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loveshotzz · 1 year ago

Text

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve x fem!reader exes to lovers

Chapter Four -

Honey, on your knees when you look at me

The consequences of your actions hang heavy around you neck when you wake up, so you go to the shop to tell Steve this is definitely not what he thinks it is.

warnings: 18+ slight angst, confused feelings, semi public smut, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem receiving), body worship, praise kink, unprotected p in v smut, cream pie, fluff.

wc: 10k

authors note: This chapter has been almost two months in the making between life and writers block, I didn’t think I would be here. Thank you to everyone who sent me messages about this story and about him because of you, I never gave up writing this series I was so excited about. beta’d by: @superblysubpar

series masterlist | series playlist

songs from the playlist that inspired this chapter: Unravel Me, If You Think I’m Pretty, Please Don’t Fall In Love With Me, Make Up, Eastside, Holy.

Streams of shining golden yellow make your lids still heavy with sleep flutter, lashes tickling the tops of your puffy cheeks as you surrender to the sun’s wishes to wake you up. The orange shag carpet in Robin’s living room slowly comes into focus, along with the rest of your surroundings as the ends of your palms rub the rest of the night from your eyes. Stretching your legs, they’re met with warmth like the rays of sunshine peeking through the blinds still lingering on the cushions next to you.

¨Shit.¨

Your muscles freeze, threatening to cramp in your calf as the night floods back into your memories. How his plush pink lips slotted between yours like they should never be anywhere else, or how they made your back arch, kissing a messy path down your neck, perfect teeth nipping, threatening to bruise your delicate skin that lights up under his touch.

A shaky breath pushes out of your lungs as you shimmy your body deeper into the couch, fingers finding their way to your chest where you swear you can still feel his smile pressed into your skin, the tips of them hitting something smooth and warm.

A metal chain.

The weight of it around your neck finally registers through the sleepy fog that lifts from your brain. Looking down the slope of your nose, you nearly go cross-eyed when you’re met with the rich yellow gold that matches the sun, especially because It looks just like the one that belongs to Steve Harrington.

“No, no, no, no.”

The realization that it is in fact, Steve Harrington’s kicks in just like your feet in a silent fit, the thin throw he must’ve put on top of you before he left falling to the ground. You remember his plea for a date, and it has panic curling deep in your gut, the consequences of your actions arriving first thing in the morning before you’ve even had any coffee.

There’s a little bit of pride that hides in a small space in your chest that you didn’t just fold and say yes. Something you would have done in high school when he was giving you much less. Still, you didn’t say no. You were just prolonging the inevitable matter of letting him down right? It’s the self-respecting thing, it’s what you told yourself you’d always do.

Say no.

You twist the metal between your fingers, your eyes finding the dust particles that seem to float between the plastic of Robin’s blinds. There’s an ache in your heart at the fresh reminder of what it feels like to be held in his arms, something he rarely did when you were dating, at least not if it wasn’t the dead of night. The sleepovers at his big empty house were your favorite until you realized how sad it was. All his whispered secrets and deep confessions that he only shared when you were lit by the moonlight - the kind that hid all the stars in the sky and that boy he was trying to hide. The ones that kept you hanging onto hope until the last bit of rope tethering you to him, cut your skin. Those were the nights that really made you have to run.

You’re not sure if you could survive it again, and the end of August is only a distant friend. Pushing yourself off the couch, your eyes catch the bright bold numbers on the microwave that read 9:45 AM and you try to remember all the reasons you left in the first place. Not the way he looked at you last night in the kitchen making your best friend’s favorite snack.

Your flip-flops clack loudly against the hot pavement, the determination in your walk up to the shop threatening to set the street ablaze. The spaghetti strap sundress you threw on in a rush trying to be careful not to wake up Robin does very little to help cool you or your mood down when you’re met with the mugginess of the Midwest.

Steve’s chain bounces against your chest with each step, the gold shimmering against the sunlight in a pretty reminder that you still haven’t taken it off yet. One that you choose to ignore in your huff trying to think of all the mean things he's done and not the way he begged you to make it right.

Reaching the end of the block, you notice Eddie’s van is missing from the parking lot, leaving only Steve’s BMW against the side of the shop. It stops you dead in your tracks because the buffer that would stop you from making the same mistake isn’t there. Your proven lack of self-control only a few weeks into the summer has your confidence waver with nerves that try and get the best of you, but with a deep breath, you force your feet to keep moving.

Steve’s side of the garage is the only one open, the faded green metal door at half-mast to keep some of the sun away. Michael Jackson’s The Way You Make Me Feel bleeds out of the open space, bouncing and echoing off the cars inside, waking up the butterflies and sending them soaring. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you try not to imagine the way he’s probably singing along, or that curl that won’t stay in place, falling over his forehead as he bobs his head to the beat.

Why is Eddie not here?

You see his black work boots first, then the legs that were intertwined with yours just a few hours ago, now adorned by blue coveralls. Walking across the grease-stained cement, he comes to an abrupt stop, and for a second you think maybe he sees you, heart thumping wildly in your chest until he shuffles back a few steps before continuing forward.

He was dancing and you hate the way the corners of your mouth twitch because of it.

The smell of oil is bittersweet hitting your nose as you stop in front of the opening, silently working up the courage to duck under the door. Steve doesn’t notice your sneaky entrance from where he stands at his workbench with his back facing you, completely lost in whatever’s on the paper he’s holding in black-stained hands. It gives you the few minutes you need to get your thoughts together as he bops his head to the music that’s loud enough to hide you a little bit longer.

Your gaze lands on Eddie’s empty office, successfully diminishing the last bit of hope you clung onto that maybe he just didn’t drive today, before your eyes catch the burnt orange of your car tucked away in the corner. A cherry red Corvette sits parked in front of it, making your face sour at the instant comparison. It outshines the car you scraped up enough money to get after moving to the city, sparking the kind of anger you’d been scrambling to cling onto walking up here. Maybe if your car hadn’t broken down, you wouldn’t have kissed Steve Harrington, and then maybe you wouldn’t be standing here secretly wanting to do it again.

Clinging to that notion with everything you have, you take a deep breath, straightening your posture before clearing your throat, letting him know he wasn’t by himself anymore.

”The music’s a little loud don’t you think?”

The pleased grin that spreads wide across your face can’t be stopped when the sound of your voice makes him jump with a ‘Jesus Christ’ so loud you can hear it over the music, crumbling the paper in his hands.

Point one - you.

Your victory is short-lived the moment Steve turns around with his ever changing brown eyes that are somehow warmer in the daylight, reflecting the flecks of green that shine and light up even more at the realization that it’s you and not some random intruder. He runs those long fingers through his hair, trying to tame the mess on top of his head that you made, while his heavy stare fixates on the chain still hanging off your neck. Right where he left it.

Leaning over to turn the volume down on his boombox, he doesn’t break eye contact, giving you that crooked smile that makes your heart skip a beat pushing up the two moles on his cheek. Raising his hands in a silent apology, you try not to think about how big they look or the way they grabbed at your hips last night. It's a fruitless effort, so you try to make up for it with a sassy tongue.

”Wow, I could have easily stolen one of these cars if I had wanted to.”

Crossing your arms, you suck at your teeth, deciding that standing right where you are is the best move, especially when you see the sweat that glistens, beading off of his tan skin, curling the coarse hairs on his chest that’s hardly hidden by the sheer white of his tank top. At least his coveralls are fully on this time.

“Maybe I should report you to Eddie.”

“Most of the cars in here don’t run,” Steve tuts, dark eyes roaming over your curves hugged tight by the soft cotton of your dress unashamed before meeting your narrowed gaze, “You of all people should know that.”

“Sounds like maybe you’re just bad at your job.”

You ignore the uncontrollable press of your thighs that only gets worse the more his smile widens with your attitude, reading your body language like his favorite book.

“Did you come here just to pick a fight?” Steve sighs, carding another hand through his hair, threatening to punch the air out of your lungs when he looks up at you through his lashes “Or do you just want another kiss?”

It’s impossible to sound out the word ‘no’ even though it’s just two letters because watching him lick his full bottom lip before tugging it between his perfect teeth makes you wish it was yours instead.

“Is that it baby?” Steve taunts, pushing himself off the work bench and tossing the crumbled paper aside.

”No,” you finally manage to get out, but the venom you had less than twenty-four hours ago is gone, and it barely stings when you try to deny with a jut of your chin and a quieter than intended, “That’s not why I’m here.”

The little bit of self-control you’ve been hanging onto with an iron grip starts to slip from in between your fingers with each heavy thud of his boots that bring you closer to your demise as he closes the gap.

”Are you sure?” He asks with a glint in the darkening russet of his eyes that land on the gold wrapped around your neck again, close enough now to smell last night's leftover cologne.

“A-absolutely,” you stutter, taking a few steps back, the clack of your flip flops echoing, making you wince with embarrassment as you try to counteract his advances only for your back to hit the cool metal of a pickup truck.

”Hmmm, I know what it must be then,” he hums, a faint hint of smirk twisting the corners of his full lips, big boots stopping with a scuff on the cement floor right in front of your pink painted toes.

Reaching up, his bold fingertips trace the smooth edges of his chain, rough calluses tickling your collar bone daring to explore a little more. The quick rising of your chest spurs him on as he tries to hold his composure, teasing the dip of your breasts, he curls his finger around the metal, lifting the chain a little before letting it fall back into place. Mischief twinkles in his stare that matches the same color staining his hands.

“You must be here to tell me when you’ll be ready for our date later tonight, huh baby?”

It takes your brain a second to catch up, the freckles that spread across his cheeks like wildfire in the light distracting you from this close.

“The opposite actually,” clearing your throat, you try to hide the way your tongue dries when he looks at you like this, “I’m here to say that whatever happened last night doesn’t change anything.”

The corners of his lips twitch, his gaze getting lost in the details of your features like you weren’t denying him, finally giving you the fuel you needed to make your blood simmer, the anger you thought you’d lost forever buzzing under your heated skin.

“So!” You snap your fingers in his face, interrupting whatever daydream he was getting lost in, getting the glare you were searching for, “You better get that out of your head right now. We’re not going on a date.”

Your words finally bite with a tone that almost seems final and for a minute it starts to feel like you have a semblance of your self-control back. Holding your head up high, you try to really end whatever started on your best friend's couch last night.

“We can be friendly for Robin’s sake, but it’s never going to happen again. I’m not your girl, Harrington.”

Steve rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, something you can’t quite put your finger on flashing behind the gold in his eyes. Leaning forward, his hand finds the chipped teal paint of the truck behind you. Caging you in, the spice of his cologne overwhelms you as it mixes with the heat in the garage, and the sweat glistening on his tan skin. The warmth of his breath fans across your cheeks that burn like they’re being licked by a flame, thighs pressing harshly under your dress as you try not to let his gaze swallow you whole.

“If that’s how you really feel, fine.” He says cooly, seemingly unphased and it makes your blood boil more. “I’ll take my chain back now then.”

“No.”

“No?” He snorts incredulously at your refusal, watching the way your fingers come up to play with it. Taunting him.

”I don’t even know why you put it on me in the first place,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes, channeling his nonchalance before ducking under his arm, your escape in sight.

You refuse to look back at him making a beeline to the open garage door, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you do your best not to give away the attachment you have to the weight of it around your neck that you really aren’t ready to unpack yet.

”I left it!” Steve yells hot on your heels, the cracks in his confident demeanor starting to show, “I left it so you didn’t think I just disappeared on you this morning because I personally have zero regrets about what happened last night.”

The sarcastic ‘HA!’ you let out is almost comical, picking up your pace with an extra sway to your hips because you know he’s staring.

”How about this, Steve?” You antagonize, turning around and walking backward with a smug grin that mirrors his from before, “I’ll think about it.”

Steve doesn’t take the bait, instead, he side-steps quickly to smash the round red button on the wall with a deadpan face. Letting the rumble of the garage door coming to life do all the talking for him.

”Are you serious?!“ You shriek, watching it close faster than your feet can carry you, even contemplating a tuck and roll when you see the sunlight and any chance you have at not going back on your promise start to disappear behind it.

“It’s simple honey,” he sighs with an irritated edge, “Give me my chain and I’ll open her back up so you can go run back to Robin’s and pretend like last night never happened. Just the way you want, right?”

”This is ridiculous. You’re ridiculous. Let me out asshole!”

A new level of stubbornness that you never thought you could reach locks you in place, facing him with arms crossed tight over your chest.

”I’m ridiculous?” Steve chuckles darkly, the steel toe of his boots echoing louder now that you’re sealed inside as he walks towards you, “Look at yourself.”

”What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap despite the way your teeth gnaw nervously on your bottom lip, greedy eyes roaming his tall frame as your body betrays you for what feels like the hundredth time today when he steps into your space again.

“I know you enjoyed drama club in high school, but you’ve always been a terrible actress.”

“And you’ve always had way more confidence than you should.”

Steve’s nostrils flare, his gaze threatening to set you on fire.

”I’m going to get back to work, you’re free to go whenever you give me my necklace back. I’m getting paid to be here all day baby, you aren’t, so just know that I’ve got time.” He holds your stare for a second longer, sucking at his teeth before turning around. Testing you.

“Come take it off me then, Harrington, if you want it so bad.”

Two can play that game.

He stops in his tracks, shoulders tensing at the implication of your words, turning his head to the side, he gives you a perfect view of his sharp jawline.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warns, with a tone sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

“I said,” your shoulders square with a defiance that matches your glare, acting as if you aren’t sealing your fate with the next four words, “Come and get it.”

Steve’s long strides close the distance faster than you can comprehend. A big hand grabs at your hip, grease-stained fingers digging into your curves, while the other cups the side of your face, surely leaving a mark. He's getting what he really wants.

Gasping into his mouth, the force of his kiss sends a shudder through the garage door when your back slams against it. Lost in the sensation of his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, you barely notice. Your fingers weave through the thick locks of his hair at the nape of his neck as if they were always meant to be there. A harsh tug on the silky strands earns you a groan that's deeper than you remember, and you immediately want to hear it again.

The clash for dominance ignites as your tongues collide clumsily, teeth grazing and noses pressing into each other’s cheeks. His grip tightens on your hip in a warning before his hand trails down to where the bottom hem of your dress rests at the top of your thigh. Pushing up the thin fabric, the blunt tips of his nails skim across your soft skin, goosebumps pebbling despite the heat.

His fingers tease the edge of your panties, tracing the curve where they meet your ass, stealing your whine with a cocky grin that he kisses into your lips. He lingers just long enough to turn you needy before he hooks your knee around his waist, getting the instant roll of your hips and more of your little noises that will haunt his every waking thought after this.

“Steve,” you breathe, tugging your swollen bottom lip between your teeth while he starts kissing a slow, agonizing path down your jaw, tickling you with the stubble on his cheek.

He hums in between kisses, nipping at the sensitive spot behind your ear, he soothes it with a swipe of his tongue before he starts to suck–hard. Your moan bounces off the metal and concrete that surround you, echoing in your ears while your greedy fingers tug even harder at his roots. His grip on you tightens when you start to squirm as his efforts to mark what’s his intensify, leaving a bruise you’ll have to explain to Robin later.

”Yeah?” He mumbles against your heated skin, the tip of his nose running along your pulse point, a saccharine smile pressing into the curve of your neck where his chain still rests.

“Shut up,” you manage to get out, despite Steve leaving open-mouthed kisses on the swell of your breasts, palming roughly at the dough of your ass, encouraging another rock of your hips.

“You're always so mean to me, honey,” Steve sighs, nipping at the supple skin, before meeting your poor attempt at a glare from under the thick hood of his lashes.

”Yeah? And? What are you gonna do about it?” You bite, but it doesn’t sting the way you want it to, not with the way your chest heaves in anticipation of his next move.

Steve flips you around so quickly that the change in position has you gasping, your palms meeting the warm metal of the garage door that bakes in the sun outside. Heavy work boots push your legs apart, while hot breath that rivals the summer dances across the nape of your neck. He presses himself into you, letting you feel just how hard you really have him, the tip of his nose brushing along the shell of your ear. Butterflies multiply, tickling your rib cage just like your lashes that kiss the tops of your cheeks.

“I think it's pretty obvious what I want to do,” he whispers against your neck, lips ghosting across the freshly formed bruise, “The real question is…”

The backs of his fingers brush along the sides of your breasts, goosebumps pebbling across your skin. His big hands follow the curve of your waist, smoothing down to the tops of your thighs. Taking his time, he curls them under the hem of your dress, pulling it up to rest on top of your hips, still giving you the chance to stop him. One you don’t take.

“Are you gonna let me?” His words are gruff coming out next to your ear, your walls fluttering around nothing because of it.

The humid air doesn’t help your sticky thighs that only get worse as two of his calloused fingers trace agonizingly slow along the waistband of the only fabric separating you now. Peppering soft kisses to all the sensitive spots that make your skin come alive, his teeth nip playfully at your earlobe, fireworks lighting up in the sky behind your eyes when he takes it into the heat of his mouth. The sensation has you mewling, jaw going slack as your toes curl into the foam of your flip flops from a feeling only Steve Harrington can give.

”I could be so nice to you, baby,” he whispers, letting you go with a pop, his fingers daring to go lower than just teasing, smirking against your cheek at the gasp you give when he drags them through your slick folds, wrapping your hands around his wrist for support, your hips chase him for more. “Don’t you want that?”

Your pride has your teeth biting into your bottom lip. Refusing to answer his question loaded with too many double meanings for your head to wrap around right now, but you still spread yourself wider for him, because the last thing you want him to do is stop.

“Gonna make me earn it, huh?” He breathes, biting back his groan at how you start dripping down his hand, “That’s okay. I’ll show you I’m worthy.”

His promise is enough to finally draw out the moan you’ve been fighting, the sound making him kick up in his coveralls, while the movements of his wrist become more pointed. Your head lulls back against his broad shoulder, and his cologne smells even better with the way sweat starts to drip from his pores. Your eyes are needy, meeting the black coffee of his and you know it, especially at the furrow of his brows when he looks at you completely transfixed.

“God, I almost forgot how soft you are. How fucking wet you get for me.” He whispers between gritted teeth, awestruck at the feeling of your silk walls begging him for more, daring him to explore, “Bet you taste even sweeter than I remember too.”

Leaning down, he runs the tip of his nose along the bridge of yours, the mint that still lingers on his breath tickling your lips. Your hips roll with the rhythm of his wrist, warmth spreading across your cheeks as the sounds of just how wet you are echo in the big space. Too close to falling apart all over his fingers to care, the blunt ends of your nails dig half-crescent moons into his wrist chasing it.

“Baby, are you gonna come already? I’ve barely touched you.”

His words mock you despite the sugary sweetness they drip with, every swipe against your bundle of nerves becoming unrelenting, determined even. But it’s still enough for you to take the bait and force your eyes open, meeting his hungry stare dead on and say:

”Y- you wish it was that easy.”

Amusement dances across the hard lines of his face, his dark gaze narrowing before something between a laugh and a growl rumbles deep from his chest. The motions of his wrist come to a halt, and it takes everything inside of you not to cry in protest. Pulling his hand from your soaked panties, his wet fingers dig into your hips spinning you around, quick strides pushing you to the corvette that started your spiral.

“What are you doing?!” You squeal, your butt hitting the cherry-red metal of the hood that sticks to your sweat-slicked skin.

He just grins, the pearly whites of his teeth showing as grease-stained hands spread your knees apart enough for him to step between, leaving raven fingerprints in their wake before grabbing at your chin, he forces you to look at him.

“Need you to keep your eyes on me, honey, and remember what you just said.” He pulls your bottom lip down with the pad of his thumb, watching it pop back into place.

Letting go of your chin, he holds your stare, fingers ghosting across the tops of your thighs as he drops to his knees like someone praying to a god. Hooking his arms under your bent legs, he tugs you to the end of the hood with a squeak. Spread wide for him to see, your calves rest on top of his shoulders that you hate to admit you wish you could see. Leaning forward, the tip of his nose traces the wet path of your covered folds, breathing you in like the sweetest summer breeze.

When his big eyes meet yours from between your thighs, just begging you to get lost in them like you used to, it’s almost enough for you to forget the game you’re both supposed to be playing. There’s a softness that lingers inside melting caramel that manages to shine through the black that overpowers it, and you wonder if he can hear the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

His touch is gentle now, long fingers curling around the waistband of your underwear, silently asking you for permission to cross the line that deep down you know there’s no going back from. Nodding your head with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you even help him, lifting your legs when he pulls them from around your ankles.

Steve stuffs the satin in his pocket ignoring the way you tell him that you want them back. His pink tongue that’s seconds away from being your undoing wets his lips, jaw going tight at the sight in front of him. Roses bloom on his tan cheeks, and he can’t help but run a hand through his hair, the reality setting in that he really has you like this. He looks completely wrecked. At least it isn’t just you.

“Fuck.” He breathes, the blunt ends of his nails digging into the dough of your thighs, shuffling himself even closer, his eyes glaze over.

Goosebumps pebble across your buzzing skin, your velvet walls fluttering around nothing as you lose the witty response you had saved on the tip of your tongue, managing just a quiet, “I thought you were supposed to show me somethin’?”

His lips twitch so close to where you need him most that you can almost feel the curve of them, your knees bending just a little more, urging him on by his shoulders.

“So impatient,” he tsks, the vibrations of his words only making it worse, “My girl needs me huh? She missed me as much as I missed her didn’t she?”

“Steve - shut uhhhhohmygod!”

His mouth latches onto your cunt like he’s thirsty for everything you’re offering him, collecting your dripping honey that’s sweet on his tongue. Running a broad stripe up your folds, his grip on your thighs tightens when you start to squirm, holding you in place, as he swirls messy circles on your bundle of nerves before sucking it hard enough for your head to fall back against the car. Your fingers bury themselves into the sweaty silk of his hair, pulling harshly at the roots, earning the kind of grunt that has you whimpering, dripping down the stubble on his chin as your hips buck up to meet him.

Letting you go with a loud pop, he huffs out a dark laugh at your whine, hardly giving you time to recover before pulling you even further down the hood of the car, till your ass hangs off the edge. The tip of his nose brushes against your sensitive clit while his tongue begins to tease your entrance that quivers just for him. The new angle has you practically sitting on his face, and before you have a chance to overthink it he slowly starts to work you open with his greedy mouth.

”Holy shit I -“ Your eyelids droop, jaw going slack as he starts to move side to side, licking into you like you’re the sweetest prize. His nose adds just the right amount of pressure while he eats you up like a man starved, “You’re gonna - fuck - Steve!”

His hands move from your thighs to the soft fat of your ass, encouraging your hips more, and if you weren’t so far gone, you’d be scared you’re suffocating him. You dare to look down at the scene between your legs, and it’s almost enough to have you cumming all over his face. His pitch-black eyes gaze up at you enamored, completely lost and still hungry because after all these years it’s still not enough. He moans into your folds when you meet his half-lidded stare, the sensation vibrating in all the right places, making your legs shake.

The feeling of your walls pulsing tight around his tongue, knowing how close you are already has him twitching painfully hard in his coveralls. It’s enough to ignore the discomfort of his knees, doubling down on the movements of his jaw. His name bounces off the metal and concrete, while the roll of your hips gets more and more aggressive because it feels like he’s eating you from the inside out, the tip of his tongue reaching the spot that makes you gasp.

“Right there, shit, right there, right there, I’m gonna, oh my god I’m gonna cum!”

Your scream is silent, body going rigid, giving into him already. The muscles in your legs tense, as your thighs squeeze tight around his head while your pussy tries to push him out but he only doubles down with a completely relentless tongue. He moans loud enough inside you to hear through the ringing in your ears, your fingers curling harshly in his thick locks, back hitting the metal of the hood again.

He ignores the first few pushes against his forehead when his kitten licks become too much before he finally listens. Sticky legs fall open releasing him from a trap he never asked to escape from, his shiny wet lips leaving kisses along your shaking thighs, tickling the supple skin with the stubble on his jaw. You feel his tongue dart out to collect everything he missed, earning the kind of sweet noises he can’t wait to hear all summer long.

Steve stands up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and you try to be mad at his smug grin but your body can’t help its reaction to the way he struggles against his coveralls. The hard outline of dick reminds you of the stretch that you know will ruin you for anyone else, spent walls fluttering despite yourself.

”Now what was that you were saying a few minutes ago, pretty girl?” Leaning down, his palms find a new home on either side of your head.

The whites of his teeth shine at the eyeroll you find enough energy to give him, even with your legs wrapped around his waist. His nose nudges the tip of yours, the playful glint in his eyes changes into something lovesick and it brings the ache in your chest back because you know it’s going to hurt even worse walking away again.

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” He questions, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, eyebrows furrowing as he searches your face for answers.

You don’t give him one, pushing aside the worry for when you lay awake in the middle of the night. Instead, you let your fingers wrap themselves in the cotton of his tank top, pulling him to your lips that silently beg him to help you forget. He meets you with an eager mouth, and a big hand that comes up to rest on your flushed cheek. The pad of his thumb traces the high bone while his tongue asks you for permission for more.

Your thighs lock tighter around his waist, granting him the access he wants, tasting yourself all over him. Shaking fingers find the zipper of his jumper, tugging down the metal, he helps your shimmy off his sleeves. The freckles that dot his shoulders like the night sky beg you to open your eyes as the top of his coveralls fall to his sides, the rock of his hips making you say his name like it’s the sweetest thing.

“Want you,” you whisper with a nip at his bottom lip, ankles crossing at the two dips you know are on his lower back.

”Baby,” He groans, dropping his head down, burying it in the crook of your neck as you roll your pussy over the length of him that’s still covered by the navy blue material you can’t seem to get off fast enough.

He lets you do it a few more times before his hands find both your wrists, pinning them above your head, he peppers kisses along your jaw, letting his fingers glide down the length of your body, making sure to catch his chain still hanging off your neck as he stands back up. You finally get a good look at him, and the sight is enough to know the memory of today will be etched into the corners of your mind, just like the rest of them.

Pink cheeks still kissed by the sun, and dark chestnut hair that matches his eyes twist at its golden ends in an even bigger mess now on the top of his head. The thick thatch of it on his chest curling from the sweat that drips down his neck, leaving translucent patches along the white cotton of his tank top, teasing even more of him to your starving gaze. His uniform hangs low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of the waistband of his boxer briefs, making you tug your bottom lip between your teeth. He grabs at the sides of your thighs, his handsome face going kind.

“You came in here ready to tell me to fuck off,” he laughs softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles, “I just need to know this is what you really want.”

His words tighten in your chest, forcing you to make a decision so that when you have no one else to blame but yourself when you lay awake in your apartment with a broken heart in the fall, you can’t hate him anymore.

“I really want it.”

The answer stumbles past your lips before you can think too hard about it, pulling the rest of your rucked up dress over your head, leaving you completely exposed for his heavy chocolate eyes to drink in. Despite the muggy heat of the garage, your nipples pebble under it, cheeks going hot because you always feel like the most beautiful girl in the world when Steve Harrington looks at you like this.

It’s all the encouragement he needs to let you go and do the same with his tank top, tossing it to the side before shoving the rest of his uniform down the tops of his thighs. Thick, long and heavy, your eyes widen as his hard length springs free, smacking against the happy trail at the bottom of his stomach. The pink tip leaks for you, shining with precum, while his big hand wraps around it, tugging a few times and making you drip more on the hood.

“I’ll go slow,” he coos, leaning down to capture your lips in something sweeter than the rest of them. “I know you can take it, honey.”

Nodding your head, you look up at him with glassy eyes, completely giving in, shutting off the part of your brain that’s telling you that you know better. Spreading your legs wider, his eyebrows marry in the middle of his forehead, cursing under his breath at the sight of you like this. He silently thanks whatever gods or girl that got Eddie sick, because this moment shatters any fantasies that have consumed his late nights.

He runs the length of his cock through your slick, spreading you apart around him, earning the kind of mewl that makes him twitch in his hand. Your back arches off the corvette when he does it again only this time with added pressure to your clit. Locking your legs around his waist, you make sure he doesn’t get away.

”So fuckin’ beautiful baby, Jesus Christ, look at you.” Steve grunts, lining himself up with your entrance, pushing just the tip into the tightening silk of your walls before both his hands find their way back to your hips, fingers digging into soft flesh. ”Wanna make you feel so good. You gonna let me?”

“Mmhmm,” you whimper a little high pitch and out of breath, letting go of all the control you’ve hung onto for the last five years with a dirty roll of your hips that begs to suck him in.

“Oh fuck, you’re still so - shit.” Steve practically whines, his jaw going hard with eyebrows that pinch together, trying to regain his composure from the way you pulse around him just nudging halfway in, the aftershocks of your first orgasm have you feeling every ridge of his cock, lighting your body up.

The stretch burns, your eyes rolling in the back of your head as flames lick deep in your gut from the feeling you’ll never get enough of. His calloused fingers grab at your chin, demanding your attention. Your lashes tickle the tops of your cheeks as you force them back open, only to find his face is closer now, both his palms landing on either side of your head, black iris’s threatening to drown you, holding your gaze with the kind of intensity that makes your heart palpitate.

”I want to look at you.” He breathes against your lips as one swift thrust has you completely filled up.

”Steve!”

Gasping into his mouth, it takes all of your strength to keep your eyes open, focusing on the imperfect circles of the chestnut freckles that explode across the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?” He smirks, pressing his forehead against yours, the rough hair on his chest tickling the softness of your breasts, nipples pebbling as your arms wrap around his neck.

“It feels, you feel -“

A loud moan rumbles from the back of your throat when the tip of him hits the spot that makes your toes curl into the fat of his ass, pushing him even deeper, the ends of your nails dig pretty marks all over his shoulders.

“Tell me, baby. Tell me how good it feels.” He grunts, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, the roll of his hips becoming a slow grind.

His pelvic bone hits your bundle of nerves just right while the tip of him bullies the spot that has your eyes threatening to close against his wishes, and it has you sounding like ‘Steve’ is the only word you’ve ever known. It’s a hazy mess inside your mind, especially when he looks at you like this. It’s worse than before, and you don’t know how you’re going to find your way back this time, something different inside of his gaze that you know is going to make it impossible.

”Missed you so much, so damn gorgeous angel, think about you all the time. All the fucking time.” Steve babbles, completely drunk off the way you flutter at his words, the angry facade you’ve been putting on crumbling around him as your body lets the truth come out.

The confession makes your chest tighten with all the unresolved feelings you’ve shoved down for so long, the ones you almost forgot were there until a few weeks ago. Fingers curling into the hair on the nape of his neck you lean up, capturing his lips to shut him up, rocking your hips to meet his thrust. He grunts into your mouth, cock twitching against your walls, eagerly licking into your mouth.

It’s easier to get lost in him without the reminder of what used to be, teeth scraping together as the kiss gets messier. The metal of the car crunches and bends under your movements, but neither one of you can find it in you to care with noses pressing into each other's cheeks, tongues fighting for the kind of dominance your hips are at war about.

Steve is the one that breaks first, coming up for air, with eyes that seem even darker than before as he pushes himself up to stand. Big hands grab at your hips as a loose strand of hair falls across his forehead. Pulling halfway out, he takes a moment to admire the sheen you coat him, pink tongue darting out to lick his swollen lips before shoving himself all the way back in.

”Oh my god!” You gasp, throwing your head back against the hood, your hands landing on top of his, fingernails digging into the tops of them.

“I wanna watch you cum again, can you do that for me, baby?” He tugs you closer, your body squeaking across the metal that tries to stick to your skin, the tip of him hitting that spot again.

Nodding your head, every hard thrust of his hips echoes through the garage, the car shaking underneath you as tires threaten to roll. He feels himself getting close, the pad of his thumb finding your clit to rub the kind of messy circles that have you saying his name just how he likes.

“Come on, let me see how pretty you can get, let me have it.” He coos, finding the perfect combination to make you come undone all over him.

Your walls clench hard enough to try and push him out but he just buries himself deeper, a loud groan rumbling from his chest watching the way your face contorts with pleasure. White dances behind your heavy lids that squeeze shut as your legs start to shake around his waist. You try to shove his hand away, but he refuses, remaining relentless, milking your second orgasm for everything it's worth, making you cum even harder.

“Yeah, that’s it, that’s iiiiit, so fuckin’ good for me.” He praises, completely lost in the way your body responds to him and it’s enough to send him flying over the edge he’d been teetering on since had you against the garage door.

A string of curse words falls pretty from his lips, twitching hard inside you and with the last bit of strength you have, you squeeze him even tighter, relishing in the way his jaw goes slack because of it. The movements of his thumb finally end its assault so he can grab onto your sides with both hands, fingers digging bruises as one last hard thrust has his warmth filling you up.

The feeling of being so full sends your body buzzing, watching him fall apart on top of you with sweat dripping off the ends of his hair. His head drops between his shoulders, body shaking as his orgasm rakes through him. Red cheeks and skin so warm it rivals the sun, he lets himself collapse on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck totally spent, still chasing his high with a slow circle of his hips.

Your nose finds its way into his damp hair, inhaling deeply because it somehow smells even better than before. You wrap your arms around his shoulders even though you know you should leave and forget this ever happened, but it feels too good to have hands sliding up your curves as he starts to drip out of you and onto the car.

“God, Eddie’s going to kill me.” He mumbles against your skin, making you squirm because it tickles, and you can feel him smile because of it.

“How’s he gonna find out?” You giggle, the metal of the Corvette popping under your shifting weight.

”Baby.” Steve snorts, leaving a kiss on the curve of your jaw before pushing himself up on his elbows, the endearment falling too easily off his tongue in a casual way, reminding you very quickly of your reality.

It’s harder to meet his eyes that search for yours, but you do anyway. They’re warm again, like a dark sand beach and it's hard not to want to lay out a towel and live inside them. Both of you wince as he pulls himself out, cursing under his breath at your walls staying greedy and trying to pull him back in.

He doesn’t notice the shift in your demeanor pulling up his coveralls and tying the sleeves around his waist, or if he does he chooses to ignore it, grabbing your dress off the floor before offering you his hand. There’s less grease staining them now and you know it's because it's all over you, completely marked by him nearly head to toe whether you like it or not.

Sliding your hand in his, you duck your head down as you take it, legs wobbling when your feet hit the ground, not missing the smug grin that pushes up his cheeks clocking it. You go for your dress but Steve just tuts at you pulling it out of reach, ignoring your scoff he shakes it out before lifting it above your head signaling for you to put your arms up. Rolling your eyes with a smile you can’t fight, you pretend not to feel the butterfly wings tickling your ribcage, turning around and doing as he asks, letting him drag the soft cotton down your body. Calloused fingertips tracing the goosebumps they create.

”Let’s go get cleaned up in the bathroom,” he hums softly, grabbing you by the hips, and pressing a kiss into the fresh bruise behind your ear.

You tell yourself you’ll leave after this letting him guide you by the waist and a chin on your shoulder. You think it again when the small space of the bathroom is filled with giggles and bashful smiles as he sits you on the closed toilet seat, wetting paper towels that turn into mache in his hands. You scream at yourself to do it watching him try and fix his hair in the mirror after wiping you down the best he can, pressing kisses on both your kneecaps.

“I’ve been using this new product, but nothing hits like Farrah. I can’t believe they discontinued it. Dustin swears he can find me some, but who knows if you can even trust it’s the real deal, you know?”

Steve interrupts your inner turmoil with a face that’s far too serious for the words that just left his mouth and the thoughts running through your head. Your mood shifts almost instantly with a laugh loud enough to turn his cheeks the color of your toes, giving you an exaggerated eye roll despite the twitch of his lips.

“I can’t believe you still hang out with a middle schooler.” You tease, getting up on your feet, legs feeling a little less like jello but the reminder between your thighs only seems to intensify.

”I told you he’s like 19 - “

”Whatever you gotta tell yourself, Steve,” you grin, taking the break in the intensity of everything to try and work up the self-control to leave, wincing at the echoing clack of your flip flops that give you away instantly.

”Wait, where are you going?” Steve’s brows furrow in confusion, turning around to face you, he tightens the sleeves wrapped around his waist, biceps flexing while all the playfulness drains from his eyes.

”I should go before Robin -“

”What? No, she’ll be fine, it’s like noon. I’m sure she’s not even awake yet.”

“Steve.”

”Honey.”

The two of you face off in a silent challenge, stares unwavering, mimicking each other with arms crossover over your chests.

“Don’t run again.” He pleads with a whisper that’s barely audible against the beating of your heart in your ears, the room feeling smaller.

“I’m not running, I’m walking.” You try to lighten the mood with a joke, the corners of your eyes stinging but you refuse to acknowledge why.

”I’m not letting you walk home.”

“It’s down the road-“

“I don’t care! You’re not walking. Let me close up and then I’ll at least drive you.”

You don’t argue with the hurt expression on his face, you can’t.

It’s somehow even hotter outside when the two of you sneak out the side door of the garage. A different kind of tension hangs thick in the air putting the humidity to shame, even with the sun shimmering from the highest point in the sky. His skin glows like liquid gold in its rays as he walks in front of you, your eyes following the movements of his freckled shoulders that flex with every swing on his arms. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you hate the pit that settles deep in your gut because you don’t want to say goodbye just yet. Another consequence of a choice you made rearing its ugly head.

You aren’t expecting him to open the passenger door for you, the metal creaking loudly breaking a silence that’s filled with a thousand unspoken words just hanging on the tip of both of your tongues waiting to fill up the space. His gaze meets yours from under the thick length of his lashes, the corners of his lips twisting at the way you get bashful from the gesture.

”Thanks,” you whisper, catching a whiff of his cologne as you duck into the passenger seat that’s starting to feel like yours again.

He just hums in response, shutting it quickly and trapping you inside a metal box filled with every smell that reminds you of him. It pulls at your heart, and intensifies the burn between your thighs. Your fingers come up to twist the metal that still dangles from your neck, and you’re not sure you can bring yourself to give it back after this. The already small space of the car shrinks even more when the driver side door opens and he slides in next to you with a huff, keys jingling loudly in his hand closing the door behind him.

His shoulders brush with yours shoving the keys in the ignition, the seat vibrating underneath you as the beemer quietly roars to life. He keeps his hand on the stick shift, sweat slick skin pressing into yours shifting the car into drive. The radio isn’t as loud as you thought it’d be considering the way he was blasting it in the shop. Meatloaf’s I’d Do Anything For Love spills out of the speakers and you try not to laugh at the irony, scrambling to think of what to say to him as Robin’s apartment complex quickly comes into view.

But he never stops.

“Steve, what are you doing?” You sigh, crossing your arms across your chest watching the baby blue paneling of her apartments whiz past.

“This is technically my lunch break, and I’m hungry.” He shrugs, glancing at you with something mischievous in his eyes that you want to smack away because it makes your heart skip a beat, “You’re telling me you’re not starving after that honey?”

Smacking your lips together, you roll your eyes as hard as you can, trying to hide the smile that pushes up your cheeks.

“Wow, your confidence always just astounds me.” Shaking your head, your sarcastic laugh only makes him grin.

”I think you like it.”

You can’t bring yourself to deny it, fluttering your lashes at him with an attitude instead.

”But if you really can’t stand the thought of spending like another hour with me, I’ll turn around right now, honey.” You know he means it, feeling his foot slowly press on the brake in anticipation for your answer, “Just say the words.”

‘Say it, say turn around Steve.’

“Take me somewhere with fries.”

When you left Robin’s house this morning, you didn’t think watching Steve juggle two shakes and a large order of fries to the booth you’re sitting at with a heart so full it threatens to crack your chest, was where you’d end up at. His cheeks flush a deep shade red almost losing his footing, lovesick eyes too busy staring at you to watch where his boots land.

God, this was not a part of the plan.

“I got you strawberry,” his grin is proud, remembering your favorite from high school when he drops your cool treat in front of you, and instead of sliding into the seats across the table, he plops down into the spot right next to you, knees bumping underneath the wood.

“What if I wanted chocolate?” You tease, body turning into a lit match pressing into his side.

“That’s what I got, and maybe, if you ask nicely,” he breathes, leaning in close enough for the tips of your noses to brush, “I’ll share.”

You wonder if he can hear the way you swallow at his tone over that oldies station that plays in the Hawkins Diner.

“No thanks, you can keep your cooties.” Sighing, you have to fight the twitch of your lips tearing your eyes away from him to focus on the fried potatoes in front of you.

”I think it’s a little late for that baby, I’m afraid you’re completely covered in them.” He doesn’t hesitate to press a sloppy kiss on your cheek that's loud enough to catch the attention of the girls that’d been staring at him since the two of you walked in.

”Steve!” You try to scold, but the smile that spreads across your face gives you up, even if you wipe the kiss away with the back of your hand.

”What?” He smirks, grabbing a few fries and plopping them in his mouth and you try not to focus on the way his tongue darks out to collect the salt left over on his lips.

“I can’t stand you.”

It’s impossible to keep a straight face around him, even avoiding the playful gold that swirls in his gaze that hasn’t stopped showering you with adoration.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep better at night.” He shrugs, taking a big swig of his shake, subtly scooting closer so your thighs touch.

The two of you eat in a peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head swimming with questions as your morning starts to really sink in. But your nerves make it impossible to focus on just one, especially every time you fingers brush, catching his small smirk from the corner of your eyes.

”So tell me something,” you try, ignoring the slight shake in your voice, “How did Steve Harrington, ‘king of Hawkins’, become a mechanic? I always thought you’d be in some big office with a suit working for your dad.”

You notice the sour look that contorts the handsome features on his face at the former nickname again and you immediately feel bad for saying it. His thick eyebrows furrow, marrying in the middle as he tries to shake it off with a few harsh blinks grabbing another handful of fries.

”Umm, I did work for my dad’s firm for like six months actually.” He confesses, clearing his throat before tossing them into his mouth. “I think we hate each other even more now.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude that's not why I asked -“

”Honey, you’re fine.” He smiles warmly, a big palm finding the top of our thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it occupy the space permanently.

”Turns out I’m a terrible office manager. I’d get super overwhelmed, which made me disorganized and we’d lose clients making my dad pissed, then one day I just kinda snapped after he laid into me in his office. Had a panic attack and then never showed my face there again.”

”Steve-“

“I knew he was going to fire me anyway, it’s fine” he laughs, running his free hand through his hair, the other sliding down your thigh so his thumb can rub circles into the soft skin next to your knee cap.

“So I wallowed in self pity for a month before Eddie started needing help at the shop. At first it just gave me something to do, he’d teach me a few things and turns out, I’m actually pretty good at it. It honestly feels really fucking freeing to stop being the person everyone expected me to be.”

He smiles with all his teeth, the kind of pride radiating off of him that makes the hard brick wall you’ve built around yourself start to soften, cracks forming in its foundation.

”Well, it looks good on you Harrington.” You have to look away when you say it, the butterflies becoming unbearable, because you weren’t supposed to feel like this. “I guess.”

He snorts at your stubbornness, bumping shoulders with you before snatching your strawberry shake earning the kind of glare that makes him realize he’s never going to get over you.

Steve’s one hour lunch turns into two, almost becoming three getting lost in the kind of conversation that barely scratches the surface of everything you’ve missed. It’s all hushed tones, sweet eyes, and linked fingers that threaten to make you fold again, with the only thing saving you is the reminder of the mess you made on top of his client's Corvette, and Steve reluctantly admitting he needed to leave so he didn’t actually lose his job in the morning.

It didn’t matter though, he got his date.

And when he pulls up to Robin’s he doesn’t hesitate to steal your breath away, grabbing you by the chin, giving you the kind of kiss over the center console that leaves you dizzy, just like in high school. He doesn’t ask for his chain back, and you don’t offer it, bounding up the stairs to the apartment with it shimmering against your chest.

🌻chapter five

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n #mechanic!steve #mechanic!eddie

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the-kr8tor · 7 months ago

Text

250 Years of Longing

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x Fem! Vampire! Reader

Word count: 5.8k

Synopsis: A brief misunderstanding leads to years of heartache. You mourn 250 years of love while his heart remains to you and only you.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, vampire AU, divorced! Vampire! AU, established relationship, CW blood, talks of marriage, hurt/comfort, some fluff.

A/N: Special thanks to @pleaktale !!! This au was born in our dms lol

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Vampire Hobie Masterlist

Hobie's words are muffled in your ears as you try to hide your trembling, lovelorn body. Your head is in your hands, wide eyes downturned towards the same scruffed floors you've lived in for thirty years with him. You still remember the day you moved in, the walls were in bright yellow back then, wooden floors hidden by some gaudy shag carpet from the 70s. You still remember that decade like it was yesterday, maybe it was just yesterday, being a vampire means that time has moved differently for you. Time is merely something you gloss over, years flying by in a wink. Barely a flutter in your immortal eyes.

Even technology is moving faster and innovating quicker than you could manage to keep up. The next thing you know, you've been alive for more than 250 years.

250 years of being with him, 250 years of wearing the same identical ring, 250 years of loving him. All those 250 years are going through your mind a thousand miles per hour, your first kiss with him, your confession. Or was it him who confessed to you? Were you the one who got sick and he had to find a vampire to turn you and in turn to change him? Or was it the other way around? Memory is a fickle thing when you're older than any living human on earth. You've forgotten a lot of things, memory hazy and foggy like a dream you don't quite remember the second you wake. You wish this was just a dream, a nightmare that you'll wake up from.

“I need to try— I need to go, love.” His words wake you up from the lucid nightmare. He stands in the middle of your shared room, eyes forlorn, brows pinched together like he's in agony. “I can't stay ‘ere like this.”

If his words could kill, you'd be staked through the heart by now. 250 years of being together, practically joined at the hip. A love beyond a simple marriage on paper. And he's just standing there, breaking your long dead heart.

You look up at him through bloody tears, nails digging into your scalp as you try to hide your wails. An impossible feat. “Was it me? Did I do something?” You've faced vampire hunters together, faced horrors beyond belief to survive and continue to live with him. But you were never terrified, until now.

He immediately shakes his head, moving closer to you to take your trembling hands. The identical rings on his and your finger clinks together as he clasps your hand. “No, it's not you, love.” Kneeling down, he gazes at you through wine red eyes, bloody tears threatening to spill over his cheeks that you would always caress in your shared coffin that's hidden beneath the canopy bed you're currently languishing in.

“That's what they all say.” You utter in a small voice that he hasn't heard in decades.

Grasping your hands, he rubs his thumbs over your pulse where your heart would beat. Something he still does even though your hearts haven't beat together in sync ever since that fateful day.

“You didn't do anythin' wrong. I jus’ need to find myself, go out and see the world in my own eyes.”

You nod bitterly. “Without the burden of me.”

“That's not true, you're not a burden.” His hands reach towards your cheeks, wiping the bloody tears cascading down them like rain drops on a cold autumn day. “There are people I could help out there—”

“And I can't? Why can't you just bring me with you?” You wrench yourself away from him, walking away from the bed to give him space lest you let him see you like this. “Just say you're tired of me.” Hugging yourself, you feel his arms wrap around your middle, face tucked in the crook of your neck right where your scar sits.

“‘m not tired of you.” He says against your skin.

Your twist in his arms to face him fully, palms resting on his chest, eyes dim and scared. “Then why leave? Why do you want to leave me?” His shirt is bunched around your fists, desperate to cling to him despite his wishes. “250 years, Hobie. I've known you for more than that, been with you through all of it. I deserve to know why.” You try to reign in your anger and frustration but your fangs suddenly appearing betrays you.

“I don't want to leave you— Time, love. I jus’ need time. That's all we've got.”

You're tired, tired of asking why, tired of clinging to him like a life raft. Tired of your chest aching and feeling heavy as he looks at you with pity— was it pity? Or something else? So you let him go. Fists unfurling, palms leaving his chest as you step away from him.

“Alright.” You sniff, expression falling stiff as you straighten up. “I won't stop you.” If your love for him keeps him from doing what he loves, then you'll let him go. You can still love him from afar, even if he doesn't want you anymore.

“Love.” Hobie reaches your hand, palm sliding up to your elbows as he pulls you closer to embrace you fully. “250 years, not once did I feel I didn't love you.”

You close your eyes as you find yourself hidden atop his throat, memorizing his scent and how he holds you. Feeling how his own tears drip down on you, how his skin feels against your own. Memory is a fickle thing, you'll soon forget, but you don't want to. So you'll cling to him, even if it's just a memory of him.

“I love you, y’know that right?” He whispers to you, and only to you.

“I—” you falter. If you say it back, it feels like goodbye. And you don't want to say goodbye to the one person you have loved for centuries. “—I know, Hobie.” You could only say, saying it back means that you're never going to see him again. Saying it back means it's the end.

He could only hold onto you tighter, lips pecking the crown of your head so gently that you barely felt it in your lovelorn state.

You've got time, but it won't be spent with him. Eternity would feel empty for you now.

—

It's been six months of being alone, six months since he moved out to find his purpose. He wanted to leave partly so you could also find yourself and be yourself without his presence. 250 years of being together would do that. He doesn't know where he ends and begins when your soul and his own are tangled together for eternity. And he wants that for you too— to be your own self and not just another vampire in the cursed flock.

To be a better eternal partner for you is one of his goals, he needed to leave so he could be better, so he could be good to you for another 250 years more.

And he's willing— wishing that he gets to spend eternity with you after he's satisfied with what he has done to help people. He just hopes that you'd be home to welcome him back once he does. He's sure that you're already making good progress in finding yourself. He already misses you. A lot.

He's already aching for home and your embrace.

So much has happened in those six months, he's excited to tell you everything he has encountered. And even more excited to hear your voice again, to hold you again and sleep in the same coffin with you again and not the shoddy temporary coffin he made out of planks to rest in. He can already see your ecstatic face when he enters the abode again.

Ned has told him that he won't last a year without you. He'd know, Hobie has been friends with him for almost a hundred years now. But he refuses to let him win, even though he really wants to see you right now, or even call you on one of those phones that people seem to be addicted to. But you haven't picked up his calls, or even answered his letters. He has sent one everyday since he left, he's starting to worry now. Even the crew who urged him to go on a worldwide mission with him has placed bets on when he'll run back to you. With the earliest being tomorrow, and the longest being a year. He intends to make them lose, but by god, he misses you so damn much that he's starting to see you in his dreams. And see glimpses of you in the corner of his eyes.

He doesn't regret his decision, but a part of him thinks that you were right— that he should've brought you with him on his journey. Without you his frozen heart feels like it's out of his own body. Walking around without him, living without him. But he knows that it's for the best. It's only temporary, he keeps repeating to himself every night. He'll be with you soon.

As he writes today's letter, he smiles, hands scribbling his day away on the fragrant paper that he knows you'd love especially when it's sprayed with his own perfume.

He can't wait to see you back home.

—

You were absolutely losing it in that house. You keep seeing him everywhere. With every clatter in the halls, you run towards it in hopes that it's him making a ruckus in the kitchen. With every shadow cast on the walls, you see him walking towards you, arms outstretched to hold you. And then for a moment, he's gone, like a whiff of smoke billowing from a lit cigar.

The house that has love built within its walls seems to tilt in your vision. Weighed down by your grief. You don't know where to place your feeling of abandonment, do you place it in the kitchen where you two used to feed together? Or do you put it right next to your withdrawal, your need to be with him once again?

You choke on your own need.

So you take a page from Hobie's book and left. After just two days of him being gone, you packed your bags and headed out to nowhere. You can't stay anywhere that you have stayed with him before, you're afraid that you'll burst into bloodied tears if you even get a whiff of the same place where you two met all those centuries ago.

You haven't felt this alone since you were nineteen, well, you haven't been nineteen in a long time. You could barely remember your days before you were turned— died. It's like looking into a window of a well lit house whose occupants you once knew well but couldn't talk to anymore. In that well lit house is you and him. Just you and him, him and you.

The lamp posts are hazy in your eyes, buildings whizzing by in a blur of crimson tears. You took the midnight bus, hand never leaving the ring on your finger, and just sat there until the route ended. Then you rode a train, then a boat. And again and again until you reached a little coastal town with a name you could barely remember on good days. And with bad days, the crying comes and goes. Chest still aching, claw marks left all over the tiny cottage you brought.

A dark cloud has settled on you, but with each day passes, with each interaction from the town’s people with their good nature and good intentions, the dark cloud slowly ebbs away. The sun shines on you once again after a year and a half without him, it doesn't burn you nor scorch your skin anymore, it lights your way. The people and the soft sea breeze helped you cope through the uncertainty of being alone.

250 years of togetherness, and not one day you've felt alone, or felt like you've wasted your time with him. 250 years of memories, not one you felt like it went all down the drain. It was worth it, all the calm days to the rough one, it was all worth it.

You still wish to see him, to talk to him, to taste his saccharin ichor on your tongue; to kiss him until you're both laughing against each other's kiss bitten lips. It's a normal feeling, a neighbour once told you after you told her your story (excluding the vampirism). It's alright to miss someone who might not miss you back.

There's a hole that he left in your chest, and you find that you can't fill it in no matter how much you try to fill it with friends and good moments. But it shrinks, it gets smaller with time. It gets better with each day that passes. It has gotten better.

No longer do you feel that time has passed in a blur of colours. It has slowed for you, time. You go outdoors and breathe in the salty air, you talk to people, people you would've ignored back then. You do things you haven't done in decades. And you find that time has barely passed. You live each day, savour it, conquer it with warmth akin to his palm atop your own.

You wish him nothing but the best, and as you promised yourself on that day, you'll continue to love him from afar. The moon gazing down on you reminds you of him, everything reminds you of him. And that's alright, love does that. And it will continue to do so for the rest of eternity.

You've got nothing but time to heal and fill the void with as much light as you can.

—

Hobie's gnawed with exhaustion, but happy, incredibly happy. After two years of being away, he has helped so many lives with his ‘abilities’. He has plucked away corrupt officials with his own clawed hands, fangs coated in a sheen of rubies, eyes bright and almost glowing in its pools of crimson. He's proud of what he has accomplished, he hopes that you would be too.

Two years went by without you, he may have won the bet by a long shot but he can't stay for another day more. He needs to go home to you or he feels like he'll combust into searing flames if he doesn't get to see you and hold you within the day. He longs for your warm ichor on his tongue, and how you always laugh at his antics after all these years. He smiles at his ring, excited to see its partner in your finger once again.

So he forgoes to write you a letter in an attempt to surprise you with his return. He packs his bags, waves goodbye to his old and new found friends, going home without wasting another second. You're his bright spot amidst the dark eternity, his sun that lights the way, and he finally feels that he's worthy of you. Worthy of your time.

He knows himself better than he did when he was just nineteen and lost in the threads of life. He feels as if he traveled back in time, back when he was a human who craved to leave his mark in the world. Only this time, he accomplished the latter. Now, as he promised himself that day, he's coming back home.

He's going back home to you.

—

A letter mysteriously arrives at your doorstep. Its pitch black envelope and red wax seal with the unmistakable seal of the vampiric council sends anxiety coursing through your frozen veins.

Is it Hobie? Has something happened to him? Did he fight a council member again? Did you unintentionally and unknowingly break a rule? Or perhaps it's just a newsletter? You could only hope that it's a newsletter.

You open it immediately to calm yourself. Sharp nails ripping the black envelope open. Reading the contents, you sigh in relief at the invitation. An invitation to a soiree, the kind you and Hobie were never invited to because it's well known that you two have been together for centuries. Hell, it's in their records to begin with.

Tamping down your yearning thoughts, you skim the invitation some more. You find that it's a masquerade, ‘to make it interesting in finding your eternal partner,’ it read in its fancy gold lettering. They need to find a better writer to write their invitations, you thought.

You feel like scoffing at the idea of you dressing up and looking pretty just to find a person who may or may not leave you after they feel the urge to change. As you flip the matte paper around, your mind changes with the words ‘goody bags will be given to those who don't find a partner by the end of the day.’ You can't resist a good party favour, especially when it's from the rich vampire council who once gave away mustangs and harleys to the vampires who made it to a hundred. You might hate their guts, but you can't deny how well they can plan a good soiree.

Leaving your cottage, you don your thick coat and take out your trustee umbrella to wade through the sun illuminated town in hopes of buying a somewhat presentable gown to wear. You might've skipped the part in the invitation that says, ‘satisfaction guaranteed!’

—

Hobie stands on the porch of your shared home with a big giddy smile on his face. He notices all the plants you loved so much have wilted, grass turned into a shade of murky brown, and the porch is littered with dust and grime. He ignores the state of his home in favour of the thought of you being too busy traveling and meeting friends or trying out different hobbies. He could only hope that you're well. That you feed whenever you're hungry, he knows how much you hate hunting, especially without him. He remembers that you always make it a night, basically a date night with him that ends with a dead asshole in an alleyway with four unmistakable pin pricks on the side of their neck.

He should've planned more before he left, made sure that you'd be prepared for anything while he's gone. He'd hate to be gone when a would be vampire hunter attacks your home. His fists clenches around his suitcase, now his fear of you being staked through the heart in his own house takes hold of his entire body. You can handle yourself in a fight, but he's afraid of losing you in such a violent way when he could've been there to save you.

With fear clawing at his chest up to his throat, he unlocks the front door with a creak. Then the door stops, as if something is blocking the way.

“Love?” He calls for you in the dark foyer. The vase you always kept filled with flowers that sits on a desk near the door has completely covered in dust, roses wilted. Flowers no longer blooming in its porcelain form. His iced heart shudders in his chest. “Love, it's me, don't attack, yeah?” Chuckling nervously, he pushes the door fully despite the resistance.

The sound of papers crinkling under the pressure of the door sends him into a tizzy. His eyes narrow downwards at the piles upon piles of envelopes next to his feet. Squeezing inside, he tosses his suitcase haphazardly further into the foyer. It thumps loudly on the wooden floorboards, contents tumbling out and spilling over the floors.

His frantic eyes scan the letters, kneeling down, he finds that the letterbox flaps on the door is practically bursting with the amount of envelopes that were shoved in.

Frowning, he takes one in his trembling fingers, thumbs running along your name that he wrote himself.

“What the fuck?” He asks breathlessly into the void. He finds that every single one of them remains unopened.

Standing upright as quick as lightning, he runs around the house like a headless chicken looking for its head. He checks the living room, none, except for spiderwebs clinging on his guitar perched on the wall. His anxiety eats him from the inside out with every door he flings open. The sounds of his thundering footsteps echo inside the shared home, oil paintings of you and him are threatening to fall from its fixtures as he sprints through every door, looks through every crevice for you. And opens every cabinet and even climbs up to the attic to no avail.

There's no blood nor sign of a fight or forced entry. At least he knows that you haven't been attacked. But his mind lingers on one question, ‘where are you?’

He heaves in the middle of the bedroom where he saw you last. The shared coffin was left revealed and out in the open, he can still smell your perfume lingering in the velvet walls of the coffin, fingers running along the sides as he desperately tries to feel you through the fabric.

You're not here. You haven't been here for a long time.

“Fuck,” he balls up the fabric in his fist. There's no sign of you anywhere, not even a letter for him to read. It's unlike you to not leave a note. You always leave one, even if you're just going to the garden. “Where the fuck are you, love?”

The sound of the deep sounding doorbell startles him in place. With his quick movements, he makes it to the door within a half second. That could be you outside.

Hobie practically rips the door open with both hands as he wretches it away in hopes that it could be you. With a grin, he only sees a bat flapping away, and a dark envelope left at his doorstep.

“Fuckin' council.” Quickly grabbing the letter, he closes the door behind him. He could only hope that the letter is for him, that they're chastising him for what he has done. It can't be a letter of condolence pertaining to you, it can't be.

—

Your champagne flute filled with blood is starting to coagulate. Crimson staining the sides of the fancy glass as you slosh it absentmindedly. You stand in the corner right next to the fountain of warm blood gushing out of a mermaid's vase. At least you get to drink your fill.

The party is in full swing, the grand hall is filled with single vampires mingling with each other. Their mindless chatter falls on deaf ears as you look up at the crystal chandeliers illuminating the event. Cigar smoke rises up from the bloodied lips of vampires, turning the air more acrid than the scent of sweat and drying blood from the feeding area just below the event hall.

You're starting to think that the goody bag isn't worth it anymore, even if it has the meaning of life tucked inside it.

The sound of tinkling glass and footsteps takes your attention from the foggy ceiling. The stranger smiles at you through his domino mask. Lips smirking as he makes his way towards you with two bloody cups.

“May I join you?” He asks in a low soothing voice. His suit is in velvet blue, golden charms hanging off him like fine gold threads weaved over him. You raise a brow at him, hopefully he can see it rise above your flowery mask. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be spending the night alone like this.”

You scoff quietly, refraining from rolling your eyes. “How would you know that I'm pretty under this mask?” He grins wider at your comment. “For all you know, I'm hideous under this.”

Chuckling, the platinum haired man shrugs. “I just know. You give off the aura of someone gorgeous.”

You scoff light-heartedly against the rim of your glass. “I bet you've said those exact words a dozen times tonight.”

He smirks, fang poking out from his lips. “No, just this once.” Plucking your coagulated drink from your hand, he swiftly and gracefully replaces it with a new one. The drink is still warm, fresh from the veins. “I only use my skills wisely lest it be wasted.”

You stare at him with a raised brow, the corner of your lips curl into an unsure smile. “Wasted on who?” Taking a step away from the man who clearly wants his fangs in your neck, you dawdle on drinking from the glass he gave you.

Chuckling, he glances at the vampires milling about the ballroom, their fancy clothes swishing from side to side as they try their best in recreating a moment in the past.

“The…unremarkable vampires.”

“And you think I'm remarkable enough for you…?”

The stranger takes your hand without another word, leaning down to press a cold kiss against your skin. “Just call me Count Tepes.”

You blink at his name, then you feel it, a recognizable warmth flooding your frozen veins akin to a gentle summer's breeze upon your cheek. A comfortable heat pressing against your throat, a familiar presence making its way towards you in haste.

“Who's this, love? You chattin’ up my wife?” Hobie's arm is suddenly around your waist, calloused hand pressing gently atop your bodice, fingers slithering under the ribbons on your hips in a comfortable and welcomed possessive nature. “Didn't know we were lookin' for a third. If we were, I wouldn't choose this bloke.”

As you crane your neck to stare at him, your expression morphs into a combination of pain and relief. “Hobie?”

“Yeah, lovie?” He pulls you closer against him, a pearlescent mask hiding half of his face but you could recognize him by mere touch alone, by his tone, by his warmth. You could lose him in the crowd and you'd know him from the sound of his footsteps. His smirk turns into a frown at your expression, hand squeezing your side once for comfort. “You alright?”

“Is he bothering you?” The count asks with an annoyed tone. Golden eyes narrowed to slits at the punk holding you close.

“I think you're the one bein' a bother ‘ere, mate.” Hobie sneers, tugging away at your glass to chug it in one gulp without leaving his glare at the fellow vampire. He licks at his bloodied lips, fangs bared, blood dripping down from the corner of his smirk.

Tepes raises a sharp brow at you, you, whose mind is running a thousand miles per hour. With a heavy inhale, you give him your best smile. “No need to worry, I'm with him.” Hobie puffs out his chest smugly.

The Count chuckles with a shake of his head in reply. “Not again, just my luck, hm?” Taking a swig, he swallows down the thick blood. “It's either couples looking for a third, a fourth, or even a fifth. Or someone who just went to the party to inspire jealousy in their husband.” Glancing at you, he sighs and nods curtly at you before leaving without another word.

“Really, love, him?” Hobie scoffs with a grin, ringed finger tapping on his— your glass. “You could do better—”

You whirl away from him, not having the heart to fully push him away. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doin' ‘ere?” Hobie furrows his pierced brows, his identical ring still on his ring finger. The ruby glows under the chandeliers, the same shade as his immortal eyes.

You stare at him with bemused shock, “you left!”

“On a bloody soul searchin’ not leavin' you!”

“What?” You blink rapidly at his words. “You said you couldn't stay anymore—” a cough stops you in your tracks. An older vampire with the biggest beard you've ever seen taps his foot impatiently, thick brow raised in annoyance. “Sorry.” You murmur before leaving towards the closed balcony doors.

“Sorry, Santa.” Hobie waves him away, following right behind you as you struggle to open the double doors. “You have to—” he places the glass down to help you by putting his hands above your own. “— love, you have to push the bloody knob.”

His hands felt like how they used to, as if two years hadn't passed. With a click, the doors swing open. “Damnit, I had it.” You step into the cold air, trembling hands resting on the cool marble balcony.

The doors shut close as Hobie tentatively steps closer to you. “You look fit.” You scoff at him as his shoulders heave in an inhale. “I wouldn't leave you.”

“But you did.” You utter under your breath, you know he heard it above the breeze.

“Can I explain myself? I don't want to fight, love.” 250 years together and you've only fought a handful of times, and the serious ones are lesser than the nonsensical ones. With your apprehensive nod, he crosses the small distance, settling himself right next to you and at the same time giving you enough space. “I didn't break it off.” He takes off his mask, sighing heavily as he twirls his ring around his finger. “I should've explained it better.”

You finally meet with his eyes. The ring in your pocket seems to grow heavier. “You were gone for two years, Hobie.”

“For a good cause, I didn't feel like myself and I wanted to be better, not just for you but for myself.” He leans closer to you, the full moon bathing him in silver, the light caught by his piercings. “250 years together, do you think I'd leave you just like that?”

“You didn't have to be better for me. You're already great to me.” Your affectionate words echo in the breeze as his chest clenches, guilt stomping down on him. “I thought you didn't find me fascinating anymore. That you didn't need or want me anymore.” Your voice is small, almost broken. “250 years together could do that, Hobie.”

“I could never not find you fascinatin’, and I get to wake up next to everythin' I could ever need or want. You're anythin’ but.” With a brave hand, he reaches for your cheek, wiping a bloodied tear you didn't notice you've let out. “I thought you got hurt, or worse.”

He feels a tear run down his cheek. Gently taking your mask off of your face, he could finally see you in all your glory. He gazes into your shining eyes— he may not be able to see himself in the mirror, but he doesn't need to when your eyes are enough to reflect his own blissful face.

You lean further into his hold, palms reaching towards his chest like you used to. “D–did you do it? Did you get to do what you wanted to? Are you happy?”

Hobie nods before placing his forehead against yours to savour your close presence. “I did, all that and more. And I've always been happy with you.”

Smiling, you pat his cheek affectionatly. “Then I'm proud of you.” Leaning away, you wipe away a stray tear from his chiseled cheek. “So it was a misunderstanding? You didn't actually break off our…marriage?”

He smiles softly, knuckles gently running along your jaw. “Why’d you hesitate, hm? And yeah, I should've explained myself better. ‘m sorry.”

You thump your fists on his leather clad chest as he chuckles. “You could've saved me from a lot of fucking tears, Hobie.” You can now admire him fully, his outfit is a contrast to the other party goers with their silks and chiffon, but he makes it look good— he always looks this good.

Taking your wrists, placing it atop his still heart, he tilts his head with an affectionate smile. “You didn't answer my question. And you took off your ring.” He raises a questioning brow, fingers bracelets around your wrist as he moves your empty ring finger around. “Were you honestly tryin' to get with that wanker?”

“No,” you say immediately, “And if I remember correctly, we never technically married. I'm only here because they had nice things in the party favors. And I thought, ‘why not? The worst that could happen is that I get a bloody ipad instead of a mustang like I hoped.’” Your lips wobble as you tamp down a sob, eyes getting blurry. “I couldn't replace you just like that. It would take me a thousand years to get over you, you idiot.”

Hobie laughs wholeheartedly, a sound you dearly missed. He pauses then inhales, eyes warmly staring at you through the haze of affection. “Fuck, I missed you so goddamn much.” With a quick pull, he embraces you firmly with his face hidden on the crook of your neck, lips brushing along your throat. “You're right, ‘m an idiot for not explainin’ better, and for not takin’ you with me. ‘m sorry.”

You wrap your arms around him tighter, nose nuzzling his temple. “Could've just told me you were having a mid-life crisis.”

He laughs against your skin. “I sent you letters everyday, you didn't reply.” Subtly, he dances with you from side to side under the moonlight and the music of crickets chirping. “I went home and you weren't there. If I wasn't already dead, you would've given me a heart attack.”

“I couldn't stay there alone.” You hold him impossibly closer. “You weren't there.”

Hobie imagines you in that big house all alone waiting for him. “Fuck, ‘m sorry.”

“I know, I forgive you. Just bring me next time, okay?” He nods with a grin. You lean away, cradling his face in your careful hold, thumbs rubbing along his cheeks. “I'll read your letters, all of them once we get back home.”

“Why read ‘em when I can tell you?” He grins, temptation pushing him to meet with your waiting lips. “‘sides, ‘m a better storyteller than a writer.”

You chuckle softly as he pecks you once, twice then leaning away only to move back with another gentle kiss. “I've got stories to tell too.” You utter against his soft lips.

“Yeah?” He smiles proudly at you. “Can you tell me all about them while your lips are on mine?”

You beam at him. “I can, I have telepathy for a reason, Hobs.”

“Thank fuck for telepathy.” He says as he kisses you fervently just like he always had in 250 years of being together. “I should've married you, lovie.” His words are uttered in between kisses.

“We have time.” You whisper against his smiling lips whilst he picks your pockets and slips your ring in your finger once again.

As you kiss him, you can see that he's already planning the event in his giddy mind. You tell him the three words you've been aching to say back in his head. And in turn, he takes you further into his arms as dark wispy smoke envelopes you both in an embrace. In a blink, you're back home with him. The house feels warm again.

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luismbarbosa · 9 months ago

Photo

BEDROOM OF VIRGINIA COWLES IN NEW YORK BY HORST P. HORST FOR VOGUE, 1971.

“The bedroom of publisher Gardner Cowles and Philanthropist Jan Cowles' daughter Virginia, in their New York apartment. On a floor entirely covered in gold shag carpeting sits several pieces of modern white sculptural chairs, including a ball chair upholstered in white. The low platform bed is covered in yellow bedding and several patterned pillows and cushions. Roy Lichtenstein's print "Brushstroke" is the sole wall decoration.”

#horst p. horst #roy lichtenstein #vogue magazine #1970s

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tiny-twinstars · 11 days ago

Text

A/N: I usually just watch everything and listen, but the transphobia is always intensely upsetting. So here's Trans!Sevika where you catch her plucking her face after hiding it from you that she keeps missing her pills, so you baby her. I'm only familiar with estrogen pills as it's what my ex uses, but I don't go too deep as I'm not trans myself. Literally thought about making this and now it's completed out of spite. Dividers by Sisterlucifergraphics

(p.s. this based off research and mine and my ex's experience)

Tags: Fluff, Trans!Sevika, Medication usage

"My Baby.."

“Sev? Sevika?”

You had been calling out to your girlfriend for only Janna knows how long. Receiving no response, you groaned as you heaved yourself off the worn couch. It was rather late in the night and Sevika was finally home at least a full six hours earlier than usual. Yet the overgrown puppy of a woman was nowhere in sight.

The apartment was small, so it wasn't as if your six foot something muscled girlfriend could simply evaporate. Dragging your socked feet over shagged carpet, you made your way from the living room to the kitchen; nothing. A grimace settled on your lips as you started down the small hall to the bedroom. “Sevvvvvv..” You dragged out the V, knowing it irked her when she was busy. Yet again, still no response.

Now you were getting worried, your tank of a girlfriend was gone, the bedroom was empty. She wasn't napping in the large unmade bed, or digging through the small closet you shared. Before the panic could truly settle in, the pipes in the bathroom had creaked. A sigh of relief breathed past your lips as you trudged to the door, wanting to drag Sevika to bed after a long day.

Your chest ached at the sight you came upon; Sevika standing there plucking hairs from her face like it was life or death. Her chest was heaving with a panic as her eyes caught yours in the mirror, tweezers clutched between thick fingers. Her skin was sore, itching and aching due to sensitivity. “Oh baby..” You whispered, knowing she shied away from anything close to sympathy. Yet she let you step into the bathroom with her, cold tile seeping through your sock-covered feet.

The dingy yellow light flickered as it hung from the ceiling. Sevika hadn't been feeling too good mentally lately, you knew that for a fact it wasn't just the fight for Zaun or trying to keep track of Jinx and Isha. The cold ceramic sink had her pill case sitting forgotten, unopened for days, more pills than there should be. The depression was horrible, mixing with the dysphoria that didn't have a cure, leaving Sevika at war with herself and her refusal to seek assistance.

Without a word, you approached her before gently taking the tweezers and leading her to sit on the toilet lid. You didn't speak, no words needed when she only needed affection and quiet reassurance. Instead, after a quick trip to the kitchen for a cup of water, you popped the pill case open and dumped the two pills into her open palm, and pushed the cup into the other. Silently, she accepted the medication, downing it with a quick gulp of water.

“You want an ice pack or cooling gel?”, the offer was soft as a mumbled “gel please” was received. Crouching and opening the cabinet beneath the sink, you dug through your shared items before pulling out a small bottle of half used facial gel. You didn't bother using a rag or brush, instead gently applying said gel with your fingers. The cold glossy feeling made plump lips grimace, but Sevika didn't argue as the inflammation began to subside.

Wiping your hand haphazardly on your pajamas, you pressed your forehead to hers with a coo. “I got you,”-you breathed- “it's okay. Whenever you're ready, then I'll help with whatever you need.” Your voice was muffled into her hair, greasy from the day. Strong arms wrapped around your middle, her face pressed to your neck, smearing the gel and her watery eyes into your skin as you rocked her; willing to wait for her no matter what.

#sevika #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika arcane #fluff #Trans!Sevika

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the-parable-daily · 2 months ago

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Today, Stanley had an interview. It was for a big office building with pain green walls and shag carpet, with soulless art hung around the rooms and corridors. It was a bit soon to be back in an office, but he just kept telling himself [the walls are green, not yellow, not blue, not any colour in the parable I remember. It's ok.] Narrator had offered to be there, but then muttered about needing to sign for a book order, and kept giving Stanley pleading looks. Stanley knew it would have been too hard for him. Narrator couldn't remember a lot of the endings, but they stuck. The way he hovered around Stanley as much as he could, afraid to be alone, how he seemed overly hurt when someone spoke over him, afraid to be skipped, overlooked... It would have just brought back memories.

"Well, we will get back to you for when you can start, uh... What was your name?" [Stanley Parable.]

#tsp #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #the parable daily

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darkgodcomplex · 1 year ago

Text

Home Sweet Home

Wally Darling X Reader

CW: Manipulation, Obsession, Horror, Psychological Horror, Violence

Word Count: 11,754

AO3 Link

Wattpad Link

Here's the story:

You stand with hands on your hips, the sleeves of your baggy old college sweatshirt rolled up as you admire your new house. This is it... a new start.

Tying your hair back into a ponytail, you get to work. This might be your dream, but it doesn't come easy. The house you've chosen was cheap and definitely a fixer-upper. You leave the U-Haul with all your boxes parked in the driveway while you head up to the door.

You step inside, which immediately brings you to a dimly lit mudroom. The wood paneling is rotting. It's going to have to be replaced. You kick off your shoes onto the dirt-encrusted floor, leaning your hand on the doorframe. When you peel it away, it comes back filthy.

Ugh. You need a sink.

Going further into the house, you head into the kitchen. The outdated orange shag carpet alone makes you groan. Plus, who puts carpet in the kitchen?

You head over to the large metal sink set up on the bright yellow countertops to wash your hand of the dirt. You turn the handle of the faucet.

Nothing.

You turn it more. Then off again and then on again. Still, no water comes out. You sigh, wondering if the water was shut off or if the sink is just another of the busted household items this house will provide.

The living room offshoots the kitchen. What was once probably beautiful white and flowered wallpaper has now yellowed and peels off the walls in large stripes. Several windows are cracked, but it doesn't look like it's from force. You guess it's probably from improper care in the cold.

There's a bathroom. As you creak open the door, you see something dash out. You shriek, scrambling back wildly as you watch the mouse slip away into a crack in the wall. You breathe heavy. You're definitely going to have to go buy some mouse traps tonight. Still, you cautiously enter the bathroom. When you turn on the sink, you're relieved to find that it runs.

You wash the dirt away, then flick your wet hands at the sink. Even if there were towels in the bathroom, you wouldn't trust them to dry your hands.

There's an upstairs, which you expect that you'll set up your bedroom up there. The stairs themselves though are awfully steep and seem to be littered with staples that stick out from the floorboards. You opt to avoid that for now and continue to explore the ground floor. There's a small closet filled with spiderwebs and a door that leads to the basement, though when you flick the lightswitch no light turns on down there.

You sigh, leaning your head against the door to the basement. Can you really do this? This is going to be so much hard work. You've scraped together all of your savings for this?

There's one more door at the end of the hall. You discover it's an office. It's still rough around the edges like the rest of the house, but it has a large window that takes up almost the whole wall. It looks out into the neighborhood.

You stand in front of it, admiring the view. You can see many houses, each one brightly painted with jolly colors, their lawns perfect. Butterflies and hummingbirds float near the bushes of flowers that are planted under the window. The sky is a brilliant blue, clearer than you've ever seen it before. This place truly is paradise.

One thing the realtor really sold you on was the neighborhood. She said that the community bands together in a way that she's never seen before. Seeing it now, you can already tell that these people are special. How can they not be when they create such a beautiful environment?

Yes, this will be your painting room. Just standing here now you feel a rush of inspiration. You want to paint this moment. You rush to the front door, eager to grab your painting supplies before the mood runs out.

As you open the door, you jolt back, you had not been expecting any visitors. You have an entire welcome crew at your front door.

"Hello neighbor!" A man with a stunning blue pompadour steps forward, extending a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Wally Darling."

You gingerly take his hand, face flushing. He's clearly a charmer. His grip is firm but delicate.

"It's nice to meet you too."

"These are our other neighbors here, we have Julie, Eddie, Frank, Barnaby, Poppy, Howdy, and Sally!" Each one waves as he says their name.

"We wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood!" Poppy raises up a cake she's been holding. In fancy cursive font, it reads:

Welcome Home.

"Poppy is our resident baker." Wally grins. "She's who you want to cater all your events!"

"Oh, Poppy, will you do my birthday!" Julie chimes in.

"Of course." Poppy laughs at Julie, then turns back to you. "Here you are, dear." She hands you the cake.

You smile, this is so sweet of them! It truly makes this miserable house better. "Thank you! Um, my place is a wreck right now, but please, come in."

They all shuffle into your kitchen. Luckily the previous owners left you a kitchen table and some chairs so that your guests can sit. You set the cake on the table.

"So where are you from?" Frank asks, taking a seat.

"I actually came a long way." You give a nervous chuckle. "Wanted to start fresh... I'm from a little town in the middle of nowhere."

"Oh that's where I'm from too!" Eddie bursts out excitedly, then hesitates. "Wait, no." Frank pats Eddie on the back.

"This place seems like it needs a bit of work." Wally notices, hands in pockets as he leans on the counter.

Howdy nods along with him. "I have a bunch of supplies in my shop if you ever need anything." He says. "On the house for a new neighbor."

"Oh, I can help too!" Sally says. "I work on my sets all the time!"

"That would be awesome!" You suddenly have a bit more hope for this place. "Only if it's not an inconvenience for you guys of course."

"It's no issue." Wally promises, looking down at you with his half lidded eyes. "It's all a part of being in the neighborhood."

"When are we having cake?" Barnaby suddenly asks, eyeing it.

"Oh, um-" You glance around the kitchen. "All my kitchen utensils are still packed in the car..."

Everyone puzzles over this for a minute. Then, Barnaby reaches out and takes a handful of cake. His paws smear with frosting and he brings it up to his mouth to take a bite.

"What are you doing!" Frank demands.

"No plates and no utensils." Barnaby shrugs.

There's another pause. Then, you reach out and grab a handful too. The cake is squishy and messy between your fingers, but when you bring it to your mouth, it's delicious. Slowly, everyone is scooping up the cake, laughing as they play with it in their palms.

"This is ridiculous." Frank says, crossing his arms. "I refuse to act so childish!"

"Aw, come on, Frank." Barnaby says, leaning over. "Oh, you got something on your face."

"What? Where-"

"Right... there." Barnaby smushes some cake onto Franks face, smearing it down. Frank sits in shock for a second, then reaches a finger up to wipe the frosting at his cheek. He sticks the finger in his mouth, sucking at the frosting.

"Well... at least the cake is delicious." He admits. Everyone laughs, but soon it devolves into everyone tossing the cake. Julie and Frank team up to get Barnaby, Sally tosses the cake in the air while Eddie tries to catch it in his mouth, and Howdy and Poppy try to down as much cake as they can. Wally still leans on the counter, watching the chaos with a small smirk.

You slide next to him, cake still in hand.

"Sure you don't want a bite?" You grin, intending to smash it on his face. Before you can though, he takes his index finger and swipes it through the frosting, bringing it to your face and gently smearing the frosting onto the tip of your nose. He brings his finger back to suck on the small bit of leftovers.

"You can have it all, my dear." He says, returning to his casual, laidback position.

Eventually, all the cake the gone. Whether more is in your bellies or streaked along your floor, table, and walls, you're unsure. It's a mess, but somehow it makes the old house feel less dreary than before. Your guests head home, promising to come help with the house.

"Oh!" Julie turns back as she leaves, grasping at your hands. "We're having a barbeque tomorrow. You simply have to come!"

"I don't know." You chuckle. "I still have to unpack."

"Well, please keep us in mind." She lets go, giving a warm smile. "I had a lot of fun today." With that, she turns and scurries down the steps.

It's Wally's turn next. He gives you another one of his signature warm smiles. It makes your stomach flutter.

"I'm just in the Home over there." He says, pointing towards a peppy little red house down the street. "Come down whenever you need me."

"Thank you again." You say. He gives a polite nod before stepping away.

When everyone is out of sight, you sigh. It's already sunset and you haven't done any unpacking. One by one you bring the boxes in. Then, you puzzle over how you're going to get your larger furniture inside. In the end, you decide you don't need to bring in the couch, the desk, or the TV in tonight and that you can ask for help tomorrow, but you have to bring the mattress in now. It's a struggle, but eventually you manage.

That's it. That's all the work you're doing today. You can take all your stuff out of the boxes tomorrow.

However, there is one box that you unpack, labeled painting supplies. You set up in your new office, putting the easel in front of the window. It's pitch black out now, so you decide to paint the quiet calmness of the neighborhood at night. It seems as if everyone is already asleep, there's not a single window light on down the street. You throw a canvas on the easel, digging through your oil paints to find the right ones.

You notice Wally's house is right near your window, you have a perfect view of it. It only adds to your inspiration, using the darkness as a metaphor in your painting. It's the mystery... the curiosity... the intimacy. Despite being in two separate homes, you can't help but feel like you're glimpsing into his soul by painting his house.

It's nearly three in the morning when you finally finish your painting. It's crude and hastily done, but you enjoy it's charm. As you lay it on the floor to dry, you notice an odd detail that you don't remember adding.

There's a single light on in Wally's attic.

_____

Despite promising yourself that you'll get completely unpacked today, by midmorning you're already exhausted. You take a break, steaming yourself a cup of tea. So far in your packing, you've only uncovered one of your coffee mugs, so you're left sipping out of a chipped mug that reads: I DESTROYED THE UNIVERSE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS STUPID MUG.

In the very least, a couple of things are coming along nicely. You hesitate to unpack everything right away, since you'll surely soon be tearing up carpet and painting over walls, but the essentials are out. Still, there is work to do.

Although...

You glance at the time. The barbeque is going to be soon... should you go? While they were all very king to you yesterday, you really don't know any of them.

Maybe this is your chance though. You'd particularly like to know that Wally fellow a little more.

You've decided it. You're going.

You glance down at your work clothes, a ragged old sweatshirt and worn out jeans with paint splattered all over. You're going to need to dress better than this.

Which box are your clothes in?

You spend another while digging through boxes. While you don't find dress clothes, you do find your stash of mugs. You set them in the kitchen. Eventually, you opt to just wear your paint splattered jeans but with a hole-free tee shirt.

You make your way outside. As you exit the house, the warm summer air hits you and you take a deep breath in, enjoying the season. It's absolutely beautiful in this town. You're surprised no one outbid on the house in a place like this.

Walking along the street, you spot a picnic spot set up in Wally's backyard. It seems you're the last one to arrive. The delectable smell of fresh meat cooking on the grill catches your nose.

"Yay, you came!" Julie practically jumps into your arms.

You laugh, "I figured I could take a lunch break."

Two picnic tables are set up next to the large grill where Poppy and Barnaby flip meat patties and turn hot dogs. At one table is Sally, Howdy, and Wally while the other is Frank and Eddie. Julie leads you over, taking a seat next to Frank.

"Hello neighbor!" Wally pats the seat next to him. "Come sit with us."

You take your seat, giving a polite smile.

"How was your first night at your new home?" Sally squeals excitedly, leaning over the table.

"It was fine." You shrug. "A little uncomfortable since my mattress was on the floor because I haven't set up my bedframe yet."

"Oh dear!" Howdy exclaims.

"What?" Eddie asks from the other table.

"It's nothing, Eddie." Sally rolls her eyes at him. "So when do we get to come help! Oh! What colors do you want to paint your walls? I was thinking bright! We can magenta or chartreuse or turquoise or-"

"Easy there." Howdy laughs, patting Sally on the shoulder. "I think we'll need to do some repairs before we can get into the decor aspect."

"What needs to be fixed?" Wally asks you in his usual chill manner. "So that we can help."

You raise your eyebrows, mind scanning through the plethora of problems in that house. "The sink doesn't run, there are staples in the stairs, the basement light doesn't work, there are mice and god knows what else, and some of my windows are broken."

Those are just the ones you've discovered so far.

Howdy runs his hand along his chin, "Some of those don't sound too bad. We can take some pliers to the stairs, then hopefully the light just needs replacing and isn't an electrical issue..." He trails off in thought.

"Food is ready!" Barnaby announces. Poppy sets down plates while Barnaby hands out the food.

"Hotdog or hamburger?" Barnaby asks when he gets to you.

"Hotdog please."

Barnaby loads up your plate, "Say, how does the enthusiastic man eat his hotdog?"

"Huh?" You ask, staring up at him.

With a large grin, Barnaby leans in and whispers, "With relish."

You blink, taking a minute to process the joke. Then, you laugh.

"Thank you, I'll be here all week." Barnaby prides himself while sliding Wally a burger.

"When can I get you on stage with me, Barnaby?" Sally bites into her hotdog.

Barnaby shrugs, "Alas, my stardom is meant for small crowds."

Sally shakes her head, "One day I'll convince you."

"I'd love to see it."

You bite down on your hotdog. It's probably the most delicious you've ever had. Does everything in this town taste amazing or are it's residents just master chefs?

"We have to go play lawn games!" Sally yells as she finishes her food. "Wally, you're on my team!"

"What are we playing-"

Sally grabs Wally by the arm, dragging him out to the field before he can protest.

"Want to team up?" Howdy wipes his mouth with a napkin.

"I think I need to digest my food first." You tell him, patting your belly. "Sorry."

"All good." Howdy leans over to the other table. "Hey Edds, you and me?"

"You know it!" Eddie says through a mouthful of burger. He shoves the rest in his mouth, hurrying to stand up. Barnaby and Poppy team up as well, heading over to the group.

That leaves Julie and Frank. Neither seem interested in joining the games. You move over to their table.

"Why don't you just ask him, Frank!" Julie whispers as you sit down.

Frank looks at you nervously, "Julie! There's someone else here!"

Julie sighs, looking over at you. "You can keep a secret, right?"

You nod.

Julie looks at Frank expectedly. He sighs, hands fiddling with a book he keeps in his lap. "Fine."

"Frank likes Eddie!" Julie giggles excitedly. "And Eddie SO likes him back!"

"You can't say that for sure." Frank fidgets. "I was reading a study where they found that people are very unreliable in determining if they are being flirted with or not!"

"But it's so obvious!" Julie groans.

You glance over at the game being played. It seems to be some weird hybrid of croquet and tennis. Your eyes can't help but wander over to Wally, who is holding his mallet like he's never played a sport before. His hooded eyes meet yours, giving you a dazed smile. You quickly look away.

"I just want to wait." Frank shifts uncomfortably. "Just to make sure that he likes me."

"How many signs do you need?" Julie shakes her head.

Frank doesn't answer, he's too busy staring. You look over at where his gaze lands. It seems as if Howdy and Eddie won, as Eddie is jumping up and down in excitement and Howdy is doing an awkward victory dance. They lock arms, swinging around happily.

Eddie trots over to the picnic table, breath heavy from all the jumping. "Did you see that winning shot?" He taps his foot happily, eyes glancing around the table.

"Oh, I missed it!" Julie complains.

"It was a good shot." Frank looks up at Eddie. "Are you good at geometry? The angle on that shot was quite amazing to see."

Eddie gives him a goofy grin. "Angels? No, I'm not really religious." He pauses. "But if you want to talk about it more I'd listen."

Frank perks up, then starts on a long winded explanation about math. You take the opportunity to slip away.

Wally waves you over, making your stomach do a somersault. It seems Frank isn't the only one with a stupid little crush. The way you're practically drooling over him has you embarrassed, it's like you're a middle schooler again. You jog over.

"Want to play?" He asks, holding up a mallet.

"I thought you were in a team with Sally?" You glance over to see Sally standing with Howdy.

"She didn't want to be on my team anymore." He says casually, looking up at the sky. "Apparently I couldn't hit a brick wall even if I ran into it."

You can't help but laugh. Upon seeing you laugh, he laughs along too.

"Well I don't know how to play either, so we'll be quite the team."

"You two ready?" Sally swings her mallet over her shoulder. Howdy has his baseball cap on backwards.

You and Wally line up. What ensues is the most pathetic beatdown you've ever seen. Not only are Sally and Howdy more acquainted with the game, they're also just quicker and more agile than you and Wally. The two of you also have absolutely no coordination skills, constantly bumping into each other and dropping the ball. Wally just plainly face plants several times. Somehow, he always manages to laugh it off though.

When Sally scores the winning point, she leaps into the air, grabbing Howdy by the arms.

"Yay!" She squeals.

"Two victories!" Howdy grins.

Wally dusts the dirt off his clothes. He had tripped again. "I'm afraid I dragged us down." He says, tilting his head as he looks down at you.

You shake your head, "Did you see me out there? I think we're a perfect match." You blush, realizing what you've said. "I mean... perfect match as a team, of course."

"Yes." He echoes. "Perfect match." There's a hidden smile in his words.

You glance over to see Howdy and Sally still celebrating.

"I want to show you something." Wally diverts your attention back to him.

"Oh, should I get the others?" You turn, but Wally grabs your wrist.

"No, I want it to be the two of us."

You and Wally slip away. You feel slightly bad that you're abandoning everyone, but Wally assures you that it won't be for long.

"Right through here." Wally ducks through a small passage in the bushes. The greenery is absolutely stunning here. Are plants usually this green?

As you step from the shrubs, you're greeted with more stunning scenery. Before you are acres and acres of beautiful apple trees. The bright red apples dangle from each tree while fallen ones scatter the ground. It feels like something out of a storybook.

"I like to come here." Wally reaches up, picking you a nice plump apple and gingerly setting it in his hands. "I thought you'd like it too."

"This is so pretty." You stroll through the trees, fingers rubbing over the apple in your palm. This is something you'd like to paint.

"So you're a painter too?"

You pause for a second, wondering if Wally can read your mind. "Huh?"

"Your pants." He points and you follow his gaze. Ah, that's right, you're wearing your shitty painting jeans.

"Yes, I paint." You tell him, turning. He follows behind you as you walk, hands tucked respectfully behind his back. You feel like a fancy Victorian woman and he your eager suitor. "You do too?"

"I do."

"What do you paint?"

He ponders on this. "Still life, mostly." He shrugs. "Apples." He picks one up from the ground, then tosses it. "They're my muse, one could say."

"Oh I see, a muse." You tease him. "Most artists' muses are pretty women or handsome men, you know."

"Does a handsome apple count?"

You laugh, "No."

"Since you clearly have a strict idea of what a muse should be," He trots to catch up so that he walks by your side. "Who is the lucky fellow that is occupying your thoughts and paintings?"

"I don't have one." You tell him very matter-of-factly.

He shakes his head, smiling. "Perhaps you just haven't met someone handsome enough to be your muse."

"Perhaps." You smile back and finally take a bite of the apple. It's ripe and juicy.

"We should paint together." Wally shoves his hands in his pockets.

"Apples?" You ask, raising a brow.

He laughs, "No, not apples... well, unless you want to."

You hold your half eaten apple in front of you, pretending to study it like it's a piece of modern art. "I don't know... maybe I'm starting to see the complexity of it."

"Look a little harder." Wally nudges you playfully. "Maybe you'll finally find your muse."

"This apple is starting to look a little handsome."

"I knew you would eventually see my side of things." He watches as you take another bite.

"Tomorrow for painting then?" You ask. "Apples as our muse?"

"Sounds like a plan."

_____

Beautiful emerald green paint rolls onto the wall as you work. Somehow, it's even more stunning than the sample paint swatch. Your living room is going to look positively royal.

Beside you, Sally leans up, jabbering away, "-And then Julie had to come rescue me from out of the dumpster! Not only that, but the lawnmower was nowhere to be found!" She finishes her story, shaking her head as she applies more paint. "I still wonder what happened to it."

Howdy is on the floor, removing staples from where the ugly shag carpet once was. When he peeled it up, you were thrilled to find out that there were beautiful hardwood floors underneath.

"Do these crazy things happen to everyone in Home, or just you?" You ask with a smile. It's still funny to you how the town is named Home, just another example of how perfect the place is.

"Oh you should see all the trouble some of them get into." Howdy rolls his eyes. "It's only if you're looking for it."

"Have a little adventure, Howdy!" Sally teases.

Howdy pulls out a particularly difficult staple with a grunt, "I've had enough adventure, particularly from that Wally fellow."

You perk up.

Sally laughs, "Do you remember that time he tried to sew his own clothes and got caught in the sewing machine?"

"How did he do that?" You laugh along with her.

"The idiot thought that he had to sew them right onto his body." The corners of Howdy's mouth twitch up.

Sally continues chatting, "There's also this weird thing about Wally, be warned he-"

Howdy cuts her off with a cough, communicating something with his eyes that you don't quite understand.

"Err, I mean, he's just so naïve sometimes." Sally says.

"That's true." Howdy adds.

A silence falls over the room, the only sound being the occasional splash as you and Sally dip your rollers into the paint. It gives you time to wonder what Sally was going to say. Wally just gets so... what?

Your thoughts are interrupted by a loud thud, making you jump. Then comes more thudding. You blink, processing the noise for a second before realizing that it's knocking.

"Oh!" You set down your paint roller. "I'll go get it!"

You rush over to the door, slipping through the kitchen. You fling open the door, out of breath from your jog over.

It's Wally, dressed just as dapper as usual. No, he seems more dapper today. His necktie a little straighter and his hair more precisely groomed. The minute his eyes lock on yours he smiles, glancing down at your clothes.

"Painting without me?"

"Well, only my living room." You say, slightly flustered to find yourself in indecent clothes around him once more. You wish you would've been able to change into something nicer. "I wasn't expecting you so soon-" You glance at the clock you had hastily hung in the mudroom. "Oh wait, it's already noon? I'm so sorry, I meant to be ready-"

"It's no worry." Wally assures you, as casual as ever.

"Are you coming back?" Sally yells from the other room.

Wally tilts his head, eyes casting towards the noise. "Oh? There's someone else here?"

"Yeah." You feel bad about losing track of time. You sincerely were looking forward to painting with Wally! "Sally and Howdy are just helping me paint."

"Let me just step in and say hi."

You invite Wally in, leading him to the living room. It's nearly finished.

"Oh, hi Wally." Howdy plucks out another staple.

"You should've invited me, I would've done quite a nice job with the paint." Wally says casually. "It looks nice though, you all did a good job."

"It was kind of a last minute thing." You explain.

Sally sets down her roller, "We had fun doing it! You would've been more help by assisting Howdy with the staples."

"Hey! I can do it by myself-"

You laugh, "I really appreciate the help, guys."

"That being said, I think I have her claimed for the afternoon." Wally slides in. "We're going painting."

Howdy and Sally both take the hint.

"Oh! We can come back later and help." Howdy stands, stretching out his back.

"Bye!" Sally gives a cheerful wave as they exit. "We gotta hang out again!"

You wave back eagerly and they leave through the front door. You turn back to see Wally leaning on the doorframe to the living room, watching you with his relaxed eyes.

"You really did you a nice job on this living room." His voice is ever so soft.

You sigh, placing your hands on your hips. "This place still needs a lot more work."

"I know you can breathe some life into this place." Wally's eyes seem to sparkle. "Homes are very special, you know."

You shake your head, "Are we painting at the orchard?"

"Best place to find apples."

It's not long after that you and Wally have your easels set up in the orchard, plenty of fresh apples on display for references. Wally stands across from you, paint at the ready.

"I'm still not so sure that I understand apples as a muse." You tease, reaching up to tree to grasp an apple. It's just out of your reach. "I bet you think they're complex or something." You mock like you're some kind philosopher, " Apples... the thing that made Newton discover gravity, the so called forbidden fruit."

"Or maybe they're not." Wally reaches up and grabs the apple for you, placing it in your palm. "Maybe they're just apples. Simple."

You take a bite of it.

"I guess I'm getting too deep about apples." You say in between bites, smiling.

He smiles along with you, "Perhaps we should just paint."

"Let's."

You pour over your canvas, examining the half eaten apple with rigor. They are surprisingly difficult to get right. The small spots and stripes make the work tedious.

"How are you doing the shading?" You ask, trying to peek at Wally's work. He shies away, turning his canvas so that you can't see.

"You'll see." Wally smiles. "I want to see your own interpretation, no outside influences."

"Is my work going to professionally assessed?" You tease, still struggling over the shading. "Should I be nervous?"

"Oh, very nervous." Wally replies. After a brief pause, he speaks up again. "What do you think of Home so far?"

"I really like it." You tell him enthusiastically. "I love the views, I love the weather, I love the people."

"I'm glad you like it." He says.

"It's quite lucky I got that house too." You say. "It's insane that there were no other bidders when it's such a lovely place. I'm sure that someone with more money than me could've easily fixed it up and loved it here."

Wally merely smiles and the two of you fall into concentrated silence once again.

You fall into the trance of painting. It's not a feeling you're unused to. There's something about concentrating on the details that just makes you lose track of time. Eventually, you tune back in, taking a step back as you finish your painting.

You're proud of it, you think. You've painted a small, half eaten apple resting in the grass, the field of orchards sprawled out behind it. It's a simple but elegant painting.

"I'm done." You say with a breath, looking up to see Wally watching you carefully. "How much do you have left?"

"Oh, I've been done for a while." Wally beams at you. "I'm very curious to see what you've produced."

Wally saunters over to look at your canvas. His eyes scan the painting, noticing the small efforts you put in. There is truly something amazing about another artist studying your work.

"It feels... happy." He says. "A simple kind of happy."

You pause, then slowly nod. "That's how I feel here in Home, I think." You chew at your lip. "I like it."

Wally takes your arm, leading you over to his painting.

It's... you. You're leaning over a canvas, paintbrush in one hand and apple in the other. Your hair spills in your face and paint covers your clothes. It's clear where he put the most effort in though, in your face. Your expression is one of focus and concentration as you're hunched over, eyebrows scrunched and mouth slightly agape.

It feels happy.

_____

Wally walks you home after you finish painting. He gifted you his painting and you gifted yours to him. He seems quite proud to own your artwork, even if it inferior to his. You're in awe at his skill honestly.

"I had fun today, Wally." You tell him as you reach your house.

Wally lights up, "I had fun too." He lingers at the door for a second, hands shoved into his pockets and painting tucked neatly under his arm. "I'll see you again tomorrow?" He asks. "I'll even help with house, if you want."

You laugh, "That sounds great."

He flashes you a charming smile, "Goodnight, then." He does a half bow, turning and trotting away. You watch him go, heart pumping in your chest.

As you close the door behind you, you can't help but jump and squeal excitedly. This neighborhood is truly everything you dreamed it would be. Your house is coming together nicely, you've got wonderful new friends, and now you've got the attention of a handsome guy!

Nothing could ruin this.

You walk further into your house, stepping into the living room. It's a perfect start, you feel a sense of pride.

Picking up a hammer, you head to a free space on the wall, pounding in a nail. You hang your new painting up, stepping back to admire it.

You turn around, patting the doorframe of the living room before heading upstairs to bed. You've had a long day today and you're sure that tomorrow is going to be just as busy. Your bedroom is less put together than the living room, but the fact that you've made progress prevents you from feeling bad.

As you slip into bed, you hear an odd noise.

You perk up, pausing and listening for the noise again.

It almost sounds like footsteps.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you peek out from your room. The sound echoes up the stairs. It sounds like it's coming from either the kitchen or the living room. You grab the nearest heavy object, which just so happens to be a leg of an easel that you had taken apart for the move. It's a strong wooden beam. You hold it up high on your shoulder.

"Hello?" You call.

The only answer you get is more footsteps.

Your hands tremble as you make your way down, placing your steps carefully. Your mind races through a million scenarios of robbery, kidnapping, and murder.

When you reach the bottom of the steps, you decide to make sure you surprise this intruder. You come into the living room swinging.

There's nothing.

You stop and listen for a minute.

The noises are gone. No more footsteps.

You breathe a sigh of relief, running your hand through your hair. It wasn't even footsteps at all, must just be the old house settling. You laugh at yourself, shaking your head as you prepare yourself to go back to bed. Before you do though, you notice something amiss.

Wally's painting had fallen off the wall.

The next morning you're awoken by the sound of loud, unrelenting knocking. You groan, startled and tired. After the incident last night you hadn't gotten much quality of sleep. You know you're just being paranoid, but for some reason it really stuck with you.

You roll out of bed, quickly throwing on clothes and heading downstairs. You wonder if Wally has come to help you fix the house up more.

"Oh my god, hey!" Julie throws her arms around you, giving you a big hug. "I was worried you might not be home!"

"Well, here I am."

"It's break time!" Julie tells you. "No more working on the house, you and I are going out."

You laugh, "Well, I would have to start working for it to be considered a break-"

Julie tugs on your arm, "Pleaseee go out with me?" She blinks up at you with wide eyes. "We'll have so much fun!"

You glance back at your unfinished house, still reluctant to leave. Yet, you grab your coat anyways, stepping out into the sunshine. "Where are we going?"

Julie lights up, "You'll see."

You're lead through the neighborhood. As you walk, you're given the full tour by Julie.

"There's the supermarket." She points. "Oh and that there is Barnaby's house. He's still sleeping at this time of day."

You check your watch. It's nearly noon already.

"That's my house!" She points at a lovely flowered red house. "You're invited anytime, just so you know."

"How long did it take you to fix that up?" You ask, marveling at how elegant yet simple it is.

Julie thinks on it for a second, "Fix it up?" She asks. "It's just... always been that way."

You scrunch your face up, "You bought it like that?"

"Bought it...?" Julie looks up, considering this. "I think... I've always lived here."

She seems confused, so you decide not to press it any further. Has Julie lived here her whole life? Where is her family?

That's when another odd thing strikes you. The entire town consists of single individuals that live alone in homes. You've never heard of such a thing. Sure, a few individuals here and there in homes is normal, but an entire town?

You notice Julie has gone quiet. It's an unusual change from her normally peppy self. You fear that maybe you pressed into something personal.

"This is the post office." Julie gestures, suddenly speaking up again. Her previous demeanor is forgotten now and her lively energy is returned. "That's where Eddie works."

You notice another familiar face poking about.

"Frank!" Julie bounces up and down excitedly, waving her hand.

Frank jumps from the sudden noise, head swiveling to find the source. He relaxes slightly when he sees it's only Julie.

You and Julie trot over to him.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, chin raised pompously.

"What are you doing here is the real question." Julie teases. "Have you come to see Eddie?"

"No!" Frank tenses, eyes looking around nervously. "I just have a letter to send and wanted to make sure that it got here. Mailboxes and so unreliable-"

"Uh huh." Julie can't control her grin. "Sure, Frank."

Frank opens his mouth to say something else, but Eddie comes around the corner just as he does. You thought that Frank already looked nervous, but that is nothing compared to how he looks as he and Eddie make eye contact.

"Oh hey Frank!" Eddie gives a toothy grin, cheeks scrunched up and head tilting to the side.

"Eddie!" Frank holds his envelope to his chest. "I-I've been looking for you!"

Eddie seems to perk up, "You have?"

"Yes!" Frank shoves out the letter. "I just needed to mail this."

"Oh." Eddie takes the letter. "Frank, you know I could've picked it up at your house, right?"

"Well, he wanted to hand deliver it." Julie nudges Frank playfully and receives a glare in return.

"I'll take good care it, Frank, I promise." Eddie tucks the letter into his pouch.

Julie coughs, "Well, we better get going, right?" She looks at you.

"Uh, right." You echo.

"You know, Eddie, I think Frank was talking about lunch?" Julie says. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure he was hungry! You two should go eat somewhere!"

"Julie!" Frank hisses.

"That sounds fun!" Eddie inputs.

"Perfect!" Julie grabs your arm. "Have fun guys! Bye-"

The two of you quickly stumble away. You can't help but laugh at Julie's blatant matchmaking attempt, Eddie's innocent obliviousness, and Frank's adorable embarrassment. Julie giggles along with you, leaning on you for support.

When you're both far enough away, Julie speaks up, "Do you think Eddie will ever take the hint?"

You shrug, "Only if Frank tells him directly."

"Like that'll ever happen." She lets go of your arm, standing up straighter. "Oh! We're almost there?"

"There?"

"The reason I brought you out!"

"Oh." You reply, following behind her as she picks up speed. "I thought the tour was why you brought me out here."

"Don't be silly!" Julie suddenly stops. "I brought you out here for this!"

You're not quite sure what you're looking at. The bright summer colors of Home are here. They are present in the brilliant green trees with fresh fruit and in the yellow dandelions and white daises and baby blue forget me nots. You've always adored the vividness of the neighborhood, but here...

It just stops.

It's like there's a line drawn in the forest. The fresh flora wilts and dies along it, the line marking there on out as dead.

"Was there... a fire?" You ask.

"No fire."

Even the sky looks bleaker on the other side.

You step back, "Some sort of parasite?"

"No parasites. No fires. No droughts, floods, locusts, or diseases."

You step forward again, gaining a bit of courage. Slowly, you reach out, sticking it beyond the line.

Nothing happens. You feel normal.

"Why?" You finally ask. "Why is this here?"

"I can't say."

When you finally return to your house, it's later than you would've liked. It's past dinnertime and you haven't even eaten yet. As you approach, you notice a familiar face sitting on your porch.

"Hey!" Wally stands quickly, brushing off his pants. "I've been waiting for you!" He adds with a playful tease.

"I like to play hard to get." You prod him back, unlocking the door and welcoming him in.

His large eyes flick over you. You feel like you're being examined. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, Julie took me out on a tour of the town." You tell him. "I saw the market, the post office, Barnaby's house-"

"And you stayed in town the whole time?" He presses. "I looked for you, I didn't see you."

You chuckle, "You didn't have to come searching for me, I'm sure you have more important things to do." You avoid the original question. You're not sure why, but you feel like the forest is a secret between you and Julie.

"You are the important thing." Wally follows behind you as you clean up the kitchen.

You pause, then quickly resume your work. "Am I?"

As you reach up to tuck a mug into the cupboard, Wally takes the mug from you, reaching up with ease to place it for you, "I would've imagined that you would've taken the hint by now, but it seems that I must take the liberties myself."

Wally leans on the counter and faces you, "Do you find me attractive?"

You're not sure what to say to that, you sputter out nonsense, "Well, err-"

"I find you attractive. Every part. I find your quips and teasing attractive, your laugh and the way your cheeks scrunch up when you smile, the curve of your lips and the paint droplets on your pants." He takes a second to breathe. "And honestly, there's nothing more in the world that I would like to do right now than to help you paint your house or whatever else you would ask of me."

You wait a moment, processing his words.

"Whatever I ask of you?"

He looks earnest, "Whatever."

You tug him into a kiss, closing your eyes. He seems surprised at first and the kiss is slow and hesitant, each of you too afraid to do much. You're slightly surprised, for such a smooth talker, Wally doesn't really seem to know what to do. Has he kissed someone before?

You decide to take the lead. His lips are soft and gentle as you mouth over his bottom lip, tongue sticking out to play around.

Wally's hands find their way to your waist, gripping you tight as if he's checking that you're real. His thumb rubs small circles at the small of your back.

He seems to mimic you, tongue poking out to prod at yours, eventually making it's way into your mouth to feel around. He's gentle, but he is slowly growing more confident by the second. Wally tugs your waist in tighter and tongue going deeper into your mouth almost possessively.

The intensity of the kiss escalates quickly and you find yourself having to pull away to catch a breath. You open your eyes to find him staring down at you, his normally half lidded eyes wide open and exhilarated, a faint blush scattering his cheeks.

"I liked that." Wally says quietly. "We should do that more often."

_____

Life is great.

You've gotten quite a bit done on the house, mostly with the help of all the neighbors. The living room, kitchen, and bedroom are all finished and you've honestly never felt more at home. When you go to the supermarket, Howdy always greets you with a warm hello and a free sample of whatever the special of the day is. In the mornings, Eddie stops by for idle chat as he brings the mail. Whenever Poppy makes a new treat she comes over to give you some. Even with just a stroll through the neighborhood you're always greeted and smiled at by the other neighbors.

You sit in your backyard, cross-legged in the grass with your canvas propped up awkwardly on your legs. Your brush glides along the canvas, curving around to get the details just right. You bring the brush up to your face for a moment, biting on the wooden end as you think.

"You look cute when you're concentrating."

You blink up in surprise to see Wally leaning on the side of your house, arms crossed.

"How long have you been there?" You smile at him, setting down your canvas and standing up.

Wally merely shrugs with a grin. You run over to him, throwing your arms around his neck. He grips onto your waist, lifting you up and spinning around once before setting you back down and planting a gentle kiss to your forehead. You hug him, taking a moment to enjoy his masculine cologne scent before pulling away.

Yes, life is great. Wally Darling is yours.

“I was thinking you and I could spent the day together.” He hums.

You nod, “Let me just clean up my painting supplies-“

“Let me help.” Wally follows, carefully taking your paintbrushes as you grab your wet canvas. He trails behind you as you go inside, setting up your canvas to dry in your art room as Wally washes the brushes in the kitchen sink.

When you return, you find Wally with his head tilted and eyes cast towards the ceiling, frozen at the kitchen sink. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence.

“Is… something wrong?”

Wally blinks, snapping out of it and turning his head to smile at you warmly. “No, of course not.” He replies. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh?” You ask, walking up beside him as he finishes washing the last brush.

“You haven’t been to my Home yet.” His half lidded eyes cast towards you.

“No, I suppose I haven’t.” You say. “Odd, considering you’re over here all the time.

Wally chuckles, “Well, would you like to go?”

Before you know it, you’re inside Wally Darling’s house. It’s somehow exactly how you expected it to be. Everything is neat and tidy, carefully placed and well maintained. There’s an old charm to the house, as if it stepped out of the 60’s.

“It’s weird being in here.” You say, wandering through his living room. There’s framed photos on the walls of Wally and his friends. You take the time to examine them.

“Why so?” Wally watches you with warm amusement.

“It just feels so…” You stare at a picture of Barnaby holding Wally in a tight hug. Wally looks like he’s being squished. “Personal.”

Wally laughs, “Well, it is personal.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder as you continue to stare at his pictures.

“No, it’s different.” You tell him. “Somehow it feels like I’m getting a glimpse into your soul.”

There’s a pause.

“Well maybe you are.”

Wally lets go, turning and heading up a set of stairs. “Let me show you my painting room.” You follow after him.

He leads you to a large, beautiful room. With the high ceiling and long window sill big enough to lounge on, the room looks elegant. Coupled with the mass amount of paintings lining the walls and easels of the room, it looks like a modern art gallery.

“Wow, Wally.” You stare at his work, secretly jealous of his technique.

He seems proud of himself. “I think-“

There’s a sudden loud crash from downstairs. You jump.

Whipping your head around, you turn back towards the door. “Did something fall?”

Wally merely frowns. “Yeah. Something fell.” He says, turning his eyes up.

“Oh.” You say. Clearly Wally seems to not be concerned with it, so you won’t be either.

“Why don’t we go back downstairs.” Wally suggests, taking your hand.

The two of you settle down on the couch. You giggle and tease Wally for his old school television. You swear that thing probably is still in black and white.

As you chat, you both slowly inch closer together. It starts with a simple finger brushing at your thigh, then an arm is popped around your neck, and then finally Wally is leaning in and kissing you.

You let yourself be taken by the kiss, planting your hand at the back of his neck and brushing your finger along the base of his soft hair. Wally places his hand on your cheek and you press into it, tilting your head more into the kiss.

Your chest flutters, eyes blinking open for half a second so that you can stare at him. To your surprise, his eyes are already open and watching you. He squints happily at you, smiling into the kiss as he deepens it, tongue pressing further into your mouth.

Wally’s other hand trails down your arm, causing goosebumps all the way. He flicks his tongue against the sensitive roof of your mouth before retreating back.

You feel words pressed against your lips but you can’t hear them. They’re hardly even a whisper, more like he is just mouthing words.

No, he’s repeating something. You try to understand him.

“I love you.”

You blink, pulling away from him.

“I love you too.” You whisper.

Yes, life is great.

Until it isn’t.

_____

Lightning cracks, illuminating the room as you finish up moving some furniture around. You stand with your hands on your hips, staring out at the freshly decorated art room. Finally, the work on your house is all done.

You could hear the wind beat about outside and the hard rain hit your windows. There was something odd about it all, though you couldn't quite put your finger on it. Storms are natural, after all.

Though, there hadn't been a single storm since you moved in.

Walking through the finished halls of your house gives you a sense of accomplishment. Patting the wall, you glance at the clock.

It's nearing time for you to meet up with Wally. The two of you had planned a date out to the pond to feed ducks, though you suppose that the rain ruined those plans.

You near the window, watching the dreary sky. It's midafternoon, but it looks like it's the middle of the night. Your eyes sweep over the neighborhood, making eye contact with Wally's house.

Wait, no, not eye contact. It's a house, it doesn't have eyes.

Still, the lights are on and now you have this odd feeling in your stomach.

As you look back up at the sky, you think the clouds don't look like regular rainclouds. They seem a sickly black color and you remember the forest that Julie had showed you. The dark clouds remind you of the baren land.

Is this a sign it's spreading? The lump in your stomach grows heavier. You feel dumb for forgetting about it.

You glance at the clock again. Perhaps there's enough time to check before Wally arrives. You rush to your mudroom, tugging on your rain coat and rubber boots.

As you trek through the rain, you wonder if you should've just stayed in your house. The wind moves you about, making you stumble over your heavy boots. The rain blows sideways, rendering your raincoat nearly useless as you're soaked anyways.

It's never rained this bad in the neighborhood. Actually, now that you think about it, it's never rained at all in the neighborhood.

Soon enough you reach the edge of the neighborhood, where the rot stretches as far as you can see. You were right, it seems to be spreading. The rot has crept forward, consuming what was once a small woodsy park path.

You stare down at where the sidewalk ends and the forest starts. Why does the sidewalk stop?

Where is the road to lea-

"What are you doing out here?"

You startle, flipping around quickly. Wally stands in his usual attire, his navy hair and knitted overcoat soaked from the rain.

"I just wanted to explore in the rain." You lie. You don't even know why you lie. You trust Wally.

Right?

Wally glances towards the forest, scrunching his brows, "Did somebody tell you something?"

You quickly shake your head, "No, I was just walking around and... I found this." You gesture toward the forest. "What is this, Wally?"

Wally frowns, looking at you, not the forest. "It's been so warm lately, there was a small fire that lit up the grass around here." He looks up. "We really needed this rain."

It's a lie. Your stomach turns in knots. Wally is lying to you. This rot has been here a while. If it had been a fire, new green growth would've sprang up ages ago.

"We should get out of this rain." Wally says, water dripping down his face and arms. "So much for feeding ducks, huh?" He extends his hand.

You take it, though hesitantly. Before, you hadn't suspected that he would be a part of this, but now nothing makes sense.

"Wally, how did you find me out here?" You ask as you walk with him. "We were supposed to meet up at my house."

"Hm?" His eyes cast upwards as he thinks for a moment. "I suppose I just... had a feeling."

This makes you even more wary and you feel bad for it. You love Wally, and yet you're now doubting his motivations. You don't even know how he would have anything to do with the forest's color.

You and Wally arrive back at your house. You grab a towel for him to dry off with and he rubs it over his plush skin.

Plush skin?

You hadn't thought about it before, but isn't that weird? You look at your own hands. You are definitely not plush.

Wally throws the towel over his head, wringing out his hair. You stare at him and the more you look, the more unsettled you get. He has no nose, is that normal? Something in the back of your mind is telling you it isn't.

Wally's intense eyes peek from behind the towel. "Everything okay?"

"Yes." You shake your head, turning away. "I was just watching you."

He gives a lazy smile, eyes relaxing. "Well, I like watching you too."

You give a laugh, "Thanks, Wally."

He stands, walking over and hugging you from behind. Before, it used to feel gentle and safe, but now it feels like entrapment. He nuzzles into your neck, pressing soft kisses.

"What shall we do now that our plans have been ruined?" He smiles, hot breath on your neck.

You pull away from him, "Actually, I'm feeling a little tired. Maybe rain check?"

Wally's face falls, then suddenly lights back up again, "We could nap together-"

"No, no, I mean, I just want to be alone right now." You tell him. "I just... had a rough night's sleep."

Wally stares at you for a long moment, wide eyes peering into your conscience. Finally, he smiles, "Oh, no worries, neighbor." He hands you back your towel. "We'll do something tomorrow when it's less rainy, right?"

"Right." You nod, watching him head to the door.

Wally grasps the doorknob, turning to you at the last second, "Oh, one more thing." He leans towards where you stand in the kitchen doorway. "I wouldn't go exploring in the forest anymore, too many nasty things out there, if you ask me. Wouldn't want anyone getting hurt." He gives a light smile, opening the door and heading out.

You watch him go, hurrying to the window. You keep your eye on him until he is home.

Something is not right in the neighborhood.

You throw your rain attire back on, determined to get to the bottom of this. You take a deep breath, patting the side of your house.

"We got this." You whisper.

As you step outside, you notice that the rain seems to have worsened. You hold onto the hood of your raincoat, pushing past the wind. When you reach the edge of the forest, you don't stop. Instead, you trudge forward into the rot.

It's squishy against your feet, with the occasional odd lump of hardness. Everything is wilted and scorched. You wonder what could possibly be the cause.

As you wonder, you start to really think about the circumstances in the neighborhood. You lift your hand again, staring at it.

Flesh. You have flesh. Not felt or feathers or fur.

How did you move into a neighborhood with such creatures?

No, wait, how did you move into the neighborhood at all?

You bought the house... but you don't remember any real estate agents or documents.

You... you haven't even been working. What have you been doing? You've just been playing around the neighborhood. In fact, nobody in the neighborhood seemed to have jobs.

Your brain feels fuzzy. None of this makes sense.

You're still hiking through the decay, finding nothing of note. That is, until you see green in the distance. You perk up, sprinting forward.

Yes, there is green grass ahead. Whatever the decay is, it isn't very big luckily.

As you get closer, you furrow your brow.

Somehow, you've ended up on the other side of the neighborhood.

How?

You step onto the grass, realizing you've ended up by the post office.

That doesn't make sense. You walked away from the neighborhood, there's no possible way you ended up on the other side of it.

Perhaps you got mixed up. You turn around, jogging through the diseased wood.

This time, you end up near Julie's.

How do you walk away from something and end up back at it?

Walk around the world.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Wally wanted you away from the forest for a reason. This is his world, and you're in it.

You sprint up to Julie's house, pounding on the door. "Julie!" You yell. "Julie!"

You get no answer, so you move over to the window, shielding your eyes against the glass to see inside.

There's no one there.

You tug your raincoat closer to your body, looking up at the ever blackening clouds.

You have to confront Wally.

Back at your house, you prepare to face him. You're not sure what to expect, but you want to be ready for anything. You dig through your belongings, procuring a baseball bat and a box cutter.

Your house whines against the wind, creaking and settling in the powerful storm. You sit for a minute, putting your head in your hands. All this work on your house, all this friendship, and is any of it real? Nothing seems to make sense. Why? Why is any of this happening?

As you leave, you sigh.

"I'll be back."

The wind catches on your house and it whines louder.

When you arrive at Wally's house, you go to knock on the door only to find it already open. You press it open, keeping your guard up as you grip the baseball bat.

"Wally?" Your voice echoes off the walls as you step inside. It seems awfully dark in Wally's house.

Lightning cracks, illuminating the front windows of Wally's house. For a moment, they are eyes, observing you. The lightning then leaves darkness and you hear the front door slam shut. You turn back towards the door, tugging on the doorknob only to find it locked.

"Caught the snitch."

You turn to see Wally illuminated in the darkness, a figure hanging over his head.

It's Julie. She hangs from strings, her limbs twisted and broken. Her jaw hangs unnaturally slack, face bloodied.

"In fact, I caught everybody." More lights irradiate from the darkness, casting large shadows on the wall as they illuminate the bodies of the other neighbors, all in similar states.

Wally walks towards Howdy, "Too much talking lately, really a shame. I wanted to have you willingly."

You stand frozen, hands still on your baseball bat.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He laughs. "Plus, they're fine." He gestures towards the bodies on strings above him. "I just took away their will. Clearly they couldn't be trusted with it on their own." He clicks his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly.

The edges of your eyes crease up. You still don't understand.

"Come, let me explain." He gestures to the couch. You don't move. "Please, sit."

You don't.

Wally looks up. "Home?"

To your amazement, a chair glides over, moving behind you and slamming into your legs, making you tumble down onto it. It slides over to where Wally now sits.

You clutch the edges of the chair in fright.

"That's Home." Wally explains. "Home is... the source of it all. A manifestation of desire, if you will."

You swallow, "It's alive?"

Wally grins. It's wider and realer than any grin you've seen before. "Of course." He crosses one leg over the other. "It's alive just like you and me are alive."

"But you're plush." You tell him.

"I'm built on the desires of thousands of young children across the nation that watched my show." Wally looks nostalgic. "Oh, you were such a dedicated little viewer, you know that?"

"Huh?" Show? What is he talking about.

"You used to sit every night in front of the TV, you know that?" Wally continues. "And you would say, 'Okay, Mr. Wally, show me how to draw!' I taught you everything you know about painting."

... Yes, the show. How could you forget? The theme song starts to play in your head. You loved that show as a kid.

"You loved me so much." Wally sighs. "And I loved you, and then you went away."

"I was an adult." Of course you went away, you couldn't sit around watching TV all day. You had a job, you had a family... your family! How long have you been gone? "I had responsibilities."

"I desired you." Wally looks at you desperately. "You desired a place you belonged! I watched you, how you struggled to fit in, the long hours at work, the family arguments. I made it all go away! You've been so happy-"

"They were struggles, but they were my struggles!" You shout, standing up. "You don't get to decide for me!"

Wally sighs, head falling to the side. "See, this is why I wanted you willingly." He casts his hand up. "Oh well."

You feel tightness tug at your arms. No, it's tugging at your bones. You look, thin wire strings protrude from your arms and spring from your legs, pulling you up towards the ceiling.

"I'll just take away your free will for a while." Wally runs a hand through his dark hair. "Then you'll want to play along."

You can feel the strings scraping against your bones under your skin. You struggle against them, getting yourself tangled in the process.

"What shall we act out first?" Wally stands, pacing around the room. "We did have that pond date-"

You twist, reaching your hand towards your back pocket, where the box cutter is stashed. It's an awkward reach, but you manage to grasp it, pushing it open with your thumb and slashing at your strings. You fall to the floor, grabbing the bat and taking off running for the door.

Wally clicks his tongue, "You were so docile before you knew the truth. I'll have to stamp this disobedience out of you now."

You ram the baseball bat into the door, denting the doorknob until the lock falls apart and you can run out the door.

There's no exit. The forest loops. Surely there must be a way out, right? Where, where...

Wally laughs, "Where are you running to? There's no where to go!"

You don't know, but away from here. You sprint, running towards the only place where you feel safe, your house.

"My little viewer." Wally sounds agitated now. "Enough games. If you come back now, I'll go easy on you."

Over your dead body. You're out of breath by the time you reach your house, slamming the door shut and locking it, back pressed against the door as you pant and Wally begins to bang on the door.

Surely there must be something of use to you. Think, think... where is the exit out of this place?

You hear Wally start to kick down the door. It cracks and starts to splinter with each kick.

One of the neighbors' houses? No, they might've said something.

Wally is stronger than you thought. With a final kick, your door crumbles, swinging open. Wally looks even more deranged now, eyes large and locked on you.

"My dear," he breathes. "Let's be reasonable, come back with me."

He extends his hand. When you don't take it, he frowns, moving forward. He grasps you by your face, fingertips digging bruises into your cheeks as he pulls you closer.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

You press your hands against his chest, trying to push him away. This only angers him more. Wally lifts his hand, readying it to fall down on your face. You close your eyes, preparing yourself for the eventual hit.

It doesn't come.

You open your eyes to see Wally's hand still in the air. Except... there's a string attached to it. Wally's expression has changed from anger to fear, he stares at his arm as another string appears on his opposite arm. You back away from him.

Wally looks at you, "Please, don't-" He reaches for you, only to have his hand yanked away before he can.

It's... your house. It dawns upon you quickly and more strings appear from Wally's skin. He struggles, the strings dragging him.

"Please, please, I can't-"

You look up at your house, reaching and patting the wall. "Take him away."

"Please-"

Wally screams as the strings scratch against his bones, dragging him kicking and screaming towards your basement.

_____

"Oh, I have some drinks in the fridge, let me grab you one!"

You weave your way through the bustling party, dodging Barnaby as he throws grapes in the air and catches them in his mouth and sliding past the way-too-handsy Frank and Eddie.

You're celebrating your finished house, and the party is going spectacularly. Two guests still haven't arrived, but you're not too worried.

You snatch up glass bottles of soda that you bought at Howdy's shop earlier that day and toss one to Sally, who gracefully catches it.

"You've put a lot of work into this place." Howdy says with a smile, leaning on the counter.

You glance over, "Yeah, I couldn't have done it without you guys though, thank you all for your help."

"Oh, you did most of it!" Sally waves her hand.

"It's just what neighbors do." Howdy shrugs.

The doorbell rings and you rush to the door, throwing it open to reveal Julie, holding a small present in her hands.

"Sorry I'm so late, I had to wrap your gift!"

"You didn't have to get me a gift!" You laugh, throwing your arms around her for a big hug. She squeezes you tight before you both pull away from each other.

"No, I really had to." She holds out the gift. "After everything you've done for all of us."

You gently take the wrapped gift as she steps into your house, waving at everybody.

"Hello everybody!" Julie squeals, making her way over to nudge Frank playfully. "And hello, Frank and Eddie!"

Frank turns a deep red, shying away. "It's really nothing-"

Eddie gives a wide smile, gripping Franks hand tighter, "Almost losing all your control makes you confess things."

Julie gives a light smile, "Well, we never have to worry about that again."

You politely set the gift on the counter for later, turning back towards everybody. "Then I propose a toast!"

"We'll need bread for that." Barnaby grins, nudging you playfully. You shake your head with a laugh, gently shoving him away.

Everyone raises their sodas, letting you speak.

"To freedom, to free will, to all of us. It's what lets us choose our paths, chase our dreams, and live life to our own terms. To making our choices, learning from our own mistakes, and creating our victories."

Everyone cheers.

"Most importantly, to you." Julie adds in, pointing her raised glass to you. "You've made this neighborhood a wonderful place."

This makes everyone cheer louder. You bump glasses with everyone, letting Barnaby rub your head affectionately and Sally rope you into a side hug.

"Now open the gift!" Julie claps.

You laugh, grabbing the gift and tearing it open. Sitting inside in a beautiful framed picture of everyone in the neighborhood.

Well, everyone except-

The doorbell rings again, and you politely excuse yourself to answer it.

It's Wally. He looks rough. Dark bags underline his eyes and his usually tidy hair is in disarray. He looks up at your house nervously.

"Oh, hello Wally." You watch him carefully. If you look close enough, you can see the strings buried in his arms and neck.

He holds out flowers, which is nice, you guess. You take them, opening the door for him to come inside. He hesitates, then steps in.

You linger, your eyes following him as he greets everyone else. He got what he wanted, you're stuck here. There's no way out.

You can see his stiff movements, the fish line strings tugging at his skin and bones, uncomfortably present at all times.

"Are you coming?" Julie yells. "Poppy's going to bring out the cake!"

"I'm coming!" You shut the door, rushing over.

It's all okay, because he's trapped too.

126 notes · View notes

urfavblackbimbo · 1 year ago

Text

Heyy y’all this is my first story sooo please be nice🫣I’ve been watching snowfall for the past month and I’m in love with Franklin Saint he is soo sexy I couldn’t stop writing about him, and this is just my version of franklin saint if he had day one type chick you know, this takes place in season one.

Word count: 3.8K words 18+ mdi!

Summary: this OC(Alexia“Lexi”Johnson) and Franklin Saint mostly I'm going to work in everyone on the show, but it will be about them. in this chapter we are getting to know these beautiful people and h how they survive in south central in the crack-cocaine business.

Warning: AFAB reader, n-word usage, cursing, grinding, dry humping, fingering, eating out, blowjob, over the pants handsy. I think that is all of it. (Franklin is 19 and reader is 19)

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“Hey momma, you think I could go out to the skating rink to to hang out with some of my friends?” as you stand here nervously waiting for her to say yes she’s just staring at the television mindlessly watching Good times “mhmm and whose is going to be there?’’ looking up at you waiting for your answer and not even realizing you were picking at your necklace that Franklin gave you over last summer it’s was a gold necklace butterfly pendant with a green dots eyes and when you asked him where the hell did he get all this money for the necklace, he just tells her “I’m just runnin’ a business, aight.” and being every confused on what he meant you just decided to leave it alone and walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck standing on your toes and kissed him on the cheek “thank you for this Frankie, I really appreciate it.” feeling his arms wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you closer and bringing you tighter “of course Lexi.”

Your momma starts coughin’ to cutting into you train of thought and looking up at you, waiting for your answer “well it’s gonna be me, kevin, leon and uhh franklin” you say nervously and coming with a quick lie “and melody with be there as well” actually you didn’t know if melody was working today hopefully she wasn’t ,she just made the excuse she so she can leave and see her friends “I don’t like you hangin’ around them boys Lexi the neighborhood is talking about them” “O my goodness momma I just want to hang out with my friends! That’s it!” “HEY ALEXIA I just don’t want you to be in their shit 'cause look at your father he was in the game as well and look where he AT!!” slamming her hand down on the light brown coffee table as she yelled, it shook the table so hard that all of her cigarettes buds fell all over the yellow ugly shag carpet that they have, huffing out a sigh you walked to the carpet picking up all of the buds on the ground you’re mom tapping her foot away she looking of into the distance you look you at her to say “momma I just want to hang out with friends. please?” as you rise to walk into the kitchen throwing all of her buds in the trash.

“Okay you can go to the rink, but can you get me a pack of smokes for me baby, just go around the corner at Cho’s for me.” “okay momma I will.” turning your back to go in to your room to grab you purse your mother stops you “ a-and make sure you clean you room as well looks like bull ran through a china shop in there!” you rolled eyes as to walking in to your room ,stuffing all your clothes into your closet and making up you bed quickly, you take a quick look around your room satisfied enough to your mom thinking that it’s clean.

Your momma hands you a crispy twenty dollar bill “you can keep the change in case you want to get something at the rink." her smiling sweetly at you “thanks momma I’ll be back with your smokes and then I’ll leave.” you kissed her on her cheek saying your goodbyes as you were about to walk out when your mom grabs your wrist to stop you “look baby I know they are your friends but they are not just selling dope, it’s much more than that okay I just don’t want you to get hurt is all." you replied "I know momma ill be back, I promise."

As you walked around the block you hear arguing “nigga you know that the bitches loooove me why do think that the always pagin’ me -oh this is one of my bitches right now hold on.” you hear some running towards you “oh Lexi how have you have been?” You look up to see kevin “hi kevin hear one of your bitches is calling you,the pay phone is just around the corner.” You see Kevin looking down at the ground,almost starting to see him to blush “oh yeah I didn’t known you heard all that.” you put your hand on his shoulder “ it’s okay kevin I know it was your momma. You’re secret is safe with me.” you giggle with your teeth glowing and your eyes pulling down to look at his pager and looking to see if it was his momma and your were in shock that you didn’t recognize the number on the screen, hearing kevin sighed he hears his page go off again he starts to walk to towards the pay phone “bye lexi see you later -aye I’m still gonna see you at roller rink right?!” “Yeah, I’ll be there.” as you see kevin walking away he turns “cool.”

You turn the corner to see a a short king with a beautiful crown on his head “aye what’s up leon is that one of your bitches pagin’ you too?” you see Leon pull his into a smirk and then to smile “uhh naw actually I’m tryin to get this paper, I was going to pick up from this plug I know.” your mother’s words started to bounce around in your head “it’s much more than that.” what was she tryin to say because you know the only thing more addicting than weed would be cocaine, what could be more addicting than that? Leon puts his hand out to dab you up, you grin at leon to put you hand out as well and you do your handshake since the same one that y’all knowin for years, you both snap your fingers at the same time, you push leon away from the door “aight nigga I’ll see you later at the rink and you ready to get your skate on.” you doin a little dance in front of the door, giving franklin a front row seat to see you dancing “yeah right lexi you don’t know how to skate with the two left feet that you got.” flipping him off while you continue your dancing you do spin around to have you back to be facing the door you start bend you knees to start twerking, shaking your ass up against the door.

Franklin is just standing there staring at the glass door,he couldn’t believe to see lexi,his Alexia to be gyrating like that he’s never seen her move like that before, something sparked in his eyes, he felt his stomach to grow warm spreading down to his dick starting to feeling it to grow more and more “shit” looking down to see his sporting a chub on him now before he can move he hears the door bell ringing.

“Oh hey Frankie what’cha doin down there?” you labored breaths flowing through your body, looking down at franklin to see him looking at the merchandise fixing the potatoes chips even though there all right side up, looking over his shoulder “sup lexi I didn’t even hear you comin’?” looking at franklin slowly standing up to his full height to look at her. Their stares were longing, franklin had a little fro goin’ on with his red and white baseball shirt and his khakis, making his chocolate skin just mhmm, bringing you eyes lower looking at his khakis to see that he has a wet spot on the side of his pants, you gasp, turning your head so fast to the gum ball machine at the corner of the store, digging in your pocket to find loose change.

It was quiet, you accidentally drop a quarter on the floor it startling them both franklin ran to the bathroom to clean up his pants, closing and locking the door "fucckk" grabbing the papertowels to wipe everything off of him then the thoughts were coming back to him, the way lexi was moving her body it was incredible he couldn't believe that the same shy little girl that lived two house down from him when they first met, for her to be moving her ass like that, franklin hears his name being called "frankiee?”

Hearing the toilet flush you turn your head, seeing franklin coming outta the bathroom looking nervous, his eyes were looking everywhere but on you, trying not to make things awkward you spark up the conversation "so, are you still comin' the rink with me, leon, and kevin?" "hell yeah I'll be there but after my shift I was gonna go home and change my clothes I smell like sweat." you stiffen you laugh "yeah me too my back is already sweating just from my house -oh can I get a pack of camels?" "l've never token you to be a smoker lexi?" as he is ringing you up, you bust out laughing to the point where her stomach was hurting, the giggle fades out of you, you grab your purse to take your money out, franklin exchange to give your exact change back. saying your see you later's you run back to your house so can give your momma her cigs and get pretty for the rink.

You look at yourself in the mirror, your afro is pick out in a perfect circle, your makeup has a little shimmer in the corner of your eyes to make them pop, winged liner, and glossy lips. You put on your necklace on you, ‘bitch you look sooo good’ saying to yourself, top was dark red halter top and booty shorts to show off your thick and smooth legs, you put on your chucks on and walk out your room, before you leave you put a note on the coffee table ‘hey mom I left your cigs on the table, I’m going to the rink I love you. love,alexia’ you locked up your house to walk towards the rink, you see Mr.Wright sitting on his porch chair reading the newspaper, you wave at him smiley like he waves back then looking back at the newspaper.

You walk inside the rink to look for your friends, you hear someone calling your name, “AYE LEXI!” fully turning your body to see your friends, sitting on a bench putting on their skates “hey y’all, I still need to get me some skates actually I’ll be back” walking towards skate rack “hey I’ll come with you.” you see franklin almost losing his balance with the skates he had on, leon and kevin were laughing at franklin, at his demise”aye how was that trip nigga?” coming from the both of them, regaining his balance he flips them off “aye fuck y’all.” laughing at the same time.

You walk up to see melody working at the rack 'fuck' you thought to yourself, you see melody helping a customer giving her skates and grabbing her shoes and leaving, you walk up to the front and say your hello’s “hey melody, workin’hard?” “hey lexi, and no it’s pretty boring right now I might have to come out there and show y’all a thing or two.” while looking at franklin smirking, you weren’t blind to know that there is something between Franklin and melody, but that didn’t stop you to shut that shit down “well maybe, frankie here is going to be my skate partner today, maybe another time?” “okay.” while looking up and down at you, you grab your skates to go sit down, franklin is following you like a lost puppy, lacing up your skates, rolling into the rink.

In the corner of your eyes you see kevin mackin’ to some girl by the snack bar and Leon is skating by himself, slowly approaching behind him to scare him, you smack his shoulder, leon falls backwards on his ass “FUCK! LEXI YOU PLAYIN’ TOO MUCH!” “oh come on lee I’m just fuckin’ with you.” rolling backwards “yea-yeah aye check out our boy he looks like his the one with the two left feet” looking up to see franklin holding on to the rail slowly moving so he won’t get hit “hey I’ll be back,you good?” “yeah nigga I’m good.’’ you leave leon to skate up to franklin, looking at him, he’s wearing a dark green shirt with some black jeans, wrapping your hands his waist slowly pushing him forward “ay-aye stop it.” looking stern at you, spinning around rolling backwards, holding you hand out “come on, frankie skate with me?” you pout your lips, franklin let’s go of the rail to follow her with both of their hands interlocking.

The lights were changing into multicolored lights of pink, blue, red,and green colors were flashing everywhere with a disco ball shimmering the rink, lexi still holding franklin, the dj turns on the mic ‘alright y’all we gonna slow it down lil’bit for all the couples out there’ switching the song to Fire and Desire by the one and only Rick James, slowly stoping your skates turning to franklin “hey I think I’m gonna hoop off.” franklin looking confused “no don’t go, I still want to skate with you.”

You reluctantly nod your head and continue to skate, spinning your body around having your back towards him, franklin comes up behind you, putting his hands around your waist, you feel his breath on your neck, kissing up your throat he pulls you up to the corner of the rink, stopping right in front of you, and you look at him like really looking at him, staring into his brown eyes, those eyes that can tell a story in a matter of minutes, those full lips they look so soft you wonder how they would feel on other parts of your body, franklin stops your train of thought “aight gonna be honest with you.” you shook head nervously “come on let’s go sit down so we can talk.”

You both walk to the furthest table which was a slightly unlit area, with the music playing softly, both of you sitting across each other, franklin grabs your hands his thumb rubbing the spot between your thumb and your pointer finger, he takes a breather to tell you what’s on his mind, but you beat him to the punch “frankie whatever you have to tell me, it will be okay, we can still be friends okay.” “that’s just the thing Alexia, I just don’t want to be just friends.” “What do you mean?” you slowly put your head down, feeling disappointed, this is it he doesn’t want you, he wants melody “I-l want y-you to be my girlfriend.” Realizing what he said. “what?” franklin leaning backwards to get a look at her glittering eyes “yeah I want you to be my girlfriend.” still trying to process on what he said “o-okay.” franklin has a toothy grin spreading across his lips, he leans over to grab your face to bring you in, but he stops just a few inches away from your lips, looking into her “Alexia,will be my girlfriend?” Asking for reassurance one more time you nod your head.

You push face forward, finally felling his soft and luscious lips on you, you couldn’t stop even if you wanted to you couldn’t, slipping his tongue in your mouth, you moan “o-oh god.” biting your lip but you stop “wait.” franklin looks frazzled, you put his hand on his chest “as much I love kissing you I don’t like eyes staring at us, come on.” franklin turns around confused to see melody was gawking from the rack area, seeing the entire thing happening right in front of her. You stand up to pull franklin with you, walking towards melody in hand, taking your shoes back and giving her the skates franklin does the same thing, melody looks up at the both of you, trying to say the words that was on her mind Franklin just comes out to tell her "Melody, we can’t see each other anymore. I’m with alexia now so whatever we had it’s over now, you have a good night.’’ As you both walk out outside feeling the cool california breeze on your body franklin is pulling you towards a Honda motorcycle, feeling confused, you stop "frankie is that yours?" he turns around with a grin on his face “yeah come on." he pulls you close to the bike, taking out his keys and revving up the engine "hop’ on I’ll take you home." you get on behind him, closing in on him wrapping your arms around his strong stomach, laying your head on his back smelling his cologne, sand wool, honey, and lavender. Slowly cruising off back to your house.

Franklin pulls into his driveway shutting off the engine, you jumped off, franklin puts his arm over your shoulder giving you a forehead kiss, bring his lips lower to kiss your eyes, temple, nose and finally your lips, and not having any distractions to stop you, putting your tongue in his mouth, franklin put his hands on your hips to bring you in tighter fully wrapping you in his arms, you feel his large hands gripping your ass, massaging it, you feel yourself being push to a wall, franklin puts one of his legs in between of yours, you start grinding feeling yourself getting wet "god baby you feel what you do to me?" you moan in his mouth “ughh’’ he grabs your hand to place it right it on his dick, it’s big like really big. Moving your hand up and down, gripping the sides of him, franklin puts his head back, pushing his hips forward getting satisfaction, he groans "fuck babygirl you really workin’ me?" licking his lips to kiss him again, he keeps moaning in your mouth like you're inhaling it "fuck baby I can’t take I need to nut, can you make me nut baby?"

You unlock the front door your house, pulling your finger to your lips to insinuate that your momma was sleeping, closing your room and locking the door, seeing franklin sitting in your bed, you get on your hands and knees slowly crawling to him, once your got close to him you lift yourself to your knees, rubbing his thighs, fingers grazing over his zipper, but franklin stops you “you don’t have to do this is if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended" you nodded, looking deeply into his eyes "I know franklin, but I want to. I want to make you cum." You kiss one more time before you take off his pants with his underwear, once you pull them down, you rise up to look at it. "O my god. You’re really big frankie. I don’t think that will fit." You were being truthful, you really think it’s not going to fit in your mouth it’s too wide with few veins all around it, precum was leaking out of his tip, you bring lips to the shaft kissing under, sides, even licking his balls. Finally, your tongue licking up the precum off, pushing further down breathing through your nose so you can take more "fuck baby you’re makin’ me feel soo good, yeah you like that shit. Huh?’’ Not saying anything just nodding, looking into his eyes "fuckfuckfuck, I’m gonna nut babygirl. You ready baby?’’ sucking faster to bring him to climax, moaning with a closed mouth, skyrocketed franklin climax "yeahyeah fuck take it. Take all of it baby.Take this nut." Tasting salty cum with some sweet in it, you need more it, you need something to relief you after that.

Franklin pushes down on the bed, kissing up your thighs, putting his hands on the back of your legs lifting them on his shoulders, he starts inhaling your scent "mhmm baby, you smell good I bet you taste even better." Closing your legs tighter "I’m nervous frankie." He looks up "what’cha you got to be nervous for it’s just me.’’ putting on that beautiful smile of his "exactly frankie I have every reason to be nervous I’ve never done this before, like someone going down on me." He relaxed his face " we don’t have to do this is for you don’t want to. Okay." looking at his lips remembering how they felt on yours, wanting to know how they felt on your lower lips, you kissed him "I’m ready frankie." franklin not looking so convinced "are you sure." "Yes, Franklin I am."

Kissing your thighs on each side, spreading them further so he can get a better look at your pussy, "god baby, look at you it’s soo wet and juicy, is this for me baby?’’ getting closer to your pussy, feeling his breath on you "yes baby it’s all for you, you made me this wet fuck." he dips down licking all of your sweetness "ooh ughh" his lips are licking all over you, he stuck his tongue your hole back, forth, back, forth your thighs are shaking sweat rolling into your hair line, his takes tongue up to your clit, sucking slowly, hard, fast like if he was conducting you or something. You feel fingers touching your pussy slowly rubbing your hole “can I put a finger inside of babygirl." You moaned out "yesss please frankie I need it." Franklin slowly moving his finger in while sucking your clit "fuck baby I was right you do taste better. Come on nut on my fingers baby. Pleases" franklin slips another finger in you making feel so full right now "you better fuckin’ nut right now, o-oh yeah I feel you squeezing so tight, look at me baby, that’s right fuckin’ take it." Raising on your elbows to see Franklin hovering over you, he puts a hand of your mouth so you wouldn’t be heard. Moving his hand faster, feeling like hot water before hitting a boiling point, eyes rolling backs, your legs were shaking, you're moaning inside of franklin hand, feeling your climax washing over you, you never wanted to leave this place, even though franklin does.

You watch franklin put on his underwear smirking at you, you tell him "You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever met." He walks up to "oh am I?’ You nod your head in agreement "yes. you. are." kissing with every word "lucky for me I’m with the most beautiful. gorgeous. sexy woman ever" you look at him with puppy dog eyes "you really mean that baby." Franklin kisses you one more time before leaving "of course I am baby. You are mine and I am yours. Forever." He slips out of your window, looks at you again "aight baby I gotta go but I’ll see you later." You pull him towards the window to kiss him "I had a great time frankie, not just the rink, also the other stuff too." feeling the shyness creeping up on you, franklin kisses your hand "me too lexi me too." You hear shuffling coming around the house, waving bye to franklin, closing the blinds, changing into your pajamas, slowly unlocking the door. As you lay there remembering of what just happen. One thing is for sure nothing is going to stop you from being with Franklin Saint. Not now. Not ever.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

HOLY FUCKING SHIT I still can't believe i just finish my first storyy!!! YAAASSSSS BITCHHHH i thought i would never finish this story but im glad i did and also i wrote alitte smut, i was listening calling on you by jon b and something came over me i could help myself, but THANK YOU SOOO MUCH IF YOU READ THIS, yall let me know how i did. love yall, love nazzy ;)

#franklin saint #snowfall #snowfall fanfic #snowfall fx #leon snowfall #franklin saint fanfic #franklin saint x reader #snowfall fluff #snowfall smut #damson idris

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benjaminthewolf · 10 months ago

Text

Internal Glow (Vore Story)

HAPPY VORE DAY!

I'm probably not coming back because I'm moving into my college dorms in a little over a week and then it's back to school. But I am here with you now to celebrate this special day!

I can't wait to see all your interpretations of this piece!

The feral, beastly winds of the winter sink a snap of icy fangs into the twitching fingers of your tiny body whilst you grasp, in rigid agony, the curved surface of the screw’s head. A surface caked wholly in a layer of snow and ice, searing the stinging burn of their bitter frigidity deep into the skin of your palm, and down your forearm.

Forcing an acceptance of the pain’s presence in order to wrench the frozen screw counterclockwise, you close your eyes and grunt whilst gathering your remaining energy into the tingling forearm. The screw makes a sort of metallic scraping sound as it grinds around within its socket.

Reality roars into both your numbed, solid ears, while flurries of snow-and-ice-packed winds surge onto your being from the left. As if intent on hauling you up and among them, carrying your defeated, spasming form to the drift it would settle to die.

You yank out the now sufficiently loosened screw, and drop it into the snow where it would meet with its three companions. The cover of the air duct clangs to the ground, the tunnel now open to you.

You’re instantly pushed by your instincts to shove your quivering body inside, causing the external screams of the wind to give way to the jolt of an internal, tightening warmth.

***

Cautiously sliding your hand sideways through the leftmost slit of this new air duct cover, which stood between you and the house’s interior, your still chilled, yet better dexterous fingers tap their tips onto the screw head. The final one to unscrew, no less. You extend your arm further past the cover, in order to firmly grasp the metallic hemisphere. Twisting your wrist counterclockwise, you can feel the screw rising out of place, before pulling it out the remainder of the way. Finally, the screw falls to the carpet, and you slide your arm and hand back through the slit.

This duct cover makes a far softer landing onto the dark purple shag carpet, before you enter at last into the room.

It appears to be space and alien themed, with a color palette of dark purple, black, and bright green. The blanket on the bed, and many posters on the walls, contain the classic symbol of an alien head: bright green, and guitar-pick shaped, with black, almond-shaped eyes.

You take a few steps forwards, pondering as to what, exactly, you’re going to do now.

*THWACK*

“Wh-ah-.....” the owner of the room stammers in sudden bewilderment, standing in front of the newly wide open door. You know he’s the owner, as the very same alien symbol is present on his black t-shirt.

As the stand-off continues, you take the opportunity to vehemently scrutinize the man’s appearance, as to add him to your records of the people you have encountered over the years.

A purple striped long-sleeved shirt lies underneath his black t-shirt, and he wears a pair of glasses with purple rims and red lenses. His skin is pure white, his teeth are sharp and jagged; and his upwards pointing, somewhat spiky, jet-black hair has hot pink dyed tips.

His yellow eyes with black sclera narrow in building rage.

Your body stands unable to respond.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?”

Your eyes dart around in their sockets, searching vigorously for a good place to hide. In doing so, you note the sign taped onto the now-visible front of the door, telling you that, whoever this man is, his name is, (or at least he calls himself), “MJ 182”.

“YOU…YOU! No. Nah. You know what?”

MJ 182’s abrupt drop in volume sends a jostle of terror through your nerves.

“GET’CH’YO ASS OVER HERE YOU PUNY LITTLE SHIT!”

And thus, your body chooses flight.

Jerking down onto all fours, your limbs propel you past MJ 182 and into the white carpeted hallway, following the sprinting motions of a wild mouse. Thrusting your arms outwards as your legs finish launching you forth, the slight amount of airtime you experience gives you the moments you need to haul your arms back towards your chest.

“HEY! GET BACK HERE!”

You sense MJ 182 calling out behind you before heavy, rushing footsteps pound out the door. With them progressively gaining volume as time continues, it then becomes apparent that running away is no longer an option.

Heaving your head upwards, your peripheral vision examines the states of the wooden doors on both sides of you. A slight crack in one door on the left lurches your attention to it, dragging your form behind as a result.

Skidding to a halt on the dark red striped carpet once hidden behind the door’s shape, you soon hear MJ 182 sprinting past. Thus, you spend a few seconds hunched over, hands on your knees, simply catching your breath. Until the door creaks open and a looming shadow shrouds your field of view.

Your body chooses freeze, and you find yourself unable to breathe. A pure white hand wraps its fingers around you to hoist you up off the floor. Your being gives a spasm as you brace to meet MJ 182’s furious, poignant face.

A face bearing a tender, sympathetic gaze meets your frail form instead.

“...who are you?” the face asks, with a smooth, soft, and gentle tone of voice.

“...why are you so cold?” it continues, with discernible rising concern.

The face bears a pair of round, pink glasses, and a large purple hat with two long strips of cloth at each side. Two yellow strings dangle at the end of each strip, and atop the hat are two yellow horns. A light blue stripe lies upon the hat’s brim, under which hangs strands of jet-black hair.

“Hey…I’m KC Glow.” The man eventually introduces himself. His other hand, retreated inside the long sleeve of his dark red striped hoodie-sweater which he wore backwards, rises up to give you a cautious stroke. “You were probably caught out in the winter storm…here, I’ll try to warm you up.”

With that, KC Glow begins blowing humid air onto you from his dark purple mouth, before his sweater-covered palm delicately rubs itself over your body. With each huff, the steamy mist sinks deeper into your skin, ensconcing you within its breadth.

A wavering exhale shivers out of your lungs, the tension in your muscles releasing.

“KC GLOW? DID YOU SEE ANYTHING ENTER YOUR ROOM?”

In the following moments, KC Glow’s instincts take over. With his eyes and sense of time both dilating in tandem, the palm that holds your being flies forwards, flinging you en route to his widened mouth. The instant a heavy weight lands on his tongue, his jaws click together.

Suddenly, you are consciously aware of your situation. Gazing silently upon the rough ridges on KC Glow’s hard palate, while sprawled out on your back in immobilizing shock, you eventually turn your head to the right. Resting it upon the heated, squishy, dark purple tongue, you start becoming more attentive to the natural heat within the fleshy chamber. A voice then calls from outside.

“KC GLOW?” MJ 182’s voice, lowered in both volume and intensity, repeats the man’s name. The door squeaks open as he enters the room.

“Uh…eauh…no…I didt ee aythin…” KC Glow stammers in response, doing his best to not move his tongue or open his lips significantly.

You press your back deep into the warm, pillowy muscle.

“...what?” MJ 182 responds with genuine confusion.

KC Glow’s jaws internally stretch as far as they can before his tongue swings to the right, dropping you into his right cheek. The slick, malleable pocket of dark purple muscle bulges outwards. KC Glow immediately attempts to suck in his cheek as close to his jaws as is comfortable for you.

“I said I didn’t see anything!”

You attempt to stand up as straight as possible in the curved pouch, your feet stabilizing you against KC Glow’s lower gum line.

MJ 182 raises an eyebrow just slightly. The sudden enlargement of the cheek hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. “Hey, what’s that in your cheek?”

“What?” KC Glow asks in palpable discomfort.

“Yeah, I saw that happen!” MJ 182’s voice raises in a subtle, accusatory tone. “What was that?”

“...........air.”

MJ 182’s eyebrows drop to his narrowed eyes. “Really, now?”

With MJ 182 making his suspicions very obvious, reality slugs you in the face. You won’t be able to hide in here for much longer. The second KC Glow’s mouth was pried opened, it would be all over, probably for the both of you.

Left with literally no other option, your eyes begin to shift towards KC Glow’s dark purple pharynx.

“Say aaaaah.”

Thus, it became your turn for time to dilate around you.

Crouching down and leaping through the gap between KC Glow’s jaws, your body rebounds upon the springy, sleek surface of the tongue. Swiveling around midair towards the back of KC Glow’s throat, the subsequent bounce launches your momentum forwards, resulting in a collision with the man’s bulbous, dangling, dark purple uvula. Gravity drags you to the ground near the root of the tongue, the uvula swinging frantically above you, where you’re able to gaze into KC Glow’s laryngopharynx below. The front of your face can just barely detect the short, heavy breaths heaving in and out the man’s lungs through his larynx. His vocal cords almost appear tightened from inability to respond to MJ 182.

Shoving your arms up underneath your chest, you push the weight of your being forwards, and watch as the epiglottis flops over the laryngeal inlet whilst the pharyngeal constrictor muscles slip you past the upper esophageal sphincter.

And then, everything was over.

“Come on, buddy. Open up. You don’t have anything to hide in there, do you?”

“No!”

“Then open up!”

That's when KC Glow became aware that you’re no longer inside his mouth. Yet, with his top priority at the moment being getting MJ 182 off his case, he opens it up. Any and all thoughts and emotions about this fact would have to wait until later.

MJ 182 shoves his face right up to the thing, to find… nothing. Eyes narrowing in instantaneous disbelief, he steps back to angle his view towards KC Glow’s left cheek pouch. Empty. Then his right cheek pouch. Empty as well.

“Push your tongue all the way out.” he orders.

KC Glow obliges.

Glaring zealously down at KC Glow’s pharynx, his tonsils, larynx, and epiglottis all on full display, MJ 182 spends twenty-three seconds strenuously examining the area. Only to come up empty, again.

Steadily pulling back his mellowed, yet flabbergasted face, he merely stands still for a few seconds, dumbfounded to his very core.

“Dang. I…guess I was wrong.”

Within the resulting silence, KC Glow detects something relatively large and bulky squelching its way down his esophagus.

“I uh…wow. Sorry about that, man.” MJ 182 continues. Realizing seconds later that KC Glow is still in shock from the whole situation, he turns towards the door, instead of waiting for a response. “I’m just gonna leave you alone now.” he concludes before turning the doorknob, walking out, and closing the door behind him.

Halfway down KC Glow’s esophagus, you realize you are finally safe.

Your body huffs out a shudder whilst the esophageal muscles behind you contract. The muscles in front of you simultaneously relax, squeezing you further down towards KC Glow’s stomach.

And yet, that fact doesn’t scare you at all.

Why would it?

KC Glow on the outside, meanwhile, finally processes the situation.

“Uh………are you ok in there?” he pulls himself together sufficiently enough to ask.

It’s a little difficult to hear him since you’ve slipped into his chest region by now, causing his heart rate to boom through your form, but you nonetheless attempt to assure him that you feel perfectly safe at the moment.

“Great! Should I get you out now?” There is a rising undertone of panic present in his voice.

In an effort to quench this panic, you assure KC Glow with full confidence that you’re going to be perfectly fine.

The instant your words hit KC Glow’s brain, he jostles in a horrified stun, his brain crackling and staggering in error as it fails to process your words. His nervous system frazzles with confusion and uncertainty. Instinct, intuition, and rationality all come to the same consensus. He inhales a labored breath in an attempt to say something about the danger you’re in, semi-voluntarily lifting a finger as he does. Only to realize after that he has absolutely no idea what to say. Or how to say it.

Deep inside KC Glow’s dark purple esophagus, a subtle grin of comfort forms on your face as you soak in the tactile sensation of the cushiony esophageal walls which squeeze in against your being before releasing. The rhythmic squelching presses the walls’ natural heat and glossy texture against your skin. Though of course, you know it’s only a matter of time before the esophagus would drop you to your ultimate destination.

A deep, echoey gurgle releases somewhere below you, and you give a nod of acknowledgment that that time is soon approaching.

KC Glow, meanwhile, remains locked in incapacity to wrap his head around your current behavior. Your profound, unwavering confidence in your safety. Any possible logic, any possible interpretation, anything that would make it all make sense. He simply can’t find it.

“But…how?! How are you so sure you’ll be ok?!” he eventually yelps out, the tension and worry even stronger in his voice. He sits himself down upon the edge of his light red blanketed bed, just in case his sense of balance fails him.

You almost feel sorry that KC Glow doesn’t know. But you know. You always know. Unable to provide him the full answer, you simply insist he trust you on this.

KC Glow senses a twinge in his heart. For a while, the muscle beats at allegro. His vocal cords quiver with well foreseen inarticulacy. What to do in this situation is something entirely lost to him.

Eventually, however, he resigns himself to silence as he scoots himself into the wall which his bed lies against. He places a sweater-covered hand over his abdominal region, and braces himself for the worst. His heart settles back to moderato.

Grounded upon this slow, steady tempo, the low-tone stomach below provides a rumbling melody. Improvised solos of growls and gurgles periodically interject. Occasionally, a high-pitched note is reached, before the peak gives way to the valley once more.

At last, the lower esophageal sphincter enters your view. The instant your head is squeezed out, you can see that KC Glow’s stomach walls, like the rest of his digestive system, are colored dark purple. Finally, the rest of your body slips beyond the esophagus, and you plunge into the juices below.

KC Glow convulses as he senses the resulting splash. His stomach begins sloshing and churning more actively, and gives an audible growl from the outside.

“I-” KC Glow’s eyes begin to well up as the reality of the situation fully kicks in. “I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE! ARE YOU ALIVE?” tears begin to stream down his cheeks as the prospect of receiving no answer ruthlessly overwhelms his mind and senses.

“Yeah I’m alive!” you respond.

Why wouldn’t you be?

Standing within the pool of harmless stomach juices, you begin to wade your way over to the stomach walls.

“B-But aren’t you questioning why the liquids aren’t digesting you? ‘Cause I am! Why is it not digesting you? How-how is this working? WHY? HOW?” KC Glow cries with a strained, shaky voice.

Sealed within KC Glow’s stomach, you are only able to shrug your shoulders.

You knew how it worked. You just never questioned why it worked. Why would you question it? What would the point even be?

You tell KC Glow that there’s no point in questioning it, as you lie yourself down against the squishy, cushiony walls.

“.....so you’re going to be ok?” a wholly defeated KC Glow squeaks out.

Snuggling up against the goopy, churning walls of his stomach, you assure KC Glow that you’re both perfectly fine, and extremely comfortable.

You nuzzle your head into the warm, pillowy, shifting smooth muscles, before rubbing them over with your hands, hoping this will help him calm down.

“...I don’t understand how you can just…accept it. Even if you don’t get hurt.” KC Glow speaks up again. “Don’t you want to know why, and how this is happening? This goes against…everything we know, and you act like it’s completely normal! Like everyone knows that, how, and why this works! You should be getting scientists to do a case study on you! You could be famous! You could take partial credit for any scientific advances that happen from the scientific community understanding what’s happening right now!”

With the gurgles echoing around your ears, and the stomach’s internal heat ensconcing your skin, you attempt to dissapear into the surrounding ambiance.

“I was terrified for your life, and you acted like you expected me to act the same as you! Don’t you understand how-” KC Glow’s speech halts.

“No…no…that’s enough from me. That’s more than enough.” you can sense deep regret in his voice.

“Please forget I said anything at all! You just wanted to get comfortable after getting through a life-or-death situation, and now I’m just…” a silent, steady flow of tears trickles from KC Glow’s tear ducts and onto the body of his sweater over his abdominal region. He places his two sweater-sleeve covered hands on top of the area.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry!” he sobs audibly before his head falls straight into his chest. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! It wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

Sinking deeper into KC Glow’s rumbling, cushiony stomach walls, you ponder what you could possibly say to make the poor man feel better.

35 notes · View notes

essie-essex · 3 months ago

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Asha's Embrace, part 3

This is the final part of Asha's Embrace. After this, I'm skipping ahead to her trial with some VTMB flashbacks. Then, I'll finally get back to the Vineland Chantry story, and I'm planning on writing another one with a more "current" Asha that takes place about 200 years in the future.

Anyway, in part 3 of Asha's Embrace, Asha goes shopping...

Asha had seen her share of shitty apartments, but this one took the cake.

There was a hole in the floor. A hole. In the floor. A large hole. Covered by three sheets of old plywood. Other highlights of the “haven” granted to Asha, courtesy of the Camarilla, were a stained mattress, a filthy brown shag carpet, a tattered rug, a rotting pizza left on the counter (with cockroaches!), a moldy shower, and, for some reason, a crooked poster for the band Lacuna Coil. The unfinished ceiling above came equipped with a single bare light bulb.

How was she supposed to live here? Asha hoped that whatever task she had to do was easy enough so that she wouldn't have to stay long. Eyeing a desk on the far side of the studio apartment, she realized that several notes had been left for her. That meant that someone had been here, and still, they never bothered to at least get rid of the old pizza sitting on the kitchen counter. She wondered who had lived here before it became a vampire haven. It was as though they had just left one night and never come back. She didn't blame them.

A sense of loneliness and fear welled up from within her, but she pushed it back down. She had to prove herself so that she could return to downtown LA. So she could finally go to the chantry and see Strauss.

Asha picked up each note on the desk, reading through them all one by one. The first note gave her a password to the laptop, also sitting on the desk. One mentioned that one hundred dollars had been left for her in a drawer, along with blood packs in the fridge. Strauss had written her some sort of cryptic poem, scrawled on a fancy monogrammed card, which she had no idea what to do with. She nearly threw it on the ground in frustration. He couldn't have said anything a bit more helpful? She set the card aside, resisting the urge to rip it to pieces.

Beside the desk was a cardboard box filled with rumpled clothes. Asha dug through it, noting that they looked like they came from some sort of lost and found with their variety of sizes, styles, and... smells. There wasn't much there that she could wear, as it was mostly men's clothes that were too large for her, but she did find another t-shirt. The gray shirt she had been wearing was ruined, due to the hole in the chest, so she switched it out for the “new” shirt, which only slightly smelled of sweat. It was all black with the words “Liquid Demon Seed: Slobber it DOWN!!” written on the front, along with an inverted pentacle. She had never heard of it. She figured it must be a local brand. She donned her jacket, covering up a good portion of the words and logo with a pull of the zipper.

Rummaging through the rusty green desk, she located the hundred dollar bill, pocketing it, and felt around for a pen and paper. Luckily, she found a notepad with a few sheets of paper left on it, and a dull pencil. There were a few things she needed to buy. Titling her list “Shit I need to buy,” Asha wrote down all the items she would need to be able to live at least somewhat comfortably.

bra

panties

socks

sheets for bed

shower all-purpose cleaner

hair stuff / bonnet

shower cap

toothbrush / toothpaste (she wasn't going to stop brushing her teeth just because she was dead. Too bad they didn't make blood-flavored toothpaste) / floss

soap

deodorant? (she had no idea if vampires had B.O.)

towels / loofah

lotion

lip balm

clothes!!

laundry detergent

hamper

purse / bag

watch -> so I can actually know what time it is

Regrettably, Asha thought, looking down at the ugly yellow rain boots she still wore, she wouldn't be able to afford new shoes. She doubted she would be able to afford everything on her list.

Asha knew that she needed to visit Mercurio to find out what task had been assigned to her by the Prince, but it had been a long night already, and she really needed the items on her list.

So first, errands.

The pawnshop below her apartment building seemed like the best place to start. A neon sign in one of its windows advertised that it was open 24 hours a day. She entered the shop, activating a buzzing bell that rang when she opened the door.

Asha had never actually been inside a pawnshop before, but it looked just about the same as they looked in television and movies. It was essentially a store full of old junk. A glass counter circled the room, displaying various items. Asha scanned her eyes over their contents, noting televisions, computers, a coffee maker, a candelabra, plates, an antique clock, an old-fashioned camera, vases, various pieces of jewelry, plus other knickknacks and such. Behind the counters stood a few refrigerators and floor lamps, along with a guitar, a wheelchair, and an assortment of other items. Asha approached a young man with shifty eyes who stood behind the counter.

“Uh, h-hey...” he said, rubbing the back of his head. “How's it goin'?”

“Hey,” Asha said, trying to make her tone as friendly as she could. She imagined that the shop would attract all sorts of strange people at this time of night, and she wanted to convey to the man behind the counter that she was just an ordinary innocent person visiting a pawnshop for the first time, at an exceedingly late hour.

“I don't think I've seen you before. You just move in?” The man asked. He seemed nice enough. If he was suspicious of her, he didn't show it.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Cool. Well, they call me Trip. I own this shop,” he said, introducing himself.

“Okay, nice to meet you.” Asha said, not offering her own name in return. Did that seem strange? Maybe she should have told him her name. Silence lingered between them, and Asha willed herself to say something. “So, what's there to do around here?”

Trip shrugged.

“Beats me. Santa Monica is dead. I don't know why anyone comes out here anymore.” Another long silence followed.

“You get a lot of people in here?” Asha finally said.

“We get new faces here night after night. Used to be more tourists, but now... I dunno, man. It's more like drifters.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other for a third pause before Trip broke the silence this time.

“So...you, uh, lookin' to buy or sell or...?” he trailed off.

“Uh, yeah,” Asha replied. “I'm looking for a couple of things. Do you have any watches?”

“Yeah, we got watches,” he answered, his eyes brightening. He brought out a few from under the counter, arranging them in a line as Asha inspected them through the glass.

“Which one's the cheapest?” she asked.

“The broken one.” Trip picked up a wristwatch with a worn leather strap, its glass case cracked. “Doesn't work anymore, but maybe if you find someone who fixes watches...” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his head again.

“Okay, which of the working ones is cheapest?” said Asha.

“This, uh, wristwatch. It's missing a strap though.”

Asha examined the watch, one side of its blue-and-white-striped fabric strap detached from the case.

“How much?” she asked.

“Like, $10?”

“Why'd you even buy a watch with no strap anyways?” Asha couldn't see Trip getting that much more money for it.

“I bought somethin' else and the seller just kinda threw it in with the whole deal.”

“So, you got it for free?”

“I got it for the price of the other item I bought,” Trip corrected.

“Right..” Asha said, before making her offer. “I'll pay $5.”

“I dunno. I might be able to get more for it.” The shop owner's eyes shifted down to examine the watch.

“I doubt it...” Asha told him, trailing off.

Trip took a moment to consider.

“Okay, how about if you buy something else, I'll throw it in for, uh, $3,” he offered.

“Actually...” Asha said. Trip was lucky that she was planning on buying another item too, if he carried it in his shop. “I'm looking for some sort of bag or backpack.”

“Yeah, I got a few of those. Here...”

Trip walked around the counter, pointing at a small selection of backpacks and purses. Asha eyed a black corduroy backpack with silver details hanging on the wall.

“How much for that bag?” she asked, pointing to the backpack she had spotted.

“At least $30”

“That much?” she exclaimed.

“Yeah, it's a really nice backpack,” Trip claimed. “Kinda vintage, you know?”

“It is...” Asha said. Clearly she wouldn't be buying it.

“I got this other one for cheaper. It's a kids' backpack, but if you really need something now...”

Trip shuffled around the counter, turning to pick up a bag on a bottom shelf.

Asha couldn't help but frown at the backpack he held up for her to see. Even worse than the lime-green color were the bright pink hearts all over it. Shiny silver bubble lettering on it read “LOVE.”

“It's fifteen bucks,” said Trip.

Asha really needed a bag now if she was going to buy all the items she needed. She didn't want to have to carry around a bunch of shopping bags, especially in the middle of the night. The backpack looked functional, no holes or stains. It was just... really fucking ugly. Uglier than the boots she was wearing.

There was no use in being vain when the bag was functional, though.

“I'll take it,” she told Trip, frowning.

“Okay, if that's it then, uh, $18 please.” Trip made his way over to the cash register.

“Of course,” Asha said, digging through her jacket pockets until she found the folded hundred dollar bill. She handed it to Trip, prompting a raised eyebrow and a response from the pawnshop owner.

“You, uh, got anything smaller?” he asked.

Asha shook her head.

“No, sorry,” she replied.

“Okay...” Trip opened the cash register, counting out the cash inside. “Just, uh, just a moment.” He walked through a door leading to a room in the back, and Asha listened to shuffling, crinkling, and the occasional thud as he rifled through whatever was back there. “Here we go,” Trip said, returning with four crisp twenty dollar bills. He added two worn and creased dollars from the register, sliding it all to her through the slot in the glass.

“Thanks,” Asha said automatically, watching as Trip exited the area behind the counter to personally hand her the backpack and watch. “Do you know of any other places that are open this time of night? I'm kind of missing just about everything I need.” She handed her list to Trip who scanned over its contents.

“Uh, yeah, there's Dollar Pit, and I think you can get hair stuff at Goddess Beauty Supply. Also, there's a thrift store, Thrifty Thrift, and, uh also...” he paused. “There's a... lingerie store, discount lingerie, it's owned by a guy named Skinny Ray. All of them are open late.”

“That's really helpful, actually. Thanks,” Asha said. She turned toward the exit.

“Cool, thanks, come again!” Trip called, watching her as she left the shop. The bell buzzed for a second time as Asha opened the door and headed back out into the night.

Asha's next trip was to Dollar Pit, where she selected all the cheapest body care items, cleaners, and detergents, along with a pack of rough towels. She also located a set of thin, white sheets for the bed, assorted socks, a shower cap, and, at the last moment, picked up some pens and a cheap spiral notebook. Purchasing it all, she stuffed it into the ugly backpack.

After leaving the store, Asha examined her leftover money, frowning when she realized that she would not be able to afford much else on her list. She had to choose between going to Skinny Ray's Discount Lingerie, Goddess Beauty Supply, and the Thrifty Thrift Store.

Skinny's Ray's Discount Lingerie was a surprisingly large establishment, pink neon and printed paper signs adorning its glass front windows, advertising various offers and deals. Asha entered the store, overwhelmed as she scanned the area, which seemed to be a maze comprised of shelves, clothing racks, and mannequins, all carrying various kinds of lingerie.

“Welcome to Skinny Ray's Discount Lingerie.” A man wearing a white t-shirt and a baggy pair of jeans emerged from the jungle of bras and panties to stand by the checkout counter at the front of the store. True to his name, he was tall and very skinny. “You can call me Skinny Ray. I am the mastermind and owner of this magnificent establishment you just walked your pretty self into this evenin'. Now, how can I help you find yourself the perfect lingerie and/or negligee you can wear and transform yourself into the very definition of 'sexy?'”

Asha slumped, remembering the frumpy outfit she currently wore.

“Don't you worry,” Ray said, noticing the sudden deterioration of her posture. “With Ray's lingerie, you won't be held back by inferior outerwear. Whatever you find here, when you wear it, you'll feel confident even in nothin' else but a trash bag. Tonight, I am your man, and I am here to make sure you get everythin' you need. So, why don't you go on and tell Skinny Ray your needs, so he can satisfy you like no other man ever has?”

To Asha's surprise, Skinny Ray really did offer a wide variety of lingerie and for knockout prices, and he was more than enthusiastic to go over his inventory with her.

“We got push-up bras, demi bras, balconette bras, full coverage bras, plunge bras, halter bras, bralettes, nursing bras, strapless bras, wire free, padded, minimizer, racerback, convertible, front-clasp, stick on! We got panties of all kinds, bikinis, hipsters, high rise, cheeky, thongs, boyshorts, slips, string, crotchless, tummy-control, brazilian! Plenty of styles and materials, solid colors, polka dots and stripes, flowers, checkers, plaid, animal prints, lace, mesh, velvet, satin, fuzzy, pvc, see through and more! Whatever kind of underthings you need, we got it here! We also got corsets, underbust and overbust, bustiers, negligees, pasties, tights and pantyhose, body stockings, and garters! Everythin' you need!”

“Do you happen to have just some simple t-shirt bras and panties?” Asha asked timidly. “Nothing else is open at this time, so I came here to see if you had anything basic like that.”

Skinny Ray's face fell.

“Yeah, we got that too,” he answered, clearly disappointed. “In the back, over in the corner there.”

Asha picked out a few sensible cotton pieces, keeping her dwindling budget in mind. She hadn't been given nearly enough for someone who was starting their life all over again in a new city. Strauss did not allow her to bring anything she owned before with her, aside from her jacket, and now she couldn't even buy all the items she needed.

At the front counter, Ray rang her up with a look that Asha could only interpret as extreme dissatisfaction. It almost made her feel bad.

“I'll definitely be back if I ever have more money,” Asha offered, trying to sound as apologetic as she could. Skinny Ray clearly took pride in his shop and his ability to pick out the best lingerie for his customers.

“I'll be lookin' forward to that,” he answered, optimistically. “You ever go downtown?”

“I, uh, I've been there once, but not for long,” Asha told him.

“My cousin, Fat Larry, owns a, uh, business downtown. You ever need to shop with him, tell him I sent ya. He'll give you a discount.” Ray grinned.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Asha said politely, paying for her items and taking the bag from Ray.

“Sound good,” he said. “And don't you forget to come back here when you ready to find you somethin' sexy. I can already think of a few pieces with your name on 'em!”

Completely out of money, Asha decided to go back to her apartment, but not before taking a look at the thrift store Trip had mentioned. She passed by the Thrifty Thrift Store (“Thrift Thriftily!”) eyeing the display in the window. Two mannequins dressed in curated outfits occupied the view. One, Asha noticed, looked a bit like her, as it had been draped in a long curly black wig. The Asha-like mannequin wore an eggplant-colored maxi skirt with a matching top. A pattern of flowers, dark and delicate, adorned the fabric, giving the outfit a somewhat last decade look, and a silver belly chain hung at the mannequin's hips. Asha tried to imagine herself wearing something like that. While the outfit was her style, she never wore shirts that showed off her midriff, like the dark purple crop top she now examined.

However, the cab driver had told her that she could be a new version of herself. Maybe that Asha wore crop tops and belly chains.

Glancing at the advertised price, she confirmed what she already knew. She could not afford the outfit. Suddenly, she regretted spending as much as she did at Dollar Pit. She had no idea if she would be able to get any more money, so the outfit would have to wait, along with her treasured hair supplies.

Asha turned, her yellow boots shuffling on the sidewalk as she made her way back to her apartment. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass window of a closed store. Aside from the poofy ponytail, she wore the black Liquid Demon Seed t-shirt under her simple black jacket with a pair of leggings of the same color. However, the bright yellow boots and green bag with pink hearts definitely deducted from her vampire points.

She raised her head, noting a car heading up the road towards her. At this time of night, she only ever expected to see a few. The car passed her, but she could see another one in the distance.

Speaking of 'this time of night...'

Asha removed the backpack from her shoulders, opening it to check the time on the cheap watch she had bought from Trip. The second car drew closer as she absentmindedly pulled the piece from the bag. The strap must have gotten caught on the zipper or something—even afterward, Asha never quite figured it out—but as she tugged on the watch, the case detached itself from the strap, ripping the fabric, and flying from Asha's hand only to land in the street. The car, having finally made its way to where she stood, promptly ran it over as she yelped and bounded forward to where the watch lay.

She could tell even before she picked its remains from the road that the watch was a goner. The plastic case had completely shattered, and the little arms of the clock were obliterated. She picked up the main piece, regretting that she hadn't put it in her jacket pocket instead.

“Fuuuuck,” she growled, tempted to throw the rest of the watch back into the street. Instead, she dropped it into her pocket, picking up her bag and heading back to the apartment. Quite a lot had happened that night, and she was dead tired.

Asha woke to the sound of sirens and rain. She was glad to be able to sleep through the day, despite the noise from outside and from her neighbors, who she could hear through the cardboard-thin walls. So far, in the very short time that she had occupied her unit, she had learned that the couple across from her argued all the time and that they somehow had an endless budget to spend on dishes. Asha had quickly come to associate the sound of shattering plates with screaming and profanity. Another family seemed to have multiple babies that cried well into the night hours. The person in the unit above hers really liked to watch game shows with the volume on high and then stumble around, probably drunkenly, knocking over anything they came into contact with. And one of them, she wasn't sure who, liked to sing in the shower. Badly.

At least Asha didn't plan to stay home for long. Tonight she actually needed to meet this Mercurio person and find out what exactly she should be doing in Santa Monica. However, as she looked in the mirror at her ill-fitting clothing and poofy ponytail, the same outfit she had worn the night before, she couldn't help but feel that she was already failing as a vampire. Weren't vampires supposed to be stylish? She wanted to be confident, or at least look like she was. All her current outfit seemed to portray was awkwardness.

Once again, attempting to brush aside her vanity, Asha stepped into her yellow rain boots and, after taking the blood packs from the fridge, threw the green and pink backpack over her shoulder. Time to visit Mercurio.

Stepping outside, Asha nearly ran into a man who stumbled in front of the doorway, continuing to sway on his feet as he tried to maintain his balance. He turned to her, seemingly attempting to meet her gaze with unfocused eyes.

“Heeey, lady,” he slurred. “You got some chaange, laaady?”

“Uh, no, sorry,” she murmured. She sidestepped out of the doorway, attempting to avoid the man as he continued to stumble around. Despite the man smelling strongly of smoke and liquor, she could still sense his blood in his veins, his heart beating. It would be a good idea to have a quick bite before heading to meet Mercurio. She considered the man, observing his worn clothes and hat, his stubbled face, and his unsteady gait. It really was the perfect opportunity for her to sate her thirst, but she worried that the man wouldn't react well to losing so much blood. He didn't exactly seem healthy. She didn't want him to drop dead on her.

Asha passed him by, exiting the alley and turning right. There weren't too many people out at this time of night. In fact, she could see no one except for a man standing by a vehicle about a block away. As she drew closer, she realized that his car had broken down. The man was clearly tense, his posture rigid and his eyes darting left and right.

“Where is that tow truck?” she heard him mumble. “I'm going to need a shower once I get out of here.” He eyed her apprehensively as she approached.

“Hey,” she said, trying to smile reassuringly. “Car trouble?” she asked. Ordinarily, Asha wouldn't have bothered speaking with him, but she was still hungry.

“Um, yes,” the man said, clearly suspicious. Asha didn't think she looked all that threatening, considering the pink-hearted backpack, but the man standing before her clearly didn't live in this neighborhood. She eyed his car, which was obviously not cheap.

“I already called a tow truck,” the man told her. “It should be here any moment now.” He gave her a nervous upturn of his lips. “I'd rather not wait another second in this part of town, this time of night. It's a rather dreadful place, don't you think?”

“I mean,” Asha started. “I guess...”

“I intended no insult, of course. If you live around here, that is.” He looked at her as though reconsidering his initial judgment of the danger level she posed.

“Right,” Asha said. She would have just tackled him right there, but they were directly under a streetlight. Anyone could be watching from the windows of the nearby buildings, and she wouldn't know. She had just passed an alley between two buildings. If she could lure him there, she would be able to drink to her content. But how was she going to get him to go with her into a dark alley?

A memory surfaced in her mind of Stefan standing before her on a street corner.

“Get. In. The. Car.” he had ordered. Somehow, he had forced her to get into his car, even though she didn't want to. Maybe she could do something like that?

Asha built up her courage, staring the man in the eye with a venomous glare.

“Go to the alley. Now,” she hissed.

“What?” the man cried, clearly alarmed. “No, no, look, I have money!” he said, his voice shaking. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a leather wallet. “See? Here!” He plucked the entire stack of bills from the partition, nearly throwing the cash at her. She caught it in the air, despite her surprise.

“N-no!” she stuttered. “I don't want your—”

“That wasn't enough?” the man said, his voice growing higher by the second. “Here! Take my watch! It's yours.” He unclasped the watch from his wrist, tossing it towards her. “Please, that's all I have!” he cried.

Asha, cash and expensive watch in hand, tried to search for the right words to say. However, at the moment, they eluded her.

“Right,” she said, turning. With her hands still out in front of her as she held the stolen items, she strode two blocks in the wrong direction. In Asha's brain, any direction that led away from the man who she had just robbed was the right direction.

How the hell did I manage to accidentally mug someone? she thought. The confusion of it still hadn't left her, even as she arrived back to her apartment building. What was she supposed to do? Should she give it back?

The man had looked as though he was about to run from her, and clearly, the command thing hadn't worked at all. She pivoted in place, turning toward the pawnshop. She couldn't just sell the watch. It was stolen! Calming herself, Asha unzipped her bag, tossing the watch and cash inside.

She could hear the drunken man singing a song out of tune as he paced through the alleyway. Fuck, she was hungry, and there was no need for her to be picky.

Fully satisfied and slightly tipsy, Asha's mind seemed much more uninhibited than before, and she finally made up her mind to return the money and watch. She would walk up to him calmly and tell him that she didn't mean to rob him. Unfortunately, her plans were quickly derailed as the man locked himself into his car upon spotting her again. He seemed to be talking on what looked to be a cell phone.

“Oh, shit,” Asha said under her breath. She continued to walk, passing the car and turning a corner. However, as she did, her thoughts raced.

What if the man had called the police? She was going to be in trouble! She had never done anything like that before! Strauss had told her about the Masquerade and its importance. Would she be breaking it by getting arrested?

Asha turned another corner. She was almost to Mercurio's place now. She figured she should get inside where she couldn't be spotted.

Mercurio's apartment building was a sort of classical style, its sand-colored facade decorated with pillars and arched windows. Asha stepped up to the front door, but as she approached, she felt herself step onto something sticky. She looked down.

A trail of blood ran from a nearby car and into the building. Asha paused. If she went inside this building, it was possible that she could get into even more trouble. Especially, if someone reported the blood trail.

Her night was getting more and more complicated. She froze, unsure of what to do.

After a good amount of deliberation, she finally entered the building, hoping that Mercurio was not involved in whatever situation that gave birth to the line of precious red liquid smeared down the hallway. However, Asha's hopes were dashed as she followed the trail directly to Mercurio's apartment.

Now, this was starting to feel dangerous. Who exactly was this Mercurio? She assumed he was a Kindred. Had he murdered someone? Had he murdered someone and then dragged their body to his car? Why wouldn't he clean up the blood? Did he not have the time? Did he just not care?

Asha's thoughts were interrupted by a moan coming from the other side of the door. She pressed her ear to its surface, trying to make sense of the situation. Another moan rang out, even louder than before followed by labored breathing.

What if Mercurio was hurt?

Asha turned the doorknob, not bothering to knock, and pushed open the door, staring at the scene before her. A man, his clothes torn and bloody and his skin bruised and ripped lay on a teal couch. His arm hung off the furniture at a strange angle, and his abdomen was riddled with cuts and angry gashes, deep and red. Blood ran from his scalp down onto his face, which was discolored, lumpy, and swollen.

She found herself staring at the blood, still flowing from the half-dead man. She drew closer, still focused on it when a voice broke her from her reverie.

“Those rotten bastards,” the man said between labored breaths. “Dirty no-good sons of bitches.”

Clearly, he was talking about someone.

“Those mothers... ripped me off. I'm dyin' here!” he cried.

“Uh, are you Mercurio?” Asha asked.

“Uh, yeah.” He moaned again in pain. “You're lookin' for the Astrolite? I... oh, I can feel a draft on my fuckin' insides! They shanked me, the bastards! The blood ain't workin' no more. My head, it feels... cracked. Uh, I think my eye's popped.”

“What happened? Who did this to you?” Asha took a step back, horrified, as Mercurio continued.

“I got... I went... Uh... What is this lump? Is that my rib? Oh, holy shit, my rib is pokin' through my side? Oh, I'm all numb... You gotta look and tell me!”

“Uhhh,” Asha reluctantly crept forward, leaning over him to examine the injury. Jagged shards protruded from his twisted abdomen, creating deep, open gashes that made her involuntarily clench her stomach muscles just by looking at them. Her skin around the same area started to itch from the inside. “Um, I think it's just a, uh, broken bottle,” Asha gasped. She grimaced, taking her eyes off the wounds and stepping backwards, which almost instantaneously relieved her own symptoms.

“Just a broken bottle!” Mercurio exclaimed sarcastically. “That's great, it's really great.”

“So, uh,” she suppressed a shudder. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Alright, alright! Geez! You'd think you were the one layin' here with their guts hangin' out,” he breathed.

Asha gaped at him, taken aback by his hostile reaction.

“I didn't mean it like—“ she started before being interrupted by Mercurio as he started his story.

“It was that freakin' chemist! Guy mixes up speed. His crew sells it. Occasionally, he does explosives.”

“Uh, explosives?” Asha repeated.

“Yeah, the Astrolite.” If Mercurio hadn't been in such pain, Asha imagined he would have given her a look that suggested he was surprised about her lack of knowledge of the item she had come to pick up from him. Either that or he would think that maybe she had a few screws loose.

“What is it for?” Asha wondered.

“Look, I don't got a lotta time here before I think I'm gonna pass out. Do you wanna hear what happened or not?” Mercurio closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply.

“Yeah, yeah, go on.”

“So, I set up a drop. I show up at the beach with the money, right? Four of these guys, they come outta nowhere. Junkie pricks. Hit me with a bat! Head feels like I have a friggin' horse kickin' it!” He moved his head forward a bit, wincing at the pain.

“Just for no reason?” asked Asha.

“Yeah, little punks like that don't need a reason.”

“Are you sure? You didn't do anything to piss them off?” Asha hated the idea that they would beat him unprovoked. It seemed bad for business.

“I'm sure! I barely got a word in before they jumped me. Assholes thought they could just rob me, probably 'cause I was by myself. I never shoulda gone alone—amateur move. I shoulda handled those pricks. Goddamn dirty Cali rat bastards.” Mercurio continued on with another stream of profanities.

“So, they beat you up and took your money? How did you get away?” Asha asked.

“After those cocksuckers beat me rotten, they left me for a stiff. I had to crawl to my car, crawl my ass up here. The vamp blood's the only thing holdin' me together, but, shit, they got the money, they got the Astrolite.” Mercurio let out a defeated cry as Asha stumbled on her words, not sure which question to ask first.

“Um, vamp blood?” she finally said. She nervously used her tongue to play with her lip ring.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Why do you have vampire blood? You're not a, uh, Kindred are you?”

“No, I'm a ghoul,” Mercurio answered. Asha stayed silent, prompting him to explain. “We work for you vamps, and get some blood in exchange, but we're still human.”

“Really?” Asha asked. “But what about the Masquerade?”

“We ain't tellin' no one. We got a good deal, or at least, I do. Wouldn't wanna ruin it. Plus, they'll kill us if we snitch to anyone.” He sighed.

“Huh, so you just drink their blood and it makes you more, uh, durable?” Strauss had never mentioned anything about ghouls.

“Stronger, faster, senses enhanced. It's definitely gotten me outta some sticky situations, even if I get a little banged up in the process. I even heard that some ghouls can learn vampire powers. Hasn't happened for me, though. Listen' I think I'm actually friggin' dyin' here, so if you're done with the questions—”

Asha was not done with the questions.

“So, what about the explosives? Why would I need explosives?”

Mercurio sighed. Loudly.

“Buyin' 'em was my part of the job, and I fucked it up, okay? Listen, you gotta go get 'em for me. LaCroix'll have my head if he finds out about this. Please, I'm beggin' ya.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Asha exclaimed.

“You're a fuckin' vampire. Just do what you vamps do.”

“I don't know how to do any of that. I've only been a, a vampire for a few nights now.” What exactly had the Prince gotten her involved in? She remembered Jack's words: “If you make it back from Santa Monica...” Did LaCroix mean to get her killed? Or did he truly think she would be able to handle whatever it was that she needed to do with the explosives?

Mercurio coughed, crying out in pain afterward.

“We need that Astrolite,” he wheezed. “You gotta... gotta get it back from 'em. Maybe reason with 'em, maybe break in, I dunno. God, I wanna kill 'em. Do whatever you people do. I blew it. I know.”

“Dammit!” Asha swore. She wasn't going to make it back downtown, or to Strauss, or to the chantry. Couldn't all of this have waited until she knew at least some spells or whatever? She couldn't take on a whole group of people by herself. She had never even been in a fight before. “You're acting like I've dealt with people like this before,” she exclaimed. “I haven't. I don't know how to do any of this!”

“Well, figure it out, would ya?” Mercurio yelled back, his body protesting at the strain. He took a moment before speaking more calmly. “Y'know, the Astrolite was for you, so you'll probably be needin' it.”

“But I—”

“Come on, this is life or death for me!” Mercurio said, his tone growing more frantic again. “Anyone finds out about this, I'm dead. I'm beggin' ya. I got a way of gettin' people what they need. You don't say anythin', I can help you out.”

“Like... with what?” Asha asked cautiously.

“You know, guns and shit like that.”

“Guns? Why would I need guns?” Asha threw her hands in the air. This was not her kind of scene at all. She didn't want to (intentionally) do anything illegal, and she definitely had no interest in using any sort of gun.

“C'mon,” Mercurio begged.“Please jus—” He paused. “Oh no, somethin' started leakin'. Those better not be some of my last words.” He hissed through his teeth as he shifted on the couch. “Just go! Go, please!”

Asha backed out of the door and made it halfway down the hall before remembering what she had forgotten. She spun around, returning to Mercurio.

“You're back,” Mercurio said, dolefully.

“Where am I going?” she asked, crossing into the apartment once again.

“Layin' in a pool of my own blood and you want friggin' directions.” Mercurio complained. “Fine, those small-time sons of bitches live out in a dump on the beach. Four or five of 'em. The one's got my explosives is Dennis. Got my money too, that prick!”

“I... I'll try my best to get it back,” she said, feeling lightheaded. Was she really going to do this?

“Oh, great. That sounds real encouragin'.”

Mercurio gave Asha directions to the beach. He was clearly in pain, but Asha had no idea what to do. She turned, leaving the apartment and following the blood trail back to the front door.

“Okay,” Asha said, pumping herself up as she walked. She spotted the parking garage that led down to the beach. “So, I just go to the house and...”

And what?

“I could really use those vampire powers right now,” she murmured. Her problems would be completely solved if she could just command them to give her the explosives. Maybe she could scare them or something?

Asha headed toward the beach as she continued to consider various plans toward reaching her goal.

After descending the stairs from the parking garage, Asha found herself in a tunnel. Two vending machines stood glowing on the left wall, one for a drink called 13 and another for Liquid Demon Seed, which she recognized from her shirt. She reminded herself to buy a can on the way back, since she was curious about the taste, but then she remembered that she was now a vampire and could not try strange new soft drinks anymore.

As Asha exited the tunnel leading to the beach, she spotted a woman who seemed to be waiting for her. The stranger made eye contact, swiftly approaching.

“You have been... no, no, you are going to China,” the woman said in a heavy accent. She was young, with dark hair down to her shoulders.

“What?” said Asha.

“Why is he smiling? The father? Is it... is it the father behind him?” the woman murmured.

“You're not making any sense.” Asha glanced over her shoulder, turning back to the woman. “You are speaking to me, right?”

The strange woman did not answer, instead, continuing to string together a long river of indecipherable phrases and sentences.

“You chased it for one at the top of the city... on the sea... oh, underground... ha, you found it... in the crypt... it's open,” the woman gasped. “Oh, it's open! Oh god, oh god, run!”

“Are you okay?” Asha asked. When she received no answer, she moved to pass the stranger and continue onto the beach. However, the woman suddenly shook her head as though breaking out of a trance and finally spoke to Asha directly.

“Ah, I sorry. Sometimes I see... nothing,” the woman murmured, raising her hands apologetically. “Disregard what I say.”

Asha eyed her suspiciously. It had seemed as though the woman had been waiting to speak with her.

“Are you sure? It sounded important,” Asha asked.

“I don't know what I'm saying. Forget what I say.” The woman bowed her head. “My name is Rosa. I am what is called a thinblood. Do you know more about it? Where we can go?”

“Uh...” Asha had never heard the term before. “No, but you're a vampire, right?” she asked, noting Rosa's fangs.

“Yes, but they call us 'thinbloods.' Other vampires, they hate us,” the strange woman answered.

“I'm sorry, I can't really help you there. I'm pretty new to this all myself. It doesn't seem like there's anything wrong with you, though.”

“I see...” Rosa replied, trailing off.

An alarm sounded in Asha's brain, telling her that what this woman had to say was somehow important.

“So, do you, uh, tell fortunes or something?” Asha asked her.

“Fortune is not your destiny,” Rosa murmured. “All of us are unfortunate. Every time I sleep, the future plays out before me. I know the ending. It will end over and over until I cease to dream. I know your questions. For one hundred dollars, I'll tell you what you don't want to hear. I need money to leave this place.”

Despite whatever message Asha had received, Rosa's words couldn't have been that important. She was not paying this woman one hundred dollars. Asha considered that the woman did need money, though, and Rosa had been generous enough with her words.

“A hundred? I'll give you twenty.” She dug in her backpack for twenty dollars out of the cash she had accidentally stolen.

Rosa sighed.

“Fine. Ask your question.”

“So...” Asha stopped to think. “I'm a little worried about what I'm about to do and what I'll have to do after that. I'd like to know what's going to happen over the next month or so, and if... if I'll survive.”

“It's all so much. I will tell you the whole year,” Rosa said, her eyes growing blank and unfocused. “You survive it all. All of it. Ignition. Awakening. A coin flip, two are one. A flower. The woman in white tells a story. An axe. A knife, a canvas, claws that drip. An arm, a blade. How do I do this? He is hidden and ugly and loved. A building, no time, light, heat. The lone wolf. They want revenge. The savior acts twice. A pirate, a damsel, helter skelter. The crimson ship. Has it moved? In a place of healing, she eats. A search for enlightenment. He's not who he says she is and it's going to burn. A shadow. Dinosaurs? Where is it? He's furious.”

“Wait, dinosaurs?” Asha interrupted.

“Let me finish!” said Rosa. “He holds stars in his hands, she hates you forever, he yearns for death but chooses to live. A movie. The man with the crest. The voice in the darkness, boss. She waits for you in the temple. Demon slayer and demon fight demon. A god in disguise. Save him. A party, a family. They walk. Chinese brothers. Follow the lights to the end of the tunnel. The dreaded beast falls. They fall, they all fall. Slay the dragon, win the sword. Hunted once, no, twice. It was an accident. Where do you want to go?”

“Uh, this isn't making much sense.”

“The man in red. Do what he wants. The temple collapses. The bat crashes to the ground below. The man at the top crawls on his knees. You stand above them and him above you. A torch glows horribly in the night. It is in your eyes. He sees you. Judgment cast upon you, allies and foes, a stranger, destiny is altered. The hooded one, you serve.” Rosa fell silent.

“I think I forgot just about all of that,” Asha told her. “Except for the dinosaurs... and the hooded one. Who's that? Someone wearing a hood? What do they actually look like?”

“I cannot see. It is blocked. I sense great power,” Rosa answered.

“Is this someone I can trust?”

“No.”

“Who can I trust?”

“Hmm... the man on the couch... the lone wolf. All others, tread carefully.” Rosa's voice dropped to a whisper.

“That's it? I don't even know who you're talking about,” Asha said, probably a bit too harshly. “Do you mean Mercurio? He's on a couch at the moment, but he's not, like, always there. That could mean anyone I ever see sit on a couch. Also, I don't know any 'lone wolves.' Are you talking about Jack? He was alone. He helped me...”

“No, not the smiling one.”

“Well, what about my sire? I can't trust him?” Asha asked. Surely, she could...

“The one who created you...” Rosa started. “He did it for reasons that were not his own, but... he uses you. His intentions will never be completely pure, but what he did, it benefits you both.”

“He uses me?” Asha frowned, thinking of Stefan.

“But he cares,” she added. “He will care.” She paused. “The blood he gave you, your blood, earns you many enemies.”

“Enemies?” Asha repeated.

“Enemies to all of your blood.”

“I don't know who would hate me because of my blood. Do you mean vampire hunters? Are vampire hunters a thing?” Everything Rosa said seemed to make less and less sense to Asha. Why did she have to be so vague?

“The one at the top. He sleeps. They all curse his name,” the woman said.

Asha sighed.

“Okay, what about this: Who are my personal enemies?” Maybe Asha just had to be more specific with her questions.

“Many. Everywhere. Some with swords. Some with smiles. But I pity them. You are a remarkable foe.”

Apparently not.

“Me?” said Asha. “Are you sure you're not tuned into someone else's frequency, or whatever, by mistake?” That would explain so much.

“No, you are more powerful than even your sire understands.”

“Why?” And what is that supposed to mean? Asha thought.

“I do not know. I see stars, a garden, a voice, blood.”

Once again, that meant absolutely nothing to Asha.

“You said I survive, so do you have any life-saving advice?” she asked.

“Don't open it.”

“Okay, cool, well thanks. Twenty dollars well-spent,” Asha said flatly.

“Whether or not you win the game matters not. It's if you bought it...” Rosa said cryptically.

“That makes it all make so much more sense. I'm gonna go now.”

Asha stepped past the woman, heading to the beach, only to be accosted by another stranger.

“Uh, do you know who the head vampire is?” asked a young man in a red-collared shirt.

Were people on this beach going to keep coming up to her and abruptly starting weird conversations?

“The head vampire?” Asha repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“If the head vampire dies, we all become human again, right?” he asked her.

“I don't think that's how it works,” she almost said. However, still annoyed by her last interaction—and also still desperately trying to avoid acknowledging the intensity of her fear as she neared the beach house—she changed her mind, instead telling him: “Yeah, sure, you just need the Holy Stake.” Absolutely nothing in her tone suggested she was serious. Whatever scam this one was trying to pull on her, she'd scam him first, and she wouldn't be giving him any money for any reason. He continued, seeming to take her at face value.

“Okay, but first, I had another question,” he said. “How about blood transfusions? If I get a full transfusion, I can become human again, right?”

Asha tried to think up something ridiculous.

“Only with unicorn blood,” she answered.

“Unicorn blood?” his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Vampires exist, but you draw the line at unicorns?” she gasped, playing up the fake offense.

“I'll buy it! I'll buy it!” the young man exclaimed, clearly desperate. “I'm gonna go get some money. Um, come back in a little while.”

Before Asha could speak again, he ran off, disappearing into the tunnel leading to the parking garage.

“Wait!” she called, but he was too far away to hear her. She had only meant it as a joke. Asha hoped she wouldn't run into him again. At least, she didn't plan on staying at the beach that long.

Asha continued further down the beach until she faced the dreaded beach house. With no more distractions to bother her, she felt the full brunt of her fear hit her like a bus.

Holy shit, what am I doing? she thought, gazing apprehensively at the house, looming over her on a cliff above the beach. A chain link gate blocked a steep set of stairs off from the rest of the area. She approached it and reached out, feeling the cool metal of the fork latch in her palm. It screeched ominously as she lifted it, rattling the tall fence, and she pulled open the gate, advancing toward the stairs. The height of the stairs felt dizzying to her, so she watched her feet as she slowly made the upward climb, step by step, each one creaking under her feet as she walked.

She still had no idea what she was going to do. She had money now, so maybe she would be able to just buy the explosives as Mercurio had planned to do. They wouldn't attack two people in the same night, right? Asha had no idea. She had never dealt with violent people before, and yet, here she was climbing the stairs to visit a house full of them.

She finally made it to the top of the cliff and studied the house hidden in the gloom. It was a simple, one-story home with light-colored siding. A porch light glowed in the slight fog, illuminating the area just enough to make out the front of the house and the fence surrounding it.

Getting the same lightheaded feeling she had before at Mercurio's apartment, Asha approached the beach house.

This is a bad idea. I don't even know what I'm gonna do yet. They're never going to believe that I'm here just casually buying explosives that they happen to have.

Asha nearly turned back, but she was spotted by a man guarding the front of the house.

“Help you?” he spat, crossing his arms and glaring at her from under heavy brows.

Asha drew nearer, until she could be seen under the illumination of the porch light. The shirtless guard studied her with hostile eyes. His pose accentuated the large muscles of his chest, stomach, and arms. If this man turned on her, she was done.

“I, uh, came here to buy...” Asha figured it would be best to not mention the explosives until she met Dennis. Unfortunately, she continued to speak when what she had said was enough. “Drugs. I'm here to buy drugs.”

“You're buyin'?” he asked.

“Drugs. Yes.”

He eyed her warily, ultimately stepping aside.

“Okay, you can go on in. And if you really wanna make my night, go ahead and start some shit in there, 'cause I would love it.”

“Okay, then,” said Asha. She reminded herself to stay clear of him, if she could help it.

I'm sure your personality has nothing to do with your being out here, she thought.

The guard opened the gate, barely giving Asha enough room to squeeze by him. She passed the guard, suppressing a shudder, and headed towards the front door. Glancing back towards him, she saw that he was still watching her. She tried to ignore him, knocking on the door.

“Just go in,” the guard called to her.

“Right,” Asha said, turning the doorknob. “Thanks.”

The guard didn't reply and continued to stare at her. Asha didn't like the look on his face.

Good job. You've already blown this.

Asha shooed away her inner critic, entering the house.

The first things she heard were guns and shouting. Two men lounged on a couch across from a very large television, their fingers busy manipulating the controllers plugged into it, as they gazed straight ahead, immersed in whatever video game they played. They didn't even glance at Asha as she crossed the unlit living room, light from the television flashing in sync with bursts of gunfire. She had no idea where to go, so she continued to head toward the back of the house.

She stepped into a well-lit room, coming face-to-face with who she believed was Dennis. Much better dressed than the others, he wore a red open-collared shirt under a tan jacket, a double gold chain hanging from his neck. He stared at her with dark eyes, his face betraying no emotion under his tough facade.

“Uh huh, yeah,” probably Dennis said, looking her up and down. “Before we do business—before anything changes hands—I want you to hear this: If you try to cross me, I will fuck you. If you tell the cops about me, I will find you, then I will fuck you. And if you're a cop... I will fuck you and your whole family, includin' that squirrel in your front yard.”

Asha stood, frozen.

“'Kay,” she said, nodding stiffly.

“Okay,” said Dennis, visibly relaxing. “Now that we know the terms, what can I do to make you walk out feelin' like you just flew first class with a cheerleader in your lap?”

The image formed in Asha's head before she could stop it. She wasn't sure that she would enjoy having a cheerleader in her lap while flying.

Can the cheerleader sit in the seat next to me? she imagined herself saying. Can we change it from a cheerleader to Winona Ryder? Or Orlando Bloom??

Sometimes this would happen when she got really nervous. It was a way for her to ease the tension, telling jokes and thinking of funny quips and comebacks. Only in her head, though. Of course she would never say any of it aloud. Or at least, old Asha wouldn't have.

“What'cha got?” she asked, flashing a fake smile.

“My staff maintains at all times a twenty-four carat smorgasbord of A-plus narcotics guaranteed to make the competition's shit seem like a weak cappuccino in comparison. White, greens, blues, reds, black, you pick a color,” Dennis told her, grinning horribly.

Asha had no idea what any of that meant.

What about purple? Or do I have to get both the blue and red and mix them?

“Explosives,” she said, cutting to the chase. “You have any?” She tried to use the most nonchalant tone that she could manage.

“Explosives?” Dennis repeated, eyeing her suspiciously. “Fun stuff. You can get yourself a lotta attention that way.” Asha gave him her brightest smile this time as he continued to speak. “I may have somethin'. Why would someone like you need to get your hands on some fireworks?” He looked her up and down again, his eyes lingering on her rain boots and children's backpack.

May want to watch the news tonight.

She could not say that.

Husband got the house in the divorce.

Not that, either.

“I'm going fishing,” she blurted, her tone strangely confident. She nearly slapped herself as soon as the words left her mouth. That was her choice? How was that any better than the first two? Another option popped into her head.

I need to make a car disappear for the insurance.

That one might have been better. Too bad she thought of it too late.

Dennis looked at her rain boots and shrugged.

“Alright, that makes sense, I guess. I got some stuff that'll do the trick. Shit, it'll slice and fry them fishes into fish sticks. Astrolite: it's like TNT's bigger, meaner cousin with a prison record. I don't like keepin' the stuff around—too dangerous—so, I'll let you have it for a little less than the goin' rate.”

Asha's mind drifted to the money in her backpack. Maybe it was somewhat good that she accidentally mugged that man. He seemed rich enough. He probably wasn't missing the money, right? But how was she going to get Mercurio's money back? Honestly, if she got out of there with the explosives, she probably wouldn't bother with it. That asshole Dennis would have both hers and Mercurio's money, but she didn't want to start any trouble. Especially with that psycho guarding the gate.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a buzzing that seemed to come from inside her body. She suddenly became very aware of the blood in her veins. It felt as if it had come to life somehow. Words silently formed in her head. It wasn't like with Stefan when he had spoken to her in her mind. This was more of an understanding of the concept being relayed. She was the one who then converted it into actual words.

Focus the blood. Pour it into your words and reach out to his blood, his mind. When you say it, it will all make sense to him.

“Hey, what's wrong with you?” Dennis said, frowning. “You want these explosives or not? You better not have come here with no money.”

“I don't have it,” Asha spoke, suddenly knowing exactly what to say. “But, I'm good for the money. Believe me, I'd never rip a guy like you off.” The words came out sounding unnaturally smooth, but she could almost see them connecting with his mind.

“Okay,” Dennis said, almost trance-like. “That... sounds good to me.”

“Great, I'll just put the Astrolite in my bag here,” replied Asha.

“Alright.”

She carefully lowered the explosives into her backpack and picked it up to leave, but a thought entered her mind. Couldn't she get the money this way too?

Asha looked toward the door. Maybe she shouldn't push it, but she felt somehow angry that Mercurio had been ripped off. They beat him and left him for dead. She could at least get his money back. She looked Dennis in the eye, using the same method she had before.

“Where do you keep the money?”

“The... money?” Dennis asked. “Why do you need the money?”

“Because.”

Apparently that was enough for Dennis to direct her toward the stash of cash hidden in the next room. One of the two men who had been playing video games earlier stood in the kitchen nearby, frying something on the stove, while another sat at the table, so Asha attempted, as quietly as she could, to open the vent. Reaching inside, she pulled out a shoe box.

Holy shit, this is exciting. It's like finding treasure.

She counted out the money in the shoe box, which added up to almost $600. Far more than she needed to pay Mercurio back. She took it all. Replacing the shoe box and vent cover, she returned to the room where Dennis stood, opening up her backpack to place the money inside.

“Hey, what are you doin'?”

Oh, shit.

Dennis glared at her, grabbing a baseball bat from the corner.

“You think you can just rob me?” he roared.

“No, I, uh...” Asha started. She tried to use the blood again to influence his mind, but before she could, Dennis charged her with the bat.

This is it. I'm not getting out of here alive.

She cursed herself for getting greedy. She should have just left right after she got the explosives. Dennis moved towards her almost in slow motion as Asha tried to gather her thoughts.

What was she supposed to do? What could she do?

The buzzing started again, that silent voice, filling her head with alien thoughts.

Fight, it told her. Hit him, kick him, throw him! A growl welled up from within her. Something familiar, something she had met once before, clawed its way out of her heart, filling her chest, her limbs, her head, ready to take over and direct her. She let it. It was a bloodlust she had never felt before. Not only was she sure she could fight Dennis. She wanted to.

She grabbed the bat as he swung, ripping it from Dennis's grasp, and shoving him across the room into a table of chemistry equipment. She knew the sound would draw the others. She couldn't wait.

Dennis groaned, attempting to sit up as glass crunched around him. Asha didn't wait for him to stand. She picked him up by the collar, hurling him across the room once again. This time, he hit the wall and fell to the floor, unmoving.

Two other men entered the room from the kitchen, one with a knife and the other with a pistol. She charged toward them, kicking the one with the gun as hard as she could. He screamed as his leg cracked, losing his grip on the weapon and dropping it before falling to the floor. Grabbing the nearby baseball bat, she swung it at the man with the knife, keeping his blade out of range. Eventually, she went for his head, splitting the bat over his skull. He crumpled to the ground, blood spilling from a gash in his scalp. Another one entered and waved a second baseball bat at her. She dodged it, pummeling the man with her fists until he dropped.

“Aaaarrrgghhh!” A furious cry sounded from the doorway leading to the living room. The gate guard. He charged towards her, fists bared. “Die, you bitch!” he yelled, punching her in the head and stomach before she could react. Asha cried out involuntarily, attempting to dodge the next blows, but the gate guard was fast. He hit her again. Asha did the only thing she could think of, pulling his arm and clamping her teeth down into his flesh. He yelled as he tried to shake her off, but she held on, her arms grappling him like a boa constrictor. She clawed her way up to his neck, biting down again and this time hugging him tightly as she drank the crimson liquid pouring from his throat. The gate guard went limp, falling to the pleasurable sensation as she fed upon him. At the last second, she pulled her lips away from his neck. She shouldn't kill him, but if any of them spoke of what she had done, she would be in a lot of trouble. She eyed the men sprawled in various positions around the room. Some were moving. Some were not. She realized that she could not let any of them live. Dipping her head, she drank greedily from the gate guard, until his heart stopped. Until there was nothing left to drink. Then, she finished the others off.

Once Asha was sure that everyone was dead, she turned to retrieve her backpack from the floor, dismayed that it had a few splotches of blood on it.

Fuck, I must look horrible, she thought. Leaving her backpack, she made her way to the bathroom. Upon looking into the mirror above the sink, she gasped as a monster stared back at her.

The entirety of the lower half of her face was covered in blood. It dripped from her chin and onto her t-shirt and jacket, adding to the the splatters of blood that already decorated them.

She couldn't go out looking like this. She removed her boots and discarded her jacket, shirt, and leggings, jumping into the shower to rinse the blood from her body and hair. Quickly washing, she then went in pursuit of a change of clothes.

She rifled through various drawers, discovering a pair of checkered pajama pants, tightened with a drawstring, which she wore with yet another Liquid Demon Seed (Slobber it DOWN!!) t-shirt, this one black like the first one but with a flame pattern around the collar and sleeves. She wiped down her boots and threw her clothes and the towel she had used into a plastic trash bag. She also threw the broken bat she had used into the bag, just in case.

Asha jumped as a shrill beeping sound rang from the kitchen. She smelled something burning. Running into the room, she came upon dark gray smoke and flames that had spread from the stove to the curtains of the kitchen window. The smoke alarm screeched loudly as the fire spread to various objects nearby. It was time to go.

She ran to the room where she had left her backpack, stepping over the various bodies littering the floor, and picked up the bag. Throwing it—as gently as she could, since it was filled with explosives—over her shoulder, she then grabbed the plastic trash bag and fled the house.

Asha practically flew down the stairs, running onto the beach and then slowing as she passed the thinbloods, who were now all sitting around a fire. One of them stood, racing towards her.

Oh no, it was the one from before.

“You got any of those items you mentioned?” he asked.

Sailing solely on the vampire equivalent of an adrenaline high, Asha let it speak for her, her critical mind absent. The words she had always wanted to say spilled from her lips. If it meant that she could keep feeling as she currently did, then she was content with letting it take control.

“Yeah, yeah I got that, um, unicorn blood. How much do you want?” she said in a voice that didn't feel like hers.

“I'll buy as much as you've got.” The thinblood reached into his pocket, pulling out a waterproof wallet.

“I have three bags,” she said, rifling through her backpack as she searched for the blood bags she had taken from the apartment refrigerator. “They're $120 each, so that's $360.” She did really need the money.

“Will that be enough, do you think?” the young man asked her, skeptically.

“I dunno,” Asha said mockingly. “What if it isn't?”

“You can't get more?”

“Not for a while. Unicorns are pretty hard to find. Even harder to kill.” Asha suppressed a snort as she struggled to keep a straight face.

“Well, what about that stake? The holy one?”

“The Holy Stake?” Asha recalled the contents of the trash bag, remembering the broken bat. “Yeah, I've got that too. I'm reluctant to let go of it, though. I will if you pay me enough for it.”

“How much?”

“$500”

“What? I can't afford that.” His eyes grew wide, and he stepped forward. “Please, please, I need it. Plus, when I kill the head vampire, you'll become human again too!”

Asha nearly shuddered at the thought.

“What about $300?” Asha offered.

“I have $250 left.”

Asha eyed him silently.

“Please, it's all I have!” the thinblood begged. “Maybe I could get more? Half now, half later?”

“And I just give you the Holy Stake now?”

“Yeah!”

“Well,” Asha acted as though she were considering the offer. “I guess you seem like a good person. I'll accept the $250 now for the Holy Stake. I hope you'll keep up your end of the deal and pay me the rest though.”

“I will! I promise!” he said, eagerly as she passed him the pointiest half of the broken baseball bat. He gave Asha the $250, emptying his wallet. “Now, where can I find the head vampire?”

“Uh...” Asha took a moment to think. “The Head Vampire is the President, of course!”

“Right, that makes sense! I'm off to kill the President!” The thinblood turned and ran down the beach, his feet kicking up the sand beneath him.

Asha stared as he left, her mind still refusing to acknowledge her actions or their repercussions beyond the thought that she probably would not be getting that other $250. She didn't want to think about it. For once, she wanted to act without her conscience holding her back and making everything so boring that she wanted to kill herself. She didn't want to be like her human self, and she was glad that she had stayed at the house and taken the money too. It had all worked out. She didn't have to be scared. There was no need for her to be weak anymore.

“Look!” A tall male thinblood with an Australian accent stood, pointing at the cliff high above them. “I think there's a fire!”

“W-what sh-should w-w-we d-do? D-do we c-call 911?” another thinblood with a mohawk stuttered.

“The emergency line? I... don't know. It might alert the other vampires, and then they'll chase us off again.”

“Just let it burn,” Asha called out, standing to face the glowing house as smoke flew into the sky. She shrugged. “Someone'll see it and call. Or not.”

Swinging the plastic bag in her fist, she passed them, heading toward the other side of the beach to get a better view.

She had done this. It was all her fault. There were five people dead. They weren't the best people ever, but she had killed them. The fire wasn't directly her doing, but still, she should have been horrified. She should have been wondering how she could ever do such a thing, but as Asha watched the house burn, the flames glowed in her eyes, igniting something deep within her. That strange high that had guided her hand in the fight was gone, but still, a door had opened inside of her, and all the parts she had suppressed without even knowing—her anger, her stubbornness, her roguishness, her fire—had burst out from behind the once-impenetrable barrier. She should have been crying in disbelief at what she had done, but instead—she giggled. She snickered like a mischievous child who had just successfully stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. The sensation grew, and soon she was laughing so hard she almost cried. She howled. Was this what it felt like? Was this what it felt like to live?

It was so much, she almost couldn't stand it. Her senses were no longer numb, the glass barrier separating her from the world, shattered. Asha could feel it all. The colors, the light, the dark—they were all so vivid, the sensations raw and authentic, swirling around her. The sound of the air and waves, the crackling of the fire, all spoke to her in their unique voices. The small gasps she made as she continued to laugh shook her shoulders and worked her diaphragm, creating an ache in her ribs. Her laughter continued on and on until she grew tired, finally letting it taper down to a light hum. She took a moment, closing her eyes to calm herself before opening them again.

Coming back to her senses, Asha remembered the explosives in her backpack. She set her bags down by the entrance to the tunnel, along with her boots and socks, and raced down the beach to the water's edge...

Back at Mercurio's apartment, she found that the ghoul had not moved at all from where she had left him. Draped over the couch, he lay motionless with his eyes closed. Asha leaned in closer to make sure he was still breathing.

“Mercurio...” she called gently. He didn't stir. “Hey, Mercurio? You didn't die on me, did you?” Mercurio shifted on the couch, groaning as he lifted his head. Opening his one good eye, he turned towards her, licking his cracked lips before he spoke.

“You better have good news,” he rasped.

“I got the Astrolite,” she told him, grinning. “And your money.” She placed $200 on the coffee table as Mercurio made a noise that she interpreted as joyful.

“Oh, you're a lifesaver. Might have to buy some new kidneys with this. Did ya waste those sons of bitches?”

“Hell yeah, I did,” Asha said, laughing. Her mood seemed to prop him up, and for the first time that night, he smiled.

“Knew you could do it. I hope it was painful.”

“I imagine it was,” Asha replied, a secretive smirk forming on her face. “I, uh, also need to get rid of this bag full of bloody clothes.”

“Oh shit, you really got back at 'em!” he said. “Good.”

“There's like a bunch of blood in the hall leading here too, so maybe you wanna clean that up with the clothes,” Asha added.

“Uh, yeah. I'll get right on it once I stuff my insides back into my body.”

Asha fell silent, her eyes narrowing.

“You're really gonna make me do everything?” she asked.

“Pretty please,” Mercurio answered sarcastically before transitioning to a more apologetic tone. “But really, I can barely move. I'd really appreciate it...”

“Fine, but I want a free gun after doing all of this,” Asha grumbled.

“You want a gun now? What the hell happened to the little innocent act you had goin' on before?”

“I killed a bunch of guys.”

“Oh yeah,” Mercurio murmured. “That'll do it.”

Plus,” Asha added. “I remembered that I'm a vampire now. I mean, I realized its significance. I'm not human anymore.”

“Right.” Mercurio paused. “Fine, I can get ya somethin' you can fit in that ugly-ass backback you're carryin' around.”

Asha couldn't argue with him. The backpack was hideous.

“Plus,” Mercurio added, “I'll get rid of those clothes for ya once I can walk again. Deal?”

“Okay, deal,” said Asha. “Now, what am I supposed to be doing with these explosives?”

It didn't take long for Asha to clean up the mess in the hallway, and she left Mercurio's apartment building less than an hour later. Her new fancy watch told her that she still had some time left before daylight, but she decided that it would be best to wait until tomorrow night to meet with Therese Voerman at her club. With the currency she had accumulated throughout the evening, she stopped at Goddess Beauty Supply, finally purchasing her hair products and even some makeup. Then she went by the Thrifty Thrift Store, picking out the outfit she had been eyeing—her outfit—along with the belly chain and a pair of black combat boots, just her size. She was going to look so good.

On her way home, Asha noted that the stranded rich man was gone, his car having finally been towed. She had been so worried about getting in trouble for robbing him at the start of the night, but now as she felt the weight of the shopping bags she carried with her, she wondered why she had been so reluctant to use the money at all.

A whole new world had opened up to her. One in which she didn't have to lose all the time. She could actually get the things she wanted and not feel bad about it. She understood now what the taxi driver had been trying to tell her. She could choose to live a much different life than she had before, and tonight, she had made her choice.

Even long after the chaotic events of her first year as a vampire, that night was one Asha would always remember fondly. Especially the time she spent on the beach as the drug dealers' house burned in the background. The fire glowed in her eyes, and her mouth tasted of fresh blood, and the waves broke against the beach, washing dark water into the sand near her feet. The nearby radio played a song that seemed to be just for her, its lyrics reflecting the past few nights, as though the vocalist had read her mind and put her own words to melody.

And I, I could have died last night,

but I heard the voice of a smaller god.

No matter what Strauss's intentions had been, Asha couldn't thank him enough for giving her the chance to live again, and then there was the nameless taxi driver, whose words of wisdom had ignited the first spark in her heart.

Asha danced along the beach, feeling the breeze and the splash of the water on her skin. The smell of salt filled her nostrils and sand tickled her feet, the ground illuminated under the light of the moon and the glow of the lamps lining the nearby boardwalk. She let her hair loose and spun in circles, her tangled curls flying wild around her head, and savored the sensation of the wind blowing as it started to pick up. She watched as lightning flashed over the ocean, dark clouds moving in and bringing with them the echo of thunder. Even as rain started to fall, she danced. When the sky erupted in sound, she yelled back, screaming and howling, her arms raised, embracing the wind and water.

Sirens and screeching horns sang along to her calls, red and blue lights flashing with the lightning, and the orange glow from the cliff where the beach house used to stand died down until it was nothing but white smoke. It rose into the air, becoming one with the storm and falling back down on her with the rain.

It was all just so beautiful. It was exhilarating. Life-changing.

She was exactly where she needed to be.

This was it. This was her place.

Asha knew that whatever she faced in the future was no match for her.

For the first time ever, she felt powerful...

… and she was alive.

#vtmb #vtm bloodlines #vampire the masquerade bloodlines #vtm #vampire the masquerade #tremere #vtm tremere #essie things #OC Asha Mariam #essie writing

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