#what if she won’t know me crazy and soothe me daily?????

[ringhoarder]

Being in a relationship would be scary, what if she doesn’t want to save me call me baby and run her hands through my hair????

[xetlynn]

Twilight- Youngest Shadow: Chapter One, Two Sisters, Dad

(Alice X Reader X Jasper)

[one] [two]

I was never a people person, not wanting to rely on someone.

Especially family, I didn’t need help.

I am not vulnerable, I couldn’t be. I saw how it affected people on a daily. High schoolers in relationships getting dumped, cheated on, having to many dramas in between them.

It was unnecessary.

I had my small circle and most of them were blood related to me.

My mom, my sister, Bella, and my father who lived across the country.

Oh, and my best friend. But practically family.

I’m content in my lifestyle too. I didn’t need pity from anyone. Either way that’s what I get from everyone. Even my older sister who tried to act like she understands.

My life was consistent. Making sure my mom was happy, helping my sister from losing her mind because of mom needing so much adventure. Other than doing that I played sports, practicing everyday.

Trying my best, not to be the best but to keep up my adrenaline. Running helps the most.

Adrenaline kept me alive, if I could jump off an airplane I would. I would do every crazy thing imaginable just because of the adrenaline that came with it.

Even little things can entice me. My piercings, having to make them a secret from coaches to play sports. Riding my motorcycle anytime was the best feeling after getting it.

I snuck out a few times, not even to do crazy things but to just say I did it.

You would think living in Arizona helped me with keeping my adrenaline up but you’d be wrong. It’s the same thing everyday now. I know what’s around.

And the heat, don’t get me started.

As much as I love my mom, I wanted to be in a forest hiking, see a fucking wild animal that could attack me. Jump off cliffs for the hell of it. Ride my motorcycle on different roads.

Seeing my dad, maybe join him in action. Hunt with him even.

Speaking of which, I stood beside Bella, my older sister by 10 months. She had just said goodbye to some “friends” who seemed like they could care less that she was leaving.

I turn to see our mom walking out of the house, so much energy balled into one person. She had hints of sadness and anxiety pulled on her face, trying to hide it with being happy for us.

She thrusts a phone into the hands of my sister, “It won’t work again, baby.” She frowned, her face always looked like it moved with every feeling she had. Never being able to hide how she felt. “You put it on hold.” Bella points out, the tiniest bit amused.

“I did?”

I smirk, trying to stop myself from laughing.

As much as it is funny it is worrisome, how will we reach her if she doesn’t even know how to work a phone.

“Look, you also called Mexico.” Renée pushes Bella, nudging me as well as the three of us laugh.

“I’ll figure it out. You gotta be able to reach me and Phil on the road.” She exclaims right before she gets excited. “I love saying that,” she grins, “On the road.”

“Very romantic,”

“Very.”

Bella and I both say, silently glancing at each other.

Phil comes up behind our mom, “If you call crappy motels, back water towns and ballpark hot dogs romantic.” He jokes, well partially since he was serious.

He places a Phoenix Desert Dogs baseball hat on Renées head, along with kisses her.

Looking at them partly soothes my nerves about leaving mom. I’m sure Bella feels the same since we practically took care of her for so long. Even though it should’ve been the other way around.

Phil walks away, to finish packing the car with our things. Renée grabs a hold of both of our arms, clinging to us as we walk to the vehicles.

I’m driving my motorcycle, mom wanted to get a trailer for it since it’s a really long drive but I convinced her not to. I couldn’t sit in a car with them for that long.

Plus I have a feeling Charlie is going to force me to anyway.

“Now you know if you two change your minds, I’ll race back here from wherever the game is.” Her face strained trying to hide how even though it would be a sacrifice she would still do it for us.

“You don’t have to worry.” I force a smile, Bella doing the same.

“We won’t change our minds mom.”

“You might, Bella. You’ve always hated Forks.” That’s true, I usually visited more than her. I had a closer relationship to dad, due to my interest of hunting like him.

“It’s not about Forks, it’s about dad. I mean unlike [Name], I went two weeks a year. We barely know each other.” She explains but I think it just worsened our moms worried expression. “Mom, I’m fine. I want to go. I got [Name] there with me.” She looked between us, hugging her eldest, whose face drops once she knew her mom couldn’t see it. It was full of dread and doubt. I also noticed the regret but kept quiet when she wants to bring it up she will.

They let go and Bella climbs into the car, moms attention going to me.

“I want you behind us at all times, you do not pass this vehicle. And no swerving.” She furrows her eyebrows, staring at me. “And don’t be stupid.” I add with a smirk, she rolls her eyes in a humorous way.

“I just want my baby girl safe.” She pouts, pulling me into a tight hug. “You don’t have to worry with me.” I miss her cheek, pushing out of the hug as I knew it would’ve been longer if I didn’t.

“Alright helmet and jacket and let’s go!” She pats my butt, reaching over and getting my helmet to give it to me. She gets into the van and I adjust my wired earbuds so one goes into my ear, stuffing the rest into my jacket and zipping it up.

I pull my helmet on and I press play on my iPod.

Getting to Washington State was a breath of fresh air, not only for my tired hand but the change of view and weather. My sister called it gloomy, never paying attention to the beauty of it all.

Dad surprisingly let me continue driving my bike, it was bittersweet for me. Really it was because he forgot the trailer. I kind of wish he did bring it because slouching like this for hours is not exactly fun. My back will be aching for weeks.

I’m just glad I didn’t have to sit in the awkward atmosphere of them two in that cruiser.

We passed a sign that said “The City Of Forms Welcomes You. Population 3246.”

I smile to myself.

Passing all of the familiar buildings I was missing felt amazing.

We pulled into Charlie’s driveway, I take my helmet off, sitting up straight for the first time in a few hours. Charlie comes over and messes with my hair as I climbed to his torso like a little kid. We laugh and he hugs me back.

I was the first to get into the house, putting my things right in my room. Really throwing them on the ground and rushing back out to see if Bella needs any help. My room was the only one downstairs. Dad had to make add it onto the house when they found out they were having me surprisingly.

I was truly the accident out of the two. Only three months after Bella was born was when I came around.

“I put Grandpas desk in your room. And I cleaned some shelves in the bathroom for you two.” He was mainly speaking to Bella. I watched her grimace. “That’s right, one bathroom.”

I followed her eyes around the house, going straight to a picture of our parents when they were younger and in love. “I’ll put these up in your room.” Charlie motions to her bags.

“I can’t do it.”

I silently stand there as they both reach for the bags, awkwardly bumping into each other causing me to cringe at the scene.

She backs off, letting him do it anyway. Which she should’ve done in the beginning. And I wouldn’t have seen that go down.

After that… experience, I followed my dad to the living room. “That was, nice.” He pauses for a minute before sighing. I place a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll get better. This is just new for both of you.” I smile sweetly and he nods, swinging an arm around my shoulders. But internally I’m just hoping I’m right. It’s going to be a long two years if I’m wrong. “What would I do without you?” He nudges me.

He lets go of me, telling me about how Billy and Jacob should be here soon to drop off surprises they’ve been working on. The one for Bella I knew about.

And right after it was spoken into the air we heard a honk outside.

I stand up straighter and run outside. A boy my age hops out of the red truck, rushing to give me a hug. “Jacob!” I laugh, this was the best friend I was talking about. My absolute best friend.

“Bella, you remember Billy Black.” Charlie speaks up, obviously Bella came outside after hearing the honk as well.

I let go of Jacob, “Glad you two are finally here. Charlie hasn’t shut up about it since you two told him y’all were coming.” He teases our dad, both Jacob and I snicker at the two who have always acted like this.

“Keep exaggerating, I’ll wheel you down the hill.” He tells the man who’s in a wheelchair.

“Right after I ram you in the ankles.” Billy goes after Charlie who dodges. Jacob shakes his head, I take him up to Bella. Poking him to say something.

“I’m Jacob, we made mud pies together when we were little kids.” He exclaims, she squints almost unnoticeably. “Yeah I think I remember.”

“Are they always like this?” She points to the two dads. “It’s getting worse with age.” He jokes.

Jacob always had a crush on Bella, so it was cute watching him finally be able to interact with her and not be a nervous little kid.

Cutting us out of our small silence Charlie pats the hood of the truck. We didn’t even notice they stopped messing around. “So what do you think of your homecoming gift?” He grins proudly. I watched my sisters face contort to confusion to happiness. “No way. The truck is for me?” Turning my focus to my dad who was soaking in her excitement. “Just bought it off Billy here.”

“I rebuilt the engine.” Jacob adds in.

“It’s perfect.” Her smile grew bigger, and more genuine. It was great to see her eager and happy about something. Her and Jacob rush to the truck so he could explain everything to her.

My dad snuck up to me, handing a small box. I look up at him confused. “Open it.” He motions. I stare at it for a minute, glancing over to Billy who puts his hands up as to say he knew as much as I did.

I bit my lip, opening the box carefully.

It had a locket inside, the same locket I would stare at in the window of an abandoned antique store that no one would clean out. The place I begged my dad to go into just to get me that necklace.

“The place finally got cleaned out and I just happened to be on patrol before they got rid of it.” He tells me.

“It doesn’t have a picture in it yet but I thought you could pick one you’d like.” I threw my arms around him, “it’s beautiful.” I pulled away to look at it in my hands again as it was a delicate flower.

[jewishrat420]

all my fics/threads !

here's a masterlist of all my fics on ao3 ! most recently published on top, updated consistently:

won’t you stay? (‘til the A.M.)

remember me, love (when i’m reborn)

the sweet heat of her breath in my mouth (i’m alive)

what’s that sound? (there’s a funny man at my door)

come on baby (make it hurt so good)

i’m just an animal (looking for a home)

her eyes look sharp and steady (into the empty parts of me)

you said i’m holding onto heartache (you said i wear it like a crown)

share a single bed (and tell each other what we dream about)

steddie kinktober 2023

your history of silence won’t do you any good (did you think it would?)

there's a piece of you in how i dress (take it as a compliment)

tell me that i'm alright (that i ain't gonna die) (second part of the 'soothe my mind, my aching soul' OCD eddie series)

she'll know me crazy, soothe me daily (better yet, she wouldn't care)

i need to be youthfully felt (cause god i've never felt young)

fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile (it's bloody and raw but i swear it is sweet)

is it ever gonna change (am i gonna feel this way forever?) (first part of the 'soothe my mind, my aching soul' OCD eddie series)

i've had you so many times but somehow i want more (you've got my devotion)

flight of icarus (don't be a stranger)

featuring a series of all my twitter threads that's sporadically updated !

a thread of all my twitter threads & blurbs !

all my tumblr posts !

[divatheawesome]

I haven’t shared in a while . I feel resentment towards him . I tried the couples therapy . I paid for part of it and now it’s his turn and he is not in the least bit interested . I have explained how his loud snoring hurts me and I wake up disoriented , sleep deprived and with massive headache . Yet he won’t quit smoking or do the nose surgery or get the CPAP machine at night to help with his breathing . It’s either I sleep next to him and suffer or we sleep in two separate bedrooms . I told him about the other bed as a temporary solution . But he would rather do nothing than do something . And that is my problem to begin with . I shifted from full time to part time after 6 or 8 months of asking for it to accommodate his new life by a highway in a faraway city . So I wouldn’t cause an inconvenience and ask for another place before marriage . I also resent my parents because I expressed my concerns about the house being in the middle of nowhere and they brushed me off . I spoke up about how far it is from all that I know , work , graduate studies , family and friends . Still they said yeah it will be fine . And it was not fine . I spoke up about how it’s a big house and he doesn’t have the means or I to provide for it . And everyone insisted that I keep working towards it so the engagement goes by smoothly. I spoke up about my concerns that he has no degree in the field we are working in or a plan but still they said it’s okay it will be fine . I spoke up about his parents influence on all of his decisions and they said that’s normal and it will become less when you marry him . I spoke up about the differences of spending between what he was raised to and what I am raised to . And they said it’s okay you will learn to live in a different way . I mentioned that my mother in law is nosy and she tries to have things her way . They said it’s okay it will lessen with time . I mentioned that the engagement is going by too fast and it’s all spent in house preps and marriage stuff and there’s barely time for us . They said oh well the economy is falling apart so it must be the nearest possible date .

And now I’m crashing with the reality where I feel my body is suffering , my career , my friendships and there is no plan for improvement in the future .

I can’t take all those long car commutes in crazy cairo traffic , and be a good phd student , and a good dr at the private practice and run it , and a good academic at university and learn to be a surgeon , and a nice wife that does her daily duties and put up with everyone’s shit .

I’m so down that I kept self soothing for food for about a year . And guess what I became so fat .

I’m far away from my mental health practitioner so I’m without help . And getting a new app takes forever and finding the right fit and starting all over .

And now I have started the job hunt and got myself an offer closer to that house . Now he is considering of selling it to open up his dream project but with no idea how much that project costs or where to move or when . And my life is literally on hold . If he moves then I shouldn’t drop my former employment and bother with a new place that is probably inferior but just because it’s closer to his house and work . If he doesn’t move , then the move with spare me some of the distance but it will take me back to square one in terms of new place new rules and I need to build just to be acceptable and earn rights and prove myself , meet new people and less job stability .

I am just so tired of this shit . My life is not pleasant in the current state . I will still have to go far commutes to private practice phd visiting parents . It’s just two days of less commute .

And i don’t know if it’s worth it . To do all of this for him . It feels like I keep losing parts of myself if what makes me content or fulfilled to fit into the notion of being married .

I can’t always be in limbo . He won’t open up that project with other investors money cause he wants to work for himself but he is willing to compromise on living in smaller space or lesser neighbourhood to do it . After my dad paid for almost all the furniture to fill his place . When to begin with ; I asked him to let go of that place because it would put him at a financial disadvantage . And now after he spent all his money on fixing up a place , he wants me to go someplace smaller and without fixing it up so he can save that money for an imaginary project with no plan whatsoever .

It feels wrong . Why make me twist over sideways ? A change should be for the Better of both us ? Not just one . .

Even that he can’t make a decision .

I am at my parents because I’m sick and I just had an emergency incision and drainage of an abscess . I think it’s my body”s way of saying that’s it I have had enough . It’s literally making me sick running all over the city west and east to try to be everywhere and do everything for everyone . I am sick and tired .

[the-caffeinated-hummingbird]

Curtain Speech: That’s what I’m calling author’s notes from now on. I had the idea for this oneshot while driving to get muffins (unrelated, at first) and pretty much knew it was going to make me crazy if I didn’t write it down. It takes place between “Marigold and the Historian” and “A Long and Lonely Mile” and is more of an au/what-if-scenario than anything. I suppose it also counts as a songfic since “Do You Want Me?” by Mipso is a bit of a motif throughout. What can I say? It’s a total jam! Oh! There is a small potential spoiler for “A Loyal Subject” towards the end but honestly, I’m playing around with a couple of different endings for that story. Yes, I do plan on finishing it soon. Anyway, this pairing has been in the back of my mind since it was first hinted that Boris and Marigold had small and unrequited affections for one another in The Joy That Was Mine and a few of my (horrible) unpublished free writes. So I figured, why not?! Let’s put these two in a petri dish together and see if we can get them to fall in love. And… scene!

Who am I to be your angel?

Who am I if not your friend?

Who am I if I’m all alone,

Wake me up if I’m dreaming again.

-Mipso

It was a very old building. At least, in its foundation and the bones that kept it standing upright through the centuries. Marigold Casey was aware of its history. Researching its past lives was an ideal way to occupy her mind. Far better than dwelling on its current use, anyway. There were bullet holes in the basement from when it was a rowdy inn. Or perhaps they were left over from its boarding house days. The shattered remains of old porcelain dolls could still be found if one sifted through the garden’s soil diligently enough. It saddened her to imagine the house as an orphanage. More so to hear tales of the resident ghost, an eleven year old girl, who lived there for seven long years and never found a home.

Despite all this, if anything there had the potential to be haunted, Marigold was convinced that it would be the item in her hands. A cordless telephone. Purchased new by the facility and placed in the back office less than ten years prior. It was chilling to think of how many conversations it had witnessed. Tidings of life and death and everything in between. Tears shed and secrets shared. Casual banter that was, in its own way, a haunted thing as well. Every call placed on it was inevitably tainted by the possibility of being the last time both parties would ever speak. So much more was lost in the surrounding rooms and corridors than life and will to live. Friendships ended there daily. Parents disowned their daughters. The flame of love was extinguished time and again. All by way of a horrible, unrelenting vortex. Sometimes, however, on the rarest of occasions, a call would guide a patient out of the cycle of worse, then better, then worse again… and onward to a new beginning.

Marigold held her breath, dialing a number that she knew by heart but never called. With trembling hands, she held the receiver to her ear. It rang twice, followed by the crackle of someone picking up on the other end of the line. He did not greet her, but this wasn’t particularly discouraging. She was always the one to speak first, even when she saw Boris in person.

“Do you know who this is?” She asked, sounding far meeker than she intended.

“Marigold Anderson.”

The familiar voice soothed her senses. It always did. “It’s Casey again. I dropped the ‘Anderson’ after Henry dropped off the face of the earth.” There was silence but she knew Boris well enough to anticipate this as well. “Do you know where I am calling you from?”

“I do. Giselle told me about four months back. I’ve been worried. I would have called, but I did not know what to say. It is so good to hear your voice…”

“Yours, too.” A lump formed in Marigold’s throat. Frustrated, she ignored it and talked louder. With just enough force to accidentally come across as angry. “Look, I won’t waste your time. There is a reason why I am calling. And it’s a good one, too.”

“You do not need a good reason to speak to a friend. Especially this one.”

The lump grew tenfold and she felt a warm tide of tears pooling in her eyes. He’d tugged on her heartstrings plenty of times before but she had been feeling even more sentimental than usual lately. She looked across the crudely decorated room, to a figure of the Buddha seated in lotus pose. Why rehab facilities had to disguise themselves as spas always evaded her. Apparently even historical locations were not immune to this trend. There was a leather-bound book on the arm of her chair. It balanced out the scene in some regards, seeing how it predated the building itself by at least thirty years. She touched its cover softly and the grainy texture pulled her back into the moment.

“I asked Giselle to bring me some of Henry’s books to read. One of them turned out to be a journal. Written in the year seventeen-seventy… hmmm,” they shared a laugh, she always was terrible at remembering anything numerical, “by two authors. I’d say one of their names out loud, but I’m pretty sure the staff would take the thing and sell it. The co-author means more to me, anyway. And to you, as well, I’m sure. Boris Bordon! Either an ancestor of yours or your namesake, at least! Let’s be honest, it’s not a name you hear every day.” Silence. Deeper and almost colder this time around. “Boris? You alright?”

“Could you elaborate on the subject matter, please? What did this Boris Bordon write about?

“Plays! Two of them are complete. A few of them were never finished or barely started. I know that it’s authentic, too. Henry never would have held onto a fake. He was an awful husband for sure, but a very good historian. Did he ever mention your potential ancestor?”

“He…” Boris sighed. “Yes. Not very much was known of him. Seventeen-seventy-hmmm was a very long time ago and besides… I’m done chasing ghosts.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some history is better left to dust over on a shelf.”

She shrugged, then chuckled. “The plays are surprisingly humorous! Well, they made me smile! In a place where smiles are pretty scarce, no less.”

“Marigold…” Even though she could not see him, she could imagine his expression with stunning accuracy. Nearly everyone she knew had looked at her with concern at least once, but the way this emotion sat on his features was different. It was never paired with passiveness or aggravation. Even Giselle, her dearest friend in the world seemed to look at her in a way which read, ‘Why are you like this?’ Boris did not have a poker face, no. Instead he had the clearest eyes. ‘Tide pool eyes’. That’s what she called them. Not because they were shallow or easy to decipher, but because in any given moment, she could see the pureness of his thoughts in all of their complexity. ‘I see you as you are’, they seemed to say, ‘and though I do not always understand your pain, I will sit with you through it.’ And so he did, the miles between them notwithstanding. “Marigold? How are you, really?”

“Better.” She breathed in, searched her heart and exhaled honesty. “Better everyday. But I still have a long way to go.”

“What can I do to support you?”

“This. Just this I’ve really missed you. And also, I… I have something coming up two weeks from tomorrow. They call it a ‘graduation’ but Giselle in her infinitely dark sense of humor likes to say that, in my case, it’s a ‘see you again in two-to-three years party’. She’s been right on the money about that one, though, so I won’t give her too much grief. You wouldn’t want to attend, would you? It’s really low-key. I’m probably going to wear a dress, but what else is new? You’ll get to hear me play the banjo and read some of my terrible poetry! I can give you the book and… on second thought, scratch that! You’re all the way in New York and plane tickets are really expensive-“

“-I’ll be there.”

“Wait, what? Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. And excuse me for saying this, but Giselle should stay in her lane. This is a huge accomplishment for you and it should be celebrated. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

A knock sounded on the opposite side of the open door’s frame. “Time’s up, MareBear. There are two other gals lining up for the phone.”

“I have to go. But before I do, this has been nice. It almost feels like I should have been calling you all along.”

“You can call me whenever you want,” he grinned, “MareBear. I will see you very soon.”

…

The taste of freedom was always sweet at first. She remembered it well, just as she knew by heart the ingredients most likely to sour it in time. Seeing that old building grow smaller in the sideview mirror felt like a rocket launch and Marigold was content to take in the vast expanse of space. For a while, at least, she would enjoy the possibilities before her. The most exciting of which, surprisingly, was the man seated across from her in the back of Giselle’s mini van.

Marigold’s rough collie, Moxie, who she hadn’t seen for the better part of a year, was resting contently with her chin on her knee. She stroked the patches of white and chestnut fur, watching the kaleidoscope of expressions across Boris’ face as he read. Her heart was happy in that moment. The journal had not only brought them together again and given them a reason to reconnect, but it also invited Marigold to take a closer look at their friendship. She was blinded by her attraction to Henry, unable to realize that Boris was the one who did all the heavy lifting. He cared for her from the moment they met, three long years ago. He cared for her, still. Why else would he have made the trip?

Boris had changed very little. He seemed more sure of himself, certainly, but living alone in a big city would do that to just about anyone. His fashion sense had improved. Gone were the days of denim-on-denim. He still had the jeans, of course, but the collared shirt and heavy stubble made him especially easy on the eyes. That and he was still as sweet and as charming as she remembered him. He only wanted to skim through the journal’s pages, out of politeness, but seemed to become transfixed on a random section. Then another. Marigold continued to stare.

He sensed this and looked up from his reading. “I will have to revisit this later. Thank you for entrusting it to me.”

“My pleasure! Hey! How long will you be in town for? Maybe we can go to the cafe tomorrow and try to piece this puzzle together over coffee…”

“My flight leaves in the morning. But there is a bar at the hotel if you’d like to stay a while.” There was something about how he said this that intrigued Marigold. He didn’t mean it in such a way, surely. But it was almost sexy. Sometimes, unknowingly, that deep, rich voice of his would lower to a purr. Their eyes met and she held his gaze. Why was it always blue-eyed men who caused her to grow weak in the knees? Was there some ghost who haunted her? A man from one of her past lives who looked at her tenderly enough to forever alter the inner workings of her soul? “How does that sound? Marigold?”

She shook her head, if only to awaken from the momentary spell he’d placed on her. “Giselle might feel like we’re abandoning her and Moxie…”

“They’re invited, too,” Boris chuckled, wondering why she should suggest that the four of them would have to disperse into groups of two. “Even if the bar doesn’t work, there are lots of dog-friendly places in Charleston. Waterford, as well. I wouldn’t mind visiting some of our old haunts. But this is your day! Where would you like to go?”

“Uhm.” Again, she was distracted. Not by the nature of the conversation, but by how much Boris was talking. Usually his words were chosen and spoken with a certain amount of care. Today, it was rapid fire. He was flustered. She recognized this in him because she was, too. “Crescent Lake Park?”

“They’re setting up the Mid-Summer Fair at Crescent Lake,” Giselle interjected. “It’s supposed to open this evening. So if we get there now, we’d probably be like… tenth in line for churros. And I could really, really go for one.” She looked in the rearview mirror, saw Marigold enthusiastically and Boris second the motion.

…

Dusk had fallen at Crescent Lake Park and the lights of the fair cast a mesmerizing glow across the landscape. On the ground, it was chaos. A maddening cacophony of flashing colors and clashing sounds. But from above, you could almost see how it all fit together. The noise settled into a hum. The lights, into a blinking pulse. To say that it was tranquil up there, at the highest point of that giant ferris wheel would be a stretch. Yet, sitting at the top of it all and indulging in the syncopated heartbeat of the manmade wonder below had a strange sort of serenity to it.

Her fear of heights kept Giselle away from the rides. Boris would have steered clear of them, too, but he agreed to go on several with Marigold. He did not enjoy them as much as she did. In fact, he spent the brief duration of each one catastrophizing. Then convincing himself that there are worse ways to die than by way of some poorly assembled rattle trap. He would ultimately accept it, though, knowing that he had made her happy.

With sweaty palms, he grabbed hold of the bar across his lap as the ferris wheel climbed higher and higher into the soft summer sky.

“You can’t tell me you’re scared!” Marigold teased, placing her hand on his shoulder. “C’mon! After how brave you were on The Zipper!?!”

He breathed deeply, hoping to calm his nerves before she had the chance to realize that he was shaking. “You thought I was brave?”

“Yeah! Thinking the door is going to fly off the cage is actually a pretty common fear. Of course, if it did, you would have been better off holding the handle than onto me!”

He felt his face turn red. “That can’t be the strangest thing to ever happen on that ride. Be honest… are you the first person to ever eat a candy apple while inverted?”

She laughed at this, but not too much. In fact, her mood quickly shifted from playful to almost somber. “Even after all the progress I have made, sweets are still kind of scary for me. I guess I was conflating the two. In a weird way. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I can never just be normal about anything.”

“Marigold…” Their seats shifted as the ride picked up speed. Boris looked down at his feet and saw how high above the ground they were. He wanted to shut his eyes as tightly as possible and keep them closed until the ride was over. But instead, he looked at her. “I think if you were normal, you wouldn’t have had such an incredible turnout at your graduation today. Hearing from your counselors and friends… they love you. People love you. I think it’s because you really, genuinely love them. Now you just need to learn how to give some of that love to yourself. Then you will be unstoppable.” Beside the lake, a pavilion stood over a makeshift dance floor. They could see the reflection of couples gathering inside, waiting for the first song. Marigold recognized it the moment it began to waltz through the speakers and it pulverized her senses like a blast of arctic air. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! I love this band. I actually have this album on vinyl. The sheet music, too! This song always gives me goosebumps...”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Boris grinned. “It’s always key changes for her, though. Even if the song is bad, she gets goosebumps up and down her arms.”

Oops. She had forgotten about Emily. “That’s right. Your girlfriend is musically inclined…”

“To the point of unavailability. We broke it off about a year ago. ‘In another life’, I always like to say, ‘In another life, perhaps.’ In this one, it was for the better. Now if only I could figure out how to live it to the fullest instead of bouncing around from one temp job to the next. As exciting as New York may seem at first, it doesn’t take long for it to feel like one giant hamster wheel.”

Halfway up, the ferris wheel stalled. Then moved. Then stalled again. Riders began to disembark. New ones boarded, one wobbly seat at a time.

“Have you ever considered moving back to Waterford?”

“No. But now that I am back, I realize…” he stopped himself. “This has been nice. But there is nothing for me here. If I don’t keep searching, I will never find it.”

“See, this is why I like you, Boris. On the surface, you’re a man of few words but once I get you talking, we have the most profound conversations! What are you searching for, anyway? I mean, if you could do anything in this life, anything at all, what would it be?” She could tell immediately that her question had overwhelmed him. “Okay, I’ll rephrase.”

“No need. I’ll tell you, but… you go first!”

“Honestly? To never go back to rehab. To just be done with that chapter of my life forever. And to get back into teaching.”

Boris looked down again, only this time, he felt a bit more comfortable with being seated mid-air. “I believe you will. Just remember, you are in a better place now than you were before. I know it is difficult to see from your vantage point, but believe me, you’ve grown a great deal since I met you.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

“A new chapter,” he said, softly, “a new chapter, too.”

…

The bravest thing Marigold did all year was step back inside the house she once called home. It smelled the same as it always did, of coffee beans and incense. Something else, too. The faintest ghost of Henry’s favorite soap still lingered in the rooms above the staircase.

Giselle stayed for a while and offered to spend the night. Had Boris not returned to his hotel after leaving the fair, it might have been different. But Marigold wanted to be alone. Although she almost always preferred company to solitude, she needed time to reflect. To acclimate and make peace with the home she and Henry had made and destroyed- and where she resorted to destroying herself after their marriage ended.

She climbed the stairs, tossed her bathrobe and a clean towel in the dryer so she would have something warm to wrap up in after showering and turned the faucet on. It seemed surreal. To be by herself again after living in close quarters with twelve other women. She loved each one and viewed them as her sisters. Surely, battling the same demon would make someone as good as family. But it was exhausting. Being the resident optimist. Always striving to be cheerful and lighthearted in their presence. Now, she could let her guard down, run the tap until the water turned cold, laugh and cry and think out loud and sing, noisily and poorly, to her heart’s content.

She reached for a small box of handmade toiletries, a graduation gift from her roommate. In it were three matching bars of soap, shampoo, conditioner and a bottle of lotion. Coconut. Meh. She shrugged. It was certainly different from the usual floral fragrance profile she preferred. But the novelty of it quickly grew on her. It smelled like summer. And summer was a time and place in which she dearly wished to stay.

Feeling renewed, she started to towel off and smiled a friendly greeting to Moxie who pushed the bathroom door open with her nose.

“Guess I can’t always smell like I’ve been rolling around in a rosebush, huh, Mox?”

The collie blinked, then lunged at box, stealing a bar of soap and bolting out the door, into the hallway and down the stairs. This could not have happened at a worse time. The second that Marigold began her (very naked) pursuit of the thieving canine, the doorbell rang. Moxie went ballistic, of course, dropping the soap on the ground long enough to bark. And for Marigold to slip on it and crash into the hatrack. The doorbell rang again. Hastily, she snagged her yellow raincoat, buttoned it up all the way and threw open the door, revealing a very confused looking Boris Bordon on the other side.

“Sorry for the intrusion, I can come back later if you-” he began, but his train of thought was immediately derailed when Moxie snatched up the bar a second time and ran out onto the lawn.

Marigold pushed him aside, as gently as possible, jumped and tackled Moxie, and pried the soap out of her mouth. Upon returning to the porch, she looked at Boris, awkwardly. “You didn’t see my butt, did you?”

“Maybe a little.”

“Oh. Well, shoot,” her eyes darted to where the collie sat, staring longingly at the item in her owner’s hand. “So, uh. Collies love coconuts. Apparently. Did you know that? Because I didn’t… didn’t know… uhm. Would you like to come in?”

He nodded, trying to meet her sightline, but Marigold had no interest in making eye contact with him at the moment. They stepped into the living room and she excused herself, returning shortly after in a long, yellow nightshirt and soft gray joggers. She looked pretty, he thought, with her golden hair swept up in a topknot and a pair of thick prescription glasses that he rarely saw her wear. She was usually so put together. Refined, if not a little quirky. But now, in such a relaxed state, he found that he could not take his eyes off of her.

“Thank you for letting me visit. I promise not to keep you long.”

“Honestly, Boris, I’m a little bummed that you’re leaving town tomorrow… so this is nice.” Silence. “What’s up?”

He softened his voice, almost to a whisper. Or in his case, that irresistible purr. “Do you trust me?”

“Implicitly.” She sat down on the couch and Boris did the same. “What’s going on? You seemed fine like two hours ago.”

“Do you remember the word you used to describe me to Henry? You know, when you and I first met?”

“I can think of a few… flustered, erratic… shy. You’ve changed a lot since then.”

“I know,” finally, he smiled again. But there was a sort of gravity to it. “Would it be possible for you to remember me as the man I used to be? Just for a little while?”

“Are you drunk?”

“I wish I were. That would make this so much easier.” The feeble smile fell from his lips. “How badly do you want to know about 18th century Boris Bordon?”

“Well, I mean he’s certainly piqued my interest as of late…”

“Again, do you trust me?”

“What’s not to trust?! You’re only one of my best friends! There’s absolutely nothing you could ever say or do to change that. I promise. Let me make you some tea.” She positioned herself to stand, but Boris reached out and lightly gripped her arm. “Okay, no more fairs for you. Did I hit you too hard on those bumper cars or…” their eyes met and she realized that his were red and damp with tears. “Hey. Hey? What’s wrong? I think the real question here is do you trust me?”

“I… “he stammered momentarily, then emboldened by patient and caring woman beside him, he began… “I delivered parcels before I was a soldier…”

At first, she doubted. Any reasonable person would. Still, she held her tongue and listened. There had to be some truth hidden within this elaborate fabrication. Perhaps he was just confused. Or trying to impress her with how convincingly he could make up a story on the spot. But Boris never lied. He was easily her most trustworthy friend. What’s more, hearing about this humble delivery boy in love with a wealthy general’s daughter, swept away by the rising tide of war, who lost everything because of his own humanity… she could not only picture the Boris she knew in this tragic role- he embodied it all so perfectly. Marigold had seen gifted actors perform on stage and studied footage of renowned masters of the craft. If it was merely an act, he surpassed them all. As the hours crept on, she moved past simply trying to believe that her friend and the flawed yet tenderhearted loyalist soldier were the same person- she knew it in her heart to be true.

He only looked away when the story became uncomfortable or when elaborating on a detail that caused him to feel embarrassment or shame. For the most part, Boris watched her eyes and she, in turn, watched his. Joy and pain, conviction and confusion, she felt each emotion as her own. From his first dance with Sylvia to his valiant effort to see her again despite the mortal wound he received in an ambush along the Santee, mere miles from where they now sat, she believed it all.

“I wanted nothing more than to hold her again. But the road was too long. The winter winds too cold for me to bear.” He stopped and looked through the nearest window. The sky was dark, illuminated only by a sliver of the crescent moon. “We were in the wilderness, a little over halfway through Virginia when the fate I had been running from caught up with me at last. I am not proud of who I became in my final hour. Banastre risked so much, turned away from his career just to help me return home. How did I repay him? By weeping. By begging for Sylvia. For John. For any hand to hold but his. That is my final memory of the life I lived before. Staring up into a wall of snowy pines, glistening in the early morning light. Sometimes in my dreams, I return to that place against my will. To suffer in agonizing pain, blinded by a beacon which to the lucky few means eternal rest. Now the only comfort I have is the belief that my son is there, behind that light. Behind the threshold I was not worthy to cross. And never will be. I am haunted by it all. Where one might hear a heartbeat, I hear my final words, pounding in my ears.”

“What were they?”

“I don’t want to die… Over and over, I made that wish. It came true. In one moment, I lay cowering in Banastre’s arms, in the next, I was standing on a dark stage in an empty theatre. 230 years and 230 miles from when and where I took my dying breath. And you… you don’t believe a word of it, do you?”

Marigold took his hand and gave it a comforting, confirming squeeze. “I believe everything you’ve ever told me. Including this.”

“There is more. You see, I am not the only one. I saw Sylvia again. She went by a different name. We tried, Marigold. Emily and I tried. But her heart did not obey our wishes and just as I chose John over her those many years ago, she chose her career over me.”

“I believe,” she muttered to the floor after collecting her thoughts, “you will find John Andre again. If that is what you want… let me help you. We can visit every place he ever stood, find every letter he ever wrote. Even if I have to step into the afterlife and drag him out of it into the land of the living. I will do anything, anything at all to reunite the two of you.”

The grip on her hand tightened. “Oh, but my dear friend John and I were reunited. Again, by another name. Perhaps you have noticed the similarity between the surnames, ‘Anderson’ and ‘Andre’. I wanted you to know, but the only way to tell you would be by giving you the whole story. What was between us perished long before he found you, Marigold. Even before I found him again in this life. Henry Anderson was only ever a friend to me. He loved you. He told me so, time and again.”

“Did he now?” She frowned, bitterly wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but… I really need to be alone now. You must be so tired. Stay. For as long as you need. I have a guest room. We can sort out your flight home in the morning.”

“You believe me… don’t you?”

“Yes, Boris. I believe you. But the truth can be really heavy sometimes. Just give me an hour or two in my room so I can cry and think. Maybe sleep. You try to get some sleep, too.”

…

It was dawn when Marigold emerged from her isolation. From the landing, she could see light splashed across the living room floor. But it did not originate from the guest room or even the kitchen. Instead, it came from the tiny lamp on the top of her piano. Boris was seated on the bench, silently moving his fingers from one key to another, without pressing down.

“You play, I assume?” She asked, only after he sensed her presence. It would have been cruel to startle him.

“I did once. But I’m afraid I have forgotten how.”

“You never fully forget. Perhaps, if you’ll let me, I can help you remember…” Their eyes locked, weary from a sleepless night. Still, somehow, there were even more sparks between them than before. It was inevitable. Even from behind closed doors, their bond had strengthened. Blossomed into something wondrous and new over the stretch of a few short hours. Her sheet music was stored in a crate on the floor and she could tell just by looking at it that he had been sifting through her collection. “What song were you looking for, anyway?”

“The one from last night.”

Marigold stepped closer, then knelt beside him. It took only a moment for her to locate the piece of paper. He glanced at the notes on the page and was quietly pleased. It might take a couple of tries, but he would surely be able to play it. He pretended to be worse than he actually was, allowing her to position (then reposition) his fingers on the keys. He knew that she could sing well, having gone to a karaoke bar with her on more than one occasion. But it was different now that she was not trying to project or impress her friends. He would never tell her, but he preferred her voice this way. Pure and sweet and vulnerable, with no embellishments or vibrato. Almost like a lullaby, sleepily sung in the middle of the night. Feeling playful now, he decided to surprise her a bit at the chorus by not only chiming in, but harmonizing with her. In the end, it was the lyrics that derailed them both. The subtle yet potent accuracy of the line, “To a new place I have awoken.” The remaining words did not go unsung, but a new energy found them. A sort of daze. Then at the end, silence.

She could not explain it, but that silence frightened her. “Would you like some coffee? It’ll have to be black. I haven’t made it to the market yet for creamer or milk. They should be open soon, though. Maybe we could walk there and get some fresh air, sometimes that’s even better than caffeine…”

Boris lifted his hand, halting her nervous rant with a comforting, confirming grin. “Coffee would be lovely, thank you. And I don’t mind at all, I actually take mine black.”

“Really?” A peculiar notion warmed her heart. There was something so lovely, so intimate in learning this about him. “Well, that myth has been busted.”

“What myth?”

“The sweeter the person, the sweeter they like their coffee to be!” She could feel herself blushing. Hopefully the lighting was low enough for it to have gone unnoticed. “I’ll just… get started on that, then.” She fumbled with the kettle and the press. Burnt fingers were the least of her concerns. Especially when she heard him stand and walk slowly from the piano bench to the kitchen table. “I’ve made a decision. Would you like to hear it? Good. I’ve decided that I don’t want to discuss Henry anymore today. You said it best, ‘Some history is better left to dust over on a shelf.’ I believe the best course of action would be to let bygones be bygones. We should focus instead on what is before us and go from there. But that is going to require complete honesty. From both sides. You told me who you are and that was very painful for you, I know. It is not fair for me to ask for more information. But I need to know… why? Why did you tell me?”

“If I were to wager a guess, it would be the same reason why you called me two weeks ago.”

Trembling now, she passed him a steaming cup and took a sip of her own. It burned like hell, but she didn’t care. “I have another question. Don’t worry, it should be easier to answer than all the others have been so far. Did you know Annabelle Casey?”

“Yes. Not as well as I know you.” He, too, took a premature sip of his coffee and winced in pain. “But if I were to awaken tomorrow in the past… if I were to see her again, she would surely remind me of someone very dear to me. Someone I love.” Whether it was a smile or a frown or her jaw dropping in response, Boris would never know. She covered her mouth the instant that fateful word was spoken. “Now you know. Now there are no secrets left between us.”

It felt like the floor had been ripped out from under her feet. Only, there was no earth to fall towards or dark abyss to swallow her whole. There was no free fall. No skyward motion of being catapulted into the air. No, instead, it was the jarring realization that gravity had been an illusion all along. She did not have to grieve the past or bear the crushing weight of lost love anymore. Love was there in front of her and it never felt so right. But freedom is frightening. It is far easier to run back into one’s cage. With her hand still pressed firmly across her mouth, Marigold abandoned her coffee and ran into the living room. He followed, but kept his distance.

“We can’t do this, Boris. I’ve got baggage, you’ve got baggage. We can try to dance around it, sure! But we’re going to trip and fall. And get scraped and bruised all over. It will be a disaster! And you’re going to leave me, rightfully so! Just like Henry. You’re going to leave me halfway through the dance…”

“I would never.”

“Oh, yeah? Well. Prove it.”

There was a stack of vintage suitcases that Marigold had piled, one on top of the other, to create an end table beside the couch. Boris took each one and scattered them on the floor in front of the entertainment center.

“We need more baggage,” he said after stepping back to inspect his work, “go grab some of your tote bags while I find our song. Unless, of course, you’ve grown tired of hearing it.”

“I never have. And never will.” Marigold laughed, then gathered her large collection of totes, and threw them here and there on the ground between them. Then she watched Boris search for the album. “I will say, though… I do think you’re taking this idiom a bit too seriously. I meant dancing around our baggage as a negative thing.”

“It doesn’t have to be. We see the baggage, acknowledge it is there and work as a team to navigate our way around it. Now.” He dropped the needle on the song she knew very well… that he knew now, too. “May I have this dance?”

She accepted his hand. Her heart was pounding, certainly, but as he pulled her into his strong embrace, it seemed to leap, then soar. “See, goosebumps. Goosebumps every time.”

“Goosebumps every time…” he beamed. “Now, that I know I got the song right…” It was a faint gesture, had she blinked, she surely would have missed the burning in those deep blue eyes as they glanced at her lips.

“Boris. Please, don’t… Don’t stand there and watch me fall in love with you right now only to run off to some other time or place.”

“If ever I am to run again, it will be to your side. To the only soul I’ve ever encountered in all of my travels identical to my own. I see my hopes and fears, my weaknesses and strengths reflected in your eyes. In other lives, we barely scratched the surface or were nothing more than two ships passing in the night. But in this life, Marigold. This life is ours to do with as we please. Right now, I would like nothing more than to do what I should have done last night, sitting with you 75 feet in the air. I love you.”

Marigold stopped moving her feet, causing them both to stumble slightly, but it was an easy save. She was the first to move in, knowing him well enough to plan for his initial hesitation- and she was not wrong to make this assumption. “It was only a matter of time before you stole my heart away, Boris Bordon. Now I love you. I love all of you, fully. Completely. And it feels like stepping out into the sunlight for the very first time.”

No man had ever kissed her in such a way before. Lovers on the silver screen, emboldened by their passion, could never hold a candle to his tender urgency. Any words he had suppressed before were freed, born again as whispers of gentle motion on the tip of his tongue. But he did not only speak to her in kisses. One arm remained stationary, firmly positioned behind her back. His free hand grazed her features for a while, then found the tie at the base of her topknot and with great care, he tugged until her hair billowed downward. He followed its journey with his fingertips, across her collarbone and shoulder. She felt his eagerness, the desire to move lower. But he seemed to stall, to look before jumping.

“We can go upstairs if you’d like.” Marigold offered, moving even closer than before.

“Soon. This is the last track on the album. We should stay where we are until there is no longer music to be danced to.” His words carried a double meaning. In them, she found an invitation to her immediate desires but also, a solemn promise that he would never leave her side.

The song was nearly over. The choir singing in its final measures seemed to come from a loftier place than the old record player across from where they stood. Silence crept back into the space. But it was not an empty silence. They traversed the maze of suitcases and moved, hand-in-hand through the house they would both come to call home and the bed they would share well into old age. Time was still their master, as is the way with all mortal beings. In his case, time and mortality found him the moment he began to live again. Still, in their own special way, they managed to transcend it.

It is a very old town. The little yellow house on Foxglove Drive was young by comparison when their story began. Days collected like pages. Years, like chapters. If those walls could speak, they would tell a tale of hope and renewal.

Marigold returned to the classroom. Inspired by her perseverance, Boris rediscovered his love for music and with it, a career path that he never before considered. She taught English, he taught Band. Every summer, they combined forces to lead a musical theatre camp in the high school auditorium. Sometimes, they would be haunted by shadows of the past. Sometimes, his dreams would carry him back to the life he lived before and he would wonder if Marigold, herself, was nothing more than a passing vision of the night. But with the morning light, he would return to her loving arms. Just as he helped her find herself again. And again.

The End (?)

[ohtheclevernessof]

Don't Know How To Relax: a Bernard x Reader Chapter 2

After several hours of restful sleep you excitedly got yourself ready and you kept catching yourself taking a bit longer on your hair or clothes like you were getting ready for a date.

This definitely wasn’t one though, right? You were only going ice skating with the elf who you had feelings for, on Christmas, completely alone…

Bernard had to admit Y/N was right, as he made his way over to the skating pond with his skates slung over his shoulder. He hadn’t felt so rested in quite a while and was able to see everything with a clearer head including questioning why he had agreed to this in the first place.

It wasn’t that he regretted it at all, he just didn’t know why he agreed, he hadn’t spent anytime alone with one of his female elves in such a long time. Like not since his toy making days.

Y/N wasn’t the first to ask him either but since becoming Head Elf he always declined, so what made her different?

She was one of the only elves who’s presence wasn’t completely grating on his nerves, actually she had the opposite effect. Bernard found Y/N’s presence soothing, like her hot cocoa on a cold day of watching Tinsel Football and maybe that’s why he was able to tolerate her teasing last night.

He also couldn’t deny she was attractive, especially her eyes and her sparkles were placed in such a perfect way that when she smiled her face sparkled like newly fallen snow. Maybe that’s what caused his slip in judgment but regardless he could only look at this as two friends spending time together.

He couldn’t let himself look at it any other way.

“Merry Christmas, Bernard ” You said with a smile that sparkled like he had been just thinking about. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He returned the greeting with a half smile as you both walked over to the bench to lace up your skates.

“Do you skate here often?” Bernard asked you curiously as he worked on his laces.

“Yes. Abby always begs me to come here with her when the Tinsle boys are skating. Between you and me, I think she likes one of them.”You said with a smirk.

“It’s pretty fun but Crack The Whip can get crazy. Last time Jeremiah ended up stuck head first in a snow bank.” You say with a laugh as Bernard chuckled amused.

“What about you, Bernard? I’ve never seen you on the ice.” You ask him as you tied your skates.

“Yes, I told you last night I am capable of relaxing and I do so through ice skating. Although I’m not surprised you haven’t seen me out here because I do it at night. There is something about skating under the moonlight that is so relaxing. All I need to focus on is the sound of my skates on the ice and there is no Curtis, deadlines, daily mishaps or a million questions that need to be answered.”

As Bernard spoke you noticed the most genuine smile spread across his face. It wasn’t his typical polite one he plastered across his face when he was doing his rounds or his sarcastic smirk. This was different because he was truly happy talking about something he loved and couldn't help feeling butterflies stir in your stomach as you looked at this beautiful smile. Deep down you hoped you could make him smile like that someday.

“Of course, it won’t be so peaceful if others know so Y/N I am expecting you to keep this between us.” Bernard’s voice broke through your thoughts and you realize he was looking at you.

“If Curtis found out I was out here, I’d never get a moment of peace again.” He said shaking his head as he stood and skated out on the ice.

You scrambled to finish tying your skates and skated out after him with a laugh.

The next few hours were filled with the sound of skates gliding on the ice, laughter, playful teasing, sparkling faces and smiles that made hearts leap in a giddy wirl.

“Y/N thank you for inviting me out here. It’s been quite fun.” Bernard said smiling at you with the same smile you had been falling for over the past couple hours and your cheeks flushed pink.

Suddenly your skates hit a rough spot in the ice and you feel yourself fall forward before you are caught in the strong arms of Bernard as you both topple into the snow.

When you open your eyes you find your face only inches from Bernard’s, just as startled and red as your own as you were still in his grasp laying in the snow.

You didn’t know what quite took over you, was it the fact you were so close to him or that his smile had you under some spell all afternoon, but you closed the gap between you both by pressing your lips to Bernard’s.

You felt Bernard freeze like ice for a moment at your kiss but then he did some unexpected and softly returned it with a kiss of his own. Your heart pounded in your chest and your face was as red as Santa’s coat.

Unfortunately just as quick as the kiss happened, so did his strict resolve returned and he quickly came to his senses as he scrambled up out of the snow.

“N..No that was wrong. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry, N/A.” Bernard said quickly as he tried to brush the snow off his clothes as if it would make himself more presentable in his current mess of a state.

You bit your lip as if it would help hide the hurt you felt at Bernard’s obvious regret over kissing you as you pulled yourself from the snow.

“It’s not your fault. I’m the one that kissed you…” you trailed off quietly as you looked up at him sadly.

“I…I really need to look over those production reports now. Please excuse me.” Bernard sputtered out quickly as you watched him speed off across the ice.

He only stopped to dawn a pair of blade guards as well as collect his boots before rushing off to workshop, leaving you on the cold on the unfeeling ice.

[panthea-m-513]

Someone said that Dean Winchester wouldn’t survive listening to Hozier so I bring to you Hozier lyrics to destroy Dean Winchester:

(In celebration of the destiel confession one year anniversary of course. Happy November 5th y’all)

- I couldn’t utter my love when it counted/Ah, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now/I couldn’t whisper when you needed it shouted/Ah, but I’m singing like a bird ‘bout it now

- The words hung above/But never would form/Like a cry at the final/Breath that is drawn

- Would things be easier if there was a right way?/Honey, there is no right way

- So we’re slaves to any semblance of touch/Lord we should quit but we love it too much

- Darlin’, don’t you stand there watching won’t you/Come and save me from it/Darlin’, don’t you join in you’re supposed to/Drag me away from it

- I’d be appalled if I saw you ever try to be a saint/I wouldn’t fall for someone I thought couldn’t misbehave

- The only Heaven I’ll be sent to/Is when I’m alone with you

- We were born sick/But I love it/Command me to be well

- No masters or kings when the ritual begins/There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin/In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene/Only then I am human/Only then I am clean

- But my peace has always depended/On all the ashes in my way/All you have is your fire/And the place you need to reach/Don’t you ever tame your demons/But always keep ‘em on a leash

- I was burning up a fever/I didn’t care much how long I lived/I swear I thought I dreamed her/She never asked me once about the wrong I did

- When my time comes around/Lay me gently in the cold dark earth/No grave can hold my body down/I’ll crawl home to her

- My babe would never fret none/About what my hands and my body done/If the Lord don’t forgive me/I’d still have my baby and my babe would have me

- In the low lamp light I was free/Heaven and Hell were words to me

- She’ll know me crazy, soothe me daily/Better yet, she wouldn’t care

- Cause with my mid-youth crisis all said and done/I need to be youthfully felt cause God I never felt young

- Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips/We should just kiss like real people do

- Sweet and right and merciful/I’m all but washed in the tide of her breathing/And it’s worth it/It’s divine/I have this some of the time

- When you move/I could never define all that you are to me

- When you move/I can recall something that’s gone from me/When you move/Honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free

- If I was born as a blackthorn tree/I’d wanna be felled by you, held by you/Fuel the pyre of your enemies

- I’d be the voice that urged Orpheus/When her body was found/I’d be the choiceless hope in grief/That drove him underground/I’d be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around/And I’d be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice

- We lay here for years or for hours/Your hand in my hand/So still and discreet/So long we become the flowers/We’d feed well the land

- Some whiff of this death and guns/We are deaf, we are numb/Free and young and we can feel none of it

- When all the worst we fear lets fall its weight/When the gyre widens on and when the wave breaks/When St. Petter loses cool and bars the gates/When Atlas acts the maggot, makes his arms shake/When the birds are heard again in their singin’/Once atrocity is hoarse from voicin’ shame/And when the Earth is trembling on some new beginnin’/With the same sweet shock of when Adam first came/Be, be, be, be, be/Be as you’ve always been

- Be as you’ve always been/Be like the love that discovered the sin/That freed the first man, would do so again/And lover be good to me

- All the fear and the fire of the End of the World/Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl

- You know better, babe, you know better, babe/Than to smile at me like that, smile at me like that/You know better, babe, you know better, babe/Than to hold me just, hold me just like that/I know who I am when I’m alone/I’m something else when I see you/You don’t understand, you should never know/How easy you are to need/Don’t let me in with no intention to keep me

- With the war of the fire/My heart moves to its feet/Like the ashes of ash/I saw eyes in the heat/Feel it soft and as pure as snow/Fell in love with the fire long ago

- Let it rain ‘cause you and I remain the same/When there ain’t a crack in the foundation/Baby, I know any storm we’re facing/Will blow right over while we stay put

- Call it dumb luck/But baby you and I/Can’t even mess it up/Though we both tried/No, it won’t always go the way we planned it/But the wolves came and went/And we’re still standing

Some bonus’ for Cas:

- I watch the work of my kin bold and boyful/Toying somewhere between love and abuse/Calling to join them, the wretched and joyful/Shaking the wings of their terrible youths

- Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh/I lay my heart down with the rest at her feet

[ilcaeryx]

Cascade [Gojo Satoru/Reader]

Summary: Satoru picks you up after a wild night in Tokyo’s party districts. While he’s dying to be more than your close friend, he won’t act until he’s certain you want him, too.

Tags: Gojo Satoru/Reader, Cute, Fluff, Humor, Slight angst, Nightlife, Pining, Pre-relationship

Word Count: Almost 2k

Author’s Note: Feels good to complete something. I listened to The Rose’s cover of ILYSB while writing this.

---

Gojo Satoru’s 1AM drive to one of Tokyo’s nightlife district was strictly for serious business. While he would fit into the crowd of youthful people enjoying the neon stinging their eyes and body contact with at least four strangers at all times, he had zero intentions on partying. Indeed, his sole mission was to retrieve a package – that package being you.

Lulled into rumination by the car engines constant humming, Satoru pondered about your occupation of his mind. Even though his days were busy, he would associate the concept of you with quite literally anything. Bickering with the higher ups? He could envision himself cranking up the drama as he told you the story, smiling smugly inwards at you cooking him comfort food to soothe ‘his stressful day’. Whenever something hilarious or crazy happened, he would automatically think ‘I’ll tell Y/N this later’. One would expect it would annoy him but it was not the case; Satoru was entertained by his daily fantasies, very much enthralled by the walking-on-clouds-feeling his body would produce during his mental escapades. If one Y/N thought equalled one endorphin molecule, he was experiencing a cascade.

His first thought after awakening every morning was your face between his palms, his fingers frigid against your temples. If things between you two ever developed, one day your face would be his first experience that day, every day for the rest of his life. Right now, Satoru would pin your relationship as close friends. As much as he would overinterpret your behaviour towards him, he was quite certain you were not interested in discovering whatever else could unfold between the two of you. Not yet, his positive inner self protested. Maybe never, his negative inner self retorted.

Despite his conflicting emotions, he gathered himself up into a presentable version of himself while he walked to the nightclub your friend had mentioned. Your safety was his number one priority right now, regardless if you were into him romantically or not.

~~~

“Text me when you’re home!” you yelled over the pulsating music, bidding your friend farewell by blowing her a kiss. In a dramatic motion, she caught the invisible kiss in her palm and clutched it against her chest.

“I will! Stay safe, bitch!” she screeched back before submerging into the human current outside the club, her cursed energy swashing to and fro like a solar flare.

Even though his evening had been a cozy movie-night in his bedroom, Satoru’s limbs felt heavy from looking at you. With your shoulders drooping and hands massaging your left thigh, you were finally punished from dancing non-stop all evening. Indeed, your hair clung to your forehead, neck and upper arms, intermingling with the shining perspiration on your skin. Nevertheless, you seemed to relish in whatever banger was playing inside as you were gently swaying side to side.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you said, pre-emptively shushing him with your index finger in the air. “But I’ll take a shower once I’m home.”

“I was actually thinking that I should’ve brought a towel, considering that your sweat’ll soak the car seat,” he said and tucked some slick strands away from your face. Your mortified look cracked him up. “It’s fine, I’ll lend you my jacket.”

“Your expensive-ass jacket? Thanks, I’d rather freeze to death.”

He rolled back his shoulders as he slid his jacked halfway down his back, hands still in his pockets. A little disappointment tinged his tongue. “Are you sure? I warmed it up just for you.”

“Yeah, stop stripping and let’s get the hell out of here.” You smacked his back with an open hand, pushing him onwards. “God, I can’t wait until we get home. I’m so tired. Are we going to your place?”

Let’s not read into anything, Satoru thought. ‘Anything’ meant both your off-hand comment about his place and the fact that your hand remained steady on his back even after you two joined the crowd. Physical closeness wasn’t anything new between you but the context provided another layer of complexity to read into. Suddenly, being the completely sober adult in charge seemed like too heavy a responsibility for him...

Without meaning to, his back tensed up. “No, you weirdo. You can sleep off the alcohol in your own bed.”

You either weren’t bothered by his tenseness or you didn’t notice, as you shifted your hand around his waist. You carefully leaned against his arm. “Sounds boring. Don’t you want to talk all night?”

Like always, your presence burned his arm, enough that he was unable to feel the strangers he bumped into on his other side. This was a sign, right? Or were you flirting as a friend? In the past, he had people confess their ‘love’ for him and apparently they thought his teasing and touching meant he fancied them. Being extremely lovable wasn’t easy, especially not when any platonic affection could be re-constructed as romantic by the other part. You, too, were extremely lovable and affectionate… Had he been in your shoes, this proximity wouldn’t have had any romantic subtext. But unlike him, you had a good personality… This could be the night you two finally spoke about whatever was between you two.

Or the night where you lose a friend because of your stupidity, his negativity brought up.

It had a point. Yeah, you were a good person and a terrific friend – he’d be an idiot if he lost you. Compared to his co-workers and allies, you were awfully soft; he liked how you doted on him, even when he was a pain in the ass. If you rejected him now, your dynamic wouldn’t be the same and his life would be much harder for it.

“We can talk later today,” he said, his arm automatically shooting out to stop an accidental elbow-right-into-your-chest-accident. He settled his arm around your shoulder after giving the guy the evil guy through his glasses. Watch your limbs, man.!

“That was close,” you said, sighing. “Thank you, Satoru! I’m sorry about having to call you out this late, by the way. Did I wake up you?”

He both cursed and rejoiced on the inside now that you changed subject. “Couldn’t be helped that your friend had an emergency. Next time, try to wake me up later for an early breakfast instead.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us.”

His lips faltered slightly, smile not feeling as genuine. He adjusted the collar on his jacket to hide it. “To the nightclub?”

Your index finger jabbed into his side accusingly. “Anywhere! Last time we hung out was… uh…”

This was the first time in a few weeks you two had spoken in person by yourselves. As you both mostly met together with your friends, you tended to invite him whenever the gang planned something. He admitted to himself that he often declined because he only wanted your company, but you never offered to join him instead. Whenever he invited you out, you’d be perfectly alright with hanging out just the two of you, though.

“Two weeks ago?” He squinted into the lights of an incoming car. “It’s because of work but-“

“I’m not a hikikomori, you bastard – I’ve got a job too, but I’ll make time for you, you know?”

You’d make time for anyone, Satoru thought, somewhat discouraged.

The crowd thinned out as you entered the parking lot, though the place was jam-packed with cars. Both of you remained quiet as you passed by couples on the way to Satoru’s car. When you detached yourself from his side, he rustled your hair. You stood on your tippy-toes to return the favour, messing up his hair worse than he did yours. He liked seeing you struggle to reach his head, so he didn’t mind.

“I missed you, scarecrow,” you said, pinching his cheek. He elongated his smile to feel one knuckle touch his lips. “What is the gremlin and scarecrow duo without the scarecrow?”

~~~

Slumped against the window, you were peaceful the entire ride home. Every so often, Satoru would catch a glimpse of your sleepy face and his heart would clam up. He made the right decision in picking you up, even though he aged weeks in those twenty minutes you two had spoken. Your interactions followed a pattern: he’d look forward to meeting you, creating fantasies and expectations of what could be; when you were with him, he would attempt not to ruin your current friendship to the point where he’d feel sick; and whenever you two parted, he’d overindulge in his memories. In two days, he’d be prepared to undergo this rollercoaster once again.

He drove into your street and called your name.

You immediately woke up and looked outside. “What time is it?”

“Almost 2AM…” he exhaled deeply, hands falling into his lap. He still had to drive home, so he’d be in bed in 30 minutes.

“Everything hurts,” you said, bending forward to readjust your high heels. “My legs are killing me… I won’t be able to walk tomorrow. I’m not sure I can walk now.”

He understood what the lilting tone at the end of your sentence meant and with great effort he stepped out of the car. Your giddiness as he opened the car-door on your side was intoxicating, as was the feeling of seeing you stretch your arms towards his neck. He cradled one arm below your thighs and one behind your back.

“Watch your head,” you chided softly into his ear, covering the top of his head as he carried you out of the car.

“Gimme keys.” Satoru leaned slightly backwards to account for your weight as you handed him the key to your apartment. With your bare arms against his neck, he would be surprised if you didn’t notice how his pulse rose.

Your apartment door opened and he stepped into darkness, shutting it behind his back.

“Excuse me,” he mumbled, heading for your bedroom with his shoes on. Your teeny apartment had a teeny bedroom with a single sized bed.

“Say, Satoru,” you said, your cheek pressed below his ear, “are you sure you don’t want to stay and talk?”

“Just go to sleep, Y/N.” Satoru leaned over your bed to carefully lay you down. Your grip on his neck loosened and he thought you’d comply until you kissed his neck, his soul almost as soft as your lips.

“What about now?” you asked and released your arms, falling onto your bed. Your hair spilled around you, a gloria around your tired face. “I’ll let you sleep in my bed, if you want to.”

Honestly, he wanted this. Everything he’d thought of earlier this night could become true if he gave in, which was insane enough to send his head swimming. He’d endure this cramped bed for you, even with his feet being colder than hell and his back aching from sleeping on his side. Gojo Satoru was more than ready.

However, he did not want this to backfire. What if you were simply too horny, lonely, exhausted or intoxicated to consider the consequences right now?

You rolled towards the wall, leaning on your side. Your eyelids fluttered weakly, your exhaustion almost overtaking your body and yet you found enough strength to pat the empty space beside you. “See, there’s space. I’ll always leave space for you.”

Ah, fuck it.

Satoru’s personality was bad; his attitude was self-indulgent; his morality was concrete grey; and his discipline when it came to you near non-existent. If you awoke tomorrow and found that you had fallen asleep with the love of your life – then great, you were both on the same page. If he had completely misunderstood your intentions, he would absolutely bullshit his way out of trouble, like he always did. Whatever, everything’d be alright someday.

---

If you enjoyed this, give me a like/follow/reblog/comment/scream into the void. I hope everyone had a good New Year and let’s hope that 2021 is kind.

Started this 22/11/2020, finished 10/01/2021.

[khaleesiofalicante]

hey...I kinda just needed to vent. you can ignore this.

on-site school starts tomorrow and even though it's only 2 days a week I'm nervous as hell. actually, screw that I'm terrified. we've literally been online for the past 2 years only going to school for tests sometimes. but this will be different. it's a new year and new teachers and my biology teacher used to have me for maths in grade 6 and years have passed but she scares the shit out of me. I don't know why she's just...

TW S3lf h@/rm

I've recently started cutting. oh my god saying it like this...I'm terrified. because every time I'm less hesitant and that's scary. I'm afraid one day I'll hurt myself too deeply. my thoughts are all over the place and it's all kind of a mess. I've always had self-harming tendencies but never to the point of blood. It's been a few days since I last did it and I've been trying not to. but with school starting and having to face people, face teachers...I've been getting that urge again. I don't want to but it's...goddamn I sound crazy.

anyway, do you have some tips on dealing with on-site school after years of online and scary teachers who gave you nightmares years ago and still do?

Hi.

I've been meaning to write something about this since a lot of my friends here on tumblr are going to back to school in soon.

I understand your anxiety. The world is pretty shit at the moment and it's already terrifying enough.

Apologies for the late reply. I was doing some reading on this before I could write back to you.

Every single resource I read was aimed at parents. They kept talking about "how to help your child" and "how to help your teenager". But I don't think these people who are writing these resources know that the biggest problem children/teenagers have is their inability or hesitancy to talk to their parents - especially about something like this.

There is very little content/support directly addressing teenagers - which I think is absolutely ridiculous. So, I read all the resources written for parents - and tried to salvage some useful stuff.

Here is something they all recommended - which I second.

You need to establish a routine.

Having a routine generally helps reduce anxiety. Most of the anxiety comes from not knowing what is going to happen and how you are going to react to it. So, having a predictable routine - especially in areas you are able to control - will be of great help.

For example, (while this might sound boring) I map out my daily tasks every day - to the dot. I know exactly what I will be doing at any point of the day because I write it down on my phone. It helps me keep my anxiety in check. So, when you are going to back to school - especially on the days you physically have to visit, try to have a routine. Before you go to the bed the previous day, go through this mental schedule. It will make you feel a little better knowing what’s gonna happen tomorrow. 

Other than that, remember to take one day at a time. 

We really need to take baby steps here. Remember that you are not alone in how you feel. Everyone, including your peers, are terrified of what’s going on. And when people are scared, they have a tendency to act like shitheads. So, try to be kind - to others and yourself.

About this teacher of yours - I don’t know why exactly you are scared of her. If she has done something to hurt you or another student, then you should talk to someone at your school at about it. But if it is just “a vibe”, then I would suggest (if you want to) you talk to her directly. I understand how terrifying that might sound. If that’s the case, talk to another teacher (who you can trust). It is very important that you feel comfortable in your learning environment. So, if you are terrified of your teacher, then you need to be able to assess why that is - so that you can get rid of it. 

As for the self-harm, I understand why you are getting the urges again. One of the main ways to cope with self-harm is to distract yourself with a coping mechanism or a different activity. I’m not sure if you currently have any coping mechanisms that might help you. But here are some suggestions that might help. People self-harm for different reasons, I’m just going to write a bunch here. Hopefully, some of them will be useful for you!

If you're feeling anger and frustration

exercise

hit cushions

shout and dance

shake

tear something up into hundreds of pieces

go for a run.

Expressing your anger physically, or by doing things like shouting, won't work for everyone and could intensify feelings. Try things out and continue with any that have a positive effect.

If you're feeling sadness and fear

wrap a blanket around you

spend time with an animal

walk in nature

let yourself cry or sleep

listen to soothing music

tell someone how you feel

massage your hands

lie in a comfortable position and breathe in – then breathe out slowly, making your out-breath longer than your in-breath. Repeat until you feel more relaxed.

If you're feeling a need to control

write lists

tidy up

declutter

write a letter saying everything you are feeling, then tear it up

weed a garden

clench then relax all your muscles.

If you're feeling numb and disconnected

flick elastic bands on your wrists

hold ice cubes

smell something with strong odour

have a very cold shower.

If you're feeling shame

stop spending time with anyone who treats you unkindly

recognise when you are trying to be perfect and accept that making mistakes is part of being human

remind yourself that there are reasons for how you behave – it is not because you are 'bad'.

If you're feeling self-hatred and wanting to punish yourself

write a letter from the part of you that feels the self-hatred, then write back with as much compassion and acceptance as you can

find creative ways to express the self-hatred, through writing songs or poetry, drawing, movement or singing

do physical exercise (like running or going to the gym) to express the anger that is turned in on yourself.

And finally and most importantly - whether it’s self-harm or anxiety, something that ALWAYS help is to talk to someone. The fact that someone else knows what you are going through and someone else is listening can really be helpful. So, if it gets tough in school or if you are getting the urge again, please please reach out to someone you can talk to - online or offline. There is no shame in getting help when you need it. I’m always here if you want to distract yourself by talking about malec or fics or anything else. 

I wish someone had told me this. So, I'm gonna tell you now. 

It’s just school. You’re gonna get through it. 

[stevesharrlngtons]

pin prick and needle sticks.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: your solution for roman’s feeding problem is met with some resistance.

word count: 3.9k

a/n: ya im having so much fun writing again so hopefully there will be more! i hope you enjoy and if you do, pls give me some feedback (-: 

also this is a repost bc this wasn’t showing up in tags 

When you strode into Dr. Pryce’s office, he didn’t try to hide his surprise at your uncharacteristic appearance.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)! This is surely an unexpected visit.” Pryce pushed out of his desk chair to meet you in the middle of the large glass room.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You say politely as Johann takes the coat that’s folded over your arm.

“No, not presently. I was just about to wrap up some paperwork and go to lunch.”

“Well, I won’t keep you long. I am hoping my question has a simple enough answer.” You say as you take a seat in one of the visitors chairs across from his desk.

“So, you are looking for my expertise on a matter?” Pryce asks, taking his own seat now.

“Yes, and maybe a small favor depending on your answer.” You smile, trying to seem as sweet as possible.

You knew Johann was asked for wild favors and cover ups where the Godfrey family was concerned constantly, almost on the daily. You wanted him to be receptive to your idea and not shoot you down before he heard your pitch.

Pryce was tolerant of your presence and occasionally even fond of your acquaintance when Roman needed him for something or another. You were very bright and amiable company.

He sighs deeply, already seeming resistant, “Is this a Roman related favor?”

“Yes, but not in the way you think. It’s more like a gift I need your help in giving.”

Johann looked extremely perplexed as he placed his laced fingers on his desktop, “Now I am very intrigued. Please, proceed,”

“You are aware that Roman has been having some trouble sourcing food. Right?” You try to say everything as delicately as possible, even though you knew Pryce knew about Roman���s situation in full. Probably even more than you knew.

“Yes, I am. Unfortunately Olivia forbids me to speak with him on the matter before she does, and she refuses to do so until Roman goes to her for help.”

“Withholding access to food, sounds like an award winning mother if you ask me.”

Johann chuckles, “Yes, Olivia is nothing but selfless.”

“Selfless and maternal.”

Pryce laughs again before he asks you what is the nature of your visit in relation to Roman and his upirism.

“Like all things in Roman’s life that are broken, I have found the solution to fix them. In this case, I have decided that I will take my blood and give it to him. As much as I can give, so he will never have to worry about where to feed again.” You said this with a self assured expression, elated that you had come up with a way to help your love.

The true extent of Roman’s feeding problem had become apparent one night while you were making love.

Roman sat on his knees, your legs around his waist while he pressed his hips deliciously into yours. He had set a gentle rhythm of thrusts, ones that were illicting your mewls and calls of his name from your lips. While you were reveling in your pleasure, Roman was trembling. Desire filming his eyes as they transfixed on your jugular. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the faint thrum in your neck, your voice becoming hazy and distant as his mouth watered at the sight of your craned neck below him. It wasn’t until you grabbed his cheeks that he snapped from his thirsty stupor.

Roman tumbled off your naked form to the floor of the bedroom unceremoniously, skirting away from you until his back reached the wall, the farthest wall from the bed. You had sat up, not bothering to cover yourself as you stared at your crumpled boyfriend, who shook and stammered under his breath.

“I can’t, OK? We can’t! Not until I feed again. I don’t think I can control it- I can’t control myself.”

“Baby, it’s going to be fine. I know you would never hurt me,” You push away the remains of crumpled sheets and begin toward him, but Roman flinches aggressively.

“I can’t help it, no matter how much I don’t want too, I will. I would kill you just for a taste and I would hate myself forever.”

You wanted to offer yourself up on a silver platter then and there. Ask him to drink from you because even if he doubted his control, you knew he would stop feeding before you were in any semblance of danger. You just wanted to make him feel better, in any way you could. But, as Roman wove his hands into his hair and tugged ruthlessly at the roots, it was clear that this wasn’t going to become an argument, or even a conversation. Roman left the bedroom soon after, muttering something about the refrigerator and leeches, while you watched him leave with an ache in your chest.

You had been trying to figure out the best possible solution to Roman’s problem since. After contemplating many different avenues, you concluded that you weren’t a bank robber (even if it was just a blood bank) and hiring someone from Craigslist seemed too risky (and too weird). So, you had fallen back on your original idea from that night: Roman would drink from you.

“To be clear, you want to extract your own blood and stockpile it for Roman?”

“Exactly. I just need to know how to do it and how much I can give per week without dying of iron deficiency or something.” You nonchalantly reply.

“This is very noble of you to do, (Y/N).”

You wave a dismissive hand at his compliment, “I just want to help him in the best way I can. It’s what you do for the people you love.”

Pryce stares at you for a moment, and begins to wonder how Roman attracted you in the first place? He was sure it was the young man’s killer good looks and the charm he held with the opposite sex that first caught your attention, but you were a smart girl. You wouldn’t fall for him simply because he was a blueprint for a Greek statue or threw a few saccharine words your way. He wondered if Roman was warm and adoring? Sweet and loving and soft when he was only in your company? From what Pryce had seen first hand, Roman was kind and gentle when you were around, but only ever to you. The second Roman laid his eyes back on Pryce or anyone else for that matter, he was back to an angry frothing terror to anyone in his path.

“When giving blood for say, The Red Cross, they take about a liter of your blood which is around 15 fluid ounce. You shouldn’t give more than that a mouth, but I could give you a few supplements that could help replenish your red blood cells at a slightly quicker rate so you would be able to give blood once a week.

“You would likely need to take breaks, possibly a month on and a month off? To make sure that giving blood this frequently wouldn’t take any serious toll, or have any significant side effects on the body.” Pryce explains.

“And these supplements won’t do anything weird to me if I take them?” You trusted Pryce, but only minutely. While you felt cordial with him, you still knew to be weary of his experiments.

“No, of course not. They are all over the counter supplements and vitamins that you can buy on your own accord. I would just tell you how, when and the quantity to take.”    

You sighed at his answer and laughed lightly, “So it’s all good? We could do it?”

“I don’t see why not. I could send a tech to your home to administer the IV, and possibly if this method of feeding works out for Roman long term, you could learn to insert it yourself.”

“Am I going to have like, crazy puncture marks? Am I gonna look like a junkie?” You asked, the vanity of this whole thing only now coming to your mind.

“Unfortunately, there will be noticeable marks and possible bruises from repeated insertions. I could work on something to heal your puncture marks, as I said, if this becomes a main source of Roman’s feeding.”

You nod, mulling over the information for a moment.

“When could we start?”

Telling Roman about the whole thing never even crossed your mind. To you, this was a gift that you were going to give to him, and you loved the element of surprise. It was strange, sure, but to you, this idea of yours felt totally romantic. Some women gave their boyfriends watches, or flat screen TV’s, or let them put in their ass on their birthdays; but for your boyfriend? The man who had every material object he desired and every sexual need quenched? Your blood was a perfect way to show him you cared.

You didn’t want Roman to get just one bag for the first time you presented him with the blood, so you waited four long weeks to create your mini arsenal for him. You just took to wearing long sleeves around the house and silk robes right before bed to hide the little marks on your arms. Roman, still not at his most observant from his lack of feedings, didn’t even bat an eye at your clothing choices.

After your final session with one of Pryce’s tech’s in your home, you felt giddy. You had been keeping the blood in the outside fridge until you had the stockpile you desired, knowing Roman never checked it’s contents. Tonight was the night you were finally going to give them to him.

After Pryce’s man left, you placed your newest bag in the refrigerator and went back inside to change into something far more alluring than the sweatpants you adorned currently. This was going to be a special night for your man and you wanted to pull out all the stops. You had already directed Conway and Anna to make a four course feast for the two of you before you would bring out Roman’s surprise.

After changing into the tightly fitted black dress you had picked out a few weeks ago, along with Roman’s favorite silk lingerie set, you went back downstairs to continue to set the scene for Roman when he returned from work. You scattered candles around the room and played an old jazz record to soothe any worry or anxiety from your boyfriend once he entered your shared home. You wanted everything to be perfect, he deserved it.

As you finished and Anna and Conway were wrapping up the meal, you heard someone placing a key in the front door. You turned to see Roman’s tall silhouette through the frosted glass and you couldn’t keep the smile off your lips.

When he walked through the door, he looked exhausted. His eyes were haloed in shadows and he was gaunt, his pale skin pasty and dull. He looked about ready to collapse.

Until he saw you.

“Welcome home.” You said, a wide grin on your features.

“What’s all this?” Roman asked as you met him by the door.

“I know how stressed you’ve been and I wanted to set up a nice evening for the two of us.” You replied as you pushed his coat off his shoulders and held out for Conway to take.

Roman glanced over your shoulder to see the extent of the fuss you had made for him and his shoulders visibly relaxed, “You’re amazing.”

You took both his hands and started to walk back toward the table, “That I am, and I have a little surprise for you after dinner.”

Roman tugs you to him suddenly, causing you to stumble a bit in your heels, but that only accomplished to bring you flush to him.

“Is my surprise under this sexy little get up of yours?” Roman’s eyes twinkle with lust as he moves his hands down to grip your ass.

You hum with delight, “I guess you have two surprises coming, then.”

You lean up to place a lingering kiss to his lips and Roman groans a curse as you step away from his hold.

“But for now, let’s eat and unwind. How was your day?” You ask, pulling out Roman’s chair for him.

“Better now.” He grinned, one that was without smare or ulterior motive. Just a pure smile radiating happiness.

After you chatted about your days and Roman having bitched about work to his heart’s content, you both finished the delicious dinner that was prepared for you. You had moved across the table to sit on his lap while you both shared a chocolate mousse, the gentle ping of the silver spoon against the serving glass lulling you both into calm relaxation and sloth as you ate the rich dessert.

Roman’s temple was pressed against your exposed cleavage, practically purring with the bliss he felt.

“Thank you for tonight, baby. I needed it.” He sighed, turning his head just enough to let you kiss his lips.

“Of course, my love.” You responded, stroking your hand through his hair, “I’d pluck the stars from the sky if it’d make you happy.”

“Hey,” Roman smiles, poking your side, “That’s my line.”

You giggle as Roman prodes you, “Well, while I’m taking your lines, let me take another. I got you something and I need to go and get it.”

“You know I don’t need anything.” Roman says, squeezing you once more before you got off his lap.

“This present is something you need, trust me.” You say over your shoulder as you exit the kitchen and enter the garage to get the gift box you had prepared.

Was this all very dramatic? Yes. Over the top? Of course.

But you loved pampering Roman, so you threw all cares to the wind.

As you entered the kitchen with the rectangular black gift box held together with a silk ribbon, Roman looked at you confused.

“Jeez, what is that? Is my mother’s head in there?” He asked as he watched you place the box on the dining table.

“I wish.” You chuckled, dusting your hands off on your dress as you looked into Roman’s puzzled expression, “Open it.”

Unable to even guess what could be in the box, Roman stood up and walked toward you and where it lay.

“It’s not gonna be anything that’s gonna pop out at me, right?”

“Oh my God, stop being such a bitch and open it already!” You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder as you quaked with excitement.

Roman finally pulled on the black ribbon and slowly untied it, causing the sides of the box to fall apart and reveal it’s contents.

“Surprise!” You said, jumping slightly in place, barely able to keep your excitement to yourself as Roman took in the gift.

He just looked at the blood blankly, all placed in a row before him. His mouth hung open, but he said nothing.

“How did you get this?”

“Well, that’s the extra special part. It’s mine,” You gestured to the blood, “It’s all from me.”

Roman looked up at you, and the appreciation you’d thought you’d see written all over his face wasn’t there. Instead his face was red with anger.

“How could you do this? How could you be so reckless!” Roman raged.

Your heart sank with embarrassment and grief.

“I thought you’d like it.”  

“Like it? Baby, why would I like you taking your blood to give to me? Do you know how dangerous this is? Do you!” You cowered under his voice, lip quivering.

“I thought you would be happy, I thought I was helping. Now you don’t have to worry about feeding or hurting anyone. I can just give blood every now and then and give it to you.” You responded, trying desperately to mend the evening.

“How did you even do this? How did you figure this out?” Roman picked up one of the bags and furiously tossed it back down.

You furrowed your brows and took a step toward your boyfriend, “OK, so don’t get mad- well, don’t get more mad I guess… but I asked Pryce-”

“You asked Pryce?” Roman shrieked, his eyes bulging from his head.

“Yes! But it wasn’t his idea, it was mine. The whole thing was my idea and all he did was help me and make sure I was safe.” You said quickly as Roman paced the length of the table in front of you.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill that stupid little prick and rip his cock off and shove it down his throat!” Roman bellowed.

“Ro, it’s not his fault,”

“It is! He let you do this! Indulged you! He fucking put a needle in your arm and touched you!” It was then that Roman finally zeroed in on the small circular band aid on the inner crook of your elbow and his face passed its red hue into bright crimson.

“Pryce never touched me! He had a lab tech help me.”

“Then I’m killing the tech, then Pryce, then everyone in that fucking nut house of a lab who knew this was happening and didn’t tell me!”

“Stop!” You shouted over Roman’s angry rant, “Enough! This wasn’t anyone’s fault but my own, apparently. I fucked up, I can see that now. But I honestly and truly thought you would love this. That you could be satiated from my blood and never worry about where the next source would come from. But hey? Guess I was wrong.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you turned on your heel to leave.

“(Y/N),” Roman called after you but you stuck up your hand to silence him.

“No, I just want to go to sleep. I’ll see you in bed.” And you walked up the stairs to leave your boyfriend stewing in his own ire.

Stripped from your dress and lingerie, you lay under the thick covers of the bed and mindlessly watch some old re-run of a sitcom. It had been well over an hour since you had left Roman in the kitchen and each second he stayed away was another second of heartbreak and humiliation. You still weren’t sure why Roman had blown up the way he did… sure it was risky, but nothing that you couldn’t handle. You were a grown fucking woman who knew her own limits. You had picked up the supplements Pryce had prescribed you and you had been feeling perfectly fine. If you ever started to feel any effects, you knew you would head straight to Pryce or your primary doctor.

As another commercial break washed over the screen, Roman opened the door to the bedroom and peeked his head inside.

“You OK?”

“No.”

Roman sighed as he came fully into the room and shut the door behind himself, leaning against it.

“Listen, I’m sorry about the scene down there…”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have asked you first if you would have been OK with me doing this for you.” You slumped your shoulder into the mattress.

Roman just watched you.

“I just… Roman, I really thought you would like it! I thought you might even be grateful. I really meant what I said downstairs, I would give you a star if that would make you happy, I really would. And I thought helping solve your feeding problem would make you happy, and it didn’t, so I’m sorry.”

Still Roman stayed silent, just studying you, wrapped in a coil of thick blankets. He soon walked toward the bed and sat on the corner, his back facing you. He hunched over and placed his head in his hands, gently shook it side to side.

“I was never really even that mad at you, baby. Just at Pryce, I guess. And scared…”

“Scared about what?”

“Seriously? You’re going to ask that?” Roman glowered.

You kicked your foot out to the edge he was sitting on to jostle him, “Don’t be an asshole.”

He grumbled something under his breath that you sure was unkind before he continued.

“I was obviously fucking scared because this could go wrong, alright? You could get sick or stop clotting or something! I don’t know. I don’t have to be rational when it comes to your safety and health.”

You rolled your eyes at that comment, “I thought I was being rational coming up with this idea, Roman. In my head, this would solve everything. No more leeches or starving or worrying that you’ll kill someone when it gets too much!”

Roman looked back at you, his eyes intense as your cheeks heated with your outburst.

“I just-! Fuck,” He turned back around, bouncing his knee, “I don’t want you to do this for me and something bad happening. That’s it, that’s all.”

You frown and whisper his name, just loud enough for him to hear.

“And because you went to Pryce and not me… and that no one at my own fucking company told me about this. Fucking traitors.”

You shuffled your way out from the blankets and crawled your way toward Roman, placing a gentle hand to his shoulder to gage his reaction before you moved to hug him.

“I’m not going to get hurt, I promise. Pryce told me where to buy some vitamins to keep me healthy and they have been working. I won’t continue if I start to feel sick. And if by some chance I do, you will be the first person I tell.”

Roman says nothing at first, but you knew he heard you. You placed a few simple kisses to his shoulder and wound your arms tighter around his waist, snuggling to him.

“I want to know the second you start to feel anything less than fantastic, OK? If you feel faint or nauseous or even if you have a fucking headache, alright? I’m not fucking around here.” He replied firmly.

A smile spread across your face and you pressed it to his skin, “Of course, baby. No more secrets ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Roman trailed off with a sigh, but leaning into your touch.

“You know,” You started, moving around his neck to see his face, “I thought the idea of you drinking my blood was very romantic. Maybe even erotic.”

Roman moved to give you a quizzical look and you only grinned wider.

“Something about giving myself to you fully, running through your veins, letting you have all of me, you don’t think that’s romantic?”

Roman’s lips began to pull into his signature smirk, “I think I was little more taken by your erotic comment.”

You giggled and playfully bit his shoulder, “I don’t know, I think about watching you drink it… about you covered in it and knowing it’s from me,”

Roman was quick to grab you and manhandle you around him and into his lap.

“Yeah?” He asked, smirk persistent as his hands explored your body.

“Yeah… knowing you drink my blood, my cum, that you’re the only one who knows my taste… it got me all hot, baby.”

Roman groaned deep in his chest as he dug his fingers into your hips, twitching his hips up against you and making your eyes flutter.

“My baby, my girl,” He hummed, leaning forward to ghost his lips over your own, “You drive me absolutely wild.”

“All better now?”

Roman just chuckles, grinding you down onto him.

“And you’ll drink the blood?”

“Yeah, fine,” And he finally kisses you.

You knew that he was playing it off now like it was nothing, but the honesty you had shown him, and the utter devotion you had just pledged, meant something to him. It meant everything to him.

i really hope you enjoyed!!!! if you do, i’d love to hear your thoughts (:

[stillaclosetwitch]

~ Deity work: Aphrodite ~ DEVOTIONAL ACTS

I came up with a bunch of easy devotional acts and I felt like sharing with the rest of Aphrodite’s followers. This goes without saying, but this is only but a list of possible ways to honor her - it’s up to each individual to try the ones they find appealing and to ignore the ones that they don’t. That said, the list:

Read prayers out loud. Whether you wrote them or not, it doesn’t matter (just don’t pretend you wrote it if you didn’t because she won’t like it, my dude)

Talk to her. If you have a statue of Aphrodite, talk looking to the eyes. If you don’t have a statue of her, look at your own eyes in a mirror - that’s her right there, listening to you. You’ll see how much easier it’s to connect with her if you’re looking to each other’s eyes.

Dress up for her. Wear clothes that make you feel confident and beautiful for no other reason than honoring her and yourself.

Compliment people on a daily basis. It don’t matter if they are friends or strangers. A quick ‘I love your hair’ will surely make someone’s day and I guarantee you’ll feel amazing afterwards.

Work on loving yourself. You could practise self care, say affirmations about your body when you wake up (I look at myself in the mirror and say ‘My cellulite doesn’t bother me anymore’ every day), come up with a skin-care routine, take some looong soothing bubble baths... You name it.

Sleep a little bit earlier than usual or take naps during the day. Call ‘em your ‘Beauty sleep’ unironically.

Create your own face and/or hair masks. You could use ingredients linked or related to her, like cinnamon or strawberry.

Sexually please yourself / explore and know your body.

Make love or just have sex.

Write love letters or stories. They don’t need to be directed to anyone in particular and they don’t even need to be about romantic love - there’s countless of other kinds of love: love between friends, between siblings, the love of a mother to her child and viceversa... You could even write about a fandom ship and call it a day - just think of her while you do it, let her inspire you.

Start a rose garden. It could be as easy as buying freshly cut roses and starting your bush from that: there are a few tricks you could try, like sticking its stem in a potato or in the inside of aloe vera and planting them - these are supposed to promote root growth. If you do this, don’t ever neglect it because it will be the same as neglecting your relationship with Aphrodite Herself. Nurture the flowers like you’re nurturing your relationship with her and talk to the flowers like they are your friends.

Create a playlist with songs that remind you of her. Press play and let it go uninterrupted from the first to the last song while you clean, cook, study, bathe, whatever.

If you play an instrument, play for her. Make it her own personal concert. I recommend taking a chair and placing it in front of you. You can leave the chair empty and loudly invite her to come and sit OR you could place a statue of her on the chair or a mirror to, again, lok at her eyes while you play. (Make sure the statue or mirror are secure in the chair and they won’t fall over.)

Do you sing? Sing for Her! Again, do the personal-concert-with-a-chair-in-front thing explained above. Leave it empty or place a statue or a mirror on it.

Bake her something sweet. Could be as simple as cookies or as elaborate as a full on cake. That’s up to you. Offer it to her and wait a moment before eating it. Here’s a post about why you should eat that offering, if you’re reluctant or unsure.

Watch a romantic film.

Watch a sexy film.

Read a romantic book.

Read erotic literature.

Treat yourself to new stuff. Could be clothes, make up, baking items, books... Whatever you want to have but are unsure about actually purchasing it or not. Just do it.

Change your look. Dye your hair a different color, maybe even a crazy one, change your typical hairstyle, cut your hair a different way, do your nails or try a different fashion style.

Research her story. Look up myths, compare how they portray her to how you personally feel her, study how ancient Greeks viewed and honored her.

Meditate upon her. Feel her energy, hear her voice, absorb her thoughts. Listen to her and let her guide you. I play this music while doing this.

Create an altar or shrine just for her. Do your meditation, devotional acts and spellwork that need her aid on this place.

Journal your experiences when doing deity work. Use a notebook, your laptop, cellphone or even your own grimoire. Write date and time and proceed to describe what you did for her, with her, what you felt, maybe if you dreamed about her, if you think she sent you a sign or is trying to say something, if you think you met her while astral projecting - ANYTHING about her. Write it down. As you grow in your practice you will want to see how it all started and how far you’ve come - eventually you might even be able to decipher the signs she sent you and never completely understood.

Keep your space clean, nice and tidy. Show that you respect her enough to live like a decent human being.

Honor her by doing something for someone else. Feed stray cats or dogs, feed ducks, swans or pigeons, buy lunch to a homeless person.

Help people know her. Share your personal experiences, write about her on your blog, create a devotional blog just for her, spread knowledge, help people find her way to her.

Take a trip to the sea. Bathe in the water, go diving, walk barefoot on the beach, feel the sand on your toes, collect pretty shells as you go, take a bag with you and help clean off trash and cigarette butts.

Sweeten your tea with honey instead of sugar.

Become a beekeeper / help local beekeepers.

Plant flowers that attract bees in your own garden or in public parks.

I hope you find some of these inspiring. Let me know if you did!

See also: Tip to start deity work and Offerings for Aphrodite

[escxpedes]

loopholes (fin.)

Remember when I said I’d post this like two days after the last part? No? Me neither... Sorry about the delay, I’ve had a severe lack of motivation. (It’s mental illness innit.) I feel like every part of this story gets longer and longer, and makes even less sense. If you haven’t read the other two parts, I recommend you do so. These technically can be read standalone, but I think it’s cuter when you read them knowing the context. Even though, again, they seem to make less sense the more I write. Lots of new information came about season 5, and it’s both nerve-racking and exciting at the same time! Three cheers for anxiety, amiright? Hope you all are doing well, I’m excited to hear the feedback on the last part of this series. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to write, I’m a sucker for prompts! x  

part one | part two

~

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system.

~

hands that wrap around my wrists, (and arms that feel like home.)

Shutting down the monitors she was using, Riley tries not to think about how her sleep deprivation affects her body. It’s one thing to work as a distraction, but the drag in her pace tells her this coping method is wearing her down.

How is she supposed to save innocent lives when she’s so exhausted.

And she is, exhausted, that is. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Every part of her is weightless, suspended in air, and it feels like she can’t do a single thing about it.

An irritating helplessness encompasses her, tightening its grasp on her sanity.

She wants to cry out, throw something, cause a scene. Instead, she buries her feelings deep in her subconscious and tries not to focus on how tight her chest is.

It’s an occupational hazard, she tells herself. It’s nothing she can’t handle, she repeats daily. It’s almost a mantra by now, echoing inside her head and ramping up what seems to be an infinite supply of determination.

It’s the only way.

Mac waits for her outside, leaning against the building while she locks up. Her vision is still kind of fuzzy due to lack of energy, and her body doesn’t seem to be completely awake yet. She can physically feel Mac’s concerned gaze burning a hole in her cranium as if staring hard enough will give him access to all recesses of her mind.

“Ready?”

She nods, feigning a smile, and bumping his shoulder with her own, “You never mentioned why you stopped by so late.”

Ignorance is bliss, right?

“I left my phone in the labs.” She can hear the exasperation in his voice; concern rushes forward and sends a pang through her heart.

Suddenly, she’s irritated too, not with Mac, but for Mac. He does the right thing for humanity despite all that humanity has done to him. She can’t imagine how frustrated he must be with the entire situation, once again putting the world before himself.

He’s had so little time to process everything.

She knows he could use a break but also knows that he won’t admit he needs one.

For how smart he is, he can be really stupid sometimes.

When she turns her head to look at him, she can tell she’s lost him to his own thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, his usually clear eyes unfocused, and his mouth is set in a grim line.

If she listens closely, she can almost hear the gears turning, working out possible solutions, and thinking through every outcome.

It’s not an uncommon expression.

She stops abruptly, “Hey.”

This seems to shake him from his trance, his eyes meeting hers in a questioning manner.

“You are doing the best you can under the circumstances, but pushing yourself too hard won’t solve anything,” Her hand finds its way to his arm and squeezes reassuringly, “You can take care of the planet, but make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

The look he gives her is so full of gratitude and affection that nearly every emotion that Riley’s fought to contain bursts through its confinement and surges through her body.

“Thank you.”

Her breath catches in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“What for?”

She really hopes the shaky breath that follows goes unnoticed.

“For always believing in me, no matter what.” His gaze is piercing, robbing the ability to form words from her throat.

She rakes her mind for something, anything, to say that will stop her from doing something she would totally, one hundred percent regret.

“It’s what Jack would do.”

It takes everything in her to break eye contact and shrug nonchalantly. Humor laces her tone, despite the sincerity of her statement. It is something Jack would do, something he taught her to believe in. Not necessarily in Mac, but what her gut is telling her.

It seems that in any given situation, before or after Jack’s departure, Mac’s intuition has always mirrored her own. Since the second he broke her out of prison, they always had the same values. Just like Jack, she learned how to read and understand Mac.

She knows how to interpret his rambling. She knows that no matter the situation, he’ll always put everyone else first. She knows that whatever crazy plan he’s come up with, it’s constructed with the best intentions.

She knows that no matter where he goes, and no matter what he does, her instinct is to trust him.

So she does.

With every ounce of her being. 

She desperately wants to share this with him, especially if it would probably make him feel better. However, she knows the second she starts talking, she won’t be able to stop. Mac’s got a way of doing that, translating her thoughts into words that tumble out of her before she can control what they might mean.

The grin Mac throws her, which conveys understanding and amusement, allows the tension between them to dissipate.

“Speaking of Jack, he would absolutely kill me if I let you drive home in your state.”

Before she can get a word in edgewise, he’s already opening the passenger side door of his truck. The tone in his voice leaves little room for debate, as if he’s ready to refute whatever argument she can muster up, so Riley doesn’t argue.

She wants to, but just the idea of operating a car sounds exhausting.

Besides, she’s missed this. She’s missed Mac, not just as someone she’s possibly in love with, but as her best friend. With everything going on, she’s hardly been able to see him.

The absence of him in her life hurts just as much as having him in it.

She literally can’t win.

The silence that follows is comfortable, the rumbling engine serving as white noise to Riley as she dozes off against the window.

She tries to, anyway. Driving with Mac is always an adventure, which is useful when trying to avoid being killed by a terrorist organization. Maneuvering Los Angeles traffic? Way, way less so.

“Maybe driving myself home wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.” She mumbles, fighting the urge to grab the handle above the door.

“Hey! I always get us home in one piece.”

“Physically maybe,” an amused smile finds its way to Riley’s face, “But mentally? I should sue you for psychological trauma.”

The look of disbelief that follows is enough to get her through several lifetimes, or it could be the smile he struggles to hide under his offended facade.

“Ouch,” Mac puts his left hand over his heart, “That hurts right here, Riles.”

The nickname throws her off, causing her stomach to flip. It’s just a silly name, it shouldn’t affect her like this, but her heart still clenches uncomfortably.

She attempts to brush it off, trying for a humoring grin that feels more like a grimace.

Though the comfortable atmosphere doesn’t change, the playful energy is replaced by more silence. As buildings pass outside, all Riley can think about is how much she hates silence. Man, what she would do just to get rid of it for a little bit. It’s constant these days, and it always finds her no matter where she goes.

Her fingers tug at her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’s recently adopted, as she tries to think through possible solutions to the predicament she’s found herself in.

She must be pretty engrossed because it takes her a minute to realize Mac’s spoken again.

“What?” Her brain slows down enough to pick out his words, something about how much sleep she’s gotten recently, “Oh, I don’t know.”

She tries not to notice how concerned he looks when he asks, “You don’t know?”

Not really

Logically, she knows that she sleeps almost every night. How long? It’s hard to tell sometimes. If she’s lucky, she can get a couple hours in before her brain goes into hyperdrive. Other times, she’d rather be doing something productive on her rig instead of staring at her ceiling fan.

She props her elbow against the window and rests her head in her hand, “I guess it hasn’t been a priority.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see him open his mouth and close it abruptly, trying to find the right words to comfort or soothe her.

As always, Mac is trying to rectify the situation.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She doesn’t miss the parallel and throws him the same reclusive look he had given her on multiple occasions.

“That’s my line.”

There’s an irritating tension that fills the space, like the feeling you get when you can’t get past a certain level on a video game. It’s a little stifling, urging Riley to do whatever it takes to make it disappear.

“C’mon Riley, you’ve been off ever since, you know, the whole codex situation. At first, I thought, well, it was kind of traumatizing for everyone involved, but then you moved out and,” He trails off, and she can physically see him putting all the working components together, “Is it the apartment?”

God, she wished it was just the apartment. Sure, it plays a part in all her problems right now, but she knows that it’s more of what the empty apartment represents than the apartment itself.

Still, she’s glad he came to that conclusion. It’s easier to lie to him when it doesn’t pertain to the actual issue at hand.

“The apartment’s fine,” she says after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s the AC unit, isn’t it?” His lips compress shortly before he shakes his head, “I knew I should have looked at it.”

As he starts ranting about the condenser coils in her air conditioner and how easy it is for them to get dirty, Riley can’t help but let a soft laugh fall from her lips.

“Mac, it’s not my air conditioning.”

When he opens his mouth to respond, she holds her hand up to stop him. “It’s not my heater either, or my ceiling fan, or anything that might require your unique expertise.”

“But it has something to do with the apartment.”

The statement is blanketed in excitement as if he knows he’s getting closer to uncovering the truth. He’s always been so obsessed with knowledge and learning, never quite capable of letting things go and living in ignorance.

His eyes light up with child-like curiosity; it’s highly annoying and endearing at the same time.

She feels her self control loosening.

With Mac, she feels secure, like maybe she can put herself back together again. She could confess to a crime, and he wouldn’t look at her any differently.

That helplessness kicks back in, tearing her apart from the inside.

When he slows to a stop in front of her complex, she hasn’t answered him yet.

In the back of her mind, she’s a little proud of herself for only joking about his driving once in the ten minutes it took to get there.

She stares at the lobby entrance and can feel the soft flannel of his shirt, giving him a hug before she exits his truck. She can hear the sleepiness in her voice as she leans against the door and tells him goodnight. She can see herself walk through the double doors and not turning around.

She can see it so clearly, but she remains planted in the passenger seat.

Fear tangles itself in her shoulders, in her stomach, in her heart.

Not just because she dreads the idea of spending another night counting the minutes before her alarm goes off, but because she doesn’t want to leave with their friendship in this state.

She just wants everything to go back to normal, to get back some semblance of their old friendship before she knew how she felt.

Mac waits beside her, a patient and comforting presence.

“It’s just so quiet. Up there, it’s just me and my thoughts. They never cease or quiet down; it’s a constant loop. I try listening to music or watching TV, but I can never focus on any of it. Then, I start panicking because I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. There’s no comfort, no stability. I’m just… alone.”

With every word, a little of the weight falls from her shoulders.

It almost feels like she can breathe again.

“The only time I don’t feel like that is when I’m working,” she clenches her hands in her lap, “At Phoenix, I can get to any room in the dark with my eyes closed, and I’m constantly surrounded by people I’ve known for years. It feels… safe.”

Mac’s silent, reaching over to grasp one of her hands.

“You don’t feel safe here?” He encloses her left hand between his own and squeezes, the pressure and warmth spreading through her body like wildfire.

She meets his eyes, “Not in the way that matters.”

He turns the truck off, hopping out before Riley can say anything else. He walks around the hood of the car and pulls the passenger door open, “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

He helped her out of the truck, “You trust me, right?”

More than he’ll ever know.

“You know I do.” She eyed him suspiciously as he opened one of the complex’s doors for her, following as she entered.

“From what I can recall, Bozer got you a Nintendo Switch for your birthday earlier this year. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of destroying you in Super Smash Bros.”

His voice was quiet, trying not to disturb the people trying to sleep.

“First of all, you’ve never destroyed me in Super Smash Bros, and you never will if you keep playing with Luigi,” She grinned, watching as he shook his head in disagreement, “And second of all, it’s two in the morning.”

He shrugged, “That’s never stopped us before.”

He wasn’t wrong, but things were different now.

Riley tried not to think about Desi, wrapped up in Mac’s bed, peacefully sleeping and blissfully unaware of this entire exchange.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

It didn’t matter anyway because clearly, Riley had issues with saying “no” to Angus Macgyver.

“Fine, but prepare to get your ass beaten.”

He grinned triumphantly, “That sounds like a challenge.”

She unlocked her apartment door, stepping into the dark and quiet entryway. She faltered a little bit, her heartbeat quickening with newfound anxiety.

As always, the apartment radiated energy that always put Riley out of place.

Mac closed the door behind him, helping himself to any food he could find in her fridge. There was an intimacy to it, a closeness that made the apartment much more bearable. Her shoulders dropped a little, the anxiety easing a little as she took a deep breath.

She busied herself in the living room, connecting the switch to her TV and grabbing a variety of different pillows and blankets.

It was, after all, a tradition for these types of events.

Mac joined her after a couple of minutes with two beers, “Your fridge is worse than mine.”

“Will you get it started,” Riley ignore his comment, handing him one of the controllers, “ I’m going to change.”

When she returned in a comfy ensemble of leggings and a sweatshirt, Mac was scrolling through the character list. She hopped the back of the couch to sit next to him, watching as he hovered over Luigi for what feels like an eternity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mac’s determined expression didn’t falter, “You’re just jealous of my skills.”

Those skills proved to be no match for Riley’s, though, after she managed to beat him in the first game. It became much more entertaining when she did it again in the second. She tried not to laugh, but it became nearly impossible with his onslaught of complaints.

“You’re such a cheater, you can’t do that!” He pressed down hard on the keys as if smashing them harder will make Luigi speed up.

Jokes on him, Luigi was the slowest character in the game.

Very slowly, her exhaustion began to creep up on her. She knew she was done for when Mac actually managed to beat her. He seemed just as surprised as she was, but he suggested switching to a movie anyway.

They ended up choosing a documentary, something that Mac had been interested in watching recently. Riley didn’t care what they watched, as long as she got to lay down.

Mac placed a pillow in his lap and tapped it gently.

“So, was this your plan,” She comfortably adjusted her body, so her neck wasn’t in an awkward position propped up on the pillow.

In front of them, a monotone voice explained the phenomena surrounding the universe.

“Homo Sapiens are social creatures; we need people to survive,” Riley could feel Mac’s fingers coursing through her waves, creating a soothing pattern that calmed any remaining tension in her body. 

“You feel comfortable at Phoenix, sitting around the fire pit at my house, or spending time with the team at the arcade because we’re there. It’s okay to need us, Riles, because trust me, we need you, too.”

Mac’s words barely resonate with her, and she hummed noncommittally in response.

His fingers gently combed through the tangles at the nape of her neck, “I don’t think we build homes in material things like houses or apartments, but rather, in the people we surround ourselves with.”

Laying there, with her head on his lap and his fingers in her hair, Riley could only think one thing:

He couldn’t be more right. 

[notgalaxii]

ah! can you do 55 with asmo?? ❤ please

Woo! This one was fun if we ignore the fact that I've written it twice now because I wasn't satisfied. There might be grammar errors here and there because Im sick and all foggy headed and shit, I'll edit her another time. Anyways, happy reading! Thank you for the request my love 💕🤞

Prompt: Shut up and kiss me already 

"MC, how about we go out tonight?~" 

It was a sweet prompt from one of your best friends in the world, not just in the Devildom. However, it almost always led to something chaotic. Some nights Asmodeus disappears into the night and takes part in some wild orgy; some nights he tries to hook you up with someone; some nights he gets crowds when he really doesn't want to. Nine times out of ten, something happens.

This night was no different for the two of you. He dressed you up, styled your hair to his liking, then ushered you into some crazy nightclub that you definitely couldn't have gotten into on your own. Now, you danced together, pinkies locked so you don't lose each other in the mass of drunk demons, holding your alcohol in your free hand. The pinky holding had been Asmo's idea; it was a lot cuter than handholding and less intimate so you weren't uncomfortable. 

"Would you like a refill, cutie?" he quizzed, a bright smile stretching from ear to ear. 

“Yes, please,” you hummed, passing your cup over to the demon. Asmo took the glass from your hands almost gracefully, as gracefully as he could when he was buzzed, before turning on his heel and waltzing back to the bar. 

“I’ll be right back then, my dear!” he called over his shoulder. You chuckled to yourself, resuming the rhythm you had created to the beat of the music that was blaring through the club. 

He did this pretty often: holding you close for a few hours and then disappearing into the night, coming back a solid half hour later with a drink and a lipstick stain on his cheek. It was a little annoying at first, but you grew accustomed to it throughout your friendship with him. Seeing him throw compliments and flirts at any passing beautiful face like he was asking the time of day made your stomach churn still, even though it’s a part of your new daily routine. Not only did he nonchalantly chat it up with anyone, but the demons fell for it. Even when he wasn’t using his charm, strangers seemed to throw themselves at your best friend left and right. It wasn’t the flirting itself that entirely bothered you. It was what they were looking at. 

On the outside, Asmodeus was nothing more than a self-centered bratty perv who’s diet consisted of nothing but drama and attention. He was so much more than that to you, though. Asmodeus was a gentle and passionate man in more ways than one. When he loves people, he loves them. He learns them, he spoils them, he lives them, he breathes them. Asmodeus knows the ins and outs of everyone he cares for, what they like, what they don’t like, and every way to supply them with their needs. He’s thoughtful and kind.

The case was no different with you. You hadn’t spent a day without Asmodeus by your side since you started your stay in the Devildom. He’s taken you to all of his favorite stores, showed you all of the most beautiful sights to see, he’s fed you the most delicious food he could think of, and most of all, he’s spent quality personal time with you. Your favorite nights were those spent in his room before bed, trying out new face masks together, and just talking about life. For someone who seems self-centered, Asmodeus had always been the best listener when it came to you. In your eyes, he was no less than a glistening jewel that had caught the moonlight in the depths of a hidden cave. 

Just as expected, you spotted your favorite demon in the crowd near the bar, chatting with a beautiful woman. The look on his face read a combination of, “I can’t wait to get out of this conversation,” and “I should buy more alcohol.” Hers, however, was reading unadulterated desire, something that you had learned to pick up on when spending time with Asmodeus. By some miracle, you managed to meet his sunset gaze through the mass. It felt almost as if the smile he directed towards you had roped you in, dragging you closer to him. 

“Ah! It looks like you found me!” Asmo giggled once you fell at his feet.

“You’re not that hard to find, you know,” you teased, flickering your gaze to the woman he had just been chatting with. She was definitely more attractive up close, as she was shooting daggers at you with her eyes. 

“Well, I believe we had a lovely chat but I have previous engagements to attend to,” Asmodeus told her, lowering his hand to lock his pinky with yours again, “Perhaps I’ll see you sometime again in the future?” 

“I hope I can count on it,” her voice was low and almost sultry. Paying no mind to her comment, Asmo beckoned you to follow him off into a more secluded area.

“She seemed like a treat,” you scoffed before sitting down. 

“Hmm? You seem like you desire something. Tell me, MC, what is it?” Asmodeus inquired, not bothering to sit down. You looked up at him, watching the way the pink and gold hues danced in his eyes with glimmers of content, how his champagne hair effortlessly curled just out of the way of his gaze, how his skin looked so delicate and soft to the touch. He was absolutely right, you desired something. You desired him. You desired to reach up and run your fingers across his perfect skin. You desired his sunset gaze to be fixated on you and only you. You desired him to make an attempt to charm you again even though he knows it won’t work in the way he wants it to. You were already charmed by him, no magic involved.

“I just want to know what possesses you to make you walk up to random strangers and try to charm them,” it wasn’t a total lie, but it definitely wasn’t what you really desired. 

Asmodeus quirked an eyebrow at you in surprise, but it soon settled. The expression of shock was replaced by an arrogant smile. It was mesmerizing, the way his rosey lips pulled into an enchanting gleam. You wondered if he knew that he had your heart on strings and with every pull of his smile, he tugged on them. 

“She approached me, actually. I just wanted to get you a drink,” Asmodeus leaned down closer to you so that your faces were level. In doing so, a few strands of his hair fell in front of his eyes. There was a new thing you had desired, to run your fingers through his hair, push it out of the way, see just exactly how soft it was. “Is that all you wanted, MC? I feel like there's something still locked deep away in your chest. Why don’t you help me open it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! If I had known that it was her doing then I wouldn’t have pestered you about it. Forgive me, Asmo,” you fumbled, brushing aside his last statement in hopes that he would drop it.

“Shh, just be quiet and kiss me already, would you?” Asmodeus cajoles, “That is what you’d like, isn’t it, love?” 

A warmth invades your face, peppering your cheeks with a deep shade of red. It takes a brief moment of contemplating whether it’s worth it or not, sacrificing your friendship to soothe your inner desires, but you comply with the Avatar of Lust’s demand. Once you’ve closed the distance between the two of you, your lips melt right against his. 

The kiss is everything you hoped it would be and more. Asmodeus’ lips were soft, smooth, and tasted faintly of the sweet chapstick that he had applied before the two of you set off. Unexpectedly, however, his kiss was gentle and loving rather than fervent and needy. He moved his lips against yours very slowly, yet skillfully. The feelings that Asmodeus’ touch gave you as his hands made themselves home on your waist and cheek were second to none; he sent ripples of euphoria throughout your entire body and chills down your spine. 

“I-I was really hoping you didn’t figure that one out,” you scrambled for words the moment his lips vacated yours. 

“I know you, MC,” he giggled. You almost hoped that he didn’t know you well enough to pick up on that you were desperate for more. 

[mosiee]

Newsies Square Writing Challenge:Week 2

From @newsies-square-discord post

Inspiration: Why are you being the reckless one now?

Pairing: David & Sarah- sibling shenanigans

Kinda a modern/ collage au bit from another wip that will most likely never get done so might as well post it here

David was achy. His head was killing him, he couldn’t breathe through his nose, legs were sore, and he was paranoid. He did sleep for a few hours after Jack left, but every movement jolted him awake. He got up and went to shower, noticing various bruises on his torso. He was more beat up than he thought. The shower didn’t help either. He expected it to sooth the pain a little but it did virtually nothing.

He didn’t know what to do after. Normally he would be sitting in class, ignoring the group texts that were buzzing in his pocket but he couldn’t even do that. He was worried about what missing the day would do for his grades and it really freaked him out. The semester was almost over and that’s when the pressure really increased. Adding the Delanceys on top of it all really didn’t do any good for him.

He decided to clean to take his mind off things. His room had definitely seen better days, but he was still certain that even in its most messy state it would still be cleaner than most of the guys’ rooms on a daily basis.

There was one thing he didn’t anticipate, and it was Sarah trying to video chat. She would freak if she saw the state he was in. Sure, she had laughed when she found out he accidentally joined Jack’s quote unquote gang, but thinking about it and reading through old articles old misdemeanors put her on edge. They’d met a few times when she’d come for a visit and said Jack seemed like a good guy, but the fights he got in made her nervous for his safety.

David huffed before answering the call, an excuse for only using the mic on his tongue. “Hey Sarah.”

“What? We haven’t talked in weeks and you won’t even turn on video chat for your sister. Rude.”

“I mean I just got out of the shower so I’ve only got a towel on.”

“David, I’ve seen you in a towel before.”

“Oops it fell.”

“You’re gross you know that?”

“But I’m your brother and you’re stuck with me.”

“Yeah, yeah please don’t give me anymore mental images.”

David rolled his eyes. “What’s up? You look tired. Work kicking your ass?”

“It’s trying to at least. My manager got fired for – I don’t know, embezzlement or something so there’s this big case going on and everyone picked up shifts until his replacement is found.”

“Geez. I figured something was up but nothing that big.”

“You’re telling me. But anyways, why aren’t you answering your phone?”

Oh right, he forgot about that.

“Uh, I – it broke?”

“Broke?”

“Me and the guys were doing stupid things and I dropped it and it – broke.”

Sarah’s face was set in an annoyed frown. “I thought you were the responsible one of the group.”

“No, I’m the smart one. Smart does not equal responsible. Besides, it wasn’t even my fault.”

“Who’s was it then?”

“Okay, it might have been my fault, but Albert’s taking a look at it to see if he can fix it. Best case, it works and I just have a cracked screen. Worst case is I need a new one which I can afford by myself – for a few months.”

“Why are you being the reckless one now?” She snorted and shook her head.

“I think I’ve earned it with how much I put up with and how much I don’t normally do.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. Anyways, you’ve got a break coming up in a little while right? Two weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking of coming with Les for a visit. He’s going stir crazy. Seeing you in person will do a lot of good; getting one of your hugs too. We’ve both missed that.”

“I’d really enjoy that actually. Been too long.”

[bird-in-a-cage]

You know exactly what this is about bby 😍🌹 This is an official request for you to write about the rosy lotion, Steve and his immaculate skincare routine, his loving relationship with his mother, and the goddamn hunt for the exact brand she uses 🌹💕 -CockAsInTheBird

My sweet muse. I hope you’re ready for this. I didn’t go so much into his whole routine, because we all know it would be long and involve many, many products. Either way, I hope this will surfice.

Routine

Steve was six, at least he remembers being that young, when it first happened. He would always take a bath and sit on his parents’ bed in clean pajamas, watching his mother apply this stuff to her face. It was thick and white and came in a deep blue tub, about the size of her hand. It looked like a plastic gemstone. It wasn’t the only tub, but it was the one that stood out of the most on her vanity table. The one Steve wanted to touch the most and see what was inside. This particular night he rolled off his spot at the foot of the bed and walked over to for a closer look, a young mind inquisitive and wanting to know everything it could about all kinds of things in the world.

His mother smiled at his face in the mirror, fingers on her cheeks, rubbing in this white stuff that smelt of fresh cut roses she would sometimes bring home and place in big vases in the hall. Steve loved that smell.

“Everything okay my piccolo girasole?” She asked, her native accent coming forward with Steve’s pet name that made him blush slightly. She only used it when it was just them, made it more special. His father, for some reason, didn’t like to hear all the Italian words she knew, but Steve loved it. Loved being called his special name that no one else in the world was called.

He didn’t answer and reached straight for the tub, which was quickly moved away with a light chuckle.

“Ah ah, we ask before we touch Stevie,” she said kindly. “Remember?”

“Sorry mamma,” he apologised, but still kept wide eyes on the tub and what it contained. Like it held a million secrets. Or gold and diamonds. Or ghosts. A set of matching eyes followed his gaze and a warm smile followed.

“You want to try some?”

Steve couldn’t stop his head nodding vigorously even if he wanted it to.

He watched his mother put a small amount on her fingers, manicured and perfect, and gently it was rubbed into his cheek. Immediately his whole head was enveloped in the wonderful smell of roses, but he couldn’t help but giggle because it was cold. Almost shockingly so. He always giggled at a little shock. As if he couldn’t be scared if it was funny.

“It’s mamma’s special cream. Makes her skin all nice and smooth,” his mother explained, talking soft but smiling at her son’s happiness. Steve stayed still and let her rub the cream into the rest of his face, closed his eyes and just focused on how nice it smelled.

“Will it make me pretty like you?” He opened his eyes when he felt her fingers leave his chin.

At the time he didn’t register it, he was far too young to know what to look for, but remembering it there was a strange sad look in her eye. Almost as if she could see the future somehow. 

“Of course it will girasole, but you must never tell your father. It can be our little secret. You can come here every night and you’ll grow up to be the most handsome ragazzo.”

Steve put his finger over his mouth and nodded. Their little secret. 

---

The first time his parents left Steve alone, his mother gave him his own tub of face cream. He was old enough to read it now, in truth he’d been old enough to read it for years. It felt like the most precious gift, silver lettering embossed in the lid that just said Night Cream. He sat cross legged on his floor, back up against the edge of his bed, and followed the same trail his mother made across his face. Cheek, forehead, cheek, under eyes, nose, chin. It was calming. He let the smell of roses fill his head and for a small moment he wasn’t alone. His mother was still around, not following his father across the world in her wifely obligations because they were both too stubborn and old fashioned to get a divorce. She was still at home to call him pet names even though he was almost twelve now, someone to talk to after school who would want to help him with homework instead of his father’s constant cold shoulder.

He didn’t feel like a failure in his mother’s loving eyes. Never.

The first time became many, many more. To the point where Steve just expected to come home and be alone. He had tonnes of friends and people to hang out with, but they all had curfews, parents who loved them enough to want them home at sensible times. Steve tried not to let it bother him, at least on the outside. Inside it cut like a knife. A once daily phone call becoming weekly at best. Disappointment after disappointment. Sorry, we won’t be back next week, your father has a client in Washington he has to have a meeting with. It’s quite important. Good luck in your game. Remember you’ll always be my piccolo girasole. 

Every night Steve would sit in the exact same spot, go through the exact same routine. Let his room and head be filled with the smell of roses and remind himself that he was loved. He wasn’t alone, even though he was. His mamma still loved him. She was out there somewhere. It wasn’t her fault.

The night cream was a lifeline before Steve even realised it. When he ran out, the tub completely dry of any small amount even in the rim of the lid, he went to the only place in town that would possibly sell more. He could easily say it was for his mom. He knew this place sold it, he’d bought some here before. But the spot where it should have been on the shelf was empty. All the way to the wall. Totally empty. Steve stared at his own hand shaking, didn’t register he was breathing faster until the world shrunk to that single empty spot on a shelf full of other night creams that probably had all the same properties. They weren’t the same though. He’d tried that trick before in a tight spot, probably looked completely insane uncapping each individual pot of cream and just smelling them. Nothing was like the deep blue gemstone. Everything else smelt too chemically, too dewy, not rosy enough, was the wrong colour, didn’t feel right on his fingers. 

It had to be the same. It had to be. 

Before he’d been lucky, they had a bit more out back just waiting to be put out. But not this time. And there wouldn’t be a delivery until Friday. He was welcome to come back then. Steve nodded shakily and left the store, sat silently in his car behind the wheel and tried not to feel overwhelmed. His parents had been gone almost five months at this point. They’d never been gone that long before. It was nearly the holidays and everyone at school was talking about what they’d be doing, where they’d be going. Oh my third cousins are coming over, it's gonna be a total drag.

Steve never wanted to admit he missed his parents. He was a teenager, he could drive, he smoked sometimes and drank a lot at house parties. He didn’t ever want to say that sometimes all he wanted was a hug from his mom. For her to pet his head, call him dolce bambino and ask how his day was, how was basketball practice, is he doing okay for finals.

But he missed her. He missed her so much it made him crazy. She was a good mother growing up, she’d tried to be there as much as she could. That night cream was all that was stringing them together across the world. And Steve had run out and there was no more in the store until Friday. 

He felt like crying. He did. Silently. Just let tears fall at the thought of being even more alone than he already was. It was nearly the holidays and he had no idea when they would be back. He didn’t have third cousins. So he drove to the next town over. And then the next. Didn’t stop until it was dark and he was two hours away from home, tired and sore all over from driving and so desperate it was pathetic. But he needed this. It made him feel good, it made him feel not so alone. It made him feel that somewhere out there he was still loved and thought after, even if it was just sometimes. That he wasn’t just forgotten because he wasn’t the best at school.

Steve already knew he was a disappointment to his father, he was never shy in saying so over another subpar report card. A Harrington does better than C- Steven.

The last store he tried had one last tub. Sat alone on the shelf like a miracle. Like it was waiting just for him. He snatched it up, paid, didn’t bother collecting the change and locked himself in his car, trying to contain shakes as he ripped the top open and let himself be instantly calmed by the smell alone. Roses in the hall. Bright summer days by their pool. Listening to his mother speak Italian in a big floppy hat as he splashed around in water wings. Called him her felice delfino. Sitting at her vanity table. Playing with bottles of perfume, and colourful nail polish, and a big white puff that made him sneeze when he dabbed it over his nose to see what it was. Hearing his mother laugh somewhere behind him from the closet.

Hearing her voice say ti amo piccolo girasole.

He put a blob of cream on his cheek, way too much than what he would normally use, but the coolness of it was soothing more than his skin. He wasn’t shaking anymore. He at least felt good enough after a little breathing to drive home.

Ti amo mamma. Wherever you are...

[captain-yeet]

Seeking Sanctuary (Demetri Volturi x Reader One-Shot)

Request by @like-rain-or-confetti

Summary: Life had been going right down the gutter for Y/N - even more so now that a crazed vampire had taken an interest in her. Her home is no longer safe. So she turned to the one she knew she could trust with her life.

Prompt: “I didn't know where else to go.”

Word Count: 1.36k

Warnings: Mentions of being stalked, anxiety, angst.

Author Notes: THIS WAS FUN AS HECK and the prompt request made my day! I don’t get those often so I’m hyped for this one in particular. Bless you for requesting this prompt because I’m a sucker for this exact thing.

When life gives you lemons they say you can make lemonade from it. You doubted that you could make any light of the situation you were in or something of use that could bring you joy when life threw an insane vampire who thought you were a reincarnation of their long lost mate at you.

In fact, life had been very hectic for you lately. Work life wasn’t going so great, and you found yourself feeling demotivated and losing interest in things you typically enjoyed.

You had become rather depressed, and the insane vampire stalker was your tipping point.

With red puffy eyes from crying your heart out, you packed what you could into a large suitcase and backpack; clothes, things you used daily, things you didn’t want to dare part with. Looking around your home, you held back a sob as you gingerly closed and locked the door, and proceeded to leave the place you once thought was your safe haven.

With dumb luck and a one-way flight to Italy booked, you hoped that he wouldn’t turn you away. If anyone was capable of helping you, it was him. 

After all, it was either this or let yourself get killed or turned into an immortal being against your will. And you didn’t want to die. Not yet. And certainly not by some crazy asshole’s hand.

Once you arrived in Italy, you made way for Volterra, armed with a cell phone and a teeny little Italian translation book at your disposal. You called ahead to the Volturi’s receptionist line that Demetri had once given you, in case you needed to contact him, to alert them of your impending arrival.

Ah, Demetri. The man in question. Your relationship with him was strictly platonic but you felt some underlying tension between the two of you. No anger or negative feelings... just, something else. You could feel the two of you had chemistry together but you chalked it up to you being wooed by the supernatural good looks.

You’d met him through a mutual friend of a friend who happened to be a doctor at some hospital in Forks, Washington and from the first moment you saw him you found him captivating. He was kind to you, he spoke to you like you were on equal footing, and there was something about him that you just couldn’t put your finger on that made you feel connected to him.

You hoped he would be able to help you. 

You were out of options at this point.

The stalking had escalated to a frightening point to where you realized that no cop - no human - could help you. You’d wake up in the night and windows would be open that you swore you shut. At first, you thought you were simply forgetful and forgot to shut them yourself... until one night where once again, they were open only instead this time, you found a bouquet of roses and a lengthy love letter going into explicit detail of your stalker’s intentions.

How he planned to “court you”, how you reminded him so much of his long lost love from so long ago, and most importantly, how he planned to “whisk you away to live in bliss for eternity.”

Fuck. That.

You checked into a hotel nearby and dropped off your belongings there before setting out to find Demetri. It was the dead of night and you found yourself in some kind of plaza, looking around you trying to get your bearings. A slight drizzle of rain gently falling on your head. “Okay, I need to think. Tower in the Palazzo dei Priori. Is this it?”

You came to a stop in front of said tower, hand hovering over the old wooden doors. Were you supposed to knock? What was the protocol for visiting the literal vampire government?

While you dilly-dallied on what to do the door opened, and the face you came to see was before you. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Demetri asked with a mix of concern and surprise on his face.

 “I um,” you paused to swallow back the emotions bubbling to the surface in your throat, “I need your help. I - I’m sorry for appearing like this.”

Concern won over his surprise, and Demetri took off his jacket and wrapped it around your wet frame. “You’re alright,” he soothed you, ushering you indoors and out of the rain. 

If not for his arm firmly around you, you felt as if you would completely disassociate from reality. His presence was what you needed and it grounded you enough to be able to move your legs forward as Demetri lead you somewhere in the castle.

 “It really is like a castle in here,” you murmured quietly to yourself, taking in your surroundings as the two of you walked, missing him shoot you a frightened look as you continued to stare blankly ahead.

Finally coming to a stop, Demetri opened a door and brought you into a large, spacious bedroom that could pass for a condo. Leading you to a couch, he sat you down and then sat next to you, taking your hands in his gloved ones. “Tell me what’s happened, love.”

It all came out in a rush. “Just - everything has gone wrong,” you whimpered, feeling pathetic. “Things at my workplace have been chaotic and causing me a lot of stress, more so than usual. Now there’s some vampire who’s been stalking me and won’t leave me alone -”

 “Hold on, you’re being stalked by a vampire?” Demetri’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and you swore his eye color darkened.

You weakly nodded. “He thinks I’m some reincarnation of his dead ex or something. I knew you would probably be the only one able to help me... you’re a vampire too, so I thought...” Trailing off, you closed your heavy lids and sighed as your worn out emotions and the travel caught up to you. God I am so tired.

 “You did the right thing coming here. Your human police aren’t equipped to stop someone like us - especially a mad vampire. Here’s what we’re going to do; I’m going to ask a friend of mine to collect your things from whichever hotel you’ve checked into and have them brought here to my room. You will stay here until this menace has been dealt with.”

Your eyes fluttered open, anxiety filling your mind and your stomach. “But your - the leaders of this place, they’d be upset if a human -”

Demetri shushed you, reaching out to stroke your hair gently. “I’ll deal with that. Do not worry about it.”

 “I’m sorry if I cause you any trouble, Dem,” you sighed, letting slip the nickname you’d affectionately bestowed on the centuries-old vampire, eyes closing once more as the exhaustion began to take hold of you, “I just wanted to feel even a little bit safe. My own home wasn’t safe anymore and honestly? I didn’t know where else to go.”

No response from Demetri. Instead, you felt the couch you were sitting on disappear from beneath you briefly as sturdy arms wrapped themselves around your body, before being laid out carefully onto something soft and comfortable. As you nestled in more you clicked Demetri had probably put you into his bed.

And boy was it the comfiest bed you’d ever laid down in. It was what you imagined a cloud to feel like.

 “No one is going to lay a hand on you Y/N,” you heard Demetri say to you with conviction, his fingers finding their way into your hair once more to tuck a stray strand behind your ear. “Not on my watch.”

You hummed in reply, a small tiny smile on your face. “You’re a good man, Demetri,” you breathed, “I’m very lucky.”

His quiet laughter was the last thing you heard as your consciousness faded, along with what you swore was, “It’s me that’s the lucky one, cara mia.”

And as your consciousness left you, you felt a little safer knowing that you had someone in your life who would protect you from this insane vampire no matter what. A little piece of sanctuary in this scary time of your life.