#fallen booklet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

naughtyneganjdm · 5 months

Text

Naughty or Nice - Chapter 6

Summary: Beau bonds with Y/N over their similarities and it draws Negan closer to her with how good she is with his son.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Beau, Erin, Maggie, Hershel, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51464518/chapters/132277492

Warnings: Swearing, dirty talk, angst, etc.

Notes: This was a really long chapter that I broke into two and added a lot to it. So it took me a while to post this. Sorry about that. The next one should be up soon since it's already done. Thank you for reading the story. I appreciate it!

“I don’t understand,” Beau spoke up following Y/N toward the barn that he had found her at earlier with his father. After they had breakfast, his family sat together with hers at the table to plan out the next few days. Y/N took charge of the conversation and with Maggie’s back up, they planned out a lot of the things that Beau asked of Y/N when she wanted to know what he wanted to do before Christmas. Surprisingly, Hershel and the rest of the family were easy to persuade in agreeing to the plans they made. Especially after Y/N stressed that it was something Beau wanted to do.

Once they were done, Y/N had informed them that she wanted to make plans to do something with Beau a few hours after their conversation, she just had to run to the store to do a few chores first. Even though it was vague, Beau was interested in whatever she had planned so he agreed to it. With Glenn and Y/N leaving, it left a few hours between where they would be alone at the farm. Maggie took the opportunity of taking them up to the attic to go through some of her family’s old photo booklets. So Negan, Beau, Erin and Maggie all sat together on Negan’s bed looking at the photos and listening to the stories that Maggie told. Halfway through it was pretty obvious they had gotten bored, but they were trying really hard to be nice and listen to Maggie. It was something she was excited about sharing with them, so they were giving her their full attention. Toward the end of it, Erin had fallen asleep on Negan and Beau wished he could have been able to do the same thing without looking rude. While he liked Maggie, it was hard going through a long period of time just looking at old photos.

When Erin did wake up, she asked if Maggie would be willing to take them out riding on the horses again and Maggie agreed. They tried to get Beau to go with them, but he was excited to just have some alone time after everything. Negan offered to wait for Y/N with him, but Beau assured his father he was fine. Part of him thought Negan wanted to wait it out himself, but grudgingly went along with it. Riding horses wasn’t something Beau was really interested in. He cared more so about whatever Y/N had planned for him.

When Y/N finally did show back up, she brought a pair of Shawn’s old clothes for Beau to change into. It confused him, but he didn’t question it. Now that they were walking back to the barn he had found Y/N in earlier with his dad, he didn’t know how to respond to it, “What’s with the clothes? We both look like we’re from a nineties music video.”

“You know what a nineties music video looked like?” Y/N looked back over her shoulder at Beau, amused to hear that come from him since he was so young.

“My mother showed me a lot of the things that she liked when she was younger. So yeah, I have a tape player and everything. I know my music history,” Beau noted with a shrug of his shoulders, brushing his hair back over his ear. “So what is this?”

“Patience my boy,” Y/N held her finger up, pulling open the doors of the barn and stepping aside. Allowing him to see what she had set up, Beau tipped his head to the side with his eyebrows furrowed. His dimples sank in and his hazel eyes looked to her. “Get inside before you freeze.”

“Yes ma’am,” Beau moved into the barn and it made her laugh considering she knew that Negan often responded the exact same way to her.

“I give you and your father one thing, you both have manners,” she closed the doors behind them and moved around to turn the heater on that she had set up for them. One thing she learned earlier with Negan was that if they were going to spend a significant amount of time in that barn, they were going to need some heat.

“I do my best,” Beau folded his arms out in front of his chest, eyeballing what Y/N had set up. There was a bunch of plastic tarp spread out on the ground inside of the barn and off to the sides were two large canvases resting on easels. “If the canvases weren’t here, I might think you were trying to kill me.”

“God,” she choked at his comment, realizing it probably did look like it could be that way. “I could actually see where you came up with that. I am so sorry.”

“I’m teasing you,” Beau explained with a shake of his head, stepping on the tarp hearing the sound it made beneath his feet. “If it was just the tarp, I would worry. With the two canvases set up, obviously you aren’t trying to kill me. I mean, unless you’re going to use my blood to make some kind of art piece.”

“Beau!” she couldn’t help but laugh at his thoughts when he tossed his hands up in the air, giving her an innocent expression. “You’re silly.”

“I try,” he snickered, taking a look around the barn. A long sigh fell from his lips and he rubbed his hands together in attempts to warm up since the heater hadn’t completely started working yet. “All jokes aside. What’s up with this?”

“I know this might be lame, but when I was younger, I was really into art and my emotions. I think Annette was doing her best to try to help me feel better so she would buy me all these paints and canvases,” she related to Beau who was watching her intently with his bright hazel eyes. “So whenever I was feeling depressed or stressed, I would just come out here and paint. I would try many different forms of getting the paint on the canvas. I wanted to find what felt right for me. I think most of my time was spent in here with me finding myself.”

Waving her hand out, she motioned Beau to follow her toward all of the different types of paints that she had gotten along with different brushes and items that he could use to get the paint on the canvas. Holding her hands up in the air, she sighed loudly and cleared her throat, “I see a lot of a younger me in you. So I thought maybe you would like to do something like this.”

“You’re really cool,” Beau spoke faintly and he could tell it made her happy to hear that with the way a smirk tugged at her lips. “I mean it. When I’m feeling bad, I often grab my sketchbook and just draw or write things down. I wish I would have had an art room like this where I could have gone crazy.”

“I’m sure if you asked your dad, he would do that for you,” Y/N suggested getting Beau to contemplate it, his eyebrows bouncing up when he stroked his hand over the side of his face. “Try this first. See how you like it. If you like it, maybe your dad will do something like this for you.”

“Alright,” Beau took time to consider what she was saying, gazing at all the supplies that she had set out for them. “What do you want to paint?”

“What is it that is weighing heavy on you? What do you want to paint?” she inquired, almost knowing what he was going to say, but she wanted him to be the one to make up his mind. “I want you to paint what your heart is feeling.”

“My mom. It’s always my mom,” Beau was honest with her, his hazel eyes filling with a sense of sadness. Reaching out, she caressed her hand in over his shoulder to show her support before stepping back. Even though she was connecting with Negan’s son, she didn’t want to make it too weird for him. Maybe she was worrying too much, but it was what it was. “Is that something you would really be comfortable with painting though? Your mom? I don’t want us to have a theme that is going to upset you.”

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” Y/N spoke with a shrug of her shoulders. The thing that was on her mind the most right now? Negan. But it would be strange for her to paint Beau’s father, so if his theme was his mother, she would find it in herself to paint something that she was feeling toward her own mother.

“Do you want to pick the music?” she held her phone up in the air for him after she connected it to some speakers that she had set out.

“Let’s just go with whatever you like,” Beau offered and she gave a small nod, picking one of her playlists from her phone. Setting it down on the table she had set up, she looked to Beau and saw him eyeing over the paints. “How messy can we get this?”

“I bought a lot of stuff, so as messy as you want to get this. Use as much as you want. Go crazy with it,” she replied back seeing Beau reach for a vibrant color of paint that she had picked up. Getting it open, Beau looked up at her with amusement in his features before heading over toward one of the canvases. They were facing away from each other so that way the final project could be hidden until the end. With a grunt, Beau threw the paint at the canvas making Y/N laugh out at the sound it made. The paint splattered and dripped down from the canvas. Beau’s laugh filled the air when he shrugged his shoulders.

“I thought this might be the quickest way of getting the background a certain color,” Beau explained to her, already getting splattered in paint with his clothes so she figured it was a good plan when she gave him some clothes he could easily toss away. “Are you open to talking while you work?”

“Sure,” she grabbed her supplies to get started on her painting. “I’m always willing to talk.”

“What would you have done if I would have told you that I didn’t want to do this?” Beau’s nose wrinkled, making it obvious with his expression that he was just teasing her further, but she ran with it.

“I would have tucked my tail between my legs and grabbed Glenn. Forced him to do something,” she had an answer for him, but she was hopeful that he would agree to this. “I’m glad you don’t think it’s completely lame.”

“Not at all,” Beau shook his head, sucking at his bottom lip while he spread out the paint he used to get it across the canvas. “I think you’re a very interesting person. From what little I know about you that is. You know how to set up a murder scene after all.”

“Painting…murdering someone, same thing,” she snickered noticing the way that Beau smiled at her. “I think painting can get messier sometimes. Especially when you feel passionate about the piece.”

“Or if you’re just being lazy and you want to get something done fast,” Beau suggested, stepping away from the canvas to look down over himself. Amusement flooded his young features knowing that he had gotten himself incredibly messy from what he had already done. “It’s not fun if you don’t get messy.”

“That’s probably what we are missing at work,” Y/N noted, a small laugh falling from her throat. “Everyone is so uptight there. If we got messy sometimes, I think people would have a lot more fun.”

“Then make it happen,” Beau thought aloud, “You’re in charge. Shake things up a little bit.”

“I don’t think the big boss would be okay with something like that. You probably see the way your dad has to dress every day,” she contemplated the idea knowing that she hated dressing up like that every day as well. “I think with art you should be more relaxed. Wear business clothes when someone is coming in or you have a meeting. People work so much better when they are more comfortable. Dress for success is what they say, but I think people would work better if they wore whatever they wanted.”

“They’ve liked your ideas so far,” Beau pointed out wondering if it was something she would actually try to do. It was something he heard his father complain about every morning since he could remember. Negan was not a suit wearing guy. He hated it. So Beau knew it would be something that his dad would appreciate. “Permission to change the subject to something a little more personal?”

“You don’t have to keep asking permission for things,” she replied back, finding amusement in Negan’s son’s manners while she contemplated her art piece. “You can talk to me about anything that you want to talk about.”

“I just don’t want to hurt or upset you,” Beau confessed, taking a moment to think things over. “Why do you let your father talk to you the way he does?” Beau wondered knowing that it was probably something that he shouldn’t have brought up, but it was weighing heavy on his mind. “The way he talks to you is very demeaning. I’m sorry for bringing it up, but I don’t like it. I mean, he’s been nice to me but Mr. Greene could learn a few things about being a father.”

“You’re not upsetting me by saying it. You’re not wrong,” she pointed out from where she was over by her canvas set up. It was sad that even Negan’s child was capable of seeing the way that Hershel treated her was wrong, but her own father couldn’t see it himself. “I give him backtalk sometimes, but at the same time, I don’t know? Maybe I keep my mouth shut sometimes because I just know he’s my father.”

“And because of that is why he shouldn’t be like that,” Beau reasoned with her, his raspy voice hitching when he headed over to the supplies to look for a few things that he wanted. “I wouldn’t fight with my dad, but my dad doesn’t treat me the way that Mr. Greene treats you.”

“That’s because your father is an incredible man,” she replied back noticing the way that Beau looked back at her with a smirk before nodding. “You were lucky that you ended up with such a good dad. You can tell that he loves you and Erin very much.”

“I know this is deep, but you should be proud of yourself,” Beau suggested while working on his painting. “I was lucky enough to grow up with two incredible parents. I had my mom. I had my dad. And they both loved me. They raised me right. I’ve been surrounded by nothing but love my entire life. I lost my mom and it broke me, but I never questioned if she loved me. I can see your family was hard on you and you never knew your mom. For someone who grew up in the position that you did, you really turned out good. You’re successful, you’re nice…”

“I don’t know how nice I am kiddo,” she sighed loudly, stealing a quick look at Beau who was watching her from where he was standing by his painting. “I’ve probably done some really questionable things that people wouldn’t find very nice.”

“You’ve been nothing but nice to me,” Beau reminded her and it made a lump develop in her throat. “You’ve gone above and beyond to make me feel comfortable. Even when you barely knew me. If that’s not kindness. I don’t know what is,” Beau continued on thinking things over, “And someone could say it’s because you know my dad, but it’s not. I can’t tell you how many people know my dad and they don’t go above and beyond for me like you have in the last two days. Maggie included.”

“I just want you happy,” she informed him feeling the lump in her throat growing bigger. “You remind me of me when I was younger and I…I don’t know.”

“It’s because you’re a good person,” Beau reiterated with a firmness to his tone causing her to shrug her shoulders. “One day, you’re gonna see it. Even if your family makes you feel otherwise. Your family should lift you up. Not bring you down. Maybe my family can show you that.”

“You’re sweet,” she commented and it made Beau smile, his dimples becoming more visible while he continued to work on his painting. “You know, I got Maggie to agree to doing all of the things that you wanted to do for Christmas. We figured out our schedule over the next few days.”

“See what I mean about the whole you being a kind person thing?” Beau stuck to what he was saying previously and it made her smile, shaking her head since he was sticking with it. “Thank you for doing that. You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” she corrected him knowing that she didn’t want to make him think that it was for any reason other than what it was for. “I don’t want you to feel like I did when I was younger. You shouldn’t feel broken or sad. I think your mother would want the best for you.”

“She was awesome you know,” Beau informed Y/N thinking back on his mother. “I think she would have really liked you. You remind me of her. When I saw you in my dad’s room the other day, it brought back so many memories of her for me. And the way you are with people? I wish you could have met her. The two of you would have been good friends.”

“I’m sure I would have really liked her,” she commented, a smirk tugging at her lips when she heard Beau singing along to the music that was on in the background. For a while they were quiet while they worked on things, but the best part of doing this whole thing was seeing how emotional it seemed to make Beau in a good way. Whenever she would steal a look at him, he would either be contemplating deeply or smiling and that made her happy to see. “How’s it going?”

“Not too bad,” Beau responded, stepping away from the painting that he was working on and it showed her that the clothes he was wearing were covered in paint along with his hands and arms. It made her laugh and he looked down at himself. Shamelessly, he shook his arms to try to get some of it off, but it just spread more. “Hey Y/N? What was your favorite thing about Christmas growing up? Do you have a favorite memory?”

“Uh…” she paused to think about it and the longer she did, the more she began to realize that she didn’t really have a good memory to think of. “I don’t think so. Sadly. My family always went all out on Christmas, but there is no exact memory that I have that’s very…happy.”

“That makes me sad,” Beau frowned, shaking his head at the thought of not having a moment or moments to really stand out for her. “We’ll have to change that for you. Because everyone deserves to have memories that they can look back on and be happy about.”

“We’ll see,” she breathed out knowing that this time that she had been able to spend with Negan and Beau were some of her favorite moments that she had in a very long time. That scared her because she didn’t have a lot of good moments to look back on in her life. If she was starting to admit that she was happy, she was afraid that these feelings and moments that she was having would be taken away from her. Looking forward to things or getting ahead of herself was not something she should be doing because this was so new and she didn’t want to get excited for something that would only lead to sadness in the end.

“So…” Beau spoke up from the other end of the barn. “You and Glenn. When are the two of you planning on getting married?”

“Uh, we never picked a date,” Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken at the name of her fiancé that had joined her on this trip.

“Why is that?” Beau wondered and honestly? It was a question she never really thought about herself.

“I don’t know,” she was honest with Negan’s son. “He asked me to marry him and after that? We really didn’t talk about it much more. I’ve been so busy with my new job and everything that I never actually thought about getting married.”

“I see,” Beau sighed, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but he rethought it and changed the direction of his questions. “Was it romantic when he asked you to marry him?”

“I mean…” she didn’t know whether to be honest or not with Negan’s son. Thinking things over, what could it hurt with her being honest with Beau? “No. It wasn’t. Glenn asked me in front of a bunch of people and we had never really talked about marriage before. I guess when I pictured me getting engaged to someone, I figured it would be personal. Something that I could look back on that was special between me and the person I was in love with. When Glenn asked me, I was almost afraid of telling him no because I didn’t want to hurt him. He’s so sweet and he’s a good person. The last thing I wanted to do was upset him.”

“So you don’t want to be engaged to him,” Beau clarified making a lump develop in her throat and she lowered down the brush that she was using to paint the art that she was doing. “Why tell him yes then?”

“Because I didn’t want to hurt him,” she confessed back, looking to the ring that was on her finger. “I cared more about his feelings than I did what I really wanted.”

“That’s not what love should be like,” Beau asserted and she found herself impressed to hear this coming from a thirteen-year-old. “I think Glenn is nice and everything, but I don’t see that spark between the two of you.”

“The spark?” she set down what she was painting with, reaching up to drag her hand across the painting that she was doing and it made Beau give her an odd expression. “It will make sense when you see the painting.”

“Okay?” Beau was confused but went with it. “Yeah. The spark. I saw it with my dad and my mom when she was alive. There is this thing that people have when they look at each other. You can just see it. You and Glenn come off like best friends. I hope that doesn’t offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” she reassured Beau, moving over to the paints that she had set up. Beau moved in beside her looking for something while she cleaned up a few things. Taking a look at Beau, she couldn’t help but laugh seeing him covered in the paint. “Did you get any paint on the canvas?”

“I did. Thank you,” Beau snorted reaching his fingers out to dip them in some of the paint before flicking it at her, watching her turn away from the spray of the paint. With a small laugh, Beau tried to bite back on it before Y/N turned to him. Nodding, she reached out to dip her fingers in the same paint before flicking it at Beau. With a laugh, Beau shrugged his shoulders and pointed to what he was wearing. “Like that is really going to affect me. I’m already covered Y/N.”

“Okay, well in that case,” she reached for the pink paint that she had set out and Beau let out a nervous laugh.

“Now hold on. You wouldn’t do that,” Beau held his hand up to stop her from doing it. “You wouldn’t want to get that all over with the toxins that could be in the paint and…”

“I got the safe, nontoxic paint for us,” she informed him and Beau let out a nervous sound. A moment later she tossed the paint out watching it hit Beau with a splash when the rest of the paint hit the ground where the tarp was beneath him. “I think pink is your color, Beau.”

“Wow,” Beau held his hands up in the air, his head shaking when he looked down at himself. Moving over toward the paints, Beau grabbed one of the open containers and he watched her backstepping away from him. “Now wait a second, I just want to show you this…”

“Beau,” she tried dodging him moving around the barn. Holding her hands up, she shook her head. “I mean it was only justice since you have all that paint over you already.”

Watching Negan’s son, she ducked when he threw the paint at her and heard the door opening at the same time. With a splashing sound, she heard a grunt follow. Beau’s laughter filled the air and she looked back over her shoulder to see that Negan was standing at the door with red paint dripping down his face and the front of his body.

“Negan,” Y/N choked back at on laughter as he reached up in attempts to wipe the paint from his face, but it didn’t do much. “You…you know. Red is really your color. You look great.”

“Hey, Y/N?” Beau called out drawing her to look back over her shoulder and before she could react, paint was being thrown on her. Gasping out, she looked down at herself to see that she was covered in green paint and Beau was giggling. “Now the two of you are very festive.”

“I’m not going to have any clothes by the time this whole trip is done,” Negan moved into the barn, looking down at the paints that were still left. Grabbing one, Negan turned toward his son watching Beau take off running and he followed his son around the barn.

As they rounded the corner, Negan slipped on the tarp and the paint that he was carrying poured all over him. Groaning out, Negan heard the laughs of both Y/N and Beau, but instead of letting it keep him down, he was chasing both of them throughout the barn. It was probably dangerous in some sense, but they were all laughing and having fun with one another. It was the first time in a long time that he had heard this kind of laughter from Beau and he loved it.

“Shit,” Negan felt the paint beneath him making him slip and Y/N reached out to catch him, both of them cackling over the fact that they were both covered in paint and looked like a mess. “I’m going to be in so much trouble.”

“You sure are,” Beau called out from where he was standing with the last bit of paint. Scrambling to get up, Negan felt his feet slipping again and just when he was about to try to move, he ended up bringing Y/N down with him.

“Negan, I think we’re…” Maggie’s voice spoke up when the door pulled open again and she was met with the splash of the paint that Beau had thrown at both Y/N and Negan. Once the paint hit Maggie, Beau immediately dropped the can and scrambled backwards, but he slipped on the tarp and fell on his bottom. A gasp fell from Maggie’s lips when she shakily reached up to try to wipe the white paint that was over her face off. Once she got a look at the barn and the mess that they had made along with how all three of them were covered in paint, it made her huff. Beau was motionless, knowing that it was his fault that Maggie got covered in the paint that she did. “I don’t even want to know, but I’m going to go get cleaned up and changed. Please clean…whatever the hell this is up.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan breathed out, slowly pulling himself up from the ground to stand face to face with Maggie. There was no doubt that she was furious with this whole thing and he was doing everything he could to keep his amusement hidden, but he was failing. Tiny laughs were escaping his throat, but he was trying to hide them between fake coughs. “We’ll get right to it.”

“I am so sorry,” Beau muttered from where he was seated on the ground. Attempting to pull himself up, Beau could see that Maggie’s expression softened when he spoke to her. It was a vastly different look than that of what she was giving Negan. “We were just playing around and they fell. I swear, I would have never thrown paint on you.”

“Don’t worry about it kiddo,” Maggie forgave him, holding her hands up only to hear the sound of someone moving in behind her.

“Holy shit,” a young voice stammered making Y/N choke when she saw Erin standing beside Maggie staring out at the mess that was made. There was shock and awe in the mess that Erin saw, but it was mostly amusement. Which was quite funny considering Erin was so young. “What the heck happened?”

“There was a…uh…” Negan looked around, throwing his hands up when he spoke. It was hard coming up with a lie good enough to fit whatever had happened between them here. “There was an explosion.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t here when it went off,” Erin looked up to see that Maggie was covered in the paint too which immediately made her start giggling. White droplets were dripping from Maggie’s face and onto the tarp. Looking to the other three, she couldn’t contain her laughter, placing her hand in over her stomach. Tears were forming at her eyes seeing how ridiculous that they all looked. “You all look silly. It’s so funny!”

“You want a hug?” Negan offered up to his daughter hearing her giggle. Shaking her head, she hid behind Maggie, her little cheeks turning a bright shade of red from her laughter. At least Erin was having fun with all of this. “Come on. I’ll give you a big hug? I know your daddy’s hugs are your favorite.”

“No daddy. I don’t need to become a real-life painting,” Erin denied him the hug that he was requesting from her before backstepping away from them.

“I’ll have my dad and stepmom watch over her while I’m taking a shower,” Maggie urged Erin toward the door of the barn. “At some point, you can let me know what happened here.”

“It was an art project between Beau and I,” Y/N responded, holding her finger up to point to the canvases that were still standing. “It got…messy.”

“I can tell,” Maggie opened the door, holding it open and circling her finger around her face. “So can my face.”

“We were just having some fun Maggie. It was mostly my fault,” Beau spoke up, hating that Y/N was taking the majority of the credit for this whole thing. “I got carried away and I was having some fun with things. I started the paint throwing.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just going to need to take my second shower of the day and I’m pretty sure all of you are going to too,” Maggie slurred, trying to wipe some of the paint from her face again, letting out a grunt. There was an anger that was flooding her veins, but thankfully she was holding it back likely because of Erin and Beau. “I’ll go take that shower now.”

“Be careful,” Negan called out, making Maggie stop in the doorway and Erin looked back at Maggie confused. Snickering to himself, Negan was aware that his comment likely fired Maggie up, but that was how he always was with Maggie. So it wasn’t like he was acting any different. They always fucked with one another and he liked getting on her nerves. Waving to Erin, Negan shook his head and paint splattered from his dark hair. With a huff, Y/N pushed into his shoulder and he snickered. “Love you baby.”

“Love you too daddy,” Erin called out before Maggie closed up the doors leaving them all alone in the barn together.

Wrapping his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, Negan shook his head and let out a long exhale, “I am in so much trouble later.”

“I’m sure it will be me that takes the grunt of it,” Y/N suggested with a frown knowing that while Maggie was trying to be polite about things, it would be her fault somehow that this happened. That’s how it always was growing up. Even if it was something that made her happy, if it upset Maggie? She was always going to be at fault.

“I’m sorry,” Beau apologized, finally gathering himself completely and standing up straight. “I didn’t know she was coming in. And if I did, I would have never thrown that paint. I know what a tight ass she can be.”

“Beau!” Negan tried to correct his son, but his laughter kind of hid through how he was really feeling.

“You know I’m right,” Beau waved his hand about and moved around the barn toward the canvas that was Y/N’s. When he saw it, his eyes grew wide and he let out a tense breath. “Wow.”

“What’s this?” Negan moved around the canvas to take a look at it and he let out a surprised breath when he saw her painting. It was a portrait of a woman, but her face had been smudged not allowing any real details to show a face. Her identity was a blur and it drew a chill down Negan’s spine.

“The topic was our mothers,” Beau educated his father on what their theme was while Negan eyed over the details of the painting. Moving in beside Negan, she felt Negan’s fingers hooking with hers while they all stood before her art. They probably all looked ridiculous right now covered in paint while observing her work, but she didn’t mind it. Holding Negan’s hand like this might have been dangerous territory, but it came so natural for them. “I kind of want to cry. Especially knowing that you never knew what your mother looked like. It really hits home.”

“It’s beautiful Y/N,” Negan stammered, his chest rising and falling while they all stood together. “You should keep this because it’s amazing. I feel like I was just punched in the fucking gut. It’s so emotional with the way you decided to do this.”

It was something that just came naturally to her while she was doing it. At the time, she hadn’t thought much about it, but now that everyone was observing her art and she was taking the time to think about how she felt about her mother, it was drawing her eyes to burn at the thought. Trying to shake it off, she didn’t want to get emotional in front of the boys so she attempted to take the attention off her.

“What about yours Beau?” Y/N moved over toward Beau’s, with Negan’s hand still in hers when they all made their way over.

“Well, I didn’t get to really put the finishing details on it,” Beau declared, following them not far behind when they headed over to the painting that he was working on. “But it’s mostly done.”

Negan’s breath caught in his throat when he saw that Beau did a close up painting of Lucille’s face in bright, vibrant colors. There was no hiding that it was Lucille and he couldn’t believe how talented his son was, “Jesus Beau. You are so fucking talented.”

“Eh, I still need to learn a lot,” Beau suggested eyeing over Y/N and Negan while they stood before his painting of his mother. Noticing that they were holding hands, Beau smirked and looked back to the painting. “It’s nowhere near as thought provoking as Y/N’s painting.”

“Yeah, but Beau…you are thirteen years old and this is stunning,” Y/N waved her hand about in the air pointing toward the painting that Beau had visibly worked so hard on. “This is amazing.”

“This is from memory?” Negan looked to his son and Beau nodded. “Beau, I don’t even know if I could do it this well.”

“I look at her photo everyday dad,” Beau reminded Negan, his shoulders shrugging when he stepped forward to eye over the art he made of his mother. “I don’t want to forget her face. It’s the most important thing to me right now. And the vibrant colors remind me of her. You remember how mom was. She was always so in your face. Nothing was ever muted when it came to mom.”

Letting out a tremoring breath, Beau felt Negan’s hand grasping a firm hold of his. Looking down, he squeezed his fingers around Negan’s tighter feeling the lump growing bigger in his throat. For a while they just stood in silence and Beau couldn’t help but notice that they were all linked together in this moment. Hand in hand. Resting his head against Negan’s shoulder, Beau allowed them time to finish looking at his work before they carefully moved the canvases to the back so they wouldn’t get ruined with their clean up.

“Knock-knock,” a voice called out while they were finishing everything up to the best of their ability. An overwhelmed grumble fell from the throat of Hershel when he got a looked at all three of them. “What in God’s name were you all doing in here? Maggie told me you would need towels, but this is…”

“Just having some fun Mr. Greene,” Beau interrupted Y/N’s father, rocking back and forth on his feet when he brought Hershel’s attention onto him. “But don’t worry, we cleaned it up and it won’t be a problem.”

“It will be if you walk into the house like that,” Hershel threw his hand up in the air pointing to the three of them and the way they were covered in the paint. “I brought the towels so you can change out of your clothes and wrap yourself in these on your way back to the house. We’ll spray down the clothes and your shoes so they can dry out.”

“Thank you, sir,” Beau stepped forward, accepting the towel from Hershel. Negan did the same and the glare that Hershel gave Negan made him let out a nervous breath.

“What do you want us to change out of?” Negan’s eyebrow arched, his Adam’s apple bouncing in his throat when he thought about the situation. “It’s gonna be a little weird walking back to the home in nothing but a towel.”

“Keep your undergarments on, obviously,” Hershel rolled his eyes and it made Beau snicker at his response to everything. And keep your socks on too. You’re going to be walking through snow. It’s the best we can do. Just go in the back and change away from everyone else.”

“You can go first kiddo,” Y/N instructed to Beau who gave her a firm nod leaving both Negan and Y/N to suffer from the glare of her father while they waited. Hershel’s eyes fell upon the paintings that were in the back and he tipped his head to the side. “The project was our mothers.”

“I see,” Hershel scoffed, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I reckon the vibrant one is your late wife Negan?”

“Yeah. That’s Lucille,” Negan responded, noticing that Hershel was looking over the paintings, his eyes squinting as if trying to get a better look. “My boy really nailed a lot of her features. I can show you a picture later to see how talented he is.”

“I can see from here that your son is talented. I don’t need a photograph to prove it,” Hershel huffed, his eyes gazing over at Y/N who seemed to be standing there in silence. “What is it with you and your art? You can’t just do art in peace. You have to always make a big event of it? You all are going to have to walk back in the cold because of this. Who knows what the boy is going to get. Maggie got paint on the porch from what you threw on her.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she breathed out, her throat tensing up knowing that she was going to get a lecture from her father. She called that one from the start. “We were just having some fun. Beau is an artist and this was my favorite thing to do as a kid.”

“Her painting is incredible though, right?” Negan spoke up, trying to break Hershel’s attention away from being irritated with her over something that was just a silly moment between all of them. “It was only a few hours and her painting touched me in ways that I don’t even know if I can explain.”

“Hmm…” Hershel didn’t even take the time to comment, his eyes shifting down toward the ground when Beau returned and it was Negan’s turn to toss his clothes in the back after changing. During that time Hershel was really quiet. In front of Beau, Hershel would no doubt be a different man. And when it was her turn to change, she watched Hershel point over toward Beau’s work. “You’re a very talented kid you know. You’re going to do big things with your talents one day. Nice work.”

“Thank you,” Beau’s raspy voice was heard as she rounded the corner. At least she was proud of her father for that. When she was younger, she never got compliments from her father when it came to her art.

Once she was done, she returned and realized how ridiculous they all looked standing there in towels with their socks on, “I’ll spray your clothes and shoes down. Get back to the house fast and try not to get paint all over.”

“Yes sir,” Beau offered up a charming smile, similar to the one that Negan would often give people. A smile that Y/N had gotten used to over the last few months working with him.

Their walk back to the house was quick since it was snowing and Maggie had met them at the door. She offered to let Beau use her bathroom since her and Glenn were going to go pick up some food for the family. Beau accepted and Negan offered to wait in his room while Y/N took the other shower in the bathroom on the second floor.

But when Negan knew Maggie had left with Glenn and the rest of the family was busy, he snuck into the bathroom with Y/N, surprising her when he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. Nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck had her biting back on a sigh, “Are you sure you want to be in here with everyone here?”

Pressing a faint kiss against the side of her neck, Negan growled and heard her laugh, “They are all downstairs anyways. I think Erin is entertaining your father and Annette.”

Stepping back, Negan tugged at his towel and tossed it aside. Pushing at his boxer briefs, Negan kicked out of them and saw her smirk, looking down between them. A wolfish smile tugged at Negan’s handsome features when her eyes raised again, “We look fucking great right now.”

“I don’t know about that,” she chuckled feeling Negan tugging at her towel and tossing it beside his. Getting undressed, she saw Negan brace himself when he pulled his socks off and tossed them in the pile of their clothes at the center of the floor.

Once they were naked, Negan moved in behind her and urged her to look at them in the mirror and she immediately reached up to cover her face. Laughing, Negan reached for her hands to get them to move down, “Negan! We look fucking ridiculous.”

“I wish we had my phone because I would take a picture,” Negan responded with an entertained sound as she placed her hand in over the center of his chest to brace herself.

“With us being buck ass naked and covered in paint?” she found hilarity in that statement. “We look terrible.”

“Correction. The bodies look great, we just look like we were in a very bad accident at a home improvement store,” Negan pinched at her bottom eliciting a gasp to fall from her lips. Leaning in closer to her Negan gave a silly pose and she playfully pushed into his side. “Don’t be embarrassed. This is fun. This is silly. It’s cute.”

“I don’t think anyone would find it cute with you and me being naked together here,” she acknowledged, sliding her hands up the lengths of his abdomen toward his chest, twisting her fingers through the dark curls of hair that covered his flesh.

“You’re going to give me a hard on and I’m really trying to be innocent here. We don’t have time for shower sex,” Negan frowned causing her to roll her eyes and step back away from him. Looking down, Negan huffed and shook his head. “I have kind of a chubby right now as it is.”

Reaching for Y/N’s hand, Negan led her over toward the shower and turned the water on. Making sure that the water was at an appropriate temperature, he helped her into the shower and moved in behind her.

Hearing her sigh once the warmth of the water poured in over them, Negan leaned forward and braced his hands against the wall trapping her in his arms, “You know, I wouldn’t care if your family fucking knew we were together anyways. At this point, who fucking cares?”

“You would when my father found out you were cheating on Maggie,” Y/N turned in his arms to face him, her hands caressing in over the sides of Negan’s body while he stood before her. “When we tell them about us, it will have to be without my father.”

“I’m not scared of your father,” Negan hummed, his eyebrows arching up and she tipped her head to the side. “I can’t help who I fell in love with. And if he can’t handle that? Then tough shit.”

“So brave now,” she shook her head watching Negan’s hands drop from the wall and he closed the distance between the two of them. “It will be different when we have to tell them.”

“I know how I feel Y/N,” Negan hushed her, capturing her jaw between his thumb and index finger. Swiping his thumb over her flesh, Negan shook his head and lowered down in closer to her. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“You know what I think?” she spoke in a whisper with their lips inches apart. Negan’s long eyelashes fluttered and when their eyes connected, she let out a tiny laugh. “I think my ass is going to be bruised tomorrow from how hard we fell before Maggie came in.”

Grumbling out, Negan urged her to turn so he could get a look at her ass and she gasped, “Negan!”

“It looks fine to me,” Negan claimed, nuzzling his nose in against the side of her neck. Palming over her bottom had her letting out a tight exhale and Negan chuckled against her flesh. Pooling at the drain was the mixture of paint colors being cleaned from them and Negan found himself happy in that moment. “You made my son happier today than anyone has in a very long time.”

Unhurriedly, Negan’s palms slid in over her hips then in over her lower abdomen where her fingers hooked with his, “I think we all had a pretty good time there for a little while.”

“Maggie would disagree,” Negan snorted, his nose wrinkling when she turned to face him again. Reaching up, she palmed in over the side of his face and giggled when she saw that some of the paint was still sticking to him. Attempting to help him get it off, she stepped in closer to him and rest her head against the center of his chest when a big laugh fell from her throat. “Thank you for what you are doing with Beau. You have no idea how much it means to me. My boy lost his smile for a while and it was nice to see it back tonight.”

“I’m just happy he had fun,” she stroked her fingers over the center of his chest. “He’s a good kid. You raised him right.”

“I can only take so much credit for that. His mother did a really good job with him too. They were best friends,” Negan informed her, wrapping her up in his arms and sighing when she cuddled in closer to him. Caressing his hand down over the length of her back, Negan frowned and shook his head. “I was really worried about what would happen to him after we lost his mother, but he’s been so good. I think he’s taken great care of his little sister. And he’s taken care of me when it should be the opposite. I’m so fucking lucky to have that boy in my life.”

“Is it bad that I don’t want to leave this position?” she wondered knowing that she felt the calmest she had in a very long time under the spray of water with Negan holding onto her like he was. “I can’t even believe we are doing this.”

“I’m very comfortable myself,” Negan snickered, pressing a kiss over her forehead and giving her another tight squeeze pulling her close to his body. It was surprising how this wasn’t sexual at all, just more of a sweet intimate moment between the two of them. “I don’t think it’s wrong to want to keep feeling good when you were trained to force yourself to feel bad all the time.”

“I love you,” she lifted her head, reaching up to brush her fingers through his wet hair. “I really do. If you would have told me I would have been feeling this way a week ago, I would have told you to fuck off.”

“Well, that reaction is one people often do have when they think about me,” Negan teased, his nose wrinkling when he urged her to face the showerhead. Caressing his hands up the sides of her body, Negan reached for the shampoo and started to lather her hair with the soap that was there. It was kind of romantic and sweet that he was doing it and she found herself in awe of him. “I do piss people off a lot. And I guarantee you when we get back to work, even though you will be absolutely fucking smitten with me, I’m still gonna piss you off and you’re gonna want to choke me.”

“God,” she scoffed, turning in his arms and stealing the shampoo returning the gesture by soaping up his hair as well. Tipping up on her toes, her lips hovered over his and she shook her head, “We’ll save the choking for our alone time.”

“You’re a freak. I like it,” Negan snickered against her flesh, capturing her lips in a kiss that drew her further up on her toes toward him. Stepping forward, he got them further under the water so they could get the shampoo out of their hair. “I’m pretty sure I’d let you do any fucking thing to me honey. And I’d enjoy it.”

“You better,” she nipped at his bottom lip before going to get the body wash to work to scrub the paint off with Negan’s help. “Your son told me that he doesn’t see the spark between me and Glenn. The spark that you and his mother had.”

“He’s a perceptive little man,” Negan noted while they finished getting cleaned up together in the small shower. “And he’s not wrong.”

“I didn’t lie to him though. I told him that I agreed and I didn’t think I belonged with Glenn,” she was honest with Negan about the conversation she had with his son. “Is that bad?”

“Nope. He’s very easy to talk to and I don’t think he’s going to go running to Glenn to tell him,” Negan explained to her, turning off the shower after they were done. Getting out, he reached for a new towel and held it out for her. Getting out of the shower carefully, she stepped forward only to feel Negan wrapping her up in the new towel. With Negan peppering kisses over the side of her neck, she couldn’t help but laugh at the way it felt with his short beard against her flesh. “Eventually you will have a talk with Glenn and he’s a nice guy. I’m sure he will understand.”

“He’s so fucking nice Negan,” she let out a hesitant breath, her eyebrows furrowing when she thought about the man she had been dating for quite some time. “I can only imagine how he is going to take things once I tell him.”

“He’ll survive,” Negan assured her, grabbing a hold of her hands to give them a tight squeeze. Stepping back, he reached for a new towel for himself to wrap around his waist. Standing in front of the mirror, he took a long look at himself and huffed. Slicking his hair back, he felt her arms wrapping around him from behind. Caressing over the lengths of his long, slender abdomen she used him to brace up on her toes so she could press faint kisses over his freckle covered shoulders. “If I don’t get to be with you, I won’t survive. I can fucking promise you that.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she snickered against his flesh, stepping back and away from him, hearing his snort follow. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“Hold me. Kiss me. Love me. Fuck me,” Negan’s voice growled, turning on his heel to face her noticing the flush of color that flooded her features. “Spank me. Yell at me. Cuddle me. Whatever your heart desires. Just don’t break my heart.”

“Goddamn it. You are so fucking cute it’s frustrating,” she laughed, pushing her fingers into the center of his chest making his thick eyebrows furrow. The expression he made caused her heart to flutter in her chest. It was like he was pouting and she shook her head. “You look like a fucking puppy when you use those fucking eyes on me.”

“Sexiest puppy you’ve ever seen,” Negan bobbed his head about eliciting a laugh from deep within her. Moving around him, she started putting her clothes on and Negan frowned. “I like being naked with you.”

“You technically are still very much naked under that towel,” she reminded him, pointing down at the towel that was wrapped loosely around his hips. “Did you bring your clothes with you?”

“I did not,” Negan let out a tense breath looking down at the towel that he was wearing. Pulling it apart, Negan held his arms out and he was purposely trying to flash her. “It’s almost a shame we took a shower together and we didn’t get to do anything in the shower.”

“I like what we did,” she responded, turning toward him to drag her index finger down over the center of his chest circling his nipple with her fingertip before dragging it down further. When her fingers dragged across his hip, it had his eyes narrowing and his breathing grew louder. “Better close up that towel tightly and go get dressed.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan frowned, pulling the towel tightly together and knotting it. “You’re a tease.”

“Says the man who was just flashing me his penis,” she leaned in closer to him, the warmth of her breath lingering over his lips.

“You like it so much, I thought I’d leave you with the image of me soaking wet, completely nude…” Negan’s dimples became more prominent with his whispering, “that way it helps you get through the rest of the day.”

“What helps you get through the rest of the day? Imagining it in my mouth or inside of me?” she purred and Negan growled in response.

“Both are incredible choices,” Negan noticed her stroking small shapes over the center of his chest and he smiled. “Now the idea of me coming down your throat is very appealing. We haven’t done that yet.”

“We’ll have to see if we can make that happen,” she hushed him, pushing her fingers into his chest to get him to step back. “But not right now.”

“Tease,” Negan rolled his eyes, reaching for the door to leave, but he rethought it. Lowering down, he nuzzled his nose in against the side of her face. Noticing what he was asking for, she laughed and turned just enough to meet Negan in a quick kiss. After he peppered a few more kisses over his lips, he pulled the door open and went to move out into the hallway.

“Fuck! Beau,” Negan gasped when he came face to face with Beau who was just coming out of Maggie’s room. They both froze when they saw one another and Negan clung tightly to the door. Tipping his head to the side, Beau eyed over Y/N. The color had drained from both Negan and Y/N’s faces after he had caught them in the bathroom together pulling away from a kiss. Grasping tightly to the towel that he was wearing, Negan cleared his throat and noticed the smirk that pressed in over Beau’s young features. Rubbing a towel through his wet hair, Beau shook his head and moved out of Maggie’s room stepping out into the hallway. “Listen…I…”

“Can explain?” Beau finished for Negan, his jaw flexing as he let out a tense laugh. Shrugging his shoulders, Beau didn’t seem to be too bothered by things. Y/N moved in beside Negan in the doorway and Beau eyed over the stairs to make sure they were alone. “I told you dad, I’m not asking questions. When you’re ready to tell me something. You will. Nor am I going to be talking to anyone about anything. Because it’s none of my business.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Y/N assured Negan’s son with a panicked voice, her eyes looking terrified when she saw the way that Beau was looking between them. “I swear. It was very innocent.”

“Okay,” Beau shrugged his shoulders pointing toward the stairs. “You think we should go figure out what Erin is doing with your family? I think sugar cookies are out of the question until tomorrow, don’t you? With all of us being covered in paint earlier.”

“As long as you are okay with that,” she breathed out, surprised how well Beau was taking seeing her and his father coming out of the bathroom together soaking wet with his dad still in a towel. Giving them a small nod, Beau handed the towel that he had over to his father and Negan eagerly accepted it. “I just want you happy.”

“And I just want both of you happy,” Beau released a long sigh, folding his arms out in front of his chest. “So whatever it takes for you both to be happy? I’m okay with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you happy dad. So do whatever you have to do. I’m a big boy and I understand that.”

“I feel like we should talk,” Negan suggested hearing Beau snicker and shake his head. Beau’s eyebrows bounced up and Negan wrapped the towel that Beau gave him around his shoulders. “I’m sure you have some questions and…”

“Dad, another time. I think you need to go get dressed before someone else comes up here,” Beau pointed toward his father from where he was standing still dressed in nothing but a towel. “I am going to go check on Erin and make sure she’s not starting a fire or anything.”

“Beau,” Negan spoke up, walking out into the hallway with his son and Beau threw his hands up in the air. “I just think…”

“When you’re ready, you’ll talk to me,” Beau repeated, moving for the stairs. “Until then, I saw nothing. And I know nothing.”

“Shit,” Negan cussed, his hands sliding in over his hips when Beau made it down the stairs. “Do you think he knows?”

“He’s thirteen Negan,” she pointed out and Negan gazed back over his shoulder at her, his expression showing that he didn’t know how to take that answer. “I’m pretty damn sure he knows.”

“I told you he was fucking perceptive,” Negan grumbled under his breath and stepped back toward the stairs that led toward the attic. “I should go get dressed.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed with him, not sure how to respond to things. Going to head back into the bathroom, she felt Negan grabbing a hold of her wrist to pull her back to him. Cupping her face in his large hands, he urged her to him so he could leave her with a lingering kiss that took her breath away. “Negan?”

“I just want you to know that I don’t regret this,” Negan whispered, drawing his thumb across her bottom lip, his head shaking from side to side. “Even if my son figured this whole thing out. I’m not ashamed of this. I never will be. I fucking love you.”

“I love you,” she whispered, accepting another quick kiss from Negan. After he headed up the stairs she went back into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Resting back against it, she took a minute to gather herself. She hoped that Beau didn’t think that she was doing everything that she was because of her relationship with Negan.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @promiscuousbarnes @tone-stark @lanadelnegan @flippittygibbitts @stickyhuesos

#Jeffrey Dean Morgan #Negan #Negan fanfiction #negan x reader #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #Negan Smith

106 notes · View notes

ladykailitha · 10 months

Text

Royal Pain Part 2

This is the truly large part that I couldn’t find a safe place to stop without making it too short.

Eddie talks to his band about Steve and we meet Miranda, Jeff’s girlfriend. In fact Jeff and Miranda’s relationship is based on a couple friends of mine. They really do be like that.

Part 1

***

Three hours later and Steve was done, pulling off the latex gloves. He sat back with a satisfied grin. “Go on, go take a look.” He jutted his chin toward the three way mirror in the room.

Eddie hopped to his feet, grateful to be able to move again. Sitting still was the hardest part of the tattoo process. But Steve had kept his mind and body occupied by catching up with him. They chatted the full three hours without ceasing or awkward pauses.

He stood in front of the mirror in shock, letting out a small gasp. “Holy shit, Stevie. It’s beautiful.” And it was, too. It looked like his picture brought to life but with the chain swirling around like it had fallen on to Eddie’s chest to rest there. And it seemed to glow with an unearthly light.

“I’m glad,” Steve said with fond smile. He picked up the camera and took a picture of the tattoo.

Then he hopped up off the stool and went to a small side table where there was a stack of business cards. He picked one up and grabbed a pen, writing on the back.

He walked over to Eddie and handed it to him. “Call the front number if you want me to do the bat wings, call the one on the back if you just want to hang out.”

Eddie looked down at the card with a grin. “You’ve got it, big boy!”

“Do you want me to cover it with a gauze so you can put your shirt back on?” Steve asked, nervously.

Eddie frowned in confusion, but Steve nodded at his chest. He looked down at his tattoo. “Oh! Right! Yes, please!”

Steve bandaged it up and handed Eddie back his shirt. Which was good because Steve kept looking at him and while it didn’t make him feel uncomfortable or anything, it just seemed to see him and that was something he had never felt before.

They shook hands and Eddie wandered back to the front to pay. He tapped the card against his palm thoughtfully.

He held up the card and stuck out his tongue and Robin stuck out hers in return.

After she rang him up she handed him a small black gift bag with their logo on it. “For all our first time clients. It comes with instructions on how to take care of the tattoo for first few weeks. Not that you’d need that, but it’s there anyway. It also comes with clean bandages and our own special lotion. Most hand lotions will work, but ours is formulated for tattoo care.”

Eddie blinked at her in shock. This didn’t sound like a rote spiel, this was something they were passionate about. He pulled out the instruction booklet. It was beautifully illustrated with step-by-step directions on how to take care of the tattoo not just for the first couple of days but how to prevent the colors from fading too quickly over time.

“This is really well done,” he said with a low whistle.

Robin beamed. “Another one of Stevie’s nuggets. Will the Wise. He’s a pretty good graphic artist. He did the illustrations, too.”

Eddie nodded appreciatively. “I didn’t meet that one. Something about having to move to California for his freshman year...”

Robin nodded. “His mom got accepted at a college out there to get her associates in fine art, then came back to get her teacher’s license out here so she could teach in Indiana.”

“Must have been hard on the kids,” Eddie said, putting the pamphlet back into the bag.

Robin nodded. She leaned forward on her forearms. “You going to call or am I going to be subjected to the worst pining outside the worst rom-coms?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Steve doesn’t do full back tattoos,” Robin explained. “Or large pieces of any kind. He had a bad experience once where he did one and the guy got super pissed, threatened to sue even.” She straightened up. “Not that he would tell you that. He’d probably say some bullshit about that he gets bored too easy or whatever.

“Excuse me, what?” he asked, confusion settling in.

“Steve doesn’t like doing big tattoos, but wants to do yours, ergo he likes you and wants an excuse to spend several hours over several weeks with you,” she explained slowly as if she was talking to a small child.

Eddie’s jaw dropped. “Oh.” He looked down at his chest. “I’d like to set up an appointment for the first session.”

Robin grinned. She pulled up the schedule and get it situated. “All done.”

Eddie grinned back and tapped the card on the counter thoughtfully. Then he leaned far into her space. “And I’m going to call him, too.”

Her eyes went wide as he turned on his heel and walked away.

He licked his lips and bit down on the lower one. Looks like he wasn’t going to kill Jeff after all. He might have to send flowers. The bastard.

Eddie strolled into the garage his band practiced in with a huge shit-eating grin. Brian looked up at him and grinned back.

“Someone is super happy,” he said. “I take you liked your tattoo...”

Jeff snorted. “And how was the tattoo artist?”

Eddie grin managed to get even bigger. “About that Jeffie...is there something you forgot to tell me?”

Jeff laughed. “I wasn’t going to tell you shit, man. I knew you wouldn’t go if you knew who it was.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side and then nodded. “Yeah, I guess. But fuck, man. He’s so good.”

Gareth jutted his chin out. “So come on, let’s see.”

Eddie pulled up his shirt and carefully peeled away the bandage to show them.

“Wicked!” Brian said, bobbing his head.

“You try the lotion yet?” Jeff asked. “Holy shit, that stuff is so good.”

Eddie shook his head. “Not yet. But I can’t wait to. I can’t stand the scented stuff and even non-scented stuff is scented.”

Jeff nodded. “I think you’ll really like theirs.”

Eddie shrugged. “Buckley is a bit intimidating as a receptionist, though...”

Jeff threw back his head and laughed. “She is that. But I think she just gets defensive because it’s ‘not a proper tattoo parlor’ or whatever,” he said, using air quotes.

Eddie nodded and carefully put away his tattoo, pulling down the shirt. “I never really got the dingy backdoor aesthetic, if I’m honest. Maybe that’s why there are so many tattoo ‘regerts’.”

They all burst out laughing.

“Could be,” Jeff conceded.

Eddie chewed on his lip and then blurted out, “I’m letting him do the bat wings!”

The room got so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“No fucking way,” Gareth breathed, almost afraid to break the silence.

Eddie nodded. “You’ve seen what he can do with Jeff’s idea and with mine. Think of what he could do given carte blanche...”

“It’s going to take forever,” Brian cautioned.

“And it’s going to hurt like a bitch,” was Gareth’s warning.

Jeff leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Do you really trust him to do this for you? Because we aren’t talking about some little tattoo because you felt like it. This is your tribute to finally getting out of Hawkins and making something of your self. If he fucks it up, you two wouldn’t survive the ensuing fallout.”

Eddie frowned. “Why would it matter to him if I don’t like–” he cut himself off as he remembered what Buckley said about being threatened with a lawsuit. “It would destroy his career, wouldn’t it?”

“He sure as hell wouldn’t want to tattoo anymore,” Jeff agreed. “So tread carefully. Talk to him about every step. Every choice. Because if this goes right, it’s going to be the most awesome collaboration ever. But if it goes south, man, it’s going to hit rock bottom.”

Eddie nodded. “I know, I know.” He threw his head back and ran his fingers through his hair. “But there is something about the way he does his tattoos, man, that just has this passion and spark to them. I liked Max. I still do. But her style is more abstract or impressionist or whatever. It’s not this photo realistic style that Stevie has that just makes the tattoo pop.” He buried his head in his hands.

He ran his fingers down his face. “Am I fucked up for wanting that?”

The rest of the band looked at each other, then shook their heads.

“No, Ed,” Gareth said. “Of course not. We just want you to think about this before diving into it, face first.”

Eddie sighed. “Look you guys all know who I had the biggest crush on while we were in school. You know. So tell me this isn’t some weird self-actualization shit or something.”

Brian came over and sat down next to him on the two-seater. “There might be some truth to that. He was different from how he was in high school. Even Jeff’s said as much. He’s a good tattoo artist. No one is saying otherwise. And maybe that brought up old feelings again. So it’s going to up to you to decide if that’s why you’re going back.”

Gareth started waving his hands. “Not that that’s a shit reason for going back. Because as far as reasons to get a tattoo, being in love is one of the oldest there is.”

Jeff scoffed, “Pretty sure it was war or some shit like that.”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Modern tattooing you fucker.”

Jeff grinned back at his friend. “Love you, Gare!”

“Fuck off,” Gareth teased back, he turned back to Eddie. “Just acknowledge that’s why.”

Eddie sighed. “Yeah, okay. I want to Steve Harrington to tattoo my back because he’s the best artist for the job, his work is incredible, and because I’ve always been half in love with the guy.”

He pulled out the business card and held it up between two fingers. “And because he gave me his personal cell number.”

The guys burst out laughing.

“Dude!” Brian said bumping their shoulders together. “Boy still got game.”

Eddie ducked his head and hid his blush with his hair. “Yeah, all right.”

Jeff leaned back and shook his head. “You gonna call the dude or do we have to do it for you?”

Eddie squeaked and waved his hands around dramatically. “No, no. I’ve got this. But I told him I would call after band practice. So if we could get on that, yeah?”

They all pulled out their instruments while Gareth sat behind his kit. He pulled out two drumsticks and tapped out the first few beats of their new song for the others to tune in.

Soon they were rocking out. They went through the songs a few times, repeating parts that were rougher than others. In no time at all they done, tired, covered in sweat, and absolutely satisfied with a job well done.

“Good job, guys,” Jeff said as they packed up. “We’re ready for tomorrow. Anyone need a lift tomorrow? I’ve the car this weekend.” Jeff lived with his girlfriend Miranda Winters and they only had the one beat up four door sedan between them.

“I’ll need a ride,” Brian said. “Mine’s in the shop. That damn radiator cap leaked again.”

Jeff winced. “I think you just junk the damn thing and get something else, man. You’re pumping more money into that piece of shit then it’s worth.”

Brian nodded. “I’ve almost got enough saved up for a newer model. That clunker just has to last that long.”

“You gonna need a ride home tonight, too?” Jeff asked as he zipped up his soft guitar case.

Brian shook his head. “Cecil’s coming to get me.” Cecil was Brian’s roommate. “He dropped me off tonight, he just works tomorrow night.”

They all nodded.

Jeff turned to Gareth. “You got a ride?”

Gareth nodded. “Yeah, man. Gethin is visiting this weekend and wants to see us play. So I’ve got a ride to both Friday and Saturday’s shows.”

“How about you Ed,” Jeff asked. “Your clunker gonna make this weekend?”

Eddie scoffed. “Dude, my clunker as you call my noble steed is in better shape than yours and Brian’s combined. She’ll be fine.”

Jeff chuckled. “Whatever you say, man. That thing is a four-wheeled death trap and you know it.”

Eddie put his hand over his heart, mock-wounded. “Forsooth! You dare disparage the mighty Snowmane!”

Gareth eyed sidelong. “You’re just procrastinating calling Steve. So hop to it, boy! We want to see you call him.”

Eddie sighed, but pulled out his phone. He typed in the number on the back of the card, knee bouncing up and down as he waited.

Click.

“Hey, Stevie!” Eddie greeted. “It’s Eddie. I said I’d call after practice and here I am.”

“No it was good,” Eddie said. “Yeah. We are so ready for this weekend.”

“Yup,” he said, avoiding looking at his friends. “Hey, you and Robin should come out either tomorrow or Saturday.”

“Saturday it is,” he said with a grin. “The Nightmare Holes bar at 8pm.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, holding his hair in front of his face to hide his deepening blush. “I’ll talk to guys and get back to you on that. But it sounds like fun.”

“Of course,” he said softly. “Yeah. It was good to see you again, too.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. Bye.”

He looked up to see his friends staring at him in varying degrees of shock.

“Holy shit, dude,” Gareth said, standing up from behind his kit. “You really do have it bad.”

Just then the door opened and Miranda walked in. She was tall and thin, having done ballet for years. When she stood, her body automatically fell into pointe. Her dark brown hair was in a French braid that went down to the small of her back. Her eyes were an all too knowing grey, and when she walked in, she a mischievous grin on her pretty face.

“Who’s got what bad?” she asked, coming up to Jeff to give him a kiss.

“Our Eddie boy’s got a crush on his new tattoo artist,” Brian said gleefully, rubbing his hands together.

Eddie glared at him. “I swear to god if you say anything else I will smash your base by going eighty miles an hour on the freeway and tossing it out the fucking window.”

Brian held up his hands in surrender.

“Technically, it’s a old crush,” Gareth said with a shit-eating grin, “but it checks out.”

Miranda turned to Eddie clapping her hands and jumping up and down. “Steve Harrington is your new tattoo artist? That must blow your fucking mind!”

Eddie blushed. “Come on, guys!”

“All right,” Jeff said stepping forward. “Leave the man alone. He just had his world view tilted on its axis, give him time to get through that first.”

Eddie smiled up at him. “Thanks, man.”

“And then tease the shit out of him,” Jeff continued.

Eddie huffed and threw himself back on the two-seater and glowered. “Fuck all you guys.”

“Hey, Brian,” Miranda said, “Cecil is out in the parking lot waiting for you.”

Brian nodded and said his goodbyes, heading out to meet his roommate.

Miranda turned to Gareth and Jeff. “If you guys are ready, go ahead and go out to the car. I need to have a word with Eddie real quick.”

Jeff and Gareth nodded and waved goodbye to Eddie. Leaving the two of them alone.

She sat down next to him and sighed. “Teasing aside, are you okay?”

Eddie pursed his lips and nodded. “It’s just such a shock. He has his own tattoo parlor. He pays his best friend to receptionist for him. And fuck if he isn’t talented to boot.” He lifted up his shirt and showed her the new tattoo.

“Holy fuckballs!” she said reaching out her hands to touch it, but stopping just in time. “It looks so real.”

Eddie covered it back up and put his shirt back down. “I’m going to have him do my wings.”

Miranda nodded. “Just tell him that if he fucks up with you, Miranda Winter will be coming for his ass.”

Eddie chuckled. “I’ll be sure and tell him, but he’s coming to the concert on Saturday if you wanted to meet him.”

“Sure thing, darlin’,” she said. “I’ve got to get back out their before they completely change all my radio programs to metal again.”

Eddie laughed. “Well maybe if you listened to good music, they wouldn’t have to.”

“Shut your whore mouth, pretty boy,” Miranda teased back. “I happen to like alt rock.”

Eddie just grinned as he watched her leave.

He frown slid off his face. Oh fuck. What if Steve didn’t like metal? No. Then he would have turned Eddie down, because he new it was a metal band. But what if he forgot. But he remembered a lot about him. So he wouldn’t just forget in a couple of hours. Fuck.

There was nothing for it he was going to have to call Uncle Wayne.

***

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee @littlewildflowerkitten @archermightbegay

#My writing #stranger things #steddie #tattoo artist steve #ladykailtiha writes

281 notes · View notes

k1llergraces · 1 year

Text

Evanescence Fallen album CD booklet

★ 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚗 𝙸𝙶 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚛 ★

#evanescence #bring me to life #amy lee #cd #album cover #album art #y2k aesthetic #y2k blog #y2k vibes #y2k goth #gothcore #nu goth #goth girl #y2k music #cd booklet

396 notes · View notes

wastefulreverie · 2 years

Text

"You don't remember me," the ghost said, staring at Danny with a confused frown.

"I think I'd remember some creepy creature from my parents' basement, yeah," he croaked.

That was the wrong thing to say because it only seemed to frustrate the ghost further. It ran a hand through his white hair that seemed to fall into its glowing, green eyes. "But how did this happen? You should know me. You should—" it made a high-pitched sound that sounded staticky at the edges. "What happened to us?"

Danny didn't feel like the ghost meant him any harm, but something about it made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He needed to get out of here now, but there was something in him that glued his feet to the lab's floor.

"What do you remember?" The ghost asked him. "There's something wrong with us and I need to figure out where everything went wrong."

"What do I remember? That's a vague sort of question, um—" he wracked his brain. "I mean, I woke up this morning late, grabbed some breakfast—"

"No." The ghost's aura flickered and then darkened. Its green eyes swirled with something Danny couldn't quite discern. "What do you remember about the accident, Danny?"

"The accident? What accident?"

His mind began providing a number of instances the ghost could mean. Or perhaps it was a threat?

"The accident!" The ghost snapped with a clap of its white, gloved hands. "The one that started it all. That started—" it waved between the two of them "—this! What happened when you turned on the portal?"

"You mean my parents' portal? I, uh, I wasn't there when it turned on. Don't know the details but I'm sure my parents got it to go on somehow."

"Oh Ancients," it floated back a few inches or so and Danny tried not to focus on the fact that the ghost's feet had melted into one spectral limb. "You really don't remember any of it at all, do you? You don't remember being me?"

"… being you?" he sounded out the words, because obviously Danny couldn't have heard that right. This was a ghost. Who knows what it meant?

"I turned on the portal," the ghost said. "After, I found that I'd become a ghost. But not all the way. I was still able to go between human and ghost like I was stepping over a fence, but something's gone wrong. We were split. I don't remember how or where or even when. My mind is like a corrupted computer. I can't read most of the memories written there, but I know that much at least. You seem to have gotten it worse if you can't even remember being me, being Phantom."

"That's—that's ridiculous." Danny wanted to run now. Something was wrong with this ghost, this monster. Danny knew his own mind. He knew that he wasn't secretly some otherworldly creature. "You—stay away from me."

The ghost's face fell. "Oh, come on. Don't be like—"

"You're a crazy ghost and I'm going to get my parents if you don't go right back through that portal right now!" He took a few steps back, managing to trip over a booklet that his parents had left on the floor. His back hit the ground. Hard.

The ghost's expression softened. It floated nearer. "Are you—?"

Danny hissed. "Get back!"

He wasn't sure what he was thinking, but all the instincts that his parents had drilled into him from a young age came rushing back to him. There was a gun, a small pistol that even a child could use, just half-a-foot from where he'd fallen. He reached for it and aimed it at the ghost's abdomen.

"Danny, you don't need to—"

The feeling that something was wrong hadn't left him. This ghost was insane, or perhaps delusional.

He'd be remiss to let it manipulate him into believing lies about some life he'd never lived.

He fired.

His shot hit the ghost in the shoulder. Danny's own left shoulder burned as if someone had driven a sharp knife into it and twisted. He screamed in agony, doing what little he could manage not to writhe in pain on the floor. The ghost had deflected somehow. It must have. Or the shot ricocheted.

No. That wasn't right either.

Because he'd seen his shot hit the ghost. And even now the ghost's shoulder sizzled and burned green with pus or blood in the same spot as Danny's shoulder. It glared, eyes nothing but green and lip curled into a restrained snarl.

"Do you get it now? You can't—you can't deny the connection."

Danny was too pained to speak.

"I'm still not sure what's been done to us, but we're still one person. One nervous system across two bodies."

"That's—"

His stomach lurched and Danny almost emptied the contents of his stomach onto the lab floor right there.

"Looks like I got most of the pain tolerance though."

"Go't'hell."

The ghost sighed before offering a hand. "Let's get us patched up."

Danny wasn't sure if he believed this strange ghost just yet, but it wasn't like he had another other choice.

Begrudgingly, he accepted his alleged other-self's cold, dead grip.

#Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Fanfiction #Danny Phantom Fanfiction #Phic #Phicc #wrwritings

717 notes · View notes

neverlostmycrown · 1 month

Text

Evanescence - Origin Digital Booklet, 2000

via Archive.org - original scan for Evanescence Reference (x)

#evanescence #amy lee #fallen era #origin #origin booklet #digital booklet #evanescence reference #old internet #memories

6 notes · View notes

cutebutalsostabby · 1 month

Note

iirc you said in another post that the time between ALTTP and OOT was either 80 or 400 years. i haven’t played ALTTP yet but love timelines - are those numbers in the game somewhere?

I think I came up with those specific figures myself, BUT I do have some in-game and official text basis for them! The reason for the 80 year vs 400 years (or even longer) options is that there is actually some pretty big inconsistency between a) various parts of the game itself, b) the official game booklet, and c) Nintendo's big ole retcon of the Imprisoning War. Or possibly retCONS if we count TotK.

(Idk if you wanted an info dump, but you're getting one lol. THANKS FOR THE ASK!! 💜)

SO. The intro cutscene.

We start by hearing of legends from long ago, about a Golden Power that resides in a hidden land. Many people tried to find it; none ever returned. One day, evil power began to flow forth (we later learn this was due to Ganondorf finding the Triforce), so the King told the sages (originally translated as "Wise Men") to seal the Golden Land away for good. The narrator then describes those events as occurring so long ago that they became legend. Sounds like a while, right?

But then within about an hour or two of gameplay, you meet Sahrasrahla. Sahasrala? Saharasala? YOU MEET MR SALSA. And he ends up telling you a story about the knights that fought to protect the sages and who were almost all killed at the time, leaving YOU, the protagonist, as the last known member of that bloodline. According to Mr Salsa, those events took place only three or four generations ago.

That's not long at all! I mean, the exact numbers may vary depending on whether it's 3-4 generations from Salsa-san's point of view or Link's, as well as whether we give that person a human lifespan or an elf one (ALTTP has some Western fantasy elements, but the later games suggest that Hylians are basically just humans with pointy ears), but that would be where my ~80 years figure came from.

One of the later bits of dialogue then mentions Ganondorf rediscovering the Golden Land after the knowledge of it was lost - which may explain the discrepancy between the intro cutscene and Sahasralah(?)'s own dialogue. (I'm taking screenshots from Youtube FYI - see cutscene compilation here.)

All good so far?

WELP. THEN WE HAVE THE GAME BOOKLET.

By "game booklet" I mean the little brochure thing that used to come with physical games up until someone decided they weren't necessary. Boo and bah humbug. But I digress.

The original booklet for ALTTP, which you can find online, says that the Imprisoning War took place centuries ago. It also adds a bunch of other new lore details, including Ganondorf's last name, Dragmire - which never actually appears in-game. Both of those things are however missing from the truncated lore dump you get in the Gameboy Advance release's booklet:

And then there's Nintendo's Fallen Hero retcon. Lol.

See, the original "Imprisoning War" from ALTTP went something like this:

Ganondorf found an entrance to the Sacred Realm (formerly "Golden Land") and went in. Much like the others before him, he was then stuck there forever. UNLIKE the others before him however, he then randomly stumbled across the Triforce, which offered him the power to make a wish.

He made some unspecified wish along the lines of "I want to take over the world". As a result, the Sacred Realm became the Dark World and started to leak evil magic and demons into the Light World (aka "Overworld").

The knights fought against the demons, allowing the sages to seal the entrances ro the Sacred Realm. Note it's unclear if they even knew about Ganondorf's existence at this point.

Sometime later, Ganondorf manages to partially break free, and sends his alter ego Agahnim out to break the seal on the Sacred Realm and merge the two worlds into one.

And then we have Nintendo's retcon, which introduces the whole idea of the Fallen Hero - as a means of clumsily tying ALTTP to Ocarina of Time. So instead of the above:

Ganondorf publicly swears allegiance to the King of Hyrule, only to later backstab him and take over the castle. He then follows Link into the Temple of Time and grabs hold of the Triforce while the latter goes to take a nice long nap. He only manages to claim part of the Triforce (Power), so his wish remains incomplete. The other parts go to Link (Courage) and Zelda (Wisdom).

Seven years later, Link challenges Ganondorf to an epic showdown and loses. Ganondorf claims the remaining parts of the Triforce and uses them to transform into the Demon King. The seven sages, Zelda included, then seal both Ganon and the Triforce away in the Sacred Realm.

The names of the seven sages (per OoT) eventually become the names of the towns in Zelda II. Any remaining discrepancies are handwaved away as unreliable narrators.

Interestingly, TotK's Imprisoning War is much closer to ALTTP's version than Hyrule Historia's - which makes me wonder if that whole retcon is doomed to be retconned once again. Of course, the Triforce isn't present at all within TotK, but it's also a pretty compelling reason for why seven sages with secret stones couldn't win against the one guy with a secret stone. So there’s that.

But yeah, going back to that initial question: no, there's no specific figure provided for the time between the Imprisoning War and events of ALttP. Just depends on which piece of conflicting lore you feel like using lol.

#asks #zelda lore #zelda infodumping let's be real #PLEASE ASK ME LORE QUESTIONS I LOVE THEM #legend of zelda #Imprisoning War #zelda timeline

28 notes · View notes

anotherplacemag · 6 months

Text

Beautiful Brutalism | Jo Underhill

Beautiful Brutalism is an ongoing project which started in 2011. I have always been a fan of brutalist architecture and concrete as a material, so I decided to explore this by photographing the National Theatre in London. I enjoyed it so much that I wanted to photograph more of these amazing post-war buildings so in between commissioned work I have been exploring and photographing buildings across the UK. Unfortunately, brutalist architecture has not been universally liked or supported. Not all of these buildings were built with the same original design vision and over the years many have been neglected and fallen into disrepair. As a result, public opinion has often been negative and disparaging. In many peoples’ minds concrete has become synonymous with ugliness. In recent years dozens of brutalist buildings have been demolished - Birmingham Central Library, Tricorn Centre, Welbeck Street Car Park to name but a few – with many more currently under threat.

The project has evolved from the early beginnings of simply wanting to photograph concrete and brutalism, to a life–long undertaking to document and highlight the beauty of brutalist architecture in the UK. This project celebrates those buildings that have already been lost and I hope, in some small way, challenges the prevailing view about brutalism by showing how beautiful these buildings are if you take the time to really look at them.

In early 2022 I self-published a limited-edition book bringing together photographs from the first ten years of this project which was designed by Stanley James Press. The book is now sold out but since the beginning of the year I have been collaborating with musician and composer Carl Woodcroft on a soundtrack to accompany the photographs in the book. Carl was inspired by the book and has created a mood and soundscape for each building. It is a mix of sound and vision; the album includes a digital booklet of the photographs featured in the book and notes from Carl talking about inspiration for each track and it is available to preorder now and to buy from Friday November 3rd.

website

instagram

album - highly recommend listening to, and pre-ordering, the accompanying album by Carl Woodcroft... it's fantastic!

All images & text © Jo Underhill

44 notes · View notes

brokebonewritings · 4 months

Text

Into the Dark Fire

Sodo x TransMasc! Reader

Tags: 18+, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Searching for your soulmate, you begin life in new surroundings. How easy will it be to transition from being alone to gaining a new family?

Word Count: 2.8K

Navigation | Masterlist

Chapter 1

Destiny is not a thing that defines you. It is the actions you make towards your destiny that creates who you are. The words played in your mind throughout the train ride. Your Nonna had given you a journal that her mom had found buried in her backyard.

She had told you that something had compelled her to save it for you. It certainly was strange to him. You thought about the quote some more and wondered if you had read it in a book somewhere. For some reason it sounded very familiar to you. Like a lyric to a hymn you loved to hear as a child.

As you studied the leather journal on your lap, your fingers graced over the two names printed in the book. Dimitri and Seamus. Two boys who had fallen in love, and were accused of being witches. Such as life was in the 1700s. Dimitri was hanged and Seamus managed to escape the town’s wrath and hid in the woods until he died of the cold winter air.

‘What a tragedy’ you thought, this boy lived day to day without the love of his life. You watched as the train passed old shops and slowed into the station. The reflection of his face showed the grim expression that was permanently plastered.

See, you were only 18 years old and had no one left in your life. Nothing really scared you, except death. You never understood why though. You didn’t understand anything really. Like why was this journal’s story so similar to your own. You looked down at the leather booklet and sighed.

You sat quietly reading the journal entries. All composed of sadness, love, and regret. The writer must have put their whole thoughts into this little journal. You looked up as the train stopped to see if this is where he got off at. It wasn’t, but as you looked up a boy got on. Someone you had seen before? No, it couldn’t be. You had never left your hometown before this. The boy looked around for a seat, then by some divine intervention, he locked eyes with you.

You both gawked at each other even as the train began to move. The boy walked over calmly and sat in front of you. You couldn’t describe him in any way, except for a wonder. You shook your head and opened the journal to the last entry you were on. Halfway through you heard a voice that was barely above a whisper.

“What are you reading?” You looked up and saw the boy was staring at you. His dark green eyes looked deep into your soul. It was haunting.

“Huh?” You looked down at the booklet. “Oh, just this journal my nonna found.”

“Can I see it?”

You hesitate at first. You didn't even know this person’s name, or if they’d just end up stealing the book. Something does compel you to hand over the small journal. Cautiously you hand over the journal and your eyes never leave the boy's gaze. He took the journal delicately, almost reverently, as if he knew that it held something of immense value. His fingers traced over the worn pages, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face.

"Dimitri and Seamus," he whispered, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and sorrow. The boy's gaze lingered on the names before meeting your eyes again. "Where is your stop?"

"Oh uhm, it's the next one."

"You're going to the church?"

You think for a moment. Was church the right word? It was definitely a form of religion. “Yeah I am joining the ministry I suppose.”

“Well we can walk together. That’s where I live.” The boy smiles before handing back the book. “I’m Rain, by the way.”

“Devyn.” You give a polite nod.

Rain studies your face before quietly testing your name, “Devyn…”

As the train came to a stop at their destination, you gathered your belongings and stepped off onto the platform, followed closely by Rain. Together, you both walked side by side towards the church, your footsteps echoing through the quiet streets.

The sun began to set, casting golden hues across the buildings around them. It was breathtaking. You had never seen anything like it before. Approaching the church, you noticed a small cemetery adjacent to it, its tombstones standing solemnly in rows. The sight sent an unexpected shiver down your spine.

As they reach the steps, the priest opens the door wide enough for you to smell the incense inside. The man was tall, and wore dark robes. He definitely wasn't intimidating to say the slightest.

“Rain, you silly ghoul, who is this?” He spoke in a thick Italian accent. It was comforting really. It reminded you of your nonna, and the way she spoke.

"A new sibling, I think." The other responds. "I met him on the train, papa."

"Ah yes! Yes, come in. Er, what was your name again?"

"Devyn... sir." You state shyly, you were never an extrovert.

"Devyn, yes, Welcome." The old man begins as he steps out of the way to let you both in. "I am Papa Emeritus IV, but you can just call me Papa."

Rain walks besides Papa while you trail behind. The interior was dimly lit, with stained glass windows casting vibrant colors onto the pews. The air smelled of old wood and candles. It was a place of serenity and solace. He led them to a small room adjacent to the main sanctuary, an office to be more precise.

"You may have a seat, we will get the paperwork all sorted for Sister." Papa says to you before turning to Rain. He whispers something into the boy's ear before they turn and look at you for a moment. It was only slightly unsettling, were they talking about you?

As you look around, you begin to notice that it was not a traditional church. There were dark portraits, and records upon the wall. Upside down crosses pinned above the door. You hear a throat clear before you turn and see Papa closing the door behind Rain.

"Devyn," he begins, his voice low and solemn. "This may come as a shock to you, but the truth is, this church is not like any other. It is a sanctuary for those who have strayed from the path of light." Papa's eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of understanding.

"Yes, Papa... I know." You respond, unable to tear his gaze away from the older man’s mesmerizing eyes.

"Why have you chosen to seek us out?"

"For understanding. I guess I was drawn here, to search for myself."

Papa hums in response as he sits behind his desk. "We do not get a lot of young people, I will admit. How old are you? 18, yes?"

It was your turn to silently nod, and he smiles before writing on the parchment in front of him. "Tell me," Papa continues, his voice filled with both warmth and curiosity. "What have you experienced so far on your journey?"

"Well, there's this journal," You fidget in your seat. "My nonna found this journal in her attic, and I can't really explain it, but I think it brought me here to find the other half of it."

"Curious..." The priest spoke slowly, "Nonna, you say? Sei Italiano?"

You nod sheepishly, "Si, Papa."

"Good, very good. I believe you will get along just fine then." He says, "Do you have the journal of which you speak?"

Devyn reaches into his bag and pulls out the worn leather booklet, handing it over to Papa Emeritus IV. The priest takes it with reverence, his fingers delicately tracing over the intricate patterns etched into the cover.

"This is intriguing," Papa murmurs, his eyes fixed upon the journal. "The journey to find the other half, you say?"

"Yes," Devyn confirms, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. "I believe that this journal holds a connection to my own story, to my soulmate."

Papa nods thoughtfully, flipping through the pages. The room is filled with a heavy silence as he reads, occasionally pausing to absorb the words written on each page. After what feels like an eternity, he closes the journal with a snap.

"Vieni qui." He says loudly, making you jump in your seat. As if on cue, a tall man comes into the room followed by another shorter man.

You don't notice anything peculiar about the two except for the masks they wore. To cover their identity? Some religions did this as a common practice so you chose not to think too hard about it.

"Mountain, please take our new sibling to the living quarters." Papa asked politely. "And Swiss, could you please take them to see Sister and Papa Nihil"

Both men nod before turning to you and wait quietly. You stand and look at the priest nervously. He smiles and shoos you away. "Go, go. I will see you in the evening."

Something in Papa's kind eyes reassures you, and with a deep breath, you follow Mountain and Swiss out of the office.

As they walk through the dimly lit corridors of the church, you can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. You know that your journey has only just begun, that there are mysteries waiting to be unraveled within these walls. The air is heavy with the scent of incense, and the sound of distant chanting reaches his ears.

"So Mountain and Swiss? Are those your actual names?" You ask them both.

"It's not our actual names." A deep voice says to your left. You look up towards the taller man and see his mask turned to you.

"What are your real names then?"

"If we tell you, we'll have to kill you." The other man said. Turning your head in shock, it takes a moment for the three of you to burst into laughter. It was like music to Mountain’s ears. It was a momentary release from the weight of the unknown that lay ahead. As they continued walking, he found himself growing more comfortable in their presence.

"So, what do you guys actually do here?" You ask

Swiss thinks for a moment before responding, his voice like melted butter. "We assist Papa with various tasks and rituals."

"It is a solemn duty, but one that we take great pride in." Mountain adds.

You hum in response while glancing at Swiss, noticing the way he held himself with an air of mystery. "And what about Sister and Papa Nihil? Who are they?"

Mountain exchanged a knowing look with Swiss before answering. "Sister is a wise woman with incredible knowledge and-"

"And Papa Nihil is the man who started all of this!" Swiss finishes.

Before you can ask any more questions, you all arrive at a small door. Swiss turns the knob and it swings open easily. It was a quaint little bedroom. A bed, wardrobe, and more space than you ever had.

"This will be your living quarters," Mountain says, gesturing towards the room. "Make yourself at home."

You nod gratefully, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. It had been a long journey to reach this moment, and now, you were finally here.

Mountain and Swiss linger by the doorway, their masked faces unreadable. They seem to be waiting for something, their eyes fixed on you expectantly. You hesitate for a moment before breaking the silence.

"So, what now? What happens next?" you ask, your voice filled with curiosity.

Swiss steps forward, his voice soft but full of conviction. "Now, my dear sibling, it is time for you to meet Sister Imperator and Papa Nihil."

With that, he gestures for you to follow him out of the room. As you walk through the winding corridors of the church, you can't help but feel a mix of apprehension and excitement building within.

Finally, you reach a large wooden door adorned with ornate carvings. Swiss pushes it open, revealing a spacious room filled with flickering candlelight. Sitting by a fireplace is an elderly woman in a dark dress. Her eyes striking like a cat preying on a mouse.

Another figure sits across from her, an elderly man in white robes. You can't see him very well, but you didn't feel as intimidated by him.

"Sister, Papa" Swiss speaks softly, "this is our new sibling, Devyn."

Sister Imperator's piercing gaze shifts from the fire to you, her eyes narrowing for a moment as if assessing your worth. Papa Nihil, on the other hand, offers you a kind smile, his aging face showing traces of wisdom and compassion.

Papa Nihil, his voice gentle and soothing, beckons you closer. "Come, child. We will not bite, well I cannot speak on Sister's behalf" He chuckles earning a pointed look from Sister.

You obey his command, stepping into the room. The warmth of the flames dances across your face as you await their words.

Sister Imperator leans forward, her eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "It is not often that new blood finds its way to our sacred haven. Tell me, Devyn, what has led you here? What is it that you seek?"

"I seek answers, guidance... I've been drawn here to find something, or someone." You explain.

Sister Imperator's lips curl into a slight smile, her eyes glinting with intrigue. "Ah, the pull of destiny. It is a powerful force, isn't it? Tell me, Devyn, do you believe in soulmates?"

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of soulmates. The journal, the half you possess—the notion of finding your other half feels palpable in this very room.

"Yes," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "I believe that somewhere out there is my other half, my destined companion."

Papa Nihil leans forward, his voice carrying a calm wisdom. "You have been brought to us for a reason, Devyn. Are you prepared to embark on this journey? To unravel the mysteries that lie before you?"

A surge of determination fills your chest as you meet Papa Nihil's gaze. "Yes..."

"But first," Sister interrupts. "We must discuss your duties, as a sibling."

You turn your attention towards her and nod. She smiles before taking a piece of parchment off the side table next to her chair.

"You are to report to the Cardinal- er I mean Papa's office at 8am sharp. You will be overseeing his personal library, and needs." She orders, your eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"But what about Swiss and Mountain?" You ask innocently.

She tuts, before shooing you off like Papa earlier. "Get some rest, child. You'll be needing it."

You smile at her before turning back to the door. Surprisingly, both Swiss and Mountain were waiting for you at the door, their masked faces tense.

As you all walked back to your room Swiss places a hand on your shoulder, his voice filled with concern. "Devyn, I need to warn you about something. Sister Imperator can be... demanding. She expects perfection in everything she assigns you."

Mountain nods in agreement. "It's true. She is a formidable figure in this church, and her expectations can be overwhelming at times."

"I understand. I will do my best to meet her expectations."

"And don't worry, we'll make sure you're well taken care of." Swiss assures.

You smile gratefully at both of them, feeling a sense of comfort in their presence. As you walk back to your living quarters, Swiss begins to explain the intricacies of your role as Papa's overseer.

"You see, Papa Copia has an extensive collection of ancient texts and manuscripts," Swiss explains. "Your task will be to organize and maintain his personal library. It is a position of great importance and trust."

Mountain chimes in, his voice steady and reassuring. "Remember, Devyn, our work here is shrouded in secrecy. The information contained within these walls must never leave this sanctuary."

You nod, absorbing their words and feeling a growing sense of responsibility settling upon your shoulders. You understand the weight of this position, not just in terms of maintaining the library but also in upholding the trust placed in you by Papa and Sister Imperator.

As you enter your living quarters once again, Mountain and Swiss bid you goodnight and leave the room. You find yourself alone for the first time since arriving at the church. The silence is comforting, allowing you to reflect on everything that has led you to this point.

You sit on the edge of the bed, taking out your journal and carefully flipping through its pages. Each word holds a piece of your soulmate's story, and as you read it once again the feeling of peace begins to settle within you.

Closing the journal, you set it aside and lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows on the walls, and a gentle breeze rustles through the open window.

You can't help but wonder what lies ahead in this journey you've found yourself on. What secrets does this church hold? What will you discover within these sacred walls? And most importantly, when will you finally meet your soulmate?

As the anticipation stirs within you, sleep slowly envelops your tired body.

Next Part || join my taglist!

25 notes · View notes

thepenultimateword · 11 months

Text

Old Bones Part 5

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CW: Blood, violence, death/defensive killing, torture, captivity

Lav’s skin flushed a shade that would have been pretty if it weren’t also so warm—moist and piping pink like a cut of underdone pork.

“You’ve got a fever,” Vampire said, lifting the back of their hand from their host’s forehead.

“Only a little one.”

“Should you be getting fevers?”

Lav shifted onto their side, pulling their puffy covers to their chin with a tired exhale. “Sometimes.” When Vampire’s hand landed on their forehead again, they added, “I’ve put something off too long, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

They covered Vampire’s hand with their own sweaty one, briefly interlocking fingers.

A shock as electric and hair-raising as lightning coursed up Vampire’s arm, and they jerked back so sharply they bit their lip, sharp incisor piercing a shallow hole.

Lav’s hand hung in the air a moment before quickly tucking back beneath the covers. “Sorry.”

Vampire looked at the ground embarrassed by the overreaction. “S’fine.” It took them a moment to muster any more. “Can I get you anything?”

“Mmm..." Lav hesitated, flopping their cheek against their pillow and staring past Vampire at the rosehip hangings over their door. "A book? If you don't mind reading aloud for a bit that is.”

"Of course! One moment." Vampire retreated to the guest room, shaking the contents of their satchel onto their bed. Now. Which title to choose. A research text? A story? What was Lav's taste? After reading passages to them most nights, they should know by now, but Lav always acted equally interested in everything. That probably should have taken off some of the pressure, but this was different. They didn't want to be humored. They wanted to actually deliver something enjoyable. Something comforting. Helpful.

Their fingers brushed over a dark leather cover with dark silver lettering. Field of Flowers.

A romance. A sappy one but…well...it would be entertaining. And a softer story would probably be more welcome than a thick scholarly tome.

Vampire headed back to Lav's room, plopping down on the foot of their mattress. They made no precursor before starting into the first page. "Marian Sterling had only three things to her name, a yellow linen dress already worn and lightened from the sun, a pocket booklet of pressed flowers, and her mother's locket. The booklet had been a gift from her father before he left to sea, never returning. And the locket, well, she'd had that for as long as she could remember, with only the contents, a small couple's portrait from her parents' courting days, to know her by."

Vampire gradually painted Marian's tale, her tiring travel away from the cruel relatives who raised her, her close call with thieves along the highway, the humiliation of being turned away dirty and penniless when she finally reached a town with an inn, her fateful encounter with Lord Sebastian when he caught her plucking the flowers from his meadows, the recognition of her locket, the accusations of thievery and the eventual invitation to work in his home. Vampire read rabidly, glancing up once in a while to watch Lav's reactions or to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep.

They were proud to find Lav just as rapt as them, eyes dropped but alight with thought. It wasn’t until the first romantic scene that Vampire realized their mistake.

A hot blush crept up the back of their neck, the blood ringing in their ears so they could barely hear the words they spoke. "Sebastian took Marian's face in his hands, warm, calloused fingers stroking the tears off her cheek. "'Marian," he said, his voice soft, like the first roll of thunder in an approaching storm. His breath tickled her face and...um...h-his lips...his lips pressed soft..." Vampire swallowed. "You know, this part is a little boring, why don't we skip it."

"Boring?" Lav said, raising their eyebrows high over dark circled eyes. "Au contraire, I've been on the edge of my seat for Lord Sebastian's confession, please continue."

"You're sure...?"

"Of course, do not hold back on my account. I may appear tired, but I promise, I'm at complete attention."

That was what worried Vampire. This wouldn't have happened if they'd just chosen a book about frogs. Vampire swallowed again and took a deep breath.

"...firstothecurvehernecknextothesmoothlineofherjawandfinallytohermouthcatchingherbreathinherthroatlikewindinakitetakingherhigherandhigher. Dangerous. Thehighershedriftedthemorelikelytocrumpleifdroppeddoomedbyachangeofwind. Shepushedthethoughtawayfornowthewindswerefavorable. Herfingerstangledinhishairand--"

Lav burst out laughing, freezing Vampire's tongue against the roof of their mouth.

"Stop, stop!" They wheezed, coughs riddling their chuckles with halts and starts. An especially violent fit seized them, and they rolled over onto their side still grinning as they simultaneously clutched their bedcovers and chest.

Vampire blushed harder, fighting the urge to chuck the book at Lav's face and run. They won against the first part, but they shot off the bed before they knew what they were doing.

"Wait!" Lav's feverish hand grabbed the hem of their tunic. Vampire could have easily broken their grip. After all they were weak from the sick, practically teetering on one elbow, but Vampire held, book folded tightly against their chest. Lav swallowed the laughter but none of the warmth. "We can skip it. I'm sorry. You were so cute and awkward trying to get through it, I wanted to see a little more of it. I'm sorry."

Cute. Cute. Cute.

It repeated over and over in Vampire's head. Did it mean anything to their new friend? Or were they simply being familiar? Kind and playful as usual.

"You should probably rest," Vampire said, turning only to place the book on the bedstand. They avoided's Lav's predator gaze, burning so intensely into the side of their face. "I'll be back in a bit with lunch."

"I've upset you."

"No!" Vampire held out their hands. "I'm fine. But I've kept you up, and sick people are meant to sleep."

They snuck a look at Lav's face and found their expression somewhere between exhausted and distressed. "I don't want you to go."

"I-it's only for a couple hours."

"I don't want to be alone again."

Vampire furrowed their brow. Were they still talking about this moment? They probably weren't thinking straight with that fever. In a moment of boldness, they took Lav's shoulders and pushed them back against the pillows, drawing the covers up to their chin and tucking sweaty hair behind their ears. "I'll be right here when you wake up."

Lav drew their lips into a pout, but eventually, begrudgingly, they closed their eyes, quickly drifting off into fitful sleep.

Vampire spent the rest of the afternoon between rooms, changing cold compresses, searching out the contents of the larder for blood tea, holding the teacup to a disoriented Lav's lips. Their host was losing their lucidity throughout the day, staring at Vampire in a confused daze whenever they woke them, then drifting off once again. By evening, the other undead seemed no better than they had in the morning. In fact, they seemed worse.

Vampire settled next to the hearth with uneasiness roiling in their gut. The larder held quite a bit of raw boar and rabbit, things Lav could eat, but blood was low. Not to mention a day full of compresses and dishes was using up what was left of the well water. It was fine for now, but a day or so more and they'd be out. And that would be it. Lav wasn't strong enough to leave, and Vampire... Maybe Vampire would have to brave the trip outdoors.

Their throat tightened as they sipped their blood tea, making it hard to swallow.

Everything's going to be ok.

They repeated it in their head like a mantra, until they were almost convinced it was true.

Then came a knock on the door.

Vampire flattened themselves against the cushions. They probably should have heard the footsteps outside ages ago, but they'd been too caught up in their own thoughts. What did they do? Lav was sick. They couldn't come to the door.

The knock came again, harder. "Open up!"

Were they planning to knock the door off its hinges?

Ignore them. Ignore them and they'll go away.

"I can see the chimney smoke, I know someone is at home."

Curse it!

"For the safety of the people, the town has voted in favor of home searches. It will only take a few moments of your time."

No, no, this wasn't happening. This was a dream. Maybe Vampire could slip out a window. Disappear until they were gone. But...then there was Lav. They were completely bedridden. And what if the villagers had become suspicious. Their eyes had grown more distrustful with each visit. The look of prey in the presence of a predator. And the contents of the Larder weren't exactly balanced. If they so much as suspected...they wouldn't be taking any chances.

"If you don't comply we will enter by force."

Vampire snatched a blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around them like a hooded shawl, covering the points of their ears and much of their slender build. If they kept their head down, maybe they could pass.

They took a shuddering breath and opened the door, just a crack. Just enough to see three villagers on the porch steps, the same broad-shouldered redhead from the last few times up at the front.

“Hi, um, my friend is sick right now, so--"

Before they could finish the villager kicked the door, cracking the wood on the wall behind and sending Vampire sprawling.

Their shoulder slammed against the wood floor, hands loosening from their blanket cover. A succession of gasps filled the room.

"That's it!"

"There it is!"

"I knew the thing was holing up out here."

Vampire scrambled toward the the stairs, blanket tangling their limbs and felling them more than once along the way.

Heavy boots pounded on their heels, a thick meaty hand catching them by the scruff.

Vampire twisted and hissed. Something forced into their mouth, first cold and bitter and then suddenly burning. They shrieked, muffled against the iron bar wedged between their teeth. Tight leather straps came together at the back of their skull, securing the muzzle in the pace.

Vampire shoved at the bit with their tongue, raising blisters and numbing the metallic flavor.

“Look at those fangs!” admired one of the men. His pencil mustache curled upward with the sick grin beneath it.

Vampire summed up their undead strength, planting a rib-cracking punch to the redhead's abdomen. He released, falling back on his rear with a string of curses flowing off his tongue.

Vampire hit the ground on hands and knees. Something sharp immediately jabbed into their back. followed by the same searing pain in their mouth. Like being hit with a hot poker, and as they writhed they saw it was a poker, black and cold and iron.

Redhead slowly rose to his feet, clutching his side as he stalked toward them. One big boot flew into Vampire's nose with an audible crunch. Dark blood drizzled sizzling over the metal bit and into their mouth. "Cursed parasite. Samuel, get those ropes."

The third man rushed forward hesitating only a moment before snatching their hands and tying them behind their back tight enough to lose circulation.

“How did it stay hidden so long?” he said, stepping back from his work.

Redhead spat on the back of Vampire's head. "They say they can make people do things. Look'em in the eyes and you become a living puppet." He walked slowly around the perimeter of Vampire's shaking form. "Or maybe that recluse is a vampire too. Perfect cover, all alone out here." He crouched in front of Vampire. "You said they're sick?"

No. Leave Lav alone. Take me, but leave them alone.

Vampire flexed against the ropes, clenching their teeth painfully over their muzzle. The poker withdrew from their back and returned in their side. They wailed. Why did it hurt so bad? Was their flesh actually curling off the bones? Was that charred scent in the air real or just in their head? They flexed harder, and the ropes groaned.

"Secure it tighter!"

"Someone just kill it!"

"Idiot, we can't just kill it! We need to bury it!"

"Then stab it some more! I don't--"

Samuel slammed against the couch. A couple shouts split the air followed by the sweet scent of fresh blood.

Vampire's neck prickled, and they squinted through tears at the figure rising from Samuel's limp body.

Lav. But not Lav. Their Lav didn't have those hungry dilated pupils or that empty gaze. They didn't walk with that predatory slink, claws, and teeth born and bloody. They cock their head back and forth as if listening and measuring their prey's reaction. They didn't look like a monster.

The poker clattered to the ground, and Mustache backed toward the door. Lav trailed silently after until they stood directly over Vampire. Those burning eyes fixed on their muzzled and bleeding face, peeling the skin back layer by layer by layer, reducing them small and helpless. Vampire stared back unblinking, unable to look away even as they shrank against the floor.

"It's just another vampire," Redhead snarled. He pulled his own iron stake from his belt, raising it over his shoulder. "Come'ere you dirty, blood-thirsty--"

Vampire didn't even see them move. They just heard a shriek as both Lav and the redhead disappeared out the open door. A thunk of a body in snow, the muted sounds of thrashing. Mustache stood paralyzed, face going paler and paler.

The man made a run for it, stumbling boot steps fading in the direction of town. These were quickly followed by something heavier, faster. One last scream split the dusk. And then only silence.

Crunch...crunch...crunch...

Slow footsteps in the snow.

Lav slumped against the door frame, their front completely soaked in blood. They streaked a gory hand across their sweaty forehead before trudging back across the living room and dropping to their knees at Vampire's side. Their head lolled a little as they regarded Vampire, eyes no longer darkened, but still somewhat glazed. The way they reached for Vampire was almost puppet-like.

Vampire ducked their head, eyes squeezed shut, but then the belt was undone and the iron muzzle dropped to the hardwood with a clang. Vampire stared, testing their ragged tongue against the other raw parts of their mouth. Hot tears gathered in their eyes, but they fought them back with a stinging swallow.

Lav fumbled with the ropes on their hands for a moment before finally snapping them into pieces. Vampire slowly drew their wrists against their chest, rubbing the indentations. Lav's breath blew hot on their neck too heavy and too fast. The fight surely hadn't done them any good. Vampire wasn't sure how they were even still upright.

"Lav--" they began croakily.

"I'll be back," Lav said coldly. They trudged to Samuel's discarded body, grabbing the back of his collar in their fist and dragging it toward the open door. Vampire hadn't noticed before but the air in the room had iced over.

"Wait!" Vampire cried with a shiver. It hurt to talk. "Don't leave me alone!"

Lav stopped but didn't turn. Their fist clenched at their side. "Darling..." A piece of them broke through the cold mask, pained, "I'll be back."

The door slammed behind them, and Vampire knelt for a long time watching it. Just waiting for the moment Lav passed back through. Eventually, when at least an hour passed, they summed up the energy to drag themselves up to their bedroom. It wasn't until they'd tucked themselves shivering and fully dressed into bed that the tears broke loose. And once they started they couldn't stop. They cried themselves into exhaustion. In fact, it was the last thing they remembered doing when they woke in the morning.

Their head pounded from the sobbing but that was the worst pain. The wounds in their mouth and abdomen were still there since they'd been made with iron, but they'd reduced to a mild tenderness. When Vampire checked the stab wound in their side it looked like a bad scrape. If only the emotional wounds were so easily healed. They shuddered at the memory of last night.

The floorboards creaked downstairs, followed by the slosh of water.

Lav!

Dread and longing struck Vampire all at once. Their host's behavior last night had been horrifying, and yet, they'd saved their life once again. Vampire wanted nothing more than to join them at the table and drink one of their hot blood teas. To listen to them soothe and tease and smile that wolfish grin.

Vampire swung their legs over the mattress and slunk quietly down the stairs before they could change their mind.

They wanted to see them. They needed to see them. Whatever the renewed warning in their chest. In their spine. In the hairs on the back of their neck.

They passed the crackling hearth and tidied living room, the cracked door the only sign of last night's break-in. The kitchen met them warm and lavender scented, bubbles floating across the room from the great wash tub at the center, where a figure stooped elbow deep in soapy water, washing the metallic scent of blood from their clothes.

"Lav..." Vampire said. Why did it come out so quiet? So pathetic.

The figure turned, and Vampire froze.

Yellow eyes stared out from a ruddy, square face. Large hands wiped water onto high-rising trouser legs while a broad chest and set of shoulders stretched their shirt. A shock of red hair framed the sharp cut of their jaw and the smile curving up it. Something both hungry and familiar that sent a shiver down Vampire's spine.

Vampire stepped backward, and the figure mirrored it, beefy arm outstretched

Not Lav. Not Lav. That wasn't them. That was the redheaded villager from last night. And every fiber in Vampire's body screamed at them to run.

Part Six

Master Taglist:

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees-deactivated @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii i @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia a @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin

@ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner @echoednonny @perilous-dreamer @blood-enthusiast @randomfixation @alexkolax x @pksnowie @blessupblessup @wolfeyedwitch @thedeepvoidinmyheart @cornflower-cowboy @bestblob @a-chaotic-gremlin @espresso-depresso-system @prompt-fills-and-writing-spills @paleassprince @takingawildbreath @yindo @psychiclibrariesquotesthetoad @harpycartoons @pickleking8 @urmyhopeeee @goldenflame2516 @tobeornottobeateacher @tauntedoctopuses

#vampire x monster #vampire #monster x monster #undead x undead #undead #fantasci #fantasci writing #writing snippet #writblr #writeblr #fantasy #creative writing #fiction

130 notes · View notes