grip his pants tightly, knuckles turning white from strain. Rohan feels his entire body burning, like a flame swallowing him up. A haze falls over his vision. This stand could pose a serious threat if he doesn’t get Jotaro here now to take it out.

Finally, the line clicks and a female voice greets him on the other side.

“Hello? Who is it?”

Rohan’s throat tightens up and his mouth goes dry.

“Get Jotaro,” he manages to sputter. He hears a commotion on the other end as (y/n) fetches her husband. Rohan swallows roughly, trying to ignore the pulsating tension flowing through his body.

“I don’t know where he is. Are you okay?” Concern is evident in her voice.

Rohan clenches his jaw.

“Enemy stand. Go to the old bookstore. I’m across the street,” he gasps out.

The dial tone drones on. He hopes that she is hurrying. He doesn’t know how much more he can deal with choking every time he breathes.

Rohan lays down on the cool grass, his senses heightened and feeling every blade of grass against his skin. His head pounds with what feels like a migraine and his vision swims deliriously.

He can’t get the sound of her voice out of his head. The soft tone plays on repeat.

Jotaro’s wife was a wildcard. She was a powerful stand user, but she rarely used her powers, preferring to be a support on the back lines. She had a quick wit and didn’t hesitate to give verbal lashings to anyone she believed deserved it. The image of her stuck in his head. No matter how hard he tried, he could never quite capture her in drawing. Her soft features, silky hair, lovely curves. Wait. Rohan tried to snap himself out of it. He had never thought of her in any sexual way, mainly out of respect to Jotaro, but now? He couldn’t help imagining her plush thighs in his hands, her gasps for more, how warm and soft she would feel around him. What was he doing?

Rohan feels a new tension in his stomach and notices his pants tightening slightly. He moves to sit up and groans at the friction. Why was he so hypersensitive? It must have something to do with that stand.

Panicking slightly, he realizes that he may not be able to actually fight the stand user. His mind is too clouded and stuck on his base desires. Part of him has the sick desire that (Y/N) will help him with that after they defeat the stand user. Rohan imagines her form, covered in glistening sweat after an exhausting battle, chest moving up and down as she pants.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears a shout of his name. Oh. His name. The way it flows out of her mouth has him whining. More. He wants her to say his name more. (Y/N) sprints across the street and kneels down next to Rohan.

“Are you hurt? What happened? Did you see the user?” She rapidly fires questions at him. Rohan stares at her in a daze, unable to speak. She frowns slightly and puts a hand to his forehead.

“You’re burning up!” She shouts, but Rohan can only comprehend her soft skin on him, hoping to feel even more. He barely chokes down a whimper when she takes her hand back.

Her (e/c) eyes shoot around her surroundings, looking for anyone who may be watching. She slowly stands up, clenching her fists as she calls out her stand.

She notices movement behind the curtained window of the house whose lawn they were in. Bingo!

Bounding to the door, (y/n) quickly rips the door open and grabs the user before they have the chance to even react.

“What did you do? Tell me what you did!” She yells at the cowering man in her grasp. He looks back at (y/n) in utter disbelief, how had he been found out so quickly? He smirks as he stands up slowly, looking over the female, assessing how much of a threat she is. (y/n) glares at the man, his long blonde hair parting on the left side, with hints of a strawberry pink highlight going down the middle of the part. His blue cyan eyes look her up and down rapidly, perhaps if he activates his stand in time he could have a chance of seducing her.

He smiles widely now that he has the skeleton of a plan forming in his mind. He adjusts his belt buckle, showing off both the gender symbols, his entire outfit screaming 80’s. The white bell bottom pants, the pink v-neck shirt, and the bedazzled pink scarf around his tense neck showing off one of his many amazing hobbies.

“Why hello there beautiful, what brings you over to my humble abode?”

“Well I can’t kick your ass without coming inside now can I?”

“Aweee easy kitten, I don’t mean much trouble. I just wanted to help your friend out there, it seems like he was a little wound up.”

“What the hell did you do to him!”

“Heh, well sugar, I’ll tell ya, if you let me have a little fun with ya.” His smile grows wider as (y/n) glares harshly at him, ready to kick his ass into the next millennium.

“Listen, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but there is now way in hell I would ever even consider ‘messing around’ with you. Now tell me what the hell you’ve done to my friend or I’ll beat your ass!”

“Oooh~, kinky. Well, my dear, my name is Brit Knee and it seems that I’m going to have to teach you a lesson on how to be much nicer to people, you naughty little thing.~”

(Y/n) grimaces in disgust. Fucking cretin. Brit waves his hand up dramatically in the air as his stand materializes, a bright pink stand covered in calla lillies emerges from the ground. It’s face is made from one giant calla lily, and it makes a noise which roughly sounds like a horse neighing. It raises its petal covered arms and fires lillies at (y/n), who quickly doges out of the way.

“That’s it!” (y/n) yells summoning her stand, a giant dolphin-human hybrid emerges from behind (y/n).

“Tell me what you did,” she growls out, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him in the air. Brit chokes at the pressure on his neck.

“Fine!” He sputters. (Y/N) drops him to the ground abruptly, standing over the pathetic man ready to fight if he tries anything.

“Bare Naked Ladies is an aphrodisiac, but I can’t take away its effect,” he cries. “Once you inhale it’s fumes, if you don’t have sex within 24 hours you die!” Brit whimpers on the ground, curling into a ball. “I can’t do anything now so please don’t kill me!”

(Y/N) scowls in disgust. This stand’s power is absolute hedonism. What’s this about dying? She never knew a stand could do something like that.

“What do you mean? Are you even telling the truth?” She interrogates the bawling man.

“I said what I meant! He will die! I swear I’m not lying! Please don’t kill me!” He continues cowering like a little bitch.

“Well how do I stop it?” She questions.

“Well...uhhhhh...hmmm...my best recommendation is take him to a whore house,” he mutters under his breath.

“A what?!”

“Get him a prostitute!” Brit Knee cries out.

“He’ll have to fuck it out of his system!”

“What the fuck kinda stand is that?!” She screams.

“I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me! I am creature I cannot help this!” He cries. (y/n) glares at the broken man before her, almost pitying him. But then she pushes her pity aside and decides to deck him in the face.

-Time skip-

Rohan is curled against the ground, cradling his massive headache. (Y/N) slowly approaches him, hearing him groan in pain.

“How could I be so stupid? Putting my face in a plant! I, the great Rohan Kishibe, have made an utterly terrible mistake!” He cries out to himself.

“Shut up, stop being a baby,” (Y/N) scowls at him. “I found the stand user, he’s done. Let’s get you fixed up,” she leans down to pick up the smaller man.

Rohan cries out almost immediately after (y/n) touches him, which makes her pull away in shock. She sees him sweating and clenching his jaw. Rohan struggles to get to his feet alone.

“Don’t touch me,” he breathes out.

“Are you okay to walk?”

“Who did this?” Rohan demands.

“Brit Knee bitch,” she solemnly answers. “Sorry, that was a joke,” she trails off.

Rohan doesn’t even acknowledge her, “Where is Jotaro?”

“I don’t know. I’ll take you to the hotel in the meantime, you’re in no state to go anywhere alone right now,” she reasons, offering an arm to Rohan again, which he promptly refuses.

“We can call Koichi when we get back. He may know where Jotaro is.” (Y/N) looks sympathetically to the artist. He was drenched in sweat and visibly struggling to keep a grip on himself. He walked with a drunken stupor and (y/n) couldn’t help but grab his shoulders to steady him.

“Please,” he begs her, “I don’t know if you should do that.”

“Well I do know that you can’t walk so unless you have a better idea, this will do,” she snaps at him. Picking him up in her arms, she speedwalks to the hotel, ignoring any passerby’s who look oddly at the pair.

(y/n) enters the hotel, doing her best to ignore the gazes of the staff and any guests who happen to walk by. They probably thought she was having an affair, as they knew that she had checked in with her husband who was definitely not the man she was carrying up to her room right now. Rohan tries his hardest to ignore the problem arising in him, but it’s hard to do when the woman you’ve been silently pining after is holding you in her arms. (y/n) quickly makes her way to the suit and enters, using her foot to kick the door closed. She makes her way over to the bed, gently setting him down, much to his dismay.

Rohan breathes in the smell of the sheets and notices how much they smell like her. How many times had she and Jotaro laid in this bed together? If only she knew how badly he wanted to take Jotaro’s place, holding her and loving her until neither of them could stay awake.

Oblivious to Rohan’s thoughts, (y/n) quickly dials Koichi’s home phone. She bounces leg to leg, praying for someone to pick up soon. The line connects and she smiles brightly, happy for a breakthrough. Rohan notices her smile and can’t help but breath out heavily, wishing he could make her smile like that.

“Hello, this is the Hirose residence. Who is this?”

“Hey Coochie,” (y/n) laughs to herself at her joke, “Is Jotaro there?”

Rustling is heard on the other end as Coochie goes to check, a distant sounding “yes” is heard as he readjusts the receiver.

“Yes he’s here, want me to get him Mrs. Kujo?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” He sets the phone down and runs off leaving (y/n) on hold.

(Y/N) worriedly looks toward the artist resting on her bed, hoping that Jotaro has an answer on what to do about this. The phone is picked back up and a gruff voice answers.

“(y/n), what’s wrong?”

“Well, ya see, um…” she trails off. “Rohan got attacked by a stand, I took care of the user but there are some...residual effects.”

“Residual effects?”

“Um, he is, uh, incapacitated by, well I don’t know how to put it. The user said something about fuck or die.”

“What?”

“Fuck or die? I don’t know but he made it clear that if Rohan doesn’t get release within 24 hours, he will die.”

“Well isn’t there a strip club in this town? Take him there. He has enough money to get a happy ending,” Jotaro reasons.

“I don’t think so? Even if they did, I really doubt it’d be like American strip clubs where money will get you anything.”

“Does he have anyone who he can call for this?”

“What, like a booty call? Him? Fat chance of that, but I’ll ask,” she answers. Calling out to Rohan, “Do you have anyone who um, you could ask for, hm how should I put this? A favor? Of the sexual kind?”

“I’m not a whore,” he shoots back.

“Yea that’s a no from him,” she informs her husband.

“No wonder he is so awful. Can’t even get laid. Well, do what you have to do.”

“What? What are you saying Jojo?”

“Fuck him. Quick and easy. It’s not like we have any other options. We can’t just let him die. Good grief, woman, what do you think I’m saying?”

“But! I can’t just! I-I can’t do that!” She protests.

“Why not? You aren’t cheating on me, and it’s not like he will come back for more. If that’s the only way to save him, I’ll allow it.”

“Jojo! I feel like I should have a say in this!”

“Okay. What do you want to do about this? Do you have any better suggestions?”

“Not really, but there must be some other way,” she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

“What’s the issue then?”

“I-I don’t want to do this alone…”

“Good grief, speak your mind!”

“Please come back. We can do it...together?”

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes,” he abruptly ends the call.

(Y/N) let’s out an unsteady breath. What had she just agreed to? A threesome with her husband and Rohan? How would that even work? She glances over to Rohan, seeing him panting.

Five minutes pass agonizingly slowly. Finally, the door to the room is opened and quickly slammed shut as Jotaro stalks into the room.

Jotaro glares at the man on the bed, “Pathetic.”

Rohan scoots away from the side of the bed closest to Jotaro, inadvertently bumping right up against (y/n).

“Are you sure this is the only way?” (Y/N) looks at Jotaro.

Rohan covers his lap under the fluffy duvet and looks down.

(Y/N) rubs his back, to which Rohan responds with a low gasp.

Jotaro’s eyes squint, “It seems this is the best course of action.”

Rohan looks between the two, silently praying that one of them will break the tension and just start.

(Y/N) shakily puts her hand against Rohan’s chest.

“Don’t worry, we will take care of you,” she soothes.

Rohan shudders at her low voice and pushes against her touch. Jotaro gets the message and stands behind (y/n) resting his hands on her hips.

She nervously pulls Rohan forward into her grasp and gently kisses him.

It’s like a shock to his system. Rohan can’t help himself as he wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her back onto the bed, her legs straddling him. Jotaro leans over and leaves soft kisses up and down (y/n)’s neck, ending by sucking against the junction where her neck meets her shoulder.

Rohan’s hands roam all over her body, coming to rest on her chest. He gives an experimental squeeze, eyes lighting up when he hears her shuddering groan. Jotaro holds her hips tightly in his own grasp, hot breath fanning across the back of her neck. The taller man pulls her ass towards himself and slowly grinds against her, feeling himself start to harden.

(Y/N) reaches a tentative hand down to Rohan’s lap, and squeaks in surprise when he roughly grabs her hand and pushes his hard length against it. Rohan shakily sighs, finally getting some form of friction. Taking his lead, she massages him, pressing the palm of her hand firmly along his cock.

She sighs as Jotaro, kneels behind her, giving her support from the awkward angle she was in. He gently caresses her ass, ghosting his large hands over her heat.

Rohan whines against (y/n)’s touch and quickly breaks apart from her soft kisses to take his shirt off, finding the constriction unbearable.

“Calm down there buddy,” (y/n) laughs nervously, only to be met with Rohan’s lust-blown eyes. His mouth is parted slightly, panting. Rohan looks to Jotaro, as if asking permission to do something. Jotaro nods slightly. Rohan roughly pulls your shirt up and off of you, leaving you in a bra. Jotaro makes quick work of that, flinging the now useless garment somewhere in the room.

You gasp in shock and Rohan greedily takes one of your nipples into his mouth, already roughly grabbing and massaging the other one.

“R-Rohan!”

He growls against you and lightly nips at your sensitive chest. Jotaro, not one to be outdone, pulls your pants down and off of your legs, leaving you in your underwear. He presses one hand roughly against your clothed slit. Your back arches against him.

Rohan pulls you down to sit on his lap, relishing in the heat between your legs rubbing against him deliciously. Jotaro glares at him, resigning himself to holding your head back for heated kissing.

You wiggle your hips, gyrating on Rohan, sending him into even more of a frenzy than before. Jotaro snakes an arm around you to reach down your front side. His hand momentarily rests against the elastic band of your panties before diving underneath, teasing you with one finger against your lips. You whine against him, trying to adjust your hips to feel more, but Jotaro refuses to give in and finger you. Instead, he gently presses against your clit, adding more and more pressure every time you move against him.

“J-jojo, please,” she whines needily.

“Please what?”

“Please go in, please use your hand, I can’t take the teasing,” (y/n) grinds against Rohan and Jotaro’s fingers.

Suddenly, Jotaro dips his fingers into her wet pussy, roughly finger-fucking her. She screams out, slamming her hips down, making Rohan moan as well.

Hearing him, (y/n) looks down and sees how painfully clothed he still is.

“Rohan,” she mewls. “Take your pants off, please~”

He visibly shakes, hearing her beg and say his name so sweetly is like music to his ears. He slides his pants down, leaving him in only boxers. (Y/N) palms against him before grabbing him through the thin material. He gasps at her hard touch. Keening against her for more, Rohan bucks his hips into her grasp.

(Y/N)’s thighs squeeze against Jotaro’s hand, prompting him to take his hand out, seductively licking her moisture from his fingers before giving her another open-mouth kiss.

Tasting herself on him, she moans against him, tilting her hips against him to give him a roll. Jotaro breathes out heavily before pulling back and stripping off everything. (Y/N) finds herself licking her lips, watching her husband take it all off for her before he rejoins her on the bed. Jotaro presses his thick length against her still clothed pussy, rubbing in between her thighs, groaning at the feeling.

Rohan watches with rapt attention, the pure eroticism of the action making him drool. He watches (y/n)’s face as it contorts in pleasure. Rohan grips himself, tugging himself out of his boxers, grabbing her hand to grip him directly.

His tip is leaking, after being so needy and wanting for so long, he can’t take much more waiting.

Jotaro grabs (y/n)’s hips, hands playing with the band of her panties before ripping them off.

“H-hey! Those were my good ones!” She protests.

“Shut up, I’ll buy you more,” Jotaro silences her, one hand holding her neck, not putting pressure on it yet, but just holding it there. Rohan, taking the moment she is distracted, runs his fingers through her folds, gathering up moisture.

She squeaks in shock, watching as Rohan puts the finger in his mouth, sucking her essence off of him.

“Exquisite,” he sighs, gazing at her adoringly.

“Mine,” Jotaro replies, possessively grabbing (y/n)’s body, positioning himself at her entrance.

“Me first,” he grunts, relishing in the feeling of her tight walls clamping down on him.

(Y/N) let’s out a shaky gasp, never getting used to how well her husband fills her up, just how large he is. Jotaro finally bottoms out, only to pull her hips back up before dropping her back on his dick. Rohan watches, eyes stuck on the sight of her cunt swallowing the large dick whole.

“Make yourself useful,” Jotaro glares at Rohan, prompting him to stimulate her clit while she bounces on his cock. Rohan eagerly complies, using his hands to rub against her.

(Y/N) cries out, overstimulated from Jotaro’s dick jackhammering into her combined with Rohan’s skilled hands working her clit.

“G-Gonna cum,” she gasps out, thighs clenching, hips bucking against Jotaro.

“Cum for me, show him how well I treat you,” Jotaro growls in her ear.

(Y/N)’s orgasm hits her like a freight train, spasms ripping through her body as her vision whites out from the pleasure. Her pussy clenches onto Jotaro’s cock, bringing him to release too.

He holds her hips steadily against his own, panting in her ear as he empties himself out into her. Rohan finds himself transfixed by the sight of Jotaro’s cum oozing out of her.

“Here. Your turn,” Jotaro removes himself from her folds still breathing heavily.

“Blow his mind, honey,” he whispers against her ear. (Y/N) shudders at the gravelly tone in his voice before nodding, falling down to cage Rohan between her arms. Her arms support her weight, not wanting to just fall against the smaller man. He is broken out of his stupor when she lines herself up against his cock and sinks down slowly.

To say Rohan enjoyed it would be an understatement. It was pure bliss, Jotaro’s cum acting as a lubricant, allowing him to slide against her velvety walls. The warmth made him feel like he was melting underneath her, eyes rolling back as she finally reached the bottom.

Giving an experimental roll of her hips, Rohan’s arm shot up to her back, his nails digging in in pleasure.

“A-Ah~ (y/n)! Please,” he begged. Oh how the mighty fall. The great Rohan Kishibe, reduced to a begging fool at the slightest provocation. If he had the mental wherewithal to be ashamed, he would be, but right now, the only thing he could think about was how warm and wet her pussy was as she bounced up and down on him.

(Y/N)’s sweat-covered body warmed up again, the angle Rohan’s dick hitting her in just the right way. Her back arched, pushing her pelvis against him. The new position added just the right amount of friction against her clit with every bounce of her body.

“Rohan, I’m, fuck, I’m cumming!” She shouted, her hips losing rhythm as she ground herself against him, clenching down. Rohan moves his hands to her hips and roughly pulled her up and thrust into her, not wanting to lose the delicious friction.

Gasping out, (y/n)’s body went into overdrive, the added pleasure wiping her out entirely. “F-fuck~!”

Rohan moaned his approval, hips canting to meet her hips every time he dropped her down onto his dick.

“So close,” he cried out. Unable to hold out any longer, Rohan slammed with more fervor. Like an animal seeking release, Rohan held her body tightly against him until finally the coil of tension snapped, crying out as he rode out his orgasm.

“(Y/N)!” Rohan couldn’t help but scream her name, shooting his cum inside her to mix with Jotaro’s. His vision was filled with stars, drool spilling out of his parted mouth, body entirely blissed out.

Jotaro watched in amusement, he knew his wife was a dream in bed. He watched as she rolled off of Rohan to the side. Picking her up in his arms, he carried her to the bathroom to clean her up.

“You’re welcome,” he said, kicking the bathroom door closed to clean (y/n) up.

Rohan, thoroughly spent, stared up at the ceiling, unable to move from his pure exhaustion. His body finally started ramping down, finally relaxing after hours of pure tension.

[harlot-of-oblivion]

The Devil’s In The Details

All work and no play makes Dante a dull devil. But he soon finds a cure for his boredom when a smokin' hot detective comes a-knockin' on his door.

The title and overall feel of this chapter is inspired by the song "A Girl Like You" by Edwyn Collins.

Chapter 3: Never Met A Girl Like You

You look up Dante’s profile as soon as you get back to your desk. The Lieutenant was not exaggerating that this man’s file is incredibly long; it almost reads like a fictional novel filled with colorful characters and bloody descriptions. Unfortunately, all these reports are real and if any of what you read is remotely true, then you really have your work cut out for you this time.

It all starts with the infamous demon attack on Sparda Manor, which is common knowledge to most locals nowadays. The only body found in the rubble of their burnt down home was Eva Sparda, the matriarch of the family, and the rest of the family was pronounced dead soon after the incident. You narrow your eyes at that little detail…it’s rather strange that they just jumped to that conclusion even though there isn’t enough sufficient evidence to back up the claim.

The next notable part of the profile is all about the escapades of Tony Redgrave. You resist the urge to facepalm yourself while reading about all the events that occurred under his on the nose alias. It all seems to be standard fare on par with mercenary work, so you skip ahead a little until hitting another infamous incident involving some crazy ass tower…a lot of information about what happened has been redacted except that the Son of Sparda was definitely involved as well as an associate only known as Lady.

You read ahead again and raise an eyebrow at the strange report about a beautiful woman smashing through his shop while riding a motorcycle. This mysterious woman is later confirmed to be another associate known as Trish. Then it seems he left to do some outside work, so there isn’t much details except for a few witness statements here and there. The most noteworthy detail is the sudden appearance of a young man bearing a striking resemblance to the white-haired mercenary known as Nero.

A memory flashes before your mind at the name. You’ve seen this young man before; it was during the Red Grave incident involving the demon tree. You did not get the chance to speak with him…all you can remember is nodding to a young man with short white while leading a group of citizens caught in the demonic fray to safety. And speaking of that debacle, you skim through the reports about Dante’s role in that devastating event, which again seems to be scarce except that he was definitely hired to take care of whatever or whoever planted that freaky ass tree.

From what you can glean from the extensive damage reports, complaints about disturbing the peace, and the high rate of death and destruction…it paints Dante as a womanizing playboy who shows no concern for the wellbeing of others, which makes him a highly dangerous individual. Your fingers tap on your desk as you carefully sift through the information you have just gathered, noting that some of the reports have a healthy dose of prejudice attached to them. A good detective knows that preconceptions should never be taken at face value when searching for the truth. So, perhaps he’s more of a flirty troublemaker with a pension for hunting demons, which has earned him quite the reputation among mercenaries and police alike. You lean back in your chair and mentally weigh the risks of seeking out this infamous devil hunter in hopes of ridding the city of another demonic threat.

The soft chiming of your phone breaks you away from your deep contemplation. You pull it out your pocket and shuffle through a series of texts from Carmen. A couple of them are pictures of the victim’s garage, specifically a set of golf clubs found in the corner. She goes on to explain that this could be the murder weapon, but she will have to run some tests to confirm her suspicions. You take out your sketchbook and update the depiction of the crime scene with a drawing of a golf club with a question mark beside it. The other texts inform you about the safe key and missing dog. Carmen didn’t find any kind of safe or lock box that goes with the key, so she’s just adding it with the rest of evidence for further investigation. And there is still no sign of the family dog either.

No surprise there, you thought while texting her back about your heated argument with the Lieutenant and your plan of seeking outside assistance from a demon hunter. You also let her know that Graves is fine, just shaken up from the missing body that could very well be the zombie bride she gushed about earlier. While waiting for her response, you check your email for the record of medical examiners that Graves sent, and you file a report about the missing body from the morgue.  

After completing those tasks, you decide to grab a quick breakfast and do some more investigating before setting out to find the Legendary Devil Hunter. You collect your sketchbook and grab another cup of coffee on the way out, gulping it all down in a few long sips while you walk through the station. Your phone chimes multiple times as you approach the exit, but you withhold from checking it as you slip past a slew of reporters standing outside the station. All of them are none the wiser as you gear up for a long ride before hopping on your motorcycle.

You rev the engine a couple of times before zooming out of the parking lot with a loud roar, hoping that you can make it to Devil May Cry before closing time.  

(A few hours later…)

Another day spent doing absolutely nothing, Dante thought drolly as he rereads yet another dirty magazine while rock music blares from the jukebox.

It’s late afternoon and there is still no sign of Morrison. The phone rang a few times, but none of the callers gave a password. Dante knew that business has been slow recently, but he’s going to die of sheer boredom at this rate! He leans back in his chair and props his feet up on his desk, not really ogling the half-naked ladies in the magazine as his mind wanders through less vulgar musings.

Dante’s life has taken one hell of a U-turn for the better ever since getting back from hell with his brother in tow and having a very awkward but needed conversation with Nero. Just the fact that he even has a nephew still makes him shake his head in wonder, and having Vergil back to being his old cranky self…it all seems too good to be true. But a few pinches every now and then, as well as some stabs from his dear brother, knocks some sense back into him and erases all doubt from his mind.

Dante has never felt more alive now that he has finally found his family. And it would truly be a shame if this tedious dry spell takes him out before he gets the chance to really enjoy it. Morrison better bring the cure to my boredom before I find it myself, he thought, absentmindedly turning a page while letting out a huge yawn.  

A loud knocking echoes throughout the shop. Dante glances up from his magazine towards the entrance. Huh…that’s not Morrison, he surmises as more knocking bangs on the door. “It’s open!” he announces, not one to turn down a potential client coming to him directly. He tosses aside the dirty magazine as the door swings open to reveal an attractive woman entering the shop.    

Dante’s brow quirks in curiosity as you look around with mild interest. “Well, well…what’s a pretty lady like you doing here?” he asks nonchalantly while his keen eyes roam up and down your form, already spotting the concealed gun holstered inside your riding jacket.  

“I’m looking for the owner of this shop,” you inform in a calm and even voice while slowly approaching the landing area of his office. “Is that you?”

Dante smirks mischievously. “That depends on who’s asking, babe.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

Your stern voice startles him for a moment as you step up to the landing and pause by the edge of the carpet under his desk. You’re close enough now for him to get a better look at you; confident stance, sharp eyes, and a stoic face that could rival his brother’s stony expression. And yet it still captures his full attention despite your cold reception of his playful retort.  

“The name’s Dante,” he introduces himself as your head swivels around, taking in every detail of his office as you walk around his desk. “And if you’re looking for the bathroom…it’s in the back.” Dante motions with his head as you get closer to the couch, which gives him an opportunity to check you out from behind. His eyes linger up your slender legs and the curve of your ass…but then he does a bit of a double take when he notices a knife hidden in one of your boots.  

“Legendary Devil Hunter, Son of Sparda…and the embodiment of sloth apparently,” you muse aloud, stoic shell cracking a little as your lips curl into a grimace while examining the copious piles of trash strewn all over the floor.

Dante crosses his arms with a shrug. “I see my reputation still precedes me,” he quips back cheekily as your gaze turns towards the small bar in the corner.

“Please tell me that hasn’t just been hanging there rotting since the Red Grave incident,” you mutter in disbelief while pointing at the Empusa nailed to the wall with numerous swords and one small dart.

“What does a babe like you know about Red Grave?” he inquires casually while his eyes narrow suspiciously.  

A subtle spark of anger lights up your eyes. “Stop calling me babe.”

Dante slides his feet to the floor before leaning over on his desk. “How about you give me the pleasure of your name and maybe I’ll call ya by something more your style,” he offers with a wink, hoping to rekindle that spark of yours with his flirty banter.

Your smoldering eyes squint hard at him for a moment, the fierce spark now glittering as you reach inside your riding jacket. “Detective Y/N of the Red Grave City P.D.” You take out your badge and flip it open to show him your photo I.D. as you move close to his desk. “And if you call me anything but Detective…I’ll show you why some of the boys down at the station call me Ice Bitch,” you warn with a low growl filled with simmering anger.  

“Ice Bitch, huh?” Dante repeats while giving the badge a quick glance so that he doesn’t miss the show when the sparks start flying. “I dunno…you sound pretty fiery to me.”

Dante watches with fascination as your eyes burst with searing heat, but your entire face remains completely composed. It’s not exactly the kind of show he was hoping for, but there is still time to figure out what really lights your fire so long as you are here. There’s just something about you that begs him to stoke the flames flickering in your eyes…maybe it’s the way you carry yourself with utmost confidence around the shop despite the infamy around his name and reputation. Or it could be that fiery spirit hidden beneath your frosty exterior…all he knows for certain is this:

He’s gotta have more.

“So, what does the fuzz down at Red Grave want with a guy like me?” he asks, relaxing back into his chair with an amused grin, detecting another knife hidden up your sleeve as you put away your badge. “Wait, wait…lemme guess: you’re here to arrest me for being too damn good lookin’,” he jests, arching his brow while stroking his chin in a dashing manner.

“Last time I checked, it wasn’t illegal to have a scruffy beard and unkempt hair,” you retort smoothly while straightening out your jacket. “I’m here to request any insights you have about demons.”

“Well, you definitely came to the right place,” he boasts, dramatically waving his hands around the shop before tilting his head inquisitively. “Is this for a case?”

You raise a well-trimmed brow in surprise. “You catch on quickly…yes, it’s for a case,” you confirm, resting one hand on your hip while the other hangs down by yet another knife in your pants pocket. “We need to determine if demons are involved in a series of disappearances and murders.” You pause for a moment, blinking your eyes once as you tilt your head in thought. “There’s also the possibility of a Devil Arm being involved as well. And if either of those are true…” You trail off with a weary sigh before finishing your explanation. “Maybe we can team up and work on this case together.”

Dante kicks one foot up to rest atop his knee. “It sounds like you already know a lot more than your average cop,” he notes while his brow twitches with interest at your proposal.  

“When you live in a place like Red Grave, you learn to pick up on a few things…” The spark in your eyes dims down while a haunted look flashes across your impassive face. “Never know when it might save your life,” you quickly explain, crossing your arms as your expression hardens, but the dull ember of your eyes glimmer softly.

Now that’s a look I know very well, Dante admits silently, having seen the very definition of anguish staring back at him in the mirror for years. “Alright, you wanna know more about demons…why come to me? I know for a fact that there are plenty of mercenaries in your area,” he points out with an exaggerated twirl of his finger.

“Because you’re the best of the best, Mr. Dante.”

This isn’t the first time that Dante has heard those exact same words. His usual response is to just laugh it off and comment about hearing it all before…but this time it’s different. The absolute certainty evident in your voice sends a chill down his spine. And the spark in your eyes is roaring with the flame of total conviction as you seemingly stare straight into his devilish soul.

“Hmm…you sure are painting a pretty interesting picture,” he imparts, fidgeting a little under your intense gaze, which makes him wonder if you’ve noticed just how tight his pants have gotten while talking with you. Not that he minds…but it seems you are more interested in business than pleasure right now. So, he brushes that notion aside and scoots his chair closer so that his arms can rest on the desk. “Look…I’m really flattered and all, but you’ve overlooked one minor detail: mercenaries and cops aren’t really known for working together.”

Dante flashes you with a toothy grin, hoping the reluctant act he’s putting on will illicit another feisty show. “Oh, I didn’t overlook it,” you reveal, quickly snuffing out his attempt at lighting the fuse with a shake of your head. “I just don’t give a damn.”

“Really?” He leans in closer over his desk as he pokes that wild temper of yours from another angle. “Didn’t know it was okay for you to break the law whenever you want and openly carry that gun just because of some fancy badge,” he provokes with a challenging smile.

Your stoic face contorts into furious scowl as the spark in your eyes ignites in searing rage. You quickly close the distance between both of you and slam your hands down on his desk, proving that he skipped lighting the fuse and just kicked the entire damn barrel into the fire! But it doesn’t bother Dante one bit as you lean in real close to his face over the desk, inflamed gaze boring into him while you launch into an explosive tirade.  

“Now you listen here! I took an oath to protect and serve, and that’s exactly why I’m here now! I did not work my ass off for this badge just to waltz around with this gun! And I have no intentions of abusing that sacred trust the citizens of Red Grave have put in me!”

You pause to take a couple of deep breaths before continuing in a calmer but still irate tone. “Your expertise and experience with demons may lead to the break in case we need…and it’s what I need to uphold that oath.” The harsh scowl on your face softens as the rage in your eyes dies down to a flickering flame of hope. “I need your help, Mr. Dante…I can’t crack this case wide open and finally bring this insidious killer to justice for the families and friends of their victims without you.”

Dante stares at you in awe as your impassioned speech buzzes around him like a temperamental honeybee. He couldn’t help but to watch your lips as you unleash your fury upon him…wondering if your kiss would be just as passionate as your volatile rage. And you are so close now, waiting for his response as you loom over his desk like an unmoving statue. But your intoxicating scent ensnares his senses while an all too familiar presence awakens inside him. His heart beats faster as blood rushes straight down his groin, forcing him to subtly readjust himself under the desk while the devil within purrs beneath his skin.

The door behind you suddenly swings open before he can come up with some clever one liner about enjoying the show. Morrison strolls on in and effectively pulls both of you out of the intense moment as he starts talking. “Hey Dante! Word on the street is that a detective from Red Grave City has been snooping around and…Oh!” He stops in his tracks when he finally notices you. “Looks like you’ve arrived before the rumors, Detective,” he notes smoothly while lighting up a cigar.

“I’m a firm believer of getting the whole picture before putting my pencil to paper, Mr. Morrison,” you divulge coolly without tearing your fierce gaze away from Dante’s stunned face. The corners of your mouth twitch into a fleeting smirk as you straighten up your posture while backing up from his desk. “I’ll be in the city for a couple more hours. You can find me at the Simmer Down Diner if you change your mind…and if you don’t come around, I’ll just assume that your answer is no.”

You turn and step down the landing before walking past Morrison towards the entryway. Dante’s eyes follow your every move, hypnotized by your swaying hips and confident stride as you reach for the door. “But make no mistake, Mr. Dante,” you murmur, grasping the handle as you turn to look over your shoulder. “There’s a serial killer on the loose and I intend to catch them with or without your help.” Your eyes sparkle with determination with those final words as you open the door and exit the shop.

“Did I hear her right?” Morrison questions, puffing on his cigar as he walks across the shop towards the couch. “She wants your help catching a serial killer?”

Dante keeps his eyes on the door as he nods. “Yep. Seems so.”

“Huh…that’s something you don’t see every day.” Morrison takes a seat on the couch and flicks his cigar over a nearby ashtray. “What’d she offer you in return?”

“We didn’t get that far when you busted on through the front doors.”

Morrison puffs on his cigar in quiet contemplation for a moment before cracking a knowing smile. “You’re thinkin’ about following after her, aren’t ya?”

Dante finally turns away from the door towards his dear friend. “What makes you say that?” he inquires, casually leaning back in his chair while Morrison shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“You never could resist a beautiful lady asking for help. Even when all they brought was trouble…you still hear them out and almost always take whatever bait they dangle in front of ya.”

Dante shrugs at his friend’s logic while pondering about possibilities of working with a detective. On one hand, he’d have to play nice with the police and not break too many laws if he agrees to help you. But on the other hand, he gets to hang out with a smokin’ hot detective with one helluva temper. And if he takes up your offer…his heart throbs while the devil in him purrs at the thought of reigniting the flame in your eyes and seeing more of this sizzling chemistry between the two of you.

“You know me too well, Morrison,” he discloses with a puckish grin. “I’ll let ya know if I take the bait this time.”  

Morrison waves his cigar in the air as if to say told ya so as he gets out of his chair with a small flourish. He recalls the restaurant you mentioned as he steps out the shop, knowing it to be one of many greasy spoons in this area of the city. His hands are practically shaking with anticipation as he summons Cavaliere while a blur of different emotions swirl around in his head. If you can get this kind of reaction out of him already, then he’s gotta see where this may lead because honestly…he’s never met a girl like you before.

And now that he’s had a taste…he wants so much more.

Read Chapter 4

My Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona and @exsultry

[sarahreesbrennan]

How come between Season of The Witch and Daughter of Chaos, we skipped Sabrina's dark baptism and Tommy being resurrected/killed and went straight into the Greendale 13 threat? Loving the books so far, just curious. 🖤🖤

That’s a great question and I’m so happy you’re enjoying! I’m so sorry this reply is late, I am on unexpected deadline but I know I have a few Sabrina, Fence and In Other Lands answers owing and I am delighted the questions were asked!

There is a confusion that often arises because the category of media tie-in novels (books set in the world of a media property) has two main subcategories. They are similar and have much in common, but aren’t the same.

A) One is novelizations, which is basically a book that tells the same story as the movie/TV show/graphic novels, but through a different medium. The story covers the same space of time, and includes much of the same dialogue. It’s the same story told in a different way.

B) Two is tie-in books, which tell different stories that fit in before or after, or in the spaces between the story. Often tie-in books start with prequels, telling the tale of how the characters get to the place before the story began. It’s a different story but it’s crafted specifically to tie in with the larger story.

Both subcategories are set in the specific story world. Both offer insight into the characters, their thoughts and feelings, and secret motivations, but they are different kinds of story.

I had no idea of these distinctions before I started to write tie-in books myself, so I explain here because hey, knowledge is always useful. I’ve now read a lot of them, because I wanted to teach myself how to write them and because they’re fun, so I thought discussing examples might illustrate the difference.

The Iron Man novelization by Peter David is widely considered especially good. I’ve read it and I like it a lot: great echoes, perfect story beats. (I discuss it pretty technically because I was reading it in order to teach myself to write a novelization, as opposed to a tie-in novel. I have written a novelization, but not in the Sabrina universe and not under my name for contractual reasons!) It tells the story of the first Iron Man movie, how Tony Stark became Iron Man. A novelization means a lot of the (in this case funny and great) dialogue from the movie must be used, but then with a novelization you have to get pretty specific about why the characters said what they said, and how they felt when they said it. One thing I liked a lot in the novel was the insight offered that Tony Stark’s actions at the beginning of the story were frequently driven by sheer boredom--that he was a genius who wasn’t given enough scope for his genius, and was acting out. 

An example of a fabulous tie-in book is Tess Sharpe’s The Evolution of Claire, a book that ties in with the Jurassic World movies, a prequel of how the heroine Claire gets involved in the dubiously moral world of dinosaur park creation. So it happens before the events of the movies, but by reading it you understand Claire better, her ambitions and frustrations. Another such is Leigh Bardugo’s Wonder Woman novel, Warbringer, showing Diana’s much earlier years, and making you understand more deeply how Diana evolved her moral philosophy and her secret insecurities. 

There’s a great article in the Guardian about tie-in novels: https://www.theguardian.com/books/booksblog/2018/jul/17/tie-in-novelisations-star-wars-jurassic-world

To add to the confusion, stories can have both novelizations and tie-in novels. 

Star Wars famously had absolute masses of tie-in novels. The Star Wars universe is so popular it even has junior and adult novelizations--two different novelizations of the same movie. Patricia C. Wrede, a rather fabulous YA/MG SFF writer, wrote the junior novelizations of the Star Wars prequels. (I’ve read them but if you want to get started on Patricia C. Wrede I would recommend her Enchanted Forest Chronicles. Nothing to do with Star Wars, I just love them.) 

Star Wars also has category B, the tie-in novels. For instance, Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse, which is a story that takes place in between the events of the movies The Last Jedi and The Rise of Skywalker. I have also read this book. Very cool interstellar war and spies action, but also... for them that like that kind of thing, among which I would include myself... Poe ties Finn’s tie. Thank u Rebecca Roanhorse.

Similarly, there’s a novelization of Maleficent 2 (Maleficent 2: Mistress of Evil by Elizabeth Rudnick), but there’s also a tie-in novel set between Maleficents 1 and 2 (Heart of the Moors by Holly Black) telling you what happened in between the events of those movies. Significant things can happen in those spaces--deaths, courtships, mysteries solved and secrets told. A dungeon scene between Prince Philip and Maleficent is in Heart of the Moors. It’s very important.

So in a novelization, a retelling of a story through a different medium, you get the same events as in the story. But you might get extra scenes that cast a different light on the story, and you will get access to the inner thoughts and motivations of the characters.

And a tie-in book is usually set in between the seasons of a TV show/movies/issues of a graphic novel. It’s a story made to fit into a liminal space, and meant to shed light both on what happens in between the stories, but to cast light before itself and behind itself--so you might learn more about the characters’ pasts, or learn things about their feelings that will illuminate why they behave in a certain way in the future.  

For the Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, I was hired to write tie-ins, so I wrote a prequel (Season of the Witch) which shows the summer before Part 1, the autumn when Sabrina turns sixteen and has to sign her soul away. It’s an adventure with a rusalka, but also shows us how Sabrina came to be 100% certain her wild witch cousin Ambrose would have her back, why she was insecure enough to do memory spells on her boyfriend (Harvey), and it’s an opportunity to know how the witch world works before our heroine does.

Then I wrote Daughter of Chaos, which happens over mortal New Year’s, right after the Christmas episode that ends Part 1, and before Part 2--because the show didn’t have mortal New Year’s. That was a new adventure that could also tell us how people felt after the events of Part 1, and why people might act the way they would in Part 2. It’s about bad luck spells and enchanted towns, but it’s also about coping with a break-up and how that can put you on a different path, about bereavement and trauma caused by magic, and about longing for affection. Plus it provides us the first hints about hell, before our heroine sees the sparks fly. 

Same deal with book 3, Path of Night, which happens between Parts 2 and 3, in the early spring while Sabrina’s boyfriend (Nick) is in hell. It’s a quest for an item of power to release your beloved from suffering, but it’s also about what happens when you ask a lot (too much?) from your friends, how you can climb out of trauma toward loving relationships (between mean-girl witches and wicked-witch cousins), and how trauma can take someone apart (nobody in hell is having a good time). Plus it provides knowledge about hell before our heroine gets it in Part 3, and glimpses pertaining to heaven.

This month my tie-in novel with C.S. Pacat’s Fence graphic novels comes out (September 29!) and it’s set after the events of volume 4, though the book Striking Distance also works (like Season of the Witch) as an entryway into a new world and an introduction to the characters (in this case a fencing team at an elite boarding school). You try to make every book a possible gateway, but a book 1 definitely should be. (Still, I read Vampire Diaries Book 4 first and caught on just fine, and I recall one reader who read Daughter of Chaos/Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Book 2 and was like, ‘I do not watch this show and did not read Book 1, but I get everything and also Nick Scratch can get it.’)

Another person reading the Sabrina books was like, ‘Sabrina talks a lot about her Dark Baptism in Season of the Witch but then it never happens, Sarah Rees Brennan!’ And this is true, because it happens on the show, and I wasn’t writing novelizations. I think writing Sabrina’s Dark Baptism and Tommy’s death would have been cool and heartbreaking, but I wasn’t meant to retell a lot of scenes from the show. I did snabble a few scenes, but only ones I could use specifically for the purposes of telling the new, in-between stories.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you get the scripts of the media property you’re working with. Sometimes you get several versions of the scripts. Sometimes you don’t know until you watch the filmed version that scenes got cut. (There were several scenes I read about in the Sabrina scripts, which were cut later, that I used to inform the books. Plus sometimes it’s just fun to watch something and be like, I KNOW WHY e.g. SHE HAS THIS ACCENT/HIS SHIRT DISAPPEARED.) For both you get insights into the story, and especially insights into points of view, that I think you can really only get with books.

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you consult with the writers for the media property, are told things to do and things not to do, and have opportunities to do other optional research. (Things I have done in pursuit of better tie-in novels: written to Sabrina actors and asked them their character thoughts and how they played certain scenes. Forced C.S. Pacat to play with my kitten on a skype call while I took her notes about fencing and feelings.)  

For both novelizations and tie-ins, you have to write them fast, and you have highly specific contracts. Christopher Golden, who’s written many Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Daredevil novels, discusses some details here: https://iamtw.org/from-daredevil-to-buffy-christopher-golden/

So, that’s Options A and B. There’s also Mystery Option C, stories that blur the lines between the two, such as the events of a story told from the point of view of supporting characters, so you see both behind the scenes, the scenes and often before-and-after for the story proper. Tom Stoppard’s play Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, focusing on Hamlet’s pals from uni. I don’t know what you’d call them. I just wanted to say that they exist too.

Thank you for reading! (Both this and the books.) I hope this was informative and not too dull. :)

[carriagelamp]

November 2020: A Months of Familiarity

This November ended up being a month of me either rereading old favourites, exploring new books by favourite authors, or a mix of both.

…Be prepared for so much Terry Prachett, I found his audiobooks on Libby last month and since that I’ve been unstoppable.

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents

The first of my Terry Practhett books to mention! I chose to include this one on my list because it’s a beautiful stand alone novel, perfect to read if you’ve never touched on of Pratchett’s works before, and is often overlooked.

The book is about Maurice, an “amazing” cat by his own admission, who has teamed up with a stupid boy and his very own plague of rats. The moneymaking scheme is simple: set the rats loose on a town and after causing a panic let the boy stroll in and offer to play his pipe and lead them away… for a fee. This is working well, until Maurice, the boy, and the rats arrive in the town Bad Blintz. Here the rats are beginning to question the morality of their work, the boy gets entangled with a young, mischievous local girl, and they’re all shocked to find out that the town already has a real rat infestation… or so the rat catchers claim. Things quickly turn sinister and deadly as the group is forced to confront not only the cruelty of humanity, but something even more sinister living in the small, dark, hidden place of the town.

This is a YA book, unlike some of Pratchett’s other novels, so it’s a quick, fun read, while still having all of his dry wit and heavy, complicated thoughts about society, morality, belief, and what it means to be a person. It’s a genuine delight to see Maurice and the rats, recently made sentient by wizards’ rubbish, struggle to come to terms with who they were and who they are now.

Black Pearl Ponies: Red Star & Wildflower

Y’all it ain’t a secret at this point that I enjoy a stupid horse girl book, right? I picked up the first two books of the Black Pearl Ponies books from the library on a whim and they were basically what they promised. Girl lives with family on ranch, father helps train horses, girl goes on pony adventures with ponies. A particular focus is given to horse welfare and care. Very mediocre but a nice thoughtless covid read if you, like me, get a craving for animals books written for seven year olds from time to time. Plus this comes with the added humour of it being written, as far as I can tell, by a British author who thinks all Americans are stetson wearing cowboys which I find unreasonably funny.

Crenshaw

I love Katherine Applegate’s work; I read the Endling series earlier this year and they are overwhelmingly good. Crenshaw was also an enjoyable read, though not my favourite by her. It read a little bit like a book I read last fall, No Fixed Address, which was also a very good read though not my usual genre. Crenshaw is about a boy, Jackson, whose family, though close-knit and loving, is experiencing financial difficulties and struggle with food scarcity, homelessness, and all the instability and stress that results from this. During this tumultuous time, Jackson is surprised by the reappearance of a tall, bipedal, snarky cat — Crenshaw, his old imaginary friend. This is a charming book that blends genuine, real world hardships with whimsy and magical realism.

The Enemy Above: A Novel of WWII

Since it was Rememberance Day this month, I decided to pick up a holocaust novel. This book is about 12-year-old Anton, a young Jewish boy who finds himself fleeing from his Polish farm in the middle of the night with his old grandma when a German raiding party that attacks their village in an effort to make the countryside “judenfrei”. The book is, perhaps, not the most well-fleshed out, but it’s fast-paced and exciting for a child/YA audience that’s being introduced to holocaust literature, without trying to downplay the absolutely horror and brutality of the Nazis. It manages to strike a satisfying balance between fear, tragedy, and hope.

“Everything he had heard was true. He was just a twelve-year-old boy and yet they hunted him. He had broken no laws, done nothing wrong. He was simply born Jewish. How could anyone want to kill him for it?”

Gregor the Overlander

Somehow I never knew that Suzanne Collins wrote anything other than The Hunger Games? I stumbled across this series at a used bookstore and was first taken by the cover and then shocked when I realized I recognized the author’s name. Well The Hunger Games was such a good read, how could I not pick up a book with people riding on a giant fucking bat?

Such a good choice. I’m almost done book two and bought book three today after work. It is exactly the sort of low fantasy that I live for, when a fantasy world lives so close to the real world that you can practically touch it. I also love the fact that while all the wild fantastical elements are happening, you still have the main character taking care of his toddler sister the whole time. It’s at times charming, hilarious, and nerve-wracking!

It’s about Gregor, a normal kid who’s doing his best to help his mom take care of his two younger siblings ever since his father disappeared years ago. Gregor expected months of boredom when he agrees to stay home over the summer instead of going to camp like his sister in order to watch his baby sister, Boots, and their grandma while his mom is at work. He never could have expected that a simple trip to the apartment’s laundry room would lead to both him and Boots tumbling miles beneath the earth into the pitch black Underland, a place filled with giant rats and bugs and people with translucent skin who fly through the massive caverns on huge bats. He also could have never expected that he would get wrapped up in a deadly prophecy that would force him to travel into distant, dark lands into the waiting claws of an overwhelming enemy.

Kings, Queens, and In-Between

A Canadian queer novel that I’ve seen trumpeted everywhere. Libraries, classrooms, bookstore, this book got so much hype (and has such a pleasing cover) that I had to get my hands on it. Now, I’ve got to admit that it’s not really my genre; I don’t love realistic fiction. But that being said, it’s a fun, heart-warming, queer romp through that explores gender, sexuality, love, family, friendship… there’s a lot of lovable, quirky, complicated characters that get thrown together in unexpected ways at a local summer carnival. While there’s tension and misunderstandings and mistakes, this is overall a very optimistic and loving novel, and would be a great read if you want a queer novel that reads like cotton candy.

Love, The Tiger

This book is the graphic novel equivalent of a nature documentary. There’s no text, but you follow a day in the life of a tiger as it moves through the jungle on the quest for food. The art is honestly beyond outstanding, and though it’s a really quick read it is so very worth it. I’ve also read Love, The Lion in this series (also good, though a bit more confusing imho) as well as one of the books from his other series Little Tails which is still very nature and education based, though for a slightly younger audience.

Making Money

More Pratchett! Making Money was the first Discworld book I ever read, and it’s one of my most reread ones — it’s an ultimate comfort read! This is technically the sequel to Going Postal (another book I reread this month), in which conman Moist Von Lipwig is saved from a rightful death at the noose in exchange for agreeing to work for the city. Going Postal sees Moist narrowly dodging death in many varied forms as he tries to get the Anhk-Morpork postal service back on its feet and get the drifts of dead, whispering letters moving again. In Making Money things at the post office have become… too easy. Moist is bored, restless, until he finds himself thrust into a new job: head of the Royal Mint. There he has been given not only charge of the biggest bank in Anhk-Morpork, but also a dog with a price on its head, a lethal family with all the money in the world out for his blood, and the fear that his secret past life may be on the verge of being exposed to everyone, all while he’s desperately trying to make money…

The Moist series is honestly an example of Pratchett at his absolute best imo, and the amount of humour, wit, adventure, and scathing commentary he can build around a bank is outstanding. Cannot recommend enough.

The One And Only Ivan

Another book I’ve been hearing everyone talk about, as well as another Katherine Applegate book. It’s been on my radar for a while, but with the sequel and a movie coming out, it had everything at a fever pitch and I finally picked it up. Fantastic read, I definitely enjoyed it more than Crenshaw. This book was based off the true story of Ivan, a gorilla taken from his home in the jungle and sold to the owner of a mall, where he spent years of his life growing from child to adult silverback in a small, concrete enclosure. In this fictionalized version, everything changes for Ivan and his friends, when a new baby elephant is bought to help revitalize the mall attractions and Ivan makes a promise he doesn’t know how to keep: to protect this baby, and keep her from living the life Ivan and his friends were forced to. This book made me very emotional. Applegate’s picture book that goes along with it is also a great companion read.

Ranma ½

I realized that our library had the 2-in-1 editions of Ranma ½ and honestly that was it for me. This has been a favourite series of mine since I was in middle school and realized that the creator of Inuyasha had written other things. It is unapologetically ridiculous and larger-than-life and you have to love the shameless joy it has at being ludicrous. It does start to feel a little repetitive the further into the series you go, but at the moment, with covid, I find I have a huge tolerance for rereading slightly repetitive things so long as they make me happy. And boy howdy does the vaguely queer undertones, endless pining, and relentless slapstick of Ranma ½  make me happy. This is classic manga y’all and if you’ve never read it you should!

The basic premise, for anyone that doesn’t is that of an bonkers martial arts comedy. It follows Ranma and his father who, while training in China, fell into cursed springs. Each spring has the tragic legend of a person or animal who drowned in it, and if someone falls in they inevitably turn into that creature any time they’re doused in cold water. Ranma had the misfortune of falling into “The Spring of Drowned Girl” and, indeed, turns into a girl anytime he’s hit with cold water. Things continue to spiral out of control when Ranma meets his arranged fiancée, Akane, who is as exasperated by this situation as Ranma. Both would rather be fighting people than worrying about things like romance. And don’t worry, there is lots and lots and lots and lots of some of the goofiest martial arts fights that you can imagine for a bunch of high schoolers.

Through the Woods

A beautiful and creepy Canadian graphic novel. I honestly really don’t even know how to describe it in a way that does it justice. It’s a collection of short horror stories, with beautiful, flowing art style that draws you in and sends chills down your spine. I’ll let the art doing the talk, and honestly beg you to go find a way to read this graphic novel:

The Witch’s Vacuum Cleaner: And Other Stories

The last Terry Pratchett book on my list (though shout out to the others I’ve listened to this month: Wee Free Men, Hat Full of Sky, Men At Arms, and Snuff) and one that I actually physically, rather than listening to the audiobook. I included this one because unlike the others, this was a Pratchett book I had never read before. It collects a number of Pratchett’s short stories that had been written for children over a number of years. These weren’t necessarily my favourite examples of Pratchett’s writing (I prefer his longer work that can really dive into social issues) but it was such a quick, easy, fun read that you can’t really help but be charmed by it. I liked the stories that took place in “the wild wild west (of Wales)” in particular.

[ficklefics]

Who Needs Enemies - Chapter Three: The First Night

It's never easy staying still. But soon enough, boredom will be the least of everyone's worries.

Jerome Valeska x Harleen Quinzel, Jeremiah Valeska x Harleen Quinzel

SERIES MASTERLIST ~ MASTERLIST ~ CHAPTER TWO

Warnings: Violence

Another month went by with no word from Jerome.

So I let myself relax. I’d done my part, now it’s time to wait.

A hot chocolate, a pile of blankets, Puddin’ by my side, and a dumb movie. A moment to sit back and not worry about the rest of the world for once.

Then the phone begins to ring.

I try to ignore it, letting it ring into silence. Then it starts again. Groaning in annoyance, I pick it up, ready to shout at whoever is disturbing my peace.

“What?” “It’s Jim Gordon.” I sit up, confused. “Hi, Jim. What’s up?” “Where are you?” He sounds panicked. Behind his voice, people are shouting. “At home…” “Jerome has escaped from Arkham.” It’s happening. “He broke out, along with Tetch and Scarecrow and hundreds of others.” “And you think he might come after me.” “Yes. You need to stay in your house.” A car door slams and an engine revs. “Lock the doors and windows, hide.” “Okay, I will.” Not. “Thank you.” “Stay safe.”

As soon as Jim hangs up the phone is ringing again. This time with a familiar number.

“Jerome!” “The one and only.” A grin bursts onto my face at the sound of his voice. “Where are you?” “About. Look, did you get the address?” “Yeah, hold on.” I scramble up from the sofa and upstairs to the study. There’s a file sitting there with everything I managed to find. “He owns a restaurant in the East Side.” “Perfect.” His smile is audible. “I’m coming to get you – just need to pay dear old Zach a visit.” “Okay. I’ll be ready.”

*

I’ve been ready for an hour. Puddin’ has plenty of food and water and I have a bag packed with some extra clothes. For once I’m dressed appropriately for going on the run: combat boots, jeans, and a sturdy leather jacket – no more uniforms.

Waiting was torture so I’m pacing up and down the stairs. Every creak of the floorboards makes me jump. I guess I’m a little on edge.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I can’t tell if I’m thrilled or terrified. Maybe both.

“Boo.”

I scream and spin around, striking the figure across the face. Jerome stumbles into the wall and clutches his now-red cheek. “Hello to you too.” His voice is hoarse. “Shit. I’m sorry.” I do genuinely feel bad, but I also can’t help giggling at the offence on his face. Luckily he sees the humour in it too – as always.

But when he stands up, his face entering the light, I gasp. His face and neck are burnt, coated with a sticky substance. Soup.

“I’m guessing that means you saw your uncle?” I try not to overreact. Knowing Jerome, he doesn’t care about the injuries. “Yup. But he was waiting.” “Maybe Jim got in contact – he called me right before you did.” “Oh really?” He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “What did you tell him?” “That I would lock the doors and hide.” I narrow my eyes back at him. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking.

At least until he breaks out laughing. “Good for you, Harls. I’ll make a criminal out of you yet.” He steps closer and takes my face in his hands, but before he can lean in I pull back. He pouts, clearly frustrated. “I am not kissing you until you’re fixed up.”

I take his hand and lead the way downstairs to the bathroom, smirking at his childish whine of “Fine.”

After spending hours with the lights off, turning on the light to the bathroom is almost blinding. But it also reveals that Jerome’s burns aren’t as bad as they first appeared. I pull out a first aid kit and look up at him.

“You’re too tall.” “You’re too short.” He counters. “No, I mean… I can’t get a good angle.” “Here.” Without warning, he grabs my waist and swings me round to sit on the counter so we’re almost face to face. “Is that good enough?” “Just about.” I begin cleaning the burns – just like old times. They’ll heal quickly. Jerome stands between my legs, watching me work. “You know, I can treat things other than burns. I wouldn’t mind a bit of variety.” “Am I boring ya’, Harls?” “Not yet.” I wink at him. “But you should be careful.” “Not really my style.” “I noticed. Now, open.” I tap on his chin and he obeys, with a roll of his eyes. The inside of his mouth and throat are red and sore. I grab a spray and use as much as I dare, holding Jerome’s jaw so he can’t squirm away. He tries to speak but it comes out garbled. “What was that?” I tease. He grabs my hand and forces me to release his jaw. “We need to get going. The Hatter got into a bit of trouble.” “Well, you’re all done.” I close the box and slide it away from me. “Let’s go.”

But instead of stepping back, Jerome places his hands either side of me, keeping me on the counter. “I think you promised me something, Harls.” He growls, his eyes dark and a smirk on his face. “I think I might have.” I grin and press my lips to his, revelling in the feeling. His hands grab my neck, holding me close, burning hot against my skin. I let myself fall into the kiss, closing my eyes and forgetting everything else but Jerome. “I thought,” I murmur against him, “I thought we had to go.”

He groans but pulls away, letting me jump down. “Unfortunately, we do. But first,” I raise an eyebrow, “I need a new look.”

*

We meet Scarecrow at the side of a quiet road that passes under the train tracks. He greets us with a solemn nod, dark eyes examining Jerome and me. To be honest, he freaks me out. His piercing stare sends a shiver down my spine.

“So, what’s the plan?” “Stop the van, get rid of the driver, head to Penguin’s.” Jerome shrugs as though it’s simple. “It’s nice to know your planning skills… remain the same.” I roll my eyes. “Come on, Harls. Three of us versus one cop?” He throws an arm around my shoulder. “What could go wrong?” “Let’s remember that I’m the only one here who hasn’t been arrested.” My eyes shift from Jerome back to Scarecrow. “No offence.” “None taken.” He rasps.

I’m about to respond when Jerome grabs the collar of my jacket and pulls me into the shadow of the buildings. The van is here. It rumbles up the road, jolting and coughing smoke.

When it’s just about to reach us Scarecrow steps forward, a dark silhouette in the centre of the tarmac. The van screeches to a halt mere inches from him. The driver steps out, angry and confused, and is greeted with a spray of gas from Scarecrow’s glove. In an instant, his face is consumed by terror and he runs off screaming. Jerome and I join Scarecrow, rounding the side of the van. The doors swing open to reveal Jervis Tetch wearing a metal mask, his eyes wide with excitement.

Jerome hoists himself up surprisingly gracefully. “How’d you like the new threads?” Stepping forward, he begins to detach the contraption from Jervis’ face. “Aw, speechless, I know.” It pulls away with a hiss. Scarecrow climbs up through the doors and I follow him, trying to suppress the feeling that I am completely out of my depth. As Scarecrow steps around Jerome to speak to Jervis, Jerome turns and winks at me.

Jervis and Scarecrow are speaking to each other. Distracted by Jerome, I only manage to catch the end of Jervis speaking: “I must confess, pure joy in besting Jimmy boy with our ploy!” He giggles as he speaks – Jerome may be insane, but this man is unhinged. “Yeah, yeah, you did a great job keeping Gordon occupied.” Jerome waves a hand at him dismissively. “Meanwhile, Crane got his fear gas, I got my information and my girl.” Jervis and Scarecrow’s eyes both fix on me. Show no fear. “And everything is going according to my plan. But, no time to palaver gentlemen. We have fish to fry.” He does a half turn, then looks back at them. “And, by fish, I mean faces… or feet.” He seems to be thinking long and hard, then waves his arms with a laugh. “Something fun to fry!”

Jumping down, he offers me his hand and I take it – even though the slight jump is nothing – joining him on the ground. “Buckle up.” He slams the doors and leads the way to the front of the van. I sit myself in the driver's seat, ready to go. “Oh, no way. My turn to drive.” I roll my eyes but slide over anyway. “Honestly, you crash a motorbike one time and no one trusts you with a vehicle again.” “Seems reasonable to me.” I shove his shoulder. “All aboard!” The engine rumbles to life and we speed off, Jerome’s gleeful cackling trailing behind us.

*

We pull up outside of an old building beside a sign reading ‘St Ignatius School for the Gifted’.

“Hang on, I know this place.” I lean out of the passenger side door and look up at the familiar building. “You do?” “Yeah,” I glance back towards Jerome, “I was supposed to be transferring here before we left Gotham.” “You little genius, you.” He ruffles my hair condescendingly. “That means you can give us the tour.” “Why are we here?” “Revenge, Harls. Revenge.”

*

We leave Scarecrow behind to keep watch while Jerome, Jervis and I sneak through the hallways. Nothing has changed in the six years since I was last here – a few more awards in the display case maybe.

Soft light glows from under the door to the headmaster’s office.

Jerome kicks it open, making the man inside scream. “Please don’t hurt me!” He whimpers, backing into the corner and away from an open filing cabinet. “Oh, hush.” Jerome waves a hand dismissively. “You know why I’m here.” “No, no, I don’t.” He shakes his head, tears welling in his eyes. “Please just leave.” “You’re really making this more difficult than it needs to be.” Jerome pulls out a pistol and spins it by the trigger haphazardly. “Xander Wilde.” “I don’t know who you’re talking about.” “You know there’s no need for this,” Jervis interjects. “Yeah, but this is the fun way.” Jerome grins as he points the gun at the headmaster’s head, inducing another flood of tears. “Harleen, mind taking a look through that filing cabinet there?” “Sure.” I step forward and begin rifling through the files. “Xander Wilde?” He nods. “And I thought I had the prize for the weirdest name in Gotham.” “It’s a close competition.” Jerome chuckles. I find the file quickly and pull it out. “Good girl.” “Please just leave.” The headmaster begs. “Oh, we’ll be leaving. Just one more thing.” Jerome steps aside to make room for Jervis, who pulls out a pocket watch. As Jerome grabs the file from me and leads the way out, Jervis begins to speak.

*

“Anything to report?” Jerome calls to Scarecrow who’s skulking beside the van. “Nothing at all. I take it the mission was successful?” Jerome waves the file and winks. “More than. Let’s get going.”

As we get in, Jervis appears, joining Scarecrow in the back. “Are we good?” “He won’t be bothering us.” Jervis smiles through the wire separating us. The van speeds off again, this time in the direction of Penguin’s mansion. I can see the faint glow of dawn in the distance. Jerome tosses the file onto my lap and nods at it. I pick it up. “So who’s Xander Wilde?” “Just read it out.”

I flick it open. The first page holds all the basic information. Name, date of birth, parents, and so on. The space where there would normally be a photo is blank. “Xander Wilde, 24 years old. Started at the school fourteen years ago and graduated valedictorian. GPA of -” My eyes widen at the number. “- Oh shit. Wow.” “Keep going.” “Top of all his classes, teachers thought the world of him. Quiet, studious, perfect student by all accounts.” I make a face. “Can’t relate.” Jerome gives me a look which I return. “Don’t look at me like that; I was smart, not a good student.” “Sure.” He doesn’t sound like he believes me. “Where is he now?” “Ummm…” I rifle through the pages of reports, of straight A’s, of extracurriculars. “He went to college, graduated and now… He’s working for an engineering company, Meyer and Hayes.” I drop the file and frown at Jerome. “Who is this guy?” “Let’s just say he betrayed me.” He refuses to make eye contact with me. “And he’s going to regret that.” “Okay.” I shrug – there’s no point interrogating him. If it’s to do with his uncle, it must be something big. Realising how tired I actually am, I suppress a yawn. My eyelids begin to drop, and despite my struggles to stay alert, I find myself falling asleep.

*

The world around me is burning.

I’m trapped in a room with no doors or windows, surrounded by flame. As I spin round, panicking, looking for a way to escape, the walls start closing in. Slowly at first, but as they get closer they speed up.

“Help!” I scream. But there’s no one to hear. “Please!” I fall to the ground, my knees knocking against the floor. “I don’t want to die!”

“Harleen!” My head flies up at the somewhat familiar voice. “Hello?” “It’s me!” A figure in front of me. He’s silhouetted by the fire. “Please help me!” It doesn’t matter who it is. I need to survive.

He kneels down and his face is hit by light: Bruce. At the sight of him, I feel myself ache with guilt. Why is he helping me? Why is he so good?

“Come on.” He offers me his hand.

I reach out to take it, but before I can make contact a splitting pain shoots through me. It’s as though I’m being pulled apart.

“Bruce!” “Harleen!” This time it’s Jerome’s voice coming from Bruce’s mouth. The pain only gets worse. I fall to the floor, writhing in agony. “Harleen!” His voice is far away, and yet right beside me at the same time.

“Harleen!”

Someone is shaking me. My eyes snap open and I lash out. Jerome is prepared for the attack this time, grabbing my hand before it can make contact with his face. “We’re here.”

I look around, seeing that the sun has almost risen and we’re parked outside of the mansion. “Oh.” I try to rub the sleep from my eyes, but I’m still exhausted. “Did I snore?” “Only a bit.” Jerome chuckles. “What about talking?” Hopefully, my dream stayed inside my subconscious. I don’t want to explain that to Jerome. “Nothing really.” He frowns, almost worried, but I smile, trying to convince us both that everything is fine. “Cool. Let’s go.” I slide out of the van and stride into the mansion. It doesn’t take Jerome long to catch up. “Where did the others go?” He shrugs. “They’re about.” A tall man is standing waiting for us. “Mr Cobblepot has instructed me to show you to your rooms.” He’s stiff, clearly anxious in Jerome’s presence. “Look, you go ahead.” He squeezes my shoulders and pushes me forward slightly. “I need to talk to Penguin.” “But I want to help.” I protest – even though I know he’s right. “You’re no help if you’re snoring.” “Fine. Don’t get killed again.” “No promises.” I glare at him over my shoulder as I follow the man up the stairs until Jerome is out of sight.

When we get to the room, I say thank you and immediately lock the door.

Next, the curtains. No light allowed.

I dump my bag on the bed and pull out a top, changing quickly and collapsing into bed, letting sleep overwhelm me.

CHAPTER FOUR

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

For the monster requests, what about vampire timeskip Dimitri who's been starving himself of blood or something like that?

Pairing: Vampire! Dimitri x Reader

Prompt: Vamp Dimi but is idiot and won’t drink blood

Description: Friday, September 13th, 2019. The moon is full and the evening is full of magic. And yet, you’re stuck in a basement masquerading as an Italian restaurant. As if sensing your boredom (or perhaps the lack of customers) your manager sets you free. So, in the cool air of the upcoming fall, you walk home, deciding that the gross bandage covering your unfortunate cooking cut had to go, not realizing, in the dark of night alone, you would begin to bleed. Profusely. Still at least a half-mile from home and all alone in the dim light of a street post all you can do is attempt to stop the bleeding lest if get all over you and your uniform…

Content Warning: Vampires, blood drinking, mentions of stalking/attacking, dubious consent (I swear this is cute though)

Rating: sfw

Word Count: 2090

Notes: Me, walking home from work today: Damn how tragic that a mysterious, attractive vampire isn’t here to help me deal with my bleeding thumb. also me, now galaxy brained: Hey wait a fucking minute

Oh before I forget if anyone cares for it I might make a part two bc ya girl is always touch starved!!!

Edited: 6/7/21; holy shit I’m so glad I don’t work there any more lmao

_______________________________________________________________

“Just when I thought this night couldn’t get slower,” You sighed, looking down at the tablet before you. It was hardly even 9 pm yet you barely had any reservations left at the restaurant despite it being a Friday. At this rate, your manager was going to cut someone loose soon; either you, or your co-worker.

“Oh, hey John” You looked up as your co-worker greeted your manager.

“Hey you two,” He grinned weirdly wide for the situation. “It’s pretty slow right now, so it looks like one of you is free to go,” He smiled and watched as the two of you looked at one another.

“Ahh well, I don’t have many hours this week…” She frowned. You nodded, remembering earlier in the evening she had explained needing to pay for court fees.

“Ah damn, guess its me then.” You frowned but weren’t all that upset. You would have loved more hours but if someone had to leave you would take it.

“Cool, cool!” Your manager grinned. “You’re free to go then, _____, enjoy your evening.”

“I’ll try” You smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes. It was a nice evening out but you would have to walk a little over a mile home by yourself. You hummed softly to the cheesy old pop music, going about clocking out and gathering your things to leave. Your roommates were busy tonight and the bus would be at least another half hour, so it looked like you were walking home this evening.

Finally out the door after giving your goodbyes, you supposed it could be worse; autumn was coming, offering its cool evening wind to the word and you could feel the magic in the air. The moon was full and bright as you stepped up and out of the basement the restaurant you worked at up to the busy plaza around it. It was a Friday night after all, a special one though, since it was Friday the 13th! People seemed cheerful to be out on such a pleasant evening and you decided if you had to walk any day, you were glad it was this one.

The walk went about as it usually did for the first half, you keeping to yourself as you walked out of of the busy plaza towards the apartments outside of it. Your left thumb pulsed, sending you an unfortunate reminder of the cooking accident you had yesterday; while cutting potatoes for homemade chicken noodle soup you were careless and sliced right into your thumb. Luckily, none of it got on the food and you ended up being fine but it was deep enough and on a weird part of your thumb that band-aids usually couldn’t stop the bleeding alone and felt weird on it. Not only that, it made I hard to text or play games. With much joy, you realized now that you were off work, you could rip the weird blue bandage that covered it off. So you did just that, ripping it off and throwing it in the nearest trash can. You walked a bit longer, where the streetlights got further between one another and the roads a little quieter. It was then, you realized, your thumb had decided to bleed; profusely at that. With a sigh, you held the offending digit in your mouth as you dug through your purse, stopping under a street light to find the tissues you kept in there. With one hand it was hard to look and even harder to dig it out but eventually you did, wrapping the tip of your thumb and around with the tissue and applying pressure with your pointer, hoping to stop the bleeding. While you did get it squared away eventually it refused to stop bleeding; you weren’t too worried about it, it would have to soon enough but it was sure annoying to keep the pressure on it. Bleeding while walking alone on a Friday evening wasn’t your idea of fun. Still, you marched on in hopes of reaching your apartment to properly take care of this stupid cut.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t quite alone this evening. Ever since you had begun bleeding he had been following you. Stalking you. He knew better than to attack some poor defenseless human; he had sworn to himself never to do it again. But dark forces were at work tonight; the pull of the full moon, the magic of Friday the 13th and you, stumbling down the street bleeding and none the wiser. It all worked against him and Dimitri couldn’t help himself as he slinked ever closer towards you looking for the opportune moment to strike.

You were in that little gap of darkness between streetlights, where anything could happen. No cars lit you up and no sound broke the slight tapping of your shoes against the concrete. You lifted your hand and paused a moment, hoping that your thumb had stopped bleeding. To your great chagrin, it had not and was, in fact, bleed more than it usually did when you upset it. With a sigh, you lifted your hand preparing to press your thumb your lips, preparing to keep your thumb in your mouth while you once again dug for your tissues. But you never got that far because your wrist was caught in someone’s hand. Your breath hitched as you were pulled against something solid, yet cold. A chest, you could infer, because soon after a sultry voice was whispering in your ear.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,” You were left unable to reply as you were spun to face your assailant; the light from the streetlamp behind you did little to show his features, merely crown his tall figure in a glow of old yellow light. He was blonde you could see, his hair up in some sort of half ponytail. Unable to fight his strength and finding yourself unable to scream you could only gape in shock as he lifted your hand, now dripping with your blood as you left your cut uncovered, and licked the blood freely flowing down your palm and the side of your thumb. He licked the cut and an involuntary shiver went through you as your eyes met; strangely, you noted he wore an eye patch. After that unprompted lick, he spoke once more, keeping your gaze as he spoke again. “May I… continue?” There was a hunger in his gaze, a look in that one baby blue eye you couldn’t say no too. Not trusting your voice to stay steady in this situation, you merely nodded dumbly watching in amazement as he held your hand to delicately and brought your thumb to his lips. His gentle touch was in stark contrast to the grip he had on your hip, holding you snug against him as he did… whatever it was he was doing. The situation was beyond strange, you had to admit but a strange sense of euphoria washed over you as this even stranger man drank your blood. Soon, the long moment passed and with a small hiss as his lips rose, you realized that where your cut was was clean. The only thing that remained was a strange, warm feeling and a little pink scar where it once was.

“Uhh,” The words lamely left your mouth as you looked from your hand back to the man, who was licking his lips and trying his best to look like he wasn’t blushing. Vaguely, you got the sense you knew what was happening here but not wanting to seem or sound as crazy as you felt you stayed silent, hoping your assailant, err companion? Whoever he was, you hoped he would have some sort of explanation. Things were too crazy for you right now and rather than dig yourself deeper into the pit you were in you stood silent, watching the many emotions pass through his face.

“I…” His voice was so soft, so low, it was hard to catch even in the still of the night. “I apologize, I was so rash and I-I…” The blush on his face seemed to deepen, for reasons unfathomable to you but you dared not question them. Despite not trying to be intimidating, due to his sheer size and power you were effectively intimidated and let him continue. “I shouldn’t have done that and yet… I find I cannot stop.” He brought your hand he still held to his cheek, pressing it against his cold skin. It was funny how the most intimate you had been with someone was a mere stranger but you supposed nothing bonded two people together like bloodletting in the city suburbs.

“I’m sorry but… I’m so lost…” You hadn’t even noticed your free hand was trapped between the two of you until now, curling loosely against his nice dress shirt.

“I… am Dimitri,” Lovely, if you ever got out of this situation you could tell the police the name of the attractive man who drank your blood and stole your heart. “And I… normally don’t do this but tonight just made the perfect storm for me to come and…” He shivered at the thought of his own actions  “…attack you.” He shook his head, looking distraught. “Even now, the taste of your blood stains my tongue, the smell of you burns my nose…” Dimitri leaned in as if to confirm this, his lips hovering just above the junction of your neck and shoulder “Please, stop me.” His words were so low. You held your breath, unsure what to do, what to say.

“V-vampire?” The word tumbles out of your mouth, uneven and rough. He sharply pulled back and you gasp, looking at his face once more.

“Are you that surprised?” His smile was wry, his chuckle dry.

“Right, right,” You didn’t know what you were doing or why but you laughed awkwardly, using your free hand to brush back some of your bangs in any attempt to find some control in this situation. “I’m uh, _____.” You added, suddenly unable to look his way. He still held you close, as if he didn’t know any better or any other way. “So um… I’m guessing you err, didn’t get your fill?” You smiled but Dimitri was quick to notice it was forced.

“Don’t feel obligated to me out of fear.” He frowned and made move to let you go but decided against it and decided to instead give you a small squeeze. “What I did was wrong and should be treated as such…” You cut him off.

“No I… don’t think its that.” You frowned, a blush covering your face as you come to terms with the real reason you wanted this to continue. “It’s just um… well, it feels nice. You feel nice holding me.” The both of you stared at one another wide-eyed, shocked at the words that left your mouth. “And um well, you know… it’s dangerous for a girl to be walking alone at this time of night.” You giggled a bit. “So… maybe you could help me home and in return, we could do this in a more comfortable setting?” Once more shocked, it took Dimitri a moment to process the words you said and even longer to find a proper reply to them.

“You… want me to walk you home?” He said softly.

“And come in, if you’d like.” You smiled.

“After what I did…” he began but you stopped him.

“Well, you actually helped me.” You laughed. “That cut was super annoying at best and now that it’s gone I feel a lot better.” You smiled warmed him possibly more than the first taste of your blood did. “So, help me again… and maybe I can help you in return?” You said. Dimitri wasn’t one to simply let a woman go when she asked for his help but he still felt wrong you were so freely offering him what he had long since denied himself. “Please?” The hand you had pressed against his chest fell as he went to move away but he paused at your mumbled please, giving you the chance to catch his hand in your own.

“I… suppose that would be alright.” Dimitri had blushed countless times this evening but not so much as he was now as you lead him down the darkened street towards your apartment. The night was still young and he didn’t know what it would hold but he found that for once, he was looking forward to this.