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Readmore for length due to throwing headcanons and app info below. TRIGGER WARNING: Brief references to anxiety and depression in summary section. Writing sample hints at child abuse/neglect and references pot and alcohol use.

In summary:

A bunch of trauma and trust issues bottled up into fake smiles and using partying as an attempt at forgetting everything. He’s fine though. Totally not fine.

Unspoken fear of losing the found family he has leaves him treading carefully. Not necessarily a visible trait but there may be anxiety toward losing people that can be blamed on never positively processing being disowned

Took the brunt of his parents’ antics/anger and kept quiet about it, still has minimal interest toward letting that slip to Regulus. Not happy with keeping that a secret, but figures it’s better to shoulder on his own than risk fully shattering whatever warped view of the family Regulus has as the youngest.

Was never keen on opening up about family. Can count the number of people he trusts with that info on one hand.

Plays into androgynous looks. Only positive to come from being disowned (besides found family of course) was getting to be more free in expressing himself.

The type of teen that would have stolen one of his cousins’ skirts and been offended by their being offended/annoyed or having the audacity to ask for it back. I can’t stop thinking of this scene from the Umbrella Academy.

Big fan of Queen and David Bowie.

Finds his motorbike equally as freeing as a broomstick, simply has a preference for the more hands-on maintenance that’s required for the bike’s upkeep.

His fingernails are painted more often than not. Habit of picking polish off if stressed.

100% threatened to permanently charm neon pink nail polish on his nails the day Orion called it an issue.

Dramatic since birth.

Would have had professors fooled with being quiet the first couple of weeks of school just to turn into a loud mouth once certain the school’s way of handling his hijinks didn’t involve his parents’ approach in doing so.

The app info:

Birthday: Born November 3, 1960, Sirius was meant to be the answer to the Black family’s hopes of an heir. A Scorpio through and through, it shouldn’t have been all that surprising the heir’s sarcastic and precocious side shined. Birthdays weren’t something Sirius looked forward to while home. It wasn’t exactly something his parents made a big deal about and was usually met with disappointment. Ill thought out gifts with the intent of stifling his curiosity and creativity. In truth, things that would have been more suitable for Regulus than himself. That opinion changed once at Hogwarts and he won’t admit to it now, but the first proper party that involved well thought out gifts and not simply acknowledging for the sake of knowing he’d make a scene had left him in tears.

Wand: 7 ½ inches, fir, curupira hair. Getting his wand was a rushed trip that involved Walburga expecting it to be a one and done sort of ordeal. The first two wands backfired and Sirius can still clearly recall being told to halt his mischief even though he wasn’t doing anything. He was almost certain a failed third attempt would result in being pulled out of the shop by his ear. The third try proved to be his though, and there was no hiding the grin at realizing he had been given a core that could be just as mischievous as he was.

Amortentia: Freshly mowed grass, whiskey, and cigar smoke are the scents that seem hellbent on sticking around. The first comes from Sirius having used quidditch as an outlet during school. The second serves as a form of self-medicating (he’s fine - the drinking isn’t an issue and he knows when to stop before it turns into making shit life choices). Alcohol has been just as much a friend as his actual friends have been so there’s no giving it up at this point. Cigar smoke is a peculiar one since it’s specifically the brand his father smoked. There are few happy memories of Grimmauld Place but the scent is familiar and enough to serve as a reminder that he still has people back there that he misses. 

Boggart: When time came for facing boggarts at Hogwarts, Sirius did the unexpected and stuck to the back of the line of students. While many would have expected him to go running head on into the class experience, a boggart wasn’t on his priority list. Certainly not when that meant the risk of students and a professor being able to put a face to the shrill tone that came from his mother’s howlers. Things got as far as the sound of high heels echoing from the closet before he mumbled riddikulus and replaced what would have been his mother’s rapid approach with marbles rolling across the classroom floor. It was before anyone could speculate since he didn’t want questions about his homelife to come about.  More recently, things have come down to fearing Regulus dying. A rather ridiculous fear considering his own well-being should be on the list and the rather tense relationship between them as of recent, but there’s a layer of guilt. That guilt has lingered ever since he left home without so much as a looking back. Regulus was the opposite — the golden child of the two siblings — and Sirius hasn’t stopped presuming the worst since leaving him behind in their family’s clutches.

Patronus OR No Patronus: Happiness has been hard to find as of recent and Sirius is good at faking it. He can produce a patronus if needed, with its corporeal form taking on the shape of a dog that is similar to his animagus form. Moments of happiness are few and Sirius has no shame in admitting he relies on memories of goofing off with his friends or Mrs. Potter’s hugs as a way of fueling the spell. 

Writing Sample:

The tears had come from nowhere, and Sirius hadn’t even summoned the courage to walk up the path that led to the Potter’s home. A mix of fear, frustration, and exhaustion pooled in his stomach. He had taken to playing with the muggle lighter he kept on him from the very moment the Knight Bus dropped him off a street away from his best friend’s home.

Worse yet, he didn’t have it in him to light one of the blunts or take a sip from the flask in his jacket pocket. Too emotional and too much trauma surrounding the argument that ensued before it came to his name getting blasted off the family tapestry. It was something he had assumed would happen eventually. A threat that had lingered since the day his mother realized it was somewhat effective. He had merely figured she would have waited until he was of age to do something instead of acting a year earlier than he anticipated.

She hadn’t opted for using her fists or her wand to get her point across, and that was something Sirius was grateful for. There would have been no explanation if he showed up bloodied or bruised in a spot that wasn’t easily hidden by his robes. The moment spent trying to summon the courage and mask of happiness he usually plastered on felt like an eternity.

He didn’t have his watch on him, but it had to have been five minutes of standing on the sidewalk with a blank expression and his trunk clutched firmly in his hand. No one passed by though, so he was able to remain there uninterrupted.

Another moment, then the teen took a steadying breath. His lip quivered as he headed toward the Potter’s, fist shaking once he reached up to knock on the door. The door opened and Sirius was appalled to be face-to-face with Euphemia. He had grown far too used to keeping up the persona of being the life of the party. Always smiling, grateful to be welcomed as a guest, and quick to make sure mannerisms from back home didn’t pop up while over. He couldn’t summon any of it, though, instead shifting uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. Sirius didn’t make eye contact when she asked if things were okay, simply hiccoughing in response. It took a soft “Sirius,” and a hand on his shoulder to make him look up with an expression that was similar to a deer in headlights.

“Sorry, I-“ He trailed off before he got to stammering and quickly shook his head, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I shouldn’t have… but there’s nowhere else to… they… tapestry.” The words were barely a coherent sentence, but seemed to be enough to get the point across, earning a loud sob when he wasn’t asked anything else and was gently pulled in for a hug.

A protective kiss

Rating: PG

Pairing: Dante X F!Reader

CW: Nightmare, threats

Word count: .5 K roughly

A/N: You have a nightmare, good thing Dante is right there to provide comfort.

Your feet pound against the rough strew ground, dodging around chunks of brick and metal that have fallen in the deserted street as your heart beats against the inside of your ribs with enough force to be painful. 

Panting as you look over your shoulder to see a hoard of demons hot on your heels, only to trip and scream as the ground swallows you whole before the scene is replaced with an overgrown courtyard. 

Looking around in confusion at the change while your heart keeps hammering in your chest and a sense of dread slowly overtakes your mind. Blinking as a vine moves closer to you, almost as if it's a snake moving through the grass. Flicking and twisting right in front of you as the bud at the end opens in a brilliant splash of red and orange colors, only for it to emit a head spliting wail that has your hands flying to cover your ears as you try to scramble away. 

Only to turn and watch as what looks like a bird with several mouths flies at you with its beaks all pointed in your direction as if planning to run you through. “Abomination!” An eerie screaming echoes around a space that reminds you of the roman coliseum as the bird monster flies closer. “You don't deserve to live!” More screams of abomination from around you as you realize you're about to be impaled by the thing. 

Only to sit up screaming in bed with tears running down your face and sweat running along your body. Looking around in panic as you don't immediately recognize where you are. 

“Babe!” Flinching at the hand landing on your shoulder before the relief floods through your system at the familiar voice and visage. Dante’s face is painted with a look of concern as his hand rubs along your back, turning to drop your body against his and starting to sob in his arms. “You're alright, you're alright.” Whispering against your hair. 

“Goddamn.” Sobbing with mucus trailing down your face as you focus on trying to breathe and getting your heart to slow down aware of the fluid starting to drip onto his chest. 

“Just some bad dreams.” Smoothing his wide palms along your back as Dante adjusts you pulling you more against his body. He’s more concerned with comforting you then about any kind of mess you’re making.  

“It was worse than that. it felt like I was gonna die because of some monster.” Sobbing harder against him with your eyes squeezed shut as more tears fall along your cheeks.

“Hey now.” A hint of mocking in his tone as one of his hands cups your jaw and forces you to look upwards. “When it comes to monsters you've got your very own handsome devil hunter to keep you safe.” Brushing his lips against your forehead before planting a kiss on your temple. “I'll protect you, Babe.” 

“Even when my face is covered in snot?” Your voice cracks as you ask it like a small child instead of the adult you are.

“Even then.” Chuckling at you as you try to wipe your face a little more, it will be a while before you can fall asleep again but the reassurance is nice.

kiriko cuddling oneshot?

Nightmares - Kiriko

A/N: I've been getting some not-so-great night terrors recently, and I want some Kiriko comfort, so this really goes hand in hand.

It's getting harder to breathe, lungs tightening, heart pounding, you're falling, the wind cutting into the skin of your face whipping your hair in various directions. You're screaming, you're crying not ready to die. You flail your hands out in the air hoping to find a purchase or to slow yourself to no avail. The heavy feeling of helplessness and panic settle in, and your screams are silenced. The sensation of hands on your shoulders yanking you bring you to your senses and colors flash behind your eyes, and you reach to fight back the unknown assailant shouting. Instead, you find yourself unable to move as your wrists are grabbed and hot breath behind even hotter lips brush against your ear in hushed whispers. "Hey shhhh, it's me, it's Kiriko" her sleep addled voice serenades you as you pull your wrists from her gentle grip and wrap them tightly around her neck and burying your face into her shoulder releasing choked sobs. Kiriko runs her hands along your back and pulls you closer into her lap. One of her hands cards through your bed swept hair and massages your scalp. She continues to murmur softly into your ear "Shhh baby, I'm here, you're here with me, you're safe in my arms here, focus on your breathing baby I've got you." your tears subside and Kiriko rocks you gently in her arms. Pulling back ever so slightly, Kiriko brings the hand buried in your hair, to your face, swiping at the stray tears, on one side and kissing the remaining one away. She pulls her mouth away, but her hand stays, cradling your jaw in her palm and she runs her thumb soothingly across your tear-stained skin. She asks in you need anything, but you deny her, still shaken by the nightmare. Kiriko gets up "I'm going to make you some sleepy time tea love, I'll be right back-" you refuse to get up and she knows you want her to stay, and she can't quite leave you alone in a state like this. "Alright, wrap your legs around me and keep your arms around my neck ok baby? You're coming with me"

Kiriko shifts enough to the edge of the bed to stand, taking you with her, like a front-facing backpack. You tighten your grip tightens on her and she's got one arms free to open the door, the other is secured around your behind keeping you hoisted up against her. KIriko makes her way into the kitchen, and she heats up a mug of water and waits, resting you against the counter, not letting go, just burying her face into your neck and breathing you in. "You know I wouldn't let anything hurt you, not even in a dream, right?" Kiriko feels you stiffen and immediately regrets bringing it up again "Ah, sorry, my bad baby, I didn't mean to bring it up again, you've had enough of a rough night, let me take care of you, ok?" She squeezes you tightly, leaving a gentle kiss against your neck, before slipping and hand under your behind, lifting you once again, this time with a hot mug of tea in hand. Once in the bedroom she deposits you back onto the sheets, pulling you into her side and resting against the headboard. You hold the steaming mug of tea between your hands and thank her she looks at you, a soft smile painting itself on her previously concerned visage. Kiriko presses a kiss to your cheek, peppering her way to your lips, kissing you gently before pulling away, resting your head on her shoulder "Anything for you babes, I'm not going to let you suffer alone in your dreams, not when you have your protective fox girlfriend here to fight off the nightmares" your night would be plagued by nightmares, no more. At least not with the stunningly beautiful and strong Kiriko Kamori by your side.

A/N: Kiriko, please comfort me from my night terrors. Sorry, this turned more angsty than fluff I just used this as an excuse to write Kiriko dealing with someone who has nightmares a lot.

Crow T Robot X Sensitive!PastelCore!Fem!Reader angst and comfort

In all fairness, it's not your fault the Forresters liked to torment you. Though you don't know why. Maybe it's your sense of style? Mayhaps how sensitive your emotions are? Or perhaps they're just mean.

Either way though, Kinga/Clayton (Whoever you like better) said some rather harsh things while explaining which movie you and the gang were to be put through, which in turn lead to where you are now. Curled up in a ball and crying on one of the lower level of The Satellite Of Love.

You managed to calm down a bit after a while before you heard footsteps and the familiar voice of a certain yellow robot calling your name.

You looked down the hallway just as he stumbled into view, his arms bent in a weird raptor-like position. He looked your way and trotted his way next to you.

"Hey.. you alright, cakepop?" He asked with a small amount of worry lacing his tone. He put his clawed hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

You look up at him with messed up makeup and puffy eyes, a light cringe creeps onto his visage. It's hard to tell, but it's there.

"Jeez, doll, I didn't know what they said hit you that hard."

"Did you expect anything less of me?"

he didn't know how to respond as you looked back down at the floor as more tears streamed from your eyes.

"Why do I have to be such a crybaby.."

He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his beak into your hair.

"Don't beat yourself up like that. They shouldn't be saying stuff like that to you in the first place. Besides you're not as much as a crybaby as you think you are."

"What makes you say that?"

"I've seen more people more sensitive and pathetic than you, babe. trust me. Besides, None of them were as kind and pretty as you."

A miniscule smile creeps onto your face as Crow holds onto your hands and helps you onto your feet. He brushes your hair out of your face before leading you down the hall towards the kitchen.

"I'm not too keen on this kind of stuff, but I heard that some water will help you calm dow-AAUGH!!"

Crow falls forward onto the floor as he trips over one of Gypsy's coils. you quickly help him back up and keep him standing while he gathers his bearings.

"Are you okay?"

"Yep.. I'm fine, Babe. C'mon lets go."

The two of you continue to the kitchen, Crow has you sit down as he grabs a glass of water for you. After a few minutes of chaotic banter and jokes from Crow he gets up and asks you a question.

"Hey, i need to go... do something really quick, will you be okay on your own or do i need to grab Gypsy real quick?"

"... what are you planning, Crow?"

"Oh nothing, I'm definitely not going to the upper level to throw some insults back at Kinga/Clayton, definitely not."

You couldn't tell if it was sarcasm, a joke, or a terrible lie, but it made you laugh all the same.

"There's no need, I'm sure karma will do its thing sooner or later."

"Alright fine, you do have a good point."

He lets out a light chuckle as he sits himself up on the table and crosses one leg over the other. He leans down and puts the tip of his beak against your forehead.

"Mwah. I can't actually kiss you so this is the next best thing i can think of. Mwah... Nevermind this feels ridiculous."

You snicker as he pulls away, you look into his unsettling eyes before surprising him with a kiss on the beak. Your tender moment with your chaotic robotic boyfriend was interrupted when the two of you were startled by a loud siren and flashing lights.

"TIME FOR THE MOVIE, DAMMIT!"

Before you could get up, Crow picks you up and rushes off towards the theater room. Time for your daily dose of jokes and psychological torture.

family-friendly

genshin impact | T | 1967 childe/lumine | established relationship [ao3]

Childe and Lumine remember their first kiss very, very differently.

-

“We’ll go in the summer,” Childe had promised, and she had honestly believed that with all her heart. Remembered her adventures in the Golden Heart Archipelago with Klee and Jean and imagined all golden shores and blue skies and wide, open oceans. She was ready for that.

She was not ready for the bulky winter wear. She was not ready for the temperature that was like large hydro and cryo slimes all over her body, freezing her until there’s not much left to be frozen again.

(This is where she starts to doubt Childe’s rose-colored glasses.)

It is… quite the experience, to visit his home in Snezhnaya. There was no way she was declining the offer now that she was bound for the nation, and not with Childe giving her free pass into the country despite all the atrocities she’s done to Fatui agents across Teyvat. The least she could do was visit their little home, right? Say hello to his parents, his brothers and sisters, maybe stay for dinner, and then go to her hotel…right?

Wrong.

At this point, she is well aware of how Childe can be. Sweet and romantic when something in him softens, when that part of him that is always craving battle dissipates once his vulnerability sinks in. It’s a side of him anyone rarely sees, one she’s so proud of having the privilege to see on occasion. What slipped her mind is that the wall Childe sets up for the rest of the people in his life—other diplomats, other Fatui, other adventurers, the people he comes to just to have a fistfight with—is a wall he didn’t need to keep up with his family.

They arrive sometime past noon, after a long boat ride and a short trek up a mountain slope. The sky is an enthralling shade of blue. Quite like his eyes. It was snowing lightly—“it feels like it’s always snowing in Snezhnaya,” Childe had told her once—but it wasn’t the dreary kind of snow, rather the one that was a little exciting to watch. Childe knocked at the door and opened it with a yell, which she assumed was a greeting.

She mentally prepared herself for it, but she hadn’t expected Teucer, Anton, and Tonia to greet her with “sister!!” just as she walked through the premises.

Just how much had he told them in his letters?

(How much of her that they knew was the Lumine of Childe’s imagination, one that she would have to keep up with?)

She never peeked at the letters whenever he was busy writing them, never bothered because she felt like it would be an invasion of privacy, but now that she was here under the familiar sea-blue gaze of his entire family… she wondered if even just one look would have been alright.

Getting the approval of the younger siblings was an easy task; all she had to do was give them a few of the souvenirs she and Childe had brought over from their travels and promise to sit down and tell them of her adventures for them to give her the thumbs-up. The less impressionable ones, however, were Childe’s older sisters and brothers, who were polite and homely but a lot curter, as if trying to gauge if she were a good match with their younger brother. If the way his eldest sister had gifted Lumine her own set of Snezhnayan clothing even before dinner is any sign, perhaps she had at least passed their preliminary test.

But family time is very important in Snezhnayan culture, and dinner—well, dinner was an entirely different affair altogether.

-

“You’ve known each other for a long time, Ajax has been writing letters about you since.”

Liyue and Osial and Rex Lapis seem so far away now. “It took us a while to get along,” Lumine admits, side-eyeing Childe, “but once we found our footing with each other, it was enjoyable company.”

Childe’s eldest brother laughs. “Ajax. Enjoyable company.”

“You must be one hell of a woman to persist like that,” his other brother jokes.

“Well, that just means he made a good impression on her right away,” a sister muses.

“He got me out of a tough spot,” Lumine answers, remembering Yujing Terrace and the Rite of Descension. “I owed him one for that.”

“Isn’t that sweet!” his mother coos. “Ajax has changed, to be so sweet from the start.”

“Sweet? It was more of Sexual tension and”—Lumine yells, trying to cover him up: “Hey?! There are kids!”—"aggression from the start.”

“Oh, honey, don’t mind him,” Childe’s mother says, chuckling softly. “His siblings are used to him being straightforward like that.”

“I’m not…” Lumine murmurs, slinking back into her seat, causing the entire table to roll with laughter.

Dinner lasts for what seems like hours, and Lumine sits there shyly poking at her food as questions get pelted at her and Chllde about their relationship. The question of marriage is inescapable too, and she and Childe share a glance at each other for the briefest of moments before answering “it’ll come when it’ll come.”

But while it is easy to shrug off the adults’ more serious questions like that, it is the children’s concerns that are harder to ignore. So when Teucer asks—“How did your first kiss go?”

—Childe instantly pipes up and goes: “Oh, let me tell this one, babe. We were at Liyue Harbor together—"

It only takes Childe a few sentences before Lumine screeches, “No no no no please stop!!”, covering his mouth with her hands.

The whole family just laughs.

-

It is only until after dinner, when Lumine is sure that most of her face had already melted off of her skull, when she gets to pull Childe aside while in their (shared!) bedroom and ask: “No, seriously, Ajax. How do you remember our first kiss?”

“Was my storytelling over at dinner not enough, my принцесса? Would you rather I give you a reenactment?”

She blushes fiercely at being called a princess, but she tries her best to ignore it. “What? No, all I’m asking is—”

Childe does not pay attention and holds her in position, pushing her backward until she’s sat on the bed and he’s standing in front of her, towering (and admittedly a little… delicious, now that he’s dressed down and fresh from the shower.) “We’d come from a fight—the best thing to do with you. Or second best thing,” Childe muses, but then shakes his head back into focus. He holds Lumine’s chin with his index finger and thumb and forces her to look up. “I beat you that time.”

She narrows her eyes, staring back at him defiantly. “Only because I was handicapped.”

“Sure, my love. Luck on my part.” Childe grins. “I was trying to get you to stop sulking.”

“‘Warriors must learn to take part in losses,’” Lumine quotes him, and he nods.

He comes closer to her, carefully switching so that his palm is cupping her cheek instead, wiping an imaginary tear or bruise on her cheek. “You were so strong, but I’d tired you out more than usual. You were slumped in your seat, so I went to try and get you to rest, and you closed your eyes and leaned your head on my hand—” Childe smiles, a genuine one, small and sweet it gets Lumine’s heart racing. “I couldn’t help it, you know? I didn’t know what to tell you—how to tell you, so when you opened your eyes, I decided—fuck, I’m going to kiss her right here.”

Childe leans forward and presses a kiss on her lips.

“And I thought, ‘she’s going to hate me after this,’ but you didn’t, and instead you put your hands on your shoulders and then my hair, and you kissed me back,” he sighs. “You should really be cute more often, my sweet. You were so needy. Like this, let me show you—”

And just as Childe is about to press his lips on hers again, she places the palm of her hand against his mouth and pushes him roughly away.

“That is not what happened.”

Lumine is sure and inconvincible.

“What?”

There’s a moment of silence between the both of them that seems to extend for miles.

Childe blinks, his mind finally settling back into place. “That is what happened. What do you mean? Did you forget how our first kiss went?”

“Did you forget how our first kiss went? That was not how it went.”

Irritation clouds Childe’s visage for a brief moment. “Okay, how did it go then?”

Lumine clears her throat. Childe gets off his knees and back to his feet, settling into position. Lumine takes his hand in hers to put it into place—

And squeezes her cheeks with it twice. Childe goes lax. Lumine holds it in place, just open enough so she can talk.

“You were teasing me. We did come from a fight, and I did lose. And you thought I was being a sore loser about it, but the only true part was that I was sore. And tired.” She squeezes her cheeks with his hand another time. “‘Aww, defeat getting in your head?”’ she says, mimicking his intonation. ‘Warriors must learn to take part in losses, you know?’”

Childe tries to pull away. “I did not—”

“You did,” she insists, holding him in place. “You wouldn’t even let me catch my breath. Do you remember what I did?” He shakes his head. “I bit you,” she answered for him, gently digging her teeth into the flesh between his thumb and index finger. “You yelped and pulled your hand back. Do you remember now?”

He blinks, the memory of it slowly coming back. “Oh no.”

Lumine snickers. “Yes, oh no, Ajax.” She takes him by the wrist and pulls him closer to her, back to his knees. “‘Feisty little girlie,’” she says, in his voice, mockingly. “I growled at you. You chuckled, you bastard. And then you pulled me by the chin and kissed me.”

She presses a kiss over his lips, shaking a little from holding back laughter.

And, with her mouth still on his, she continues—“And I bit you—”

She digs her teeth on his lower lip before pulling away.

“And that excited you because of course it did, and then we—”

“Made out on the mountainside overlooking Liyue Harbor. Holy shit,” Childe finishes, face pale. When he collapses onto the bed next to her, Lumine doesn’t even try to stop the full-blown laugh coming out of her.

“I can’t believe you made it into some sweet romantic memory!” she teases him. “That’s your taste, huh?”

“I swear, that is how I remember that moment!”

“Well you remember it wrong,” Lumine notes, grinning. “Since when have we been gentle kisses, Ajax? You said it yourself—it’s all sexual tension and aggression.”

“I can be romantic sometimes.”

“Sometimes. Not that time.”

When Childe sinks further down the mattress, she presses a kiss on her forehead and looks down at him with soft eyes. “But if that’s how you want to remember it, we can always make that how it goes.”

And when he smirks, for the briefest of moments she thinks she sees his eyes light up in a way she’s always wanted to see. “Really?”

“Really, you dummy,” is all she gets to say before Childe takes her lips with his, a slow, decadent kiss of gratitude. All sweet things, but Lumine knows better to believe that’s going to last any more than a minute, his hot breath already against her neck.

And she thinks, chuckling: maybe it’s better like this. At least they’ll have a version of their first kiss that’s the tiniest bit more family-friendly.

Bakugou x Gamer S/O

I would like you all to know that I am not that good at second person and for some reason third person doesn’t come to me as easily as it should I also hate writing in first person for fics, it feels awkward

BUT IT’S FINALLY HERE I’M SORRY FOR MAKING YOU GUYS WAIT MONTHS I wonder if this is gonna get cut, this was three pages in docs- Enjoy though! I will get better I promise...

It was a regular Saturday afternoon in the Bakugou household. Katsuki was laying on his back with his phone in one hand and his arm propped behind his head while you were laying on your stomach with your 3ds. The sounds and music from the system emanated through the room at half volume, your occasional humming and small noises of surprise or anger at the events taking place within the fantasy world adding to the noises. 

Katsuki wasn’t exactly paying attention to his phone, rather he was watching you play the game out the corner of his eye while scrolling aimlessly so you wouldn’t question him. He would rather die than admit that he found it absolutely adorable that you were so invested in the game, but he was still annoyed at the fact that you were so flawless when it came to the controls while he was a complete dunce. Why can’t he get the hang of it?

“Noooo, don’t do thaaat, it’s T O T A L L Y gonna take down my level eighty-seven Blaziken…” Your drawled in a bored tone, fingers tapping away against the buttons lazily as a small chuckle left your lips at the antics taking place. “Sometimes, I feel bad for fighting against kid trainers. They’re just out here trying to act like us adults. Oh, hey look, I won.” The familiar noise of the battle congratulatory music seeped into the room, causing a small hum of happiness to leave your throat.

Katsuki grunted in response before looking over at you. That shitty game had all of your attention, and it was wearing his already thin patience down to a fine thread that would snap at any minute. Not that he didn’t want you to play games at all, you two had already gone through that little patch and he’s learning to deal with it more; but he still wanted some fucking attention. Even half assed cuddles sounded like an appealing option right now.  

A small giggle leaving your lips made the internally pouting blonde snap back to reality, his eyes flicking to the screen. A tall, tanned guy with white hair was now in front of your character and the dialogue that popped up beneath him made you giggle more. “Guzma please stop this, you’re literally a soft giant. You can’t keep this up any longer, you’re just a baby. Let me h e l p.” Bakugou’s eye twitched at your words as he exhaled through his nose. Were you really fawning over a fake character? Seriously? Right next to him, too? “I don’t wanna fight him yet, lemme just save and go get my Alpha Team.” You mumbled to yourself. Perfect, the opening he was looking for.

Once he heard the telltale noise of the game saving, Katsuki rolled over on your back and placed his chin in your hair, grabbing your 3ds and tossing it to the side of the bed he was previously occupying. A wheeze leaving your lips along with a confused and raspy grunt of his name caused a smug smirk to grace his features. “You’ve been playing for half an hour. It’s time to take a fucking break, Pokénerd.” He muttered, closing his eyes in content.  Babes is seriously touched starved, please maintain bodily contact whenever you’re around him

“Okay but Katsuki, you don’t have to put your whole weight on my back. You’re going to flatten me with your boobs.” You groaned, planting your face into the mattress for a few moments. Ignoring that comment, he stopped you from blindly reaching towards your 3ds by grabbing your hands and interlacing his fingers with yours, now moving to bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Not wanting to make this easy for him, you squirmed in his stupidly iron grip, hoping to free at least one arm to reach for your precious system. “I said it’s time for a fucking break. Leave the game alone before I hide it for a month.” Bakugou warned, his breath tickling and warming your skin considerably. A defeated whine left your lips as you continued to squirm underneath him, a small huff of laughter leaving his lips. “Alright, fine! I’ll leave it alone but p l e a s e get off! I don’t wanna die yet!” 

The blonde went silent for a few moments, causing an obnoxiously drawn out whine to leave your lips while once again trying to get him off your back unsuccessfully. Soon enough, Bakugou did roll off your back… And onto your 3ds making you cry out in horror as he merely grinned up at you like the little shit he was. 

“Katsukiiiiii, whyyyy are you like thiiiisss????” You bemoaned, throwing yourself on top of him. A small ‘oof’ left Katsuki’s lips but his grin never left, his arms wrapping around your frame and his face finding itself in the crook of your neck once more. “Is it bad that I want your attention, Shithead? You’re my partner after all, I deserve as much attention as that shitty Pokémon character.” Your face burned slightly out of embarrassment before it cleared up when your mind registered Katsuki’s full statement. 

“Are you…. Are you jealous of Guzma? Really?”

“Tch, I’m not fuckin jealous of a fake character.” 

“You ARE jealous! Oh my god, Babe!~” You cackled, watching Bakugou’s visage turn a bright shade of red as his signature frown made itself apparent. “Oi, listen here Shitnerd. I’m not fucking jealous of a goddamn Pokémon character. Now shut the fuck up and cuddle me.” He grunted, turning his head to the side, his frown still apparent. Your peals of laughter ceased with his last sentence and your face contorted to one of pure shock. Since when does THE Katsuki Bakugou demand cuddles? 

“Katsu…” Oh god, here’s the concerned nickname. He turned his head back to see you looking down at him with your face cutely pinched up in slight worry. Dammit, he fucked up.

 ‘Now they’re gonna go back to not playing around me again.’ 

“Are you actually upset over not being able to play the game as well as I do? Because, if you want, I can still go back to trying to teach you with the ones that I completed…?” 

O k a y maybe he didn’t fuck up the way he thought. But he still blushed from embarrassment at being found out. A few beats of silence passed before Bakugou mumbled a small ‘whatever, sure’ and wrapped his arm around your waist.

A gentle smile came to your face as you moved forward and pressed a small kiss to his nose, laughing as he playfully wriggled it in disgust. ���I deserve a better fucking kiss for dealing with you just now, c’mere.” You gasped in mock offense and started poking his chest. 

“OH SO MY KISSES AREN’T GOOD ANYMORE H U H-” 

“I DIDN’T SAY ALL THAT, COME HERE!” Bakugou barked, though his actions didn’t match his rough tone as he brought his hands to your cheeks and laid a gentle kiss on your lips. Small giggles continued to leave your lips but you reciprocated the kiss in turn, your arms wrapped around his neck in a loving manner.

When you both pulled away, Bakugou was giving you one of his rare smiles that showed how content he was to have you around. It sent surges of warmth through your body, once again sending you into a fit of giggles, making him roll his eyes and huff out a small laugh. “You’re so fucking weird, you know that?” Bakugou murmured, affectionately rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks. 

“Hey, you love me for it! Besides, it should be a given that you make me happy. A little insane when it comes to your attitude-” 

“HEY!” 

“-but overall I’m happy.” You grinned, gently scratching the back of his neck while he mumbled empty threats of him going to ‘kick your ass into the sun’ and whatnot. “Whatever you say, Pokénerd.” He huffed, turning his head away as a small blush lit up his face. “....You make me happy too. I hate it. You’re going to have the Idiots on my case if they catch me smiling at you.” 

You laughed and he grunted out a small “shut up” before rolling over and fixing you so he was spooning you from behind. “S’not funny, they’re annoying.” “They’re doing what friends should do, Katsuki. I like it, because it goes against what everyone else thinks. You’re capable of having friends despite how you act. Everyone deserves friends.” “Yeah, yeah shut up with the sappy shit and let me cuddle you in peace.” He huffed, kissing the back of your neck and grinning when you laughed once again at the ticklish sensation. 

“Alright fine, I’ll stop. Maybe later I can teach you how to play Pokémon properly. I hate to say it but you were-” 

“I will tickle the fuck out of you if you don’t stop yourself right there.” 

“OKAY NEVERMIND I WON’T SAY IT!” 

“Good.” 

“.....There’s h e l l a room for improvement though-” 

“ALRIGHT THAT’S FUCKING IT!”

“WAIT NO I’M SORRY!!!”

Absolute trash, I know hskfsdgdajnksa  ANYWAY Thanks for reading, i will gladly pay for medical bills-

Tag list @weeblyheaux

@mizukuni

@kageyeaman

Rarepair Sunday- Hopeisol

I meant to post this yesterday but petered out towards the end (how on brand is that). But here’s a fluffy little fic about Hope and Marisol going on a double date with this week’s rairpair- Bobby and Noah.

Words: ~2500

Warnings: None, maybe slight angst and mention of doing the nasty but not at all descriptions of it 

When she walked into the kitchen, rummaging through her purse on the counter, Noah couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. He exhaled out his teeth, whistling slightly. Hope looked up, a cheeky grin spreading across her face as she stepped back, forgetting the quest to find her keys.

She gestured down at herself, posing with her hips and flipping newly installed box braids over her shoulder, “How do I look?”

“Stunning.” He said without thinking. And it was true. The closest he’d seen to her going this all out was at the villa prom, but even that was a shadow of the visage standing in front of him now. The new hair style that she’d spent the better part of the day in the salon getting struck a balance between startlingly different but radiant, her expertly applied makeup sharpened her jaw and eyes flawlessly, the rich jewel tones of her body con dress made her skin glow in the low light of the apartment. But more than the look, there was a lightness in her eyes and smile. The tension that normally stiffened her shoulders had vanished, and she appeared more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. 

She threw her head back with a laugh at his comment, “do you think so?”. She moved in between several poses, turning to fully show off the look and gracefully moving her arms. He couldn’t help but smile, watching her playfully lean and posture. Before he said anything else, her focus snapped to Noah, sprawled out on the couch. She walked over slowly, lips pursed in silent thought.

Hope hesitated before quietly, tentatively offering “And you look…”

Sensing her judgement he sat up, brushing the wrinkles of his dress pants away and straightening his tie. He offered her a beleaguered smile, “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s fine, you look great.” She bent slightly and loosened the knot of her tie, pulling it into the proper shape then tightening it again. “I just… Do you own more than one suit?”

“What do you mean?! This is a new shirt, and tie! I picked it out specifically for this-”

“There’s no way that’s new.”

“It is!”

“If it’s new, then you have at least two of the exact same. Noah, how many navy button downs do you own?”

He blushed, looking down at himself. She offered him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning back to her purse. As she walked away, she quipped over her shoulder, “at least you’re not wearing a vest.”

“I look good in a vest!” He called back.

“Who looks good in a vest?” Marisol walked out of the bedroom, holding the keys that Hope was still rummaging around for. Hope spun around and her face lit up. 

“Noah, allegedly.”

Marisol smiled and pressed the keys into Hope’s palm, leaning in and kissing her cheek lightly. “Aw. Are you teasing him?” Then she raised her voice so Noah could hear without looking away from Hope, “I think you look nice in vests.”

Noah’s response was lost in the fumbling of their lips, fingers seeking each other out to interlace. When she pulled away, Hope murmured, “you look beautiful.” Marisol offered her a coquettish smile before releasing her hands, “I know.” Hope’s jaw dropped and she swatted at her girlfriend, “I know” she mimicked. 

“I do know! It took an hour and a half to look this good, babes,” Marisol retorted. 

“Speaking of which,” Hope turned back towards the living room, “have you heard anything from him?”

“Radio silence.” Noah called back. 

Marisol frowned, “I just checked the flight tracker, it said he’s still on time.”

“I knew I should’ve scheduled the reservation for later.”

Marisol slid a comforting hand around Hope’s waist, rubbing her skin gently with her thumb, “don’t go into damage control yet. We don’t know for sure either way.” Hope leaned into her hand, but didn’t say anything. After a bit, Marisol turned back to Noah, sensing she needed to take control.

“Well the plane’s still landing at 6:00, so we might as well assume everything’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get a text during the drive. Let’s just get going.”

Noah nodded silently, a look in his eyes that meant he wasn’t sharing his concerns. But he still stood up, grabbing his coat off the back of the sofa. Hope smiled tightly and grabbed her purse.

“We’re gonna have a great time. Come on.” Marisol kissed Hope lightly again, then walked over to Noah. She pulled at his tie, trying to get the knot to lay flatter than it was. Noah swallowed a laugh and glanced conspiratorially over at Hope, who rolled her eyes through a smile. 

The drive to the airport was quiet. Noah sat in the backseat, scrolling through his phone, and the ladies held hands up front as Hope drove. Periodically, Noah would share a news story or joke from his timeline, and they would all collectively chuckle at it. The silence that had previously been terse and anxious morphed into a comfortable, content silence. 

It took another 45 minutes for them to park, go through security, and find the right gate. Noah had gotten progressively quieter, lips turned slightly downwards as they waited outside of the gate. Hope gently held his forearm, “it’ll be fine, babes.”

Noah nodded, not speaking the fact that they were all acutely aware of. It’d been five months since they’d last seen each other, the longest stretch of time they’d gone since they started dating. While they both agreed long-distance would be doable while he looked for a new job, the separation was wearing on them. 

As the door opened and people started meandering through, the coil in Noah’s throat rose higher. Both Marisol and Hope gently patted and held him, sensing his anxiety. He almost brushed them off, feeling like a child, but instead he remained frozen in place, staring at the doorway.

Like it was nothing, suddenly he appeared. Frumpled shirt halfway unbuttoned, eschew, massive headphones perched around the back of his head, smile brighter than the pastel orange of his slacks. He immediately locked eyes on Noah and squeezed past the woman in front of him, running to them. Without thinking, Bobby launched himself at Noah, wrapping his arms around Noah’s neck and pulling his legs up around him as well. Noah lurched back but caught him intuitively, pulling him up into a long kiss. He had to let Bobby down earlier than he’d normally- the backpack strapped to the shorter man weighed nearly as much as Bobby did. 

 Bobby grinned up at him, “hey.” Noah couldn’t help himself from smiling, giddiness making his cheeks flush and eyes squint. “You were supposed to text me when you landed.”

Easing back onto his own feet, Bobby flushed, “yeah, sorry. They didn’t have ports- my phone’s completely dead.”

Noah nodded gently, “but you’re here.”

Marisol cleared her throat, and the couple glanced over at her. “Bobby, what are you wearing?”

“What do you mean, I’m-”

Hope’s face fell and Marisol cut in before she had a chance to react, “Hope made a reservation for dinner at 7. You were supposed to wear your suit on the plane… Is it in your backpack?” She disdainfully glanced at it, not relishing the wrinkles being crammed in a pack would cause.

Bobby’s face fell too, “Shit- I totally forgot-”

Hope started to match Marisol’s agitation, but instead of frustration, tears began welling in the back of her throat. “It has a dress code, Bobby-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Noah tried to sooth them, “we’ll just swing back to your place. I have an extra shirt, and I’m sure Bobby has some more understated pants-” Bobby visible cringed, shooting a look at Noah. 

Marisol nodded, using Hope’s distress to launch from anger into problem solving mode. “If we leave now we’ll have time to run back, it’s fine. Let’s do that, come on.” She gently pulled Hope into moving. 

Bobby rested his head on Noah’s shoulder as they drove back, playing with his hands. They giggled between themselves, and Hope tried desperately to swallow her irritation and just be happy for them. It was good to see Bobby. 

Noah always seemed to be more comfortable around him too, chatting much more and openly laughing. That was the thing that convinced her Bobby and Noah were a good couple, or at least a better couple than she and Noah ever would be. When she was with Noah, he was just as sweet and considerate as ever, but it always felt like she had to guess what he wanted. Like there was some barrier, like he was speaking a language a little too fluently for her to understand. There was no need for it either, she tried desperately to communicate with him. At times, it’d felt like he willingly stonewalled her instead of just saying what he wanted, just to be difficult. Just to be frustrating. Therapy had made Hope realize that she’d done the same, in part, focusing on little conflicts instead of addressing her underlying insecurities about the relationship. 

But it still hurt some, to see how vibrant Noah became when Bobby whispered in his ear. Not that she wanted him still. But Hope had a hard time letting go, taking the L. Noah had been something she wanted so deeply, and couldn’t make work no matter how hard she tried. Maybe that was the problem, Noah’s love was a thing she wanted. With Marisol, it wasn’t like that. 

Hope didn’t want, didn’t demand, Marisol’s love more than she wanted the dumb memes sent to her phone sporadically throughout the day. Than she wanted the slow and soft mornings waking up to the smell of coffee and her tender hands. More than she wanted to wrap herself in Marisol’s affection and never let go. 

A relationship with Marisol was work, true, but it felt like Marisol wanted to work for it in a way Noah was never willing to. And that remained a slight bitterness in Hope’s friendship with Noah. No matter how much they’d put the show behind them, Hope couldn’t forget how in love she’d been with him. How angry she’d been. The show’s reruns made her cringe, but also caused a dull ache in her chest. Reconnecting with Marisol had dulled that ache to nearly nothing, but seeing Bobby and Noah carrying on as if Noah was never hers caused it to flare up again. 

Glancing at Marisol from the road dissolved that twinge of resentment into shame. Here she was, angry that her friend had found romance in the exact same way she had, when the love of her life was quietly humming along to the radio next to her. It’s not as if Noah realizing his crush on Bobby after the show was any more disloyal than her and Marisol’s friendship growing into more with time. As much as she tried to rationalize it away, there was still a hint of frustration. Marisol quelled it but sliding a hand into Hope’s lap and gently squeezing her thigh, but Hope had to force herself to stop glancing in the rearview mirror anyways. 

When they got to the apartment, Noah pulled Bobby into the guest bedroom to some side eye from Marisol. Hope sat tersely at the kitchen counter, and Marisol slid behind her, gently rubbing her shoulders.

“Don’t let it ruin your whole night babes, we’ll still make the reservation.”

Hope huffed, recognizing it was more than that but taking the out provided, “I spent so much time planning it all out. I made the reservation two months ago-”

Marisol kissed her shoulder, then her neck, whispering, “I know. We all appreciate how much time and effort you put into planning everything.” 

“I just want this to be a good weekend. They haven’t see each other in forever and-”

“And they’re already really happy with each other. You can’t make yourself responsible for their relationship success, darling.”

“I’m not-” she snapped, letting out a breath when Marisol raised an eyebrow condescendingly. Without conceding, Hope sighly loudly and nodded. 

The sat like that for awhile, Marisol gently running her nails across Hope’s back and Hope vacantly staring out the kitchen window. After a considerable bit, Marisol went to the bedroom door, intending to knock. She raced back with a smug grin, and blurted out in a hushed voice, “they’re shagging!”

“What?!”

“Absolutely. They are 100% going at it-”

“Are you kidding me.” Hope pushed up away from the table, spinning on her heels. Marisol caught her arm and pulled her back.

“Oh babe, come on. Don’t interrupt-”

“Our reservation started five minutes ago and you want me to-”

“They haven’t seen each other in awhile-”

“They literally just had to wait four more hours!”

“As if you haven’t been late to a meeting because we were getting a little indecent.”

“That’s not remotely the same thing,” Hope glowered at her girlfriend, and Marisol just laughed, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her forehead. 

Hope huffed again, and stomped over to the living room, dropping into the loveseat. “Fine. I won’t interrupt. I won’t urge anyone to hurry or worry about a schedule or plan anything. We’ll see how much fun everyone has when everyone just says ‘it’ll work out’ and never puts in any effort to make it work out.”

Marisol watched her storm away, then waited until she was finished. Against her better judgement, she offered, “I said I appreciated your effort.” Which earned her a sour glare. She shrugged, then turned and disappeared into the main bedroom. Hope turned on the tv and attempted to care about the cooking competition that came on. After twenty more minutes, she called in and cancelled the reservation.

Nearly an hour later, the guest bedroom door pushed open. A flushed Noah stepped out, his clothes obviously straightened but the knot of his tie sloppily done again, followed by Bobby. Bobby had put on one of Noah’s shirt, apparent from the looseness and bunching of a shirt that was far too big for him and the signature navy pattern that only Noah and newly graduated business majors would pick out. The boys had so intelligently paired the shirt Bobby was currently swimming in with a pair of khakis. 

Hope turned, most of her irritation haven softened with some alone time. She barked a laugh, partially in genuine humor and partially in disbelief. “You’re going to wear that to a five star restaurant?”

Bobby blushed and Noah looked down at him. “I thought we managed to cobble a look together.”

“No tie?”

“I only brought one.” Noah raised a hand to start pulling his own off, before Hope shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. They only hold reservations for a half hour after they’re booked for.”

“I’m sorry, Hope-”

“As you should be.” Marisol walked out of the hall, she strode past Bobby and Noah, sparing a withering glance at Bobby and snorting her amusement. Without saying anything else, she opened the door and disappeared into the apartment hallway. Hope watched her go in confusion, then turned back to the boys.

“It’s fine.” Her voice softened. It was fine, really. At the end of the day, they were all together, and happy. That should be enough.

“It’s not my fault I’m so incredibly irresistible-” Bobby quipped, and Noah looked away while Hope grimaced, “gross.”

“Bobby, don’t-”

“No it’s not even true,” Hope cut in, grinning, “you look like a 9 year old trying on dad’s shirt for the first time, and you want to brag about being irresistible?” 

“I make it work, lass.” Bobby pulled the back of the shirt tight, trying to give himself an hourglass figure, and posed. Hope stuck her tongue out, and he winked in return. 

The door pushed open again and Marisol shoved her way through, arms full of plastic bags. Hope shook her head in confusion before rushing over to help carry things. 

“When did you-”

“I know Bobby doesn’t mind, but Noah do you like pho? It’s a trick question, I already ordered it. But still.”

Noah smiled, “yeah, I’ll eat some pho-”

“Fantastic, to the terrace!”

Hope trailed behind Marisol as she led through the open screen door onto their small patio. Setting the bag of takeout down on the coffee table, she couldn’t smother her excitement.

“Babes, when did you do all this?”

“Just now.”

Marisol had toted blankets and pillows from their bedroom out to the patio furniture, and carried their TV out as well. Four three wick candles were sat on the ground, waving in the breeze, and Marisol had strung multi colored christmas lights they had in storage along the railing.

“I didn’t hear you,” Hope said, eyes twinkling as Marisol leaned in and kissed her temple.

“Yeah, and it was a pain to try to carry that thing down the stairs and out the door silently. Thank god for your lack of awareness.”

“Sod off,” Hope whispered, wrapping her arms around Marisol’s neck and kissing her deeply. 

After the food was opened and everyone got settled, some movie was turned on. Hope couldn’t remember what they’d played for the life of her. But she did remember one specific moment. One warm, contented moment. Wrapped in Marisol’s arms, nestled into her side. Hope had glanced over at the boys, who’d pushed two patio chairs together and were spooning, Noah’s legs hanging off the chairs at the knee. The air rustled across her face and the sounds of the city far below harmonized with the movie audio. Hope could’ve gotten lost in Marisol’s breathing, in the comfort and safety of her arms. But she made a salient mental note not to lose that moment. 

Surprise

Story under cut. Usual warnings.

"C'mon, get these," Liam orders as he tosses a bundle of white taper candles and holders at Josh, who fumbles as he catches them. "These will have to do. I ain't driving down to Bangor now. And these are the only ones they got."

They were in the candles and fragrance section of Rite-Aid. Standing beside them is Josh's younger sister Christie, decked out in a dark green crop top, denim jacket and skirt, chewing loudly on Skittles candies she boldly ripped open in front of a store employee sweeping the floor. The gangly young man had simply shrugged and kept moving along the aisle, pushing the wrinkled scraps of wrappers and dirt crumbs along the stained and scratched cream tiles.

It was Halloween night, and everyone else was out trick or treating or partying, so the store was almost empty.

"Shouldn't we use black candles? That's what they usually use, right?" Christie pipes up, tucking a tendril of wavy blonde behind her ear.

"They don't have them here, and I don't think we need them." Josh replies as a spiked-haired young man with a septum piercing and cartoonish-looking tattoos emerges from the snacks aisle with three bags of pretzels piled high in his arms.

"Someone's gettin' high tonight." Liam mutters, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his leather jacket as they watch the young man pay the cashier and exit.

"Hey where's Lucas?" Josh queries. "Thought he was coming?"

"Stuck at his girlfriend's. She goes to church and all that and thinks we're all a bunch of heathens." Liam grins, his neck-length greasy hair tumbling over his dark sunken eyes as he continues to scan the shelf, before blowing a sigh throw his nostrils.

"Hope he don't make that uptight bitch my sister-in-law. Would hate to see her every fucking holiday," he pauses. "Yeah, we're done here." he announces as he gives a quick flick of his hand, scarred with cigarette burns, motioning for Josh and Christie to follow him.

As a song by New Kids On The Block starts blaring over the store speakers, Liam sends a taunting grin at Christie as he begins a comical flailing of his limbs in the aisle, weaving his lanky frame, trying to mimic the dance moves of the boy banders.

"Hey, I'm Joey McIntyre. Ain't you into them Christie?" he says as he starts to snap his fingers as he does a shuffle up to her. With a disgusted visage, Christie sticks her palm out, blocking him from coming closer.

"God no," she says, her face looking as if she'd just taken a whiff of the worst-smelling garbage imaginable. "Fucking Greta Keene listens to that shit. Not me."

Greta had taken to hanging out front of Derry Middle School, waiting for Christie, and along with Sally Mueller, started chucking rolled up paper balls, juice boxes and empty soda cans at her as she passed by. She'd been a target since she'd walked in on them tormenting a girl named Beverly Marsh and promptly cussed them out. They then began targeting her. It had become a ritual at this point.

Liam halts his dancing, his mien dropping to a more serious one. "C'mon man." he says, sniffling loudly, running his left index along the thin black mustache that aged him at least ten years. He didn't look like a young man of eighteen, but rather a thirty year old you might see working Derry's seedy bar scene. Compared to Josh's more boyish, youthful appearance with his short dirty blonde hair, stonewashed jeans and Derry High School jacket, they made an odd match in terms of friends.

The young cashier looks nervous as the three approach, with Liam digging into the back pocket of his trousers, presenting some wrinkled up dollar bills and loose change.

"Hey, got money tonight man," Liam gives a leering grin to the cashier, whose cheeks are now flushed a light pink. He nods rapidly as he quickly takes the money from Liam, snatching it from his palm as if worried he might contract a disease by touch.

"See ya'," Liam continues his lurid grinning as he makes a finger gun with his hand, pointing it at the timid cashier, clicking his tongue. "Later dude."

After all three pile into Liam's red Pontiac Firebird, Josh tosses the plastic bag of candles into the backseat beside Christie. As they cruise along Kansas Street. Josh snaps on the radio, with Liam loudly belting out the lyrics as Josh cranks up the volume.

"You're motoring, what's your price for flight, in finding mister right, you'll be alright tonight!" he sings in an deep, exaggerated intonation, sending glances back at Christie over his shoulder. She loudly groans as she slinks down against the backseat.

"Why do you always have to be such a dick?" she sighs as she gazes out at the street lights blurring past. She huffs, folding her arms as he continues his taunting crooning, turning in his seat to face her, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

"Babe, you know, you're growing up so fast, and mama's worrying-"

"No she ain't." Christie sternly cuts in, pushing the plastic bag aside as she shuffles in her seat, kicking the empty beer cans along the tacky floor with the toe of her sneakers. The odor inside the car nauseating her with what she suspected was a combination of weed and vomit.

They pass by a bar with patrons loitering outside. She points.

"Ma is probably in there."

Their mother Melanie certainly wasn't worrying about anything or anyone other than her next lay.

"I hate that fucking song." she adds.

Liam abruptly stops his warbling as they come to a stop in front of their destination; 29 Neibolt Street.

"Ah, fuck yeah!" Liam hits the breaks and leaps out, making his way to the trunk. Throwing it open, he removes a large heavy item, wrapped in a grimey brown cloth, along with a couple of flashlights. Slamming the hood, he approaches Josh and Christie.

"Here it is. It's big enough. We're gonna do this, man. And it's gonna be fuckin' cool!" he exclaims excitedly as he pounces towards the front door of the run-down mansion, long rumored to be a haven for every tweaker in town.

As well as ghosts and the occasional Satanist-a crowd that Liam ran with. It was his idea to come to the most infamous house in Derry to perform a seance. They'd let Christie tag along for the ride.

As Josh duly follows. Christie pauses, holding the plastic bag of candles, staring up at the circular attic window. She remains there, her hazel disks focused on the tenebrous just within the foggy and cracked glass.

She gazes over at the police tape draped along the wrought iron fence that had been torn, a sign that others had trespassed along the property.

"What a shithole." she mumbles beneath her breath.

A pair of large hands violently shove her forward. She nearly falls over, catching herself against the wooden beam of the porch, feeling a pinch against her thumb as a splinter pricks her skin.

"Ow, shit." she gasps as she whirls around, certain that asshole Liam or Josh were pranking her.

But no one.

She quickly runs inside, trying to work the splinter from her flesh, a tear of red blood forms, pushing it out.

"Someone just pushed me," she says as she shuts the rickety old door behind her, trading her gaze between her brother and his friend, trying to decide who was the culprit. She drops the plastic bag to her feet as she snatches up a flashlight, shining it on her finger.

"Maybe it was the ghost!" Liam cackles, his jeering grin a hint that maybe it had been him. Christie glowers at him.

"It's not funny. Someone came up behind me-"

"You just tripped," Josh interjects dismissively. "We were both in here. Liam was with me."

"Yeah," Liam agrees as he switches on his flashlight, aiming it at his face. "I told, you it was the ghost. This place is haunted like a motherfucker. You know by that piano teacher."

"Edna Cotton?" Josh inquires.

"Yep, lived here around 1906," Liam continues, "She was banging Joseph Mueller. He wouldn't leave his wife. So, one day, she invited his wife here for tea- and the wife had no clue about the affair- and then she crept up behind her with an axe and pow!" he swings his arms as if holding an invisible weapon. "Blade went into the back of wifey's skull. They found Edna wondering the streets afterwards, covered in blood. They hanged her a week later. They had to do it quick, since they were afraid the Mueller wife's family and friends would get to her first. "

"Wow." Christie says, her arms scissored around her, feeling a stark chill suddenly pulse through her, goosebumps prickling along her skin. The mention of the Mueller name made her think of Sally.

She glances to the front door.

No, no ghost. Just Liam being a douchebag and tying to scare her. Maybe she did trip. Pushing it out of her mind, she moves to stand by Josh.

"Alright, let's do this," Liam positions himself before the cloaked item, yanking away the material to reveal a large oval-shaped mirror. He traces a callused fingertip along its golden frame. "Mirrors are portals. Gateways."

Josh snatches up the bag of candles and pulls out his lighter, igniting each and lining them up around the mirror. Christie lowers herself to sit on the icy floor.

"Think this will work huh?" Josh queries as he stares at his reflection. Liam nods, keeping his eyes glued to his own.

"Legend has it The Brotherhood of Nineteen used to hold seances here," Liam says. "They also used to do mirror gazing, trying to contact the dead. I read one of them went crazy after he stared at a mirror too long and his reflection morphed into something inhuman, a demonic pigman or something. Now close your eyes."

Liam starts to recite an incantation under his breath, but neither Josh nor Christie can decipher what he's saying. The room is quiet, dark, save for the soft light of the candles.

Christie decides to peek, opening her lids and watching, eyes widening as she sees a pitch black fog that resembles liquid start to spread along the mirror, drowning out their reflections. She inhales sharply at the unexpected sight.

The black fog quickly vanishes as she does so. Liam growls, "Hey what the fuck?"

"I saw something. In the mirror-"

"It was working? Dammit! Don't fuckin' talk! Shit!" Liam hisses as he gives her a murderous glare. Josh places a hand on Christie's shoulder.

"It's okay. Just keep them closed." he offers gently as Liam keeps his intense brown irises on her.

"Again." he states coldly as he turns back to face the mirror, and, once again, recites that indiscernible invocation. Christie keeps her lids squeezed shut. For a moment she heeds Liam's order. But something was telling her to open them again. A tension begins to envelope her tiny frame, her chest tightening, heart thumping against the tightness forming in her throat.

And she looks.

What she sees is not an inky fog cloud this time, but...a clown. Clear as day. His round face outlined by the golden of the candlelight. His pupils two flaming smooth yellow rings. His grin is trimmed in dark red stripes that cut across his white cheeks. The most startling thing of all are his teeth; sharp and pointy, like a demon out of the horror movies.

"Oh my God!" Christie shrieks as she scrambles away on her hands and knees, coming to a stop near the staircase.

"Fucking Hell!" Liam roars as he bolts up. "You can't take her anywhere! Fuck!"

"What is it?" Josh crawls over to his terrified sister, her gaze on the mirror, bottom lip trembling as she leans her weight against her palms. The weird clown face has vanished from the glass.

"There was something in the mirror. A face in the mirror. Like...a clown's face." Christie breathes, her voice dripping with panic, her chest heaving rapidly. Liam gives a disgusted scoff, his hands on his hips as he hangs his head, shaking it.

"Can't bring her anywhere," he grumbles. "A fucking clown? What the fuck even?"

Wham! Wham! Wham!

A pounding starts from beneath the floor. Continuous, growing louder. More ominous. Even Liam looks startled at this. Josh eyes the floorboards, eyebrows knotted as he wraps an arm around Christie.

"Sounds like it's coming from the basement." he offers.

"Gee, ya' think so huh?" Liam states sarcastically as he stares downwards for a fleeting moment before he grabs up a flashlight and storms towards the kitchen in the direction of the basement door. "Probably some fuckin' crackhead. If it is, they're going to get their ass beat. I'm not in the mood for this shit."

Josh follows, with Christie close behind, her finger clasping the hem of Josh's black and orange high school jacket. Liam and Josh both charge down the basement steps, flashlight beams searching along the dusty warped steps. They both pause halfway down to glance at the darkness, a runnel of moonlight is cutting through the cracked and stained basement window.

"Who the fuck is here man?" Liam shouts as he keeps the light pointedly on the well, holding his forearm against the lower half of his face to shield against the odor of rotting wood. There is no answer, only the aged pulley that dangles over the well entrance begins to squeak as it swings, ever so slightly.

"What is-" Josh begins before he's cut off by the basement door slamming. He and and Liam bolt back up the steps.

"Hey Christie, the fuck you doing? Open it," Josh pounds on the door. "Hey! Open!"

Then, in between flesh striking the wood, they hear it. A loud bubbling growl emitting from the dark of the basement corner. Josh halts his pounding as he and Liam both turn their attention on the well.

Rising up from beneath is a creature, humanoid in appearance, save for its face. Its features were only somewhat visible in the dim light of the room. The blue-white moonlight gleamed along the tusks protruding out from its snarled and twisted mouth. It gave another growl, a snarl mixed with a squeal.

Like a pig. Its eyes were like two burning balls above its snout, devoid of any pupils, pointedly on both of them. The odd ruby stripes down its cheeks distort as it continues to snarl.

"Shit, the fuck is that?" Josh manages, grabbing Liam's elbow. The young man remains frozen, seemingly hypnotized by the creature's blazing corneas. Josh violently shoves him aside to resume frantically banging on the door.

"Christie! Open it! There's something fuckin' in here man! Open it!" he shouts, not removing his sight from the pig-like monster. "Fuckin' open you little bitch!"

Suddenly, the beast is behind them, moving with lightning speed at the bottom of the steps. Liam screams as it yanks him down by the ankles, he flails backwards, landing with a loud thud and a groan.

The beast then speedily leaps up and tackles Josh, the front of his skull cracks against the door. He falls to the ground, with the beast's demonic swine features becoming more blurry as he's rendered barely conscious, he feels the bopping of his head along the steps as he is dragged down the stairs.

"Hello, goodbye." the monster growls before it tears into Josh's throat, with Liam still knocked cold beside him.

Outside the door, Christie is staring blankly at it, hearing nothing. Just a stark silence. Her mind is hollow. Numb.

Christie.

A maniacal giggle follows.

Christie.

Another giggle.

She slowly turns around, looking up to the second floor balcony. Without giving much thought to what she was doing, she saunters up the steps, still hearing a soft insidious giggling amid the creaks of her soles along the wood. She comes to a halt in front of an open door to a room filled with clown dolls.

In the corner is a dark-haired woman seated on a rocking chair, facing the stained glass windows. On her lap, one of the clown dolls wearing a yellow and blue outift, with orange pom poms down its front. Its large eyes were turned downwards, and for a fleeting moment, Christie could swear she sees it blink.

"He said he loved me." the woman offers quietly. Christie sucks in a deep breath, her mouth becoming dry, a thump thickens in her throat. Her heart races against her rib cage.

"Who?" Christie squeaks as the woman suddenly turns to look at her. Christie's heart now feels as if it could stop beating completely at the sight she sees.

The woman's face is but a half-skeleton, bits of flesh dangling from her chin, her eyelids non-existent, leaving her bloodshot eyeballs exposed like two small moons. Her irises like black holes. As she rises, the front of her dress comes into view, caked in dark dried blood.

"He said he wanted me!" she screams as she presents an axe, splattered with blood streaks. Christie screams hysterically, falling against the door as the woman comes at her. The giggling starts again, and Christie, to her utter shock and horror watches as the clown doll that was sitting on the woman's lap becomes animated, moving on its own. It painted features now drawn into an evil glare.

All the dolls in the room were moving, waving their hands and giggling. A chorus of laughter chases after Christie as she takes off down the hallway, the insane woman following behind. She can hear the axe cutting through the chilly air as the woman swings it at her, barely missing Christie's back.

She bounds down the stairs, almost stumbling, grasping the shoddy railing, cobwebs catching along her fingers. She runs to the front door, jiggling the handle, finding its stuck-or locked.

There's no time to comprehend which, the crazed woman is coming for her. Only now, she has red stripes down her cheeks along the rotted flesh and bone. Christie dodges the swinging axe, making a play back up the stairwell. Still in shock, she holds in another scream, concentrating on finding refuge, running inside a room with a large leather chair, desk with a single lamp that was aglow, vintage record player and coffee table.

Inside, after she has closed the door and locked it. She stands, tears coursing down her beet red cheeks, a headache throbbing through her skull. Her whole body is trembling uncontrollably as she sinks to the floor, holding her knees, rocking.

If she could get to Josh. Or even asshole Liam would do.

Somebody. Anybody.

She remains in the same position for a few minutes, sniffling, tense, as she keeps her attention on the door, until she hears a crackling sound as the old dusty record player begins to play;

'You're motoring, what's your price for flight, in finding mister right, you'll be alright tonight.'

When the verse plays a second time, the needle begins skipping, the phrase, "What's your price" repeating on a loop. Christie tightly covers her ears, tucking her head down.

"What's your price?" the man in the red truck asks Melanie, whose leaning against the door. They're in the driveway of Melanie's house, and it's just after midnight.

"Whatever you got-" Melanie says in between her loud gum chewing. The man then nods behind her.

"Hey, we got company." he mutters. Melanie turns to see Christie in her pale lavender nightgown, clutching her Raggedy Ann doll.

"Mommy...?"

"Get your ass back in bed!" Melanie roars as she stalks towards her, pushing her up the porch steps.

Christie darts up, screaming as she runs at the record player, knocking it to the ground, stomping the shiny black of the record, smashing and cracking it. She continues to angrily pummel it with her soles, kicking the pieces aside. Her fury does nothing to drown out the forest of giggles she hears as she does so.

"Who is there?" she asks forcefully, feeling a new strength come over her. Her anger, her fear, were now colliding, blending, erupting in a powerful adrenaline rush.

She was done with this crap.

"Who the fuck are you?! Where's my brother, you fuckers?!"

The voices quiet, hushing each other, trying to hold in their mocking cackling. The room is dark save for the tiny lamp, and the only thing she can make out are the feet of her assailants moving stealthily along the shadows of the corners of the room. Charily, they begin to present themselves, each clown doll stepping forward, each one different than the last, tall, short, inching out into the weak light. Their giggling starts up again.

"No," Christie gives a small shake of her head. "No, this isn't real. You're just a dream. You're the pizza and ice cream I gorged on last night. I must have fallen asleep in the car. Because this isn't real."

This instantly silences them. They all glance to each other, their worn and aged features almost looking...scared. Or worried.

"I wouldn't say that. You'll make him mad..." offers the one who was perched on the lap of the crazed woman with the axe.

She wasn't real either. Just a ghost. A junk food-induced hallucination.

Christie, the emotionally intelligent girl that she is, now decided to wield her new power.

"You're not real. You're not fucking real." she points a taunting finger. "You're just imaginary. Just stupid dolls. I'm not scared of fucking dolls!" she finishes, almost laughing as she brings her fingers up to her mouth.

The room then starts to rumble, like an earthquake. The dolls all clamor back to the shadows, seemingly disappearing into the ratted and torn wallpaper. One utters an audible, "Uh-oh," as they vanish from sight. Accompanying the thunderous shaking is a raspy roar, echoing around Christie as she runs to the room's door, flinging it open, instantly being met with the axe woman.

"You're not real!" Christie shouts defiantly, the woman shrinks back, lowering her axe. Christie takes the opportunity to then jump down the stairs, the edge of her sneaker catching on a piece of broken railing that is protruding from a step and tumbles, flying down the stairwell, landing at the bottom and rolling to the center of the living room. She remains there, until she opens her lids, feeling the warmth of the sun upon her color drained features. She gradually raises her head, before she pushes herself up and heads to the door. Stepping out in the brightness of daylight, embracing the warmth, she makes her way home, just a block away.

Standing in the bathroom of her bedroom, she observes her tired features.

It had been a dream. A very vivid one. But a dream nonetheless.

Josh and Liam had left her there clearly, not that Josh hadn't abandoned her before. He would normally not have done that, but Liam's influence was strong. Maybe when she passed out during that silly little seance Liam wanted to do. Or maybe in the car ride. But, didn't she see something? She could have sworn she did. In the mirror. Or was that part of the dream too?

Oh well. Whatever happened, she was home now. Josh would turn up sooner or later. He was probably off smoking weed with Liam.

Assholes. Both of them.

She switches on the tap, gently splashing her face with cold water. She opens the medicine cabinet to retrieve the aspirin. She shuts it, and in the reflection, standing right behind her are Josh and Liam. She screams as she takes in their bloody and chewed facial features, Liam grinning his mocking leering grin. Just as the aspirin bottle hits the floor, she jolts awake.

Awake. Cold. Head pounding as she lay on the floor of Neibolt at the bottom of the stairs. She groggily lifts her aching body up, moaning in pain, placing her palm to her forehead. She lets out a defeated whimper as she sits, gazing around as the oval mirror that still sat leaning against the wall begins to roll out in front of her. Christie gasps, keeping her eyes on it as it comes to a halt a few feet away from her. Her heavy breathing is audible as she stares at it.

The surface of the mirror begins to ripple, her reflection fading as a massive white gloved hand emerges from the watery silver, wiry fingers wiggling, deep, rasping chuckles drifting out along with it as the ruffled sleeve of the hand appears. Then a bulbous head topped with fiery orange tufts of hair. Christie's mouth is agape, her eyes bulged as she tries to inch away from Pennywise, who has now pulled his entire upper torso out of the mirror, bells jingling. Leaning on his fists, he grins, those familiar stripes distorting as he sneers,

"Time to float," he growls before his features darken. "You are scared now, aren't you?" he loudly sniffs the air. "Yes, you are. Real, delectable fear."

He crawls out a little further, his visage becoming more irate, saliva strings dangling from his lips. "What a shithole." he says, mimicking Christie's voice.

Crippled with fear, Christie begins to scoot away, a tearful grimace forming, her legs kicking along the floor, before Pennywise's hand shoots out, coiling around her ankle.

Christie shrieks as he drags her towards him as he retreats back into the mirror. With a flash of light, the surface is normal again, save for a few small orange electric bolts shivering along the glass.

As the mirror tips back over, the faint sounds of giggling begins, filling the rooms of the house.

Drusilla's Soul Chapter 8 Part 1

Seven Years Later

Raven Bar, San Francisco, Ca -

It was loud music as people were dancing in the nightclub. And the rest of them were drinking alcohol and socializing.

This is the rhythm of the night

The night, oh yeah

The rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of my life

My life, oh yeah

The rhythm of my life

It was a dark haired woman who wore a dazzling black dress dancing on the dance floor. Drusilla was having so much fun and was very sociable.

You could put some joy upon my face

Oh, sunshine in an empty place

Take me to turn to, and babe I'll make you stay

Oh, I can ease you of your pain

Feel you give me love again

Round and round we go, each time I hear you say

This is the rhythm of the night

The night

Oh yeah

The rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of my life

My life

Oh yeah

The rhythm of my life

Drusilla was swaying her hips as she danced with her eyes closed and she swung her arms. She got the best moves.

Won't you teach me how to love learn

There'll be nothing left for me to yearn

Think of me burn and let me hold your hand

I don't wanna face the world in tears

Please think again I'm on my knees

Sing that song to me

No reason to repent

I know you wanna say it

This is the rhythm of the night

The night

Oh yeah

The rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of my life

My life

Oh yeah

The rhythm of my life

This is the rhythm of the night

The night

Oh yeah

The rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of my life

My life

Oh yeah

The rhythm of my life

This is the rhythm of the night

Oh oh oh

This is the rhythm of the night

Oh oh oh

Rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of the night

The night

Oh yeah

The rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of my life

My life

Oh yeah

The rhythm of my life

This is the rhythm of the night

The night

Oh yeah

The rhythm of the night

This is the rhythm of my life

My life

Oh yeah

The rhythm of my life

This is the rhythm of the night

The song had finished, Drusilla walked to the bar counter and sat on the stool. There were a couple sitting on the stools.

“Nice moves you got there.” said a woman with a short, blond bob hairstyle, wearing a pink crop top, black leather skirt, black heeled sandals, and accessory with a ruby teardrop necklace.

“Thanks.” grinned Drusilla.

A handsome man wearing metallic silver button down shirt and black leather pants, black shoes and accessory with Rolex. He was holding his girlfriend’s waist.

“So, you seem to have a lot of fun, huh? Care for a drink? I’m Brittney. And this is my boyfriend, David.” said Brittney.

“Hey.” said David.

“Hi. I’m Drusilla. You two have a very good couple. When do you guys meet?” Drusilla asked.

“Oh, we just met on Tinder.” said Brittney.

“Tinder? Heh, I’m sorry, what exactly is Tinder? I don’t know what that is.” said Drusilla, she had no idea what Tinder is.

“It’s a dating app. Where you meet many people, and go on a date with that person." David finished explaining.

“That’s right, when you see the picture below these icons. Tap the heart button if you like them and tap the cross button if you don’t like them. Or you can swipe the screen left and right.” said Brittney.

“Oh, I see. Does it work? Did you talk to each other on Tinder?” Asked Drusilla.

“Oh, yeah, I’m the one who tapped the heart button and me and David were matched, and we did our conversations. We started on a date a while ago.” said Brittney.

“Wow, Tinder sure does work.” said Drusilla.

“Of course it does. You can try Tinder, it’s a smart technology.” said David.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not just that type of girl.” said Drusilla.

“C’mon, don’t be shy. I’m sure those guys got hot on you.” said Brittney.

Drusilla furiously blushed, “Hey, come on! I told you I’m not that kind of girl who is looking for a date. I mean, why do you want me to try Tinder?” she asked.

“Because I know you’re single and you will install this app on your phone.” said Brittney.

Drusilla sighed, “Alright, fine, I’ll try it. If it doesn’t work, I’ll uninstall it.” She picked out her iPhone X from her purse and she installed the Tinder app and created her new account.

After she finished it, the bartender gave them drinks. Drusilla drank raven cocktail. Brittney and David drank maple cocktails.

Brittney and David said goodbye to Drusilla and exited the bar. It was dark outside. The night was still young as Drusilla made her way towards her Lamborghini. She entered her Lamborghini and closed the door. She let out a sigh. She was about to leave till she started to have a vision of Brittney and David being attacked by a group of vampires. She had to get over there quickly.

Brittney and David were walking down the empty street, they were a bit buzzed from drinking and giggling. They couldn't stop kissing each other as they weren't paying attention to their surroundings. Five of these people smirked at the couple.

"Well, well, well. Look who wandered into our turf. The little lovebirds seem that tonight is our lucky night." The leader said as he circled the couple.

“Hey, who the hell are you? What do you guys want?” demanded David, he was defending his girlfriend.

"Awe, look at the little pup trying to defend his princess. How adorable.” said a female now licking her lips.

"Come on, sis. You know the young ones are never good." Said the male twin.

"Please leave us alone, or else I’ll call the police if you get in trouble. Now fuck off!” yelled Brittney.

"The little lamb thinks she can threaten us. That’s so cute. I wonder what she tasted like." Another male entered with a slight British accent.

"Okay, it's time to feast, ladies and gentlemen." The leader said to them and they started to transform. Their eyes changed to yellow, their face started to morph into the vampiric visages. And their teeth turned into the sharp fangs like knives.

"What the actual fuck?!” screamed David.

Brittney screamed as she started to hide behind her boyfriend.

“Well, let's see who wants to be eaten first?" The leader grinned evilly.

"How about my fist!?" David shouted and threw his fist at the leader.

"Welp, it seems we got a volunteer." The leader said and caught David's fists and snapped it backwards.

David let out a loud scream in agony as he walked backwards crying looking at his girlfriend.

"Run, Brittney!" David shouted and slowly tried to ignore the pain.

Brittany was going to run away until she bumped into a vampire.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the muscular vampire smirked evilly.

He grabbed her head and slammed her head on the brick wall. She fell over with her forehead bleeding as the blood dripped on to the floor. The male licked the blood off the pavement and smirked.

His mouth wide open and had his fangs inches away from her neck. The vampire felt his head being kicked away from Brittney’s neck.

"Okay, assholes, back away from them." demand Drusilla, stancing in fighting style.

“Who the hell are you?” asked the muscular vampire.

"Your worst nightmare." Drusilla replied normally and she started attacking the muscular vampire.

The muscular vampire tried to punch her, she dodged his fist. She struck her knee to his rib, swiftly kicked to his face as he stumbled backward and crashed the trash cans.

“Holy shit!” shocked the young male vampire.

“That chick knows how to fight!” said the female vampire.

“I’ve heard of her before. She’s a vampire with a soul.” said the leader.

“A soul? Heh, so the vampire has gone good? What a joke." The female vampire said as she walked toward her.

“I’ll make her one on one cuz this isn’t going to be a catfight."

She struck a punch to her face, but she dodged her blow. Drusilla tried to kick her to the head, but she defended her with her arm, and she swirled a kick below and made Dru fall.

“C’mon! Is that all you got?” she taunted.

Dru got up and rolled her shoulder and smiled.

“Not on your life.” Dru replied and she transformed her vampiric face and charged at her. Dru clawed her cheek as the black haired vampire shrieked painfully. Dru smirked and grabbed her and threw her against the wall.

Drusilla sank her fangs to her neck and drank her blood as the vampire exploded to a dust.

“Jill!” the twin vampire cried to his twin sister.

Drusilla turned to the rest of the vampires.

“You bitch! You killed my sister!” yelled the twin and charged at Dru. Dru calmly grabbed a broken plank from the trash and staked him to the heart as the vampire exploded to a dust.

“I got her, boss. I’ll handle this bitch.” said the long haired vampire as he charged at her.

He kicked her to the gut as she held her belly painfully, then she felt another strike to her face and bled a little.

“Get ‘er, Alex!” shouted the muscular vampire.

Alex was grinning madly as he was about to finish her. Dru could not lose, not like this. Just remember when Blade taught her how to fight.

Dru reached something from her holster leg, she picked out EDTA and threw a syringe to his chest as the long haired vampire yelled in pain. His body began to swell up enormously and exploded causing the blood splattered on the wall and on the ground.

“What the fuck was that!?” shocked the leader vampire.

“Why don’t you come here and start doing yourself?” asked Drusilla.

“I’ll get her, boss. She’s mine!!” the muscular vampire yelled and charged at her. Drusilla took out a glaive and released the button to reveal the twin blade and threw at the muscular vampire by cutting through his throat, separated from his body and dusted. The glaive returned to Drusilla’s grasp.

The leader growled angrily. “Well, just look at you. You may be a vampire, but I don’t have a soul. I’m the most evil vampire in the world and I shall perish you for killing my comrades. And so, who taught you how to fight, huh?” he asked.

Drusilla smirked, “If you wonder who taught me, I was trained by the daywalker, Blade.”

“Who??”

Then Drusilla attacked the leader, but he blocked her blows just in the knick of time, the leader jabbed to her face but she dodged to the right and roundhouse kicked to his ribs caused him to be sent sailing into the wall.

“You’re gonna pay for this!” enraged the leader charged at her.

He tried to punch her but she dodged every strike and then she brought her knee up into his stomach and hit him on his back with her elbow. Drusilla withdrew a silver stake and stabbed him in the back causing the dust exploded.

Drusilla sighed that the threat was over. Brittney slowly walked toward Drusilla.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, Drusilla turned around to see Brittney’s cut on her forehead leaking blood down to her eye. The sound of blood pulsating that Drusilla could feel the hunger through her. She resisted and backed away from Brittney.

“Get away from me.” said Drusilla. Brittney hesitated.

This is something that I have been thinking about for a while, but how would the four react if they found out they weren't infertile but just couldn't have kids with other nephilim and got there s/o pregnant

The Horsemen learn that they’re going to be fathers

Personally, I’m not into children at all - I fear pregnancy like the plague - so this was an interesting exercise in writing about a subject that is alien to me.

Thanks for the challenge! :)

“War, baby, I need you to sit down, okay?..“ you said, your tone as light as you could muster. War furrowed those wide eyebrows and did as he’d been told. He has just returned from one of his missions and still donned all his heavy, clunky battle wear, so the sofa moaned under the enormous weight.“What is it?” His lightning blue gaze zeroed in on yours. Always so alert, this one. Always ready to assess any danger threatening you and take it on, whatever it would be.You loved this man so much.“I’m pregnant”, you said softly. War’s jaw dropped, but he remained silent.“I’m gonna have a baby, War”, you repeated. “Your baby.”The Red Rider blinked. Once, twice.“My…baby?” He looked as if shot through the heart; eyes wide, his whole visage a picture of stupor.“Yep. Also, the doctor’s positive it’s a boy.”Those words finally hit home. The Horseman sprang up and darted forward like a cannonball. You did see him move; he was never one for speed after all. But astonishment glued your feet to the spot. Two enormous arms - one made of nigh-immortal flesh, the other huge and ironclad - pulled you in for a hold so close, you felt the air escaping your lungs.“War!…”“A boy.” Suddenly he was on his knees, his face pressed against your chest, long, silver strands of hair obscuring your field of vision. “My son. I’m going to have a son…”“Yeah.” you smiled. “Are you happy?”That whole large body of his constricted suddenly and then let go; it was as if the Horseman let out a powerful dry sob.“I love you.” His tone was breathless, desperate.“Babe…” You ruffled his hair.“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

*“Look, Strife, you’re probably not gonna be happy because of this, but I guess I should let you know anyway”, you said, your voice level, carefully uttering every word which you have chosen quite some time ago.Your sexpot of a gunslinger stopped playfully finagling with the buttons of your top and shot you a stare.“I’m not gonna be happy about what? What happened?”You swallowed.“We might’ve accidentally made a kid.”His eyes snapped wide open; now they were two round pools of shocked gold.“Wait. We might’ve WHAT?”“Made. A. Kid.” You felt both irritated and hot under the collar. Why did it even happen? Why did you and this irresponsible goofball had to have this conversation in the first place?But there was no going back.“I’m pregnant, Strife”, you said with a weary voice.“ And the child is yours.”He froze in motion and remained so for such a long time, you felt the need to break the heavy silence.“I realize that it’s unexpected, but hey, it happened. And I’m…”“Babe”, said Strife slowly, but with a tone so vehement you got goosebumps. “This better not be a joke. You’re better not be playing with my old heart like this, or it’s gonna break.”“Huh?..”He held you so close that this long, crooked nose of his brushed yours. His gleaming eyes were frantic.“I was told all my life I cannot have children. Part of the design, that’s what they told me. And now you say…that I actually can? That we can?”“Apparently”, you snapped. You didn’t expect mad joy, but what was this guy’s deal anyway?Strife started to tremble all over. You’ve never seen him like this before - and it scared you.“Look, you’re flustered and I get it, but it’s not the end of the world, really…”“It’s not.” His voice regained some of its metallic firmness. “It’s the beginning.”“You mean you actually want to have a child?…”Strife held your face in his large palms, his eyes so soft and tender that you gasped.“I’ve never wanted anything more in my whole life.”

*When you repeated Death what the doctors told you, he went quiet for the longest while.So quiet that you felt - lost. What did this gloomy silence even mean? It sure didn’t bode well for you and your future child.“Oh, and they’re positive it’s a girl”, you announced just to disperse it.Death, who was sitting across from you with his large palms pressed into his long thighs - suddenly looked up and fixed you with a blank stare.“A girl.” His voice sounded weird, stifled.“Yeah.”“I am not worthy of you.” That was but a hoarse whisper.“What?!…”“I am not worthy of you…” Death’s hulking physique slumped as if he’s just been dealt a blow. He shook his head repeatedly. Your chest started to tighten.“Snap out of it, D! It’s gonna be alright, for fuck’s sake!”Two long arms shot forward and closed you in an abrupt embrace. Death pressed his face to yours and swayed you back and forth, remaining silent while he did.Suddenly you felt something wet going down your cheek.And then another drop. And another.“Death, are you crying?…” you whispered.He gave out a little wry titter. Or maybe it was a sob. Such a helpless sound - so out of character for him - that it made your heart twitch.“I guess I am.”

Whumptober Day 27

The ever so lovely @whumptober2019 made a list of prompts to complete every day for the whole month of October and I’m giving a shot at it this year! 

Ransom

Characters: Human OC Ana, Connor, Sixty, Hank, Captain Allen

Warnings: Swearing, Sixty’s fucking antics, blood, violence,

So, I have a flower shop AU where a florist falls in love with an android that visits her shop one day whom so happens to be Connor. You can read it (Half Past Five) with or without context. Enjoy U.U

Half past five couldn’t come around fast enough. It had been a few days since he had last seen Ana. An all nighter had him exhausted and another breakthrough in a case had him working a double shift.

Vanessa Clarke, A woman who abducted people with riches to hand over their money. It didn’t matter if it were android or human. If they complied they lived and if not they were found the next day with a single bullet to the head. Finally they had gotten close. This time Clarke had left behind her next target. A blurry photograph enhanced digitally. They had a name and a location where she was to strike next. Henry S. McCain owned a law firm. A rather successful one.

Before tomorrow's take down, he wanted to see his love. With the dangers of his job ever looming over him every day, he always wished to spend as much time as he could with family and friends. Though he only held a handful, they were dear to him.

He walked down the street with a to-go cup of lavender tea with honey and a dab of cream. Exactly how sweet Ana, liked it.

Just a few more steps brought him to an open windowed storefront. With a smile he opened the door, a small bell alerting the inside of a newcomer. “Ana?” He called, LED swimming a lovely blue.

Just to see her face made his thirium pump do strange things. Her smile made him smile. The way she fumbled over words when trying to tell a joke but her own excitement got in the way. The way her cheeks flushed after he kissed her forehead gently. The way she held a calm conversation as she made arrangements for a small countryside wedding.

She was the most beautiful human he had ever met. And seeing her every chance he had was a promise he took seriously.

He walked to the marble counter and set down her tea. She must have been upstairs. A piece of yellow lined paper on the counter caught his attention and he placed fingertips upon it to grip it. But in doing so a pile of photos just under it, at the edge, dropped onto the floor.

He took an alerted step back watching the photo scatter. Slowly, he went to onto one knee reading the note in hand.

It was simple. Three sentences.

“You’re getting too close. Allow me to remind you-I am closer.”

It was enough to make his pump stutter. Cold fear shot down his spine. His eyes flicked hectically to the ground LED processing a yellow and red. Photos of Connor and Ana standing outside the shop hugging or kissing. Another freeze frame of them walking down the street. Holding hands while crossing a busy intersection, sipping tea at a tiny table outside The Whistling Kettle.

The android stood his head in disbelief, thirium pump pounding against his chassis. “Ana?!” He called out more loudly and firmly. He traveled around the shop expecting her to jump from a hiding spot. To laugh and say that she tricked him. But she never did. He climbed the stairs that lead to her apartment above and explored her small living space.

His foot fell onto something, cracking under his weight. He stepped back and the dread only filled him more. Her glasses that were broken in two were now cracked and twisted.

This wasn’t real. This…

She was gone.

And their killer had her.

A soft meow and chirrup greeted him. Stovepipe, her black cat, came from hiding, glad to see a person of a familiar face.

“Stovepipe...” He said in pity

The phone suddenly rang causing the android to jump in surprise. The cat scurried back to his hiding spot under the couch.

Carefully he made his way to the phone upon the end table and picked it up exactly on the third ring. He brought the receiver to his lips and paused a beat before speaking. “Hello?” He answered

“Hey, baby boy.”

The voice sent chills down his spine. A voice that had one too many cigarettes added with a bag of gravel on the side.

“Who is this?” He demanded firmly.

“Did you get my love letter?”

His LED now swam a solid red. The grip on the phone tightened as well as his throat as anger bubbled from his stomach. “Vanessa.” He turned towards the window and looked down to the street below and then to the surrounding buildings. She was watching this whole time.

“Mn, I love it when you say my name like that.” A breathy chuckle. “You’re a cutie and so is your girl here.”

Ana.

“What do you want?” He was designed to negotiate. To make deals and get what he wanted out of his prey of choice. This was no different. Personal relations could not be pushed aside. The one human he could ever love so dearly was begin held hostage and who knows what else she had done to his sweet Ana.

“You know what I want.”

Connor grit his teeth. “No.”

“Now, you don’t mean that baby boy, because you see, I have your girl.” The phone shuffled, skin against the receiver before it went clear again. Clarke’s voice was distant. “Say hello, sweety.”

The phone was suddenly muffled by heavy breathing and quiet sobs. “Con-Connor?” Her voice was so scared but hearing her alive was all that mattered.

“Ana?” His thirium pump jumped to his throat, the anger being traded for temporary cold focus. He looked outside the window looking around to every window. The thought of being so close and yet so far away. She was teasing purposely.

Her voice was so scared but hearing her alive was all that mattered. “Listen to me, you’re going to be alright. I’m coming for you, okay?”

“I-I know...but...I’m scared.” Sobs were breathed into the phone. “I don’t...I don’t want to die.”

“Ana, you’re not going to die.” There was cry of surprise and her voice grew distant. “Listen to me. You’re-!”

“I have your girl, right?” It was Vanessa disgusting voice again, reiterating the cold reality. “And we don’t want nothing bad happening to her do we?”

Connor swallowed closing his eyes in defeat. “How much?” He grounded out and opened them once again.

“Seven hundred thousand, and a visa to get me out of here.” She sang.

Connor swallowed the anger that continued to rise in his throat. “Where?”

“Where you were going to find me all along, babe.” A chuckle.

A cry of fear echoed in the background causing Connor to step forward. But where? Where would his automatic reaction get him? “As soon as you can the better. Little Ana here doesn’t look so good...”

After a beat of silence from Connor, she chuckled.

“I’ll be waiting.” The phone hung up and all that remained was the steady tone of a dead line.

After the call ended, Connor had returned to the precinct and rushed his way into the bullpen.

“Connor?” Hank looked up from his desk, brows knitted in confusion. “I thought you got out early to see ya girl?”

“She has her, Hank. We have to do something. We need to move, now!” He placed the handful of photos and the note on his desk. Blinking in confusion, Hank placed his hands up. “Whoa, whoa, slow down kid. Who has who?” He noted the way his LED swam a solid red, how his hair was disheveled and his tie was uncharacteristically loosened around his neck. He was a worried mess.

“Vanessa Clarke has my Ana. She called her home just as I got in and demanded seven hundred. She’s after McCain and Ana’s next.”

Hank’s eyes fell down to the photos on his desk taking in the evidence of her stalkings. She knew when and where to strike. Hank took the note and set his jaw.

“We got too close. So she got closer...and...” His sentence strayed off as he noticed a person walking closer to them.  

Nearby Sixty slunk next to his frazzled brother. “Is...everything alright bro?”

“No.” He snapped in his direction brushing him off purposely. He turned back to the lieutenant. “If we don’t go after her, I will.”

Sixty placed his hand up, a smile coming over his lips. “Okay wait, hold on, pump the brakes, Connor.”

Hank nodded. “I agree kid, we-”

“Where is my brother and what have you-”

Before he could finish, the eldest RK unit took him by the collar of his jacket and tossed him into the nearest cubical wall. “Shut up! For once just shut up!”

“Hey! Connor! Enough!” Hank stood up, walked around his desk and attempted to part them. Connor backed away but didn’t let go. Hank’s heart damn nearly broke upon the sight of Connor’s vulnerable expression.

For once Sixty didn’t fight back but instead stepped down from Connor’s loosening grip. The eldest gave in, face twisting in pain as he bowed his head forward into his chest. “She has her...”

“Connor...” Sixty blinked placing his hands on his shoulders in comfort.

He eyed their adoptive father and he nodded firmly. “C’mon, Fowler’s still here. Let’s talk to the big gun before we shoot off.”

Fowler only agreed to build a team to take down Clarke only because it was prevalent to their interests and that McCain’s life was clearly threatened.

It was disgusting in Connor’s opinion but if the result ended with Ana being back into his arms safe and sound then so be it. They arrived to the destination with the money in hand and a plan. Sixty looked around and noted a perfect visage from atop a building directly across the office. He spoke into the mouthpiece that offered communication with Captain Allen's team.

“I’ll be watching.” He indicated his eyes with two fingers before pointing them back at the building. “Go get your girl.” The brother rushed away slinging the long case across his back.

Connor watched after his bother before turning to the innocent storefront of the law firm that held not so innocent intentions within.

He waited until his brother had given him the go ahead. The android stepped out of the vehicle and walked into the small office, thick briefcase in hand. It smelled of leather seating, warm printer paper and blood as he stepped inside. Nearby, McCain was slumped in his desk chair, a single drip of blood flowing down his forehead and nose. The scene behind him wasn’t so clean. He swallowed thickly turning his voice towards the back of the room. They were too late.

“Clarke!” He shouted, LED cycling a processing yellow.

A beat of silence and then the voice that sounded like the one on the phone replied. “Is it just you?” Except her voice in person was worse.

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

Out of the shadows a middle aged woman came forward holding a thin and short woman by her arms that were tied behind her back. “Weapons. Toss them.”

Connor set his jaw firmly and did as he was told taking his standard issue glock from its holster and sliding it off to his left.“

Jesus, Connor, what are you doing?”

“Good” She praised. “Do you have what I want?”

“Shut up.” He ordered back to his brother through their internal communication link.

Wordlessly, Connor showed her the briefcase as he made eye contact with Ana. She was trembling visibly. Either wise to stay quiet or was just too scared to move or speak at all.

“Good.” She revealed a gun from behind her back and pressed it against Ana’s head. Her now purposeful facade dropped. She was so brave for so long, the cold metal breaking her last strand of her strong will. Frantic sobs poured from her lips.

“No funny business. Hand it over.”

Connor’s heart ached. Anger flowed through his veins. He fought every nerve in his body from charging forward and wrecking whatever intent his hands will may upon the human before him. But he couldn’t. He had to hold back. Couldn’t speak the assurances that he held back causing his throat to form a lump.

“Release her first and its yours.” He opened the case and revealed that indeed the money was there, neatly counted and placed in neat stacks. In the end, at least if all went according to plan, she wouldn’t get to touch a single bill.

“Nope. Money first.” She clicked the safety off, Ana squeezing her eyes shut. “P-Please.”

He bowed over hand up in surrender as Connor slide the suitcase across the ground. It stopped two feet away from her.

“Alright, fine, you have what you want, now hand her over.” He spoke evenly and steadily.

“Connor hurry up I cant get a clear shot from up here. I’ll hit Ana.” He made note of his brothers’ unfortunate snag.

“I’m trying.”

“I’m sorry, baby. But I’m not that simple. Connor watched as Clarke took a step forward to look down at the case and flip it open with her foot. She dragged Ana unwillingly.

“Shes going back on her word, make a move!” Connor’s jaw clenched tightly. His voice dripped anger. “We had a deal!

“And I’m going back on it. I have to kill my targets, Connor boy. It’s kinda my thing.” She scrunched her nose up in a cute little fashion pressing the gun harder into her head. Her finger pressed the trigger ever so slightly.

Glass suddenly shattered as Sixty finally took the shot. The one step forward was all he needed. The bullet hit true into her shoulder, the force casing her to trip back. Connor took the moment to rush towards Ana. He took her by the crook of her elbow and placed her behind himself as he kicked the gun aside. Slowly he backed away from Clarke as she moaned in pain on the ground.

“Nice shot.”

“Allen’s comin’ in, now.”

“You’re alright, love.” He murmured wrapping his arm so tightly around her. He slowly backed out of the office making sure he kept her face pressed into his chest as he walked out. She didn't need to see anymore of this scene. The dead cold body of McCain, the woman that held her hostage, the broken glass and blood. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” He breathed placing his lips on her cheek and keeping the kiss there for a long moment. She continued to sob and cry her little heart out clutching onto his jacket desperately.

From the street beyond, a black armored vehicle pulled up. Allen’s team immediately hit pavement to secure the scene.

“I want to go home. I just want to go home.” She finally croaked against his chest.

“I know my love. We will. We will...” For now he held her in his arms watching as SWAT moved in to take over the scene. He looked away, his body relaxing, shoulder falling as the realization that it was over and Ana was safe In his arms

Sixty came up from behind the duo and placed a hand on his shoulder. The young woman looked up and sought an embrace from the brother as well.

Gladly he held her tightly kissing the top of her head.

She was safe. And that was all that mattered.

The Road to Raetia Part III: A New World

[Previous Chapter]

They rode for most of the day, passing no other travelers, until Ireena spotted smoke on the horizon. As they moved closer she began to make out the tops of thatched roofs poking through the trees, and then a small wooden gate with a hand painted sign welcoming them to the Village of Margine. It was a small settlement, made up of only around a dozen houses, but there was a cobblestone square in the center of town with a few stalls selling vegetables and handmade goods.

She stopped Little Boy at the edge of town, watching the people move about the square until he turned his head and gave her a look.

“I know,” she said. “Just give me a minute, please?”

He snorted, but waited patiently as she took a deep breath and then swung off his back. She took the reins in her hand and lead him into the square, his hooves clacking against the stones.

It was mostly humans in the crowd, but there were a few shorter figures she at first thought were children. As she looked closer she realized they were like Nala in Jarek’s group, adults but just very very short. There were also a few very tall, burly, green-skinned humanoids with pronounced tusks.

A few people gave her curious glances, probably because of her her shiny armor. She paused and took a shaky breath, and Little Boy nudged her gently towards a building at the edge of the square, with a sign out front reading The Silver Cleaver Inn.

“Well, you’re right,” she said. “That is an Inn. Might as well go inside.”

There was a hitching post outside, and she tied him to before loosening his saddle and taking the bit out of his mouth. As he shook his head out she pointed a finger at him and looked him in the eye.

“You behave.”

He snorted in response, and a woman at a nearby vegetable stand looked up and cocked an eyebrow.

Ireena opened the door and entered the inn, and as her eyes adjusted she saw that the common area was small, with only half a dozen round tables scattered around a large hearth and a large wooden bar in the back corner. The only other patrons were a few of those green-skinned people around a table in the back corner, and they were laughing uproariously at something and paying no attention to her. She smelled woodsmoke and some sort of meat roasting which made her mouth water, and as she approached the bar a silver-haired head poked over the top and a stout, bearded man came into view. He reminded her of Travik in Jarek’s group and smiled broadly at her.

“Welcome! Haven’t seen ye in these parts before. M’name’s Fergus, this is my place. Can I get ye something, lass?”

She blinked and forced a smile. “Oh, thank you very much. Yes, I’m new here. I was wondering if you had any rooms for rent?”

“Aye, two silvers a night. And if ye want to have your beastie out there stabled it’s an additional copper, and my girl will even polish the tack and give him a good brushing.”

Ireena glanced out the window and saw Little Boy, still tied to the hitching post, lifting his head playfully in the direction of a few children gathered round.

Fergus studied her for a moment, his eyes traveling across her armor and then to the axe on her back.

“Y-Yes,” Ireena turned back to him. “I’ll take a room for the night and stabling for my horse.”

“Aye, so that’ll be two silvers and a copper,” he slid a key across the bar to her. “Ye can take room 4. It has its own bathtub too.”

“T-Thank you,” she reached into the pouch at her belt and withdrew a few coins, her hands shaking as she placed them on the counter.

“Can I get ye anything else?” he said. “Food? Drink?”

“Oh!” she took a seat at the bar. “Yes, what do you have?”

“Well, I’ve got rye bread, a pork roast, some ale and some fresh vegetables I got at the market this morning. All local. The Margine Special, so to speak. 4 copper will get you all of that.”

“That sounds lovely, I’ll take it.”

“Wonderful. I’ll call my girl to get yer beastie all settled.”

He grunted and disappeared by behind the bar with a small thud, and as she leaned forward she saw the stool he had been standing on.

“Lydia!” he called. “Got a customer for ye!”

“Yes, Pop!” a voice called, and a moment later a brown-skinned girl with long black hair done in a braid appeared. She glanced between Fergus, Ireena and then out the window, her face lighting up as she saw Little Boy.

“Give the beastie a good brushing,” Fergus said. “And the tack too.”

Ireena smiled at her. “Just watch out for his tricks, he’s too smart for his own good.”

Lydia nodded and headed outside, carefully undoing the hitch and leading Little Boy off.

“Now then,” Fergus said. “Let me get that grub for ye.”

He disappeared into a back room, leaving Ireena alone at the bar and acutely aware that the conversation at the table in the corner her tapered off. Out of the corner of her eye saw one of the green-skinned people approaching, and when she turned to look and saw he was well over 6 feet tall, about as tall as Glaedr, with prominent tusks protruding over his lower lips.

“Hey,”

“H-Hi,” she said, trying to smile.

“Just wanted to say,” he broke into a broad grin. “That your axe is the coolest weapon I’ve ever seen! Where did you get it?”

She had totally forgotten it was strapped to her back.

“It... It was my brother’s.”

“That’s awesome! Family heirlooms are the best! Anyway, I think your food’s coming. Enjoy your time in Margine!”

He smiled and turned back to his friends as Fergus reappeared, a tankard of ale in one hand and a plate full of meat, bread and vegetables in the other.

“He wasn’t bothering ye, was he, lass?” he said as he set the food down in front of her.

“Oh no! Not all all, he was just complimenting me on my axe.”

Fergus chuckled. “That does sound like Rupert. His ma’s a smith, you see. If he and his friends do give ye any trouble let me know. They’re good kids, known ‘em since they were babes, but they can get a bit rambunctious sometimes.”

She started on the bread first, and shut her eyes as she savored how it was still warm from the oven. Fergus got back up on his stool and started wiping down some glasses, until she was done with the food and finishing off the ale.

“Yer from Barovia, aren’t you?” he asked.

She carefully setting the tankard down, staring at the polished wooden surface of the bar.

“How did you know?”

“Well, we’ve had a few come through these parts lately. Ye’ve all the same look in yer eyes when ye come in here,” he held up one of the coins. “That, and the money’s a dead giveaway.”

As the light glinted off the coin she realized, for the first time, that it bore the visage of Strahd von Zarovich. Her breath caught in her chest.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said, putting it away.  “I didn’t mean to make ye uncomfortable.”

“It-It’s okay, and you’re right, I’m from Barovia.”

He picked his rag again and began to wipe the bar.

“My girl there, Lydia? Her family was Vistani. Their caravan used to come through all the time, then they were attacked by bandits just down the road a few years ago. Lydia hid under a cart and ran back to town. She was the only one who made it out. She was pretty little but she told me a bit about Barovia and what it was like. Rough place, or at least it used to be. Used to be just the Vistani coming out, but now we’re getting all sorts like ye. Apparently it’s because that prick Strahd finally died. Never heard a good word about him, good riddance.”

Ireena stared at the floor, gripping the edge of the bar.

“Anyway,” Fergus held out his hand. “Welcome to the real world.”

“T-Thank you,” she took his hand and shook it. “Oh! I never told you my name, did I? It’s Ireena. Ireena Kolyana.”

“Pleased to meet ye, Ireena. If ye need anything at all, just let me know, alright?”

“Y-Yes I will.”

“Good. I’ll be out back cutting wood for the fire, so just holler if ye need me.”

He jumped off the stool again and toddled towards the back. The group at the back table gathered up their things, still laughing as they left coins on the table, and once they were gone she was alone in the Inn.

She headed upstairs, pausing in front of the door of room 4 as she unlocked it. Inside she found a large bed covered with a down comforter, a small desk, a bathtub, and a lit a candle on the nightstand. Outside there was a rhythmic thunk, and she walked up to the window and watched as Fergus methodically placed logs on a stump and split them with an axe almost as tall as he was.

She turned away from the window and set her pack down on the floor, then rested the axe against the wall and carefully removed her armor. Now in just her robes, she walked over to the bed and flopped onto it facedown.

The sound of wood being split ceased, and  she turned over and stared at the ceiling. She sighed and got up, crossing over to the tub and turned on the water to the hottest she could get. As it filled she stripped off her clothes, set them aside and then climbed in, sinking into the water up to her chin. She took a deep breath and ducked her head under, her heart pounding in her ears, before she came back up and let the water run down her face and hair. She floated on her back and watched the steam rise lazily into the air.

The water was so warm and comforting that she nearly drifted off, but she shook herself awake and climbed out, grabbing a towel on a nearby rack to dry herself. She grabbed a nightshirt out of her pack and pulled it over her head as she reached under the water to pull the stopper out of the tub. Once it was empty she climbed onto bed, blew out the candle on the nightstand and huddled under the covers, falling into a deep and dreamless sleep.

[Next Chapter]

A Dance of Daisies

My first experience with death was... eye-opening to say the least. I'd just returned home from a vacation to Vancouver when it happened. It was the first time snow had fallen that year, and that made the trip back a slightly longer ordeal than it might have otherwise been. I'd spent almost the entirety of the ride home with my head pressed against the window, sprawled upon the passenger door of my car (my girlfriend was driving). Staring spitefully at the ornament hanging on my rear-view mirror knowing it would never do its job, I slowly drifted to sleep. Every so often, an imperfection in the road caused the vehicle to jerk, interrupting my slumber; but other then that I slept surprisingly well despite the discomfort. I guess I attribute that to all of the sleepless nights spent drinking at the hotel. All in all, the car ride home was a pretty standard affair; aside from the dreams. But that in itself was pretty normal too, or at least I thought so at the time. You see, I was no stranger to weird dreams or nightmares. In fact, throughout most of my childhood I was tormented by them: bizarre visions that I've never quite been able to understand. And when I say bizarre, I mean it. These nocturnal sequences made absolutely no sense whatsoever and neither my parents nor my counselor could pinpoint their source. Nothing traumatic ever happened to me, and I was never exposed to the type of material that might result in nightmares (horror movies, stories, etc.). The lack of a known cause probably played a big role in why they were so frightening. Eventually my parents just chalked it up to a vivid imagination, and I was left to deal with it by myself. Fortunately, as I grew older I got used to them and they didn't bother me so much anymore. I remember one dream in particular, I think I was around eight at the time. I was upstairs in my attic sitting on a crudely stacked pile of wooden crates in the center of the room. It was almost pitch black aside from a single lit candle that was placed next to me on top of the crates. Walking the perimeter of these crates was what appeared to be some kind of dog. I couldn't make out its features very well due to the surrounding darkness, but its one resounding attribute was its face. It didn't have the face of a dog but rather, a human being. It was absolutely terrifying. Seriously, this thing made Cujo look like Old Yeller. It eventually lost patience and began ramming the crates full force with its head, taking advantage of the instability of the poor stacking job. Its face took the brunt of it, and every thrust was exerted with more force than the last. Gradually, a smile began to grow on its face. After a few moments, it was bleeding profusely and its grin stretched ear to ear, revealing a set of unnaturally white teeth. With each charge, the crates came closer and closer to toppling over. I woke up before that happened. I hadn't slept for days afterwards. In another dream I was presented a portrait of a woman. I can't really remember any specific features, aside from how plain she looked. Up to that point, the dream consisted of nothing else. There were no surrounding walls and I didn't even have a sense of self, it was just this image surrounded by a void of nothingness. The woman didn't appear to be frightening or menacing but all the same, I still felt incredibly unnerved. I anticipated that there was going to be some drastic change in her expression; a transition from her rather neutral visage to something far more sinister, but she never did. The dream then cut to a picture of my house and shortly after that, placed me in my dining room. Lights inside the room flickered on and off and I could hear the voice of a woman providing an eerie narration of my predicament. "The Hudson House, 2002. It was here that a young boy was brutally murdered by the monster that lived in his basement." No sooner did my heart begin to race, did I hear the sound of hurried footsteps sprinting up a set of stairs. They got closer and closer and then... I woke up. It took me even longer to get over that one. As you can probably tell, there seemed to be no recurring theme to my nightmares, except for one. They never involved anyone I knew. That is, until that trip back home. In this dream, I found myself in a field of daisies that overlooked my grandmother's house. A gentle breeze swept through the field and granted me an all-encompassing sense of serenity. The feeling didn't last long. Out of nowhere, the sky became dark and the once gentle breeze evolved into harsh winds that ripped through the field violently. The dance of daisies had now more closely resembled a protest; they refused to be uprooted. I looked in the direction of the wind and saw the source of it all: a colossal tornado. I attempted to run to the house but I was unable to move, stricken by a sort of paralysis. In a state of panic, I screamed desperately for my grandmother. To no avail, I stood motionless as the tornado edged closer and closer... Until... Thud. I looked over to Sarah, awakened from the collision of my head with the window, my tired eyes still squinting. We both laughed. "You alright Mitch? These roads are terrible." "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm gonna stay up the rest of the way home. I'm just gonna rest my head." I lied. I re-positioned myself against the door and almost immediately fell back asleep. Soon after, I found myself back in the field. But things had changed since my last visit. The winds had calmed and the sky's once azure hue had returned. Needless to say, the storm had lifted and the intense comfort I'd experienced earlier had come back. I looked around and noticed that the daisies were still there, but something was different about them. They had wilted, their petals now tainted with a dull brown. I turned back to the center of the field and saw something that shook me to the very core. Lying there was my grandmother, her hands clasped tightly around an object that I couldn't identify given our distance. As I approached her, I realized it was the gift she had given to me on my sixth birthday: a dream catcher. I opened my mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a fragile voice. "Mitchell." she uttered, weakly. "Y-yes?" I said trying to maintain my composure. "I'm not going to make it dear. But before I go, there's something I need to ask you." "W-what is it?" "Do you still have this in your possession?" She held up the dream catcher. The very notion triggered a switch in my head, and for some reason I was now aware that I was asleep. "Of course!" I said, no longer fearing for her life. "Good, good. Make sure you always keep it with you, I won't be there to protect you for much longer." "What do you mea-?" Crash. I awoke to my head slamming the window again, but this time the collision was so hard that the glass shattered. Reaching up, I could feel tiny fragments stuck inside my head, separated by damp, blood-soaked clumps of hair. In the midst of confusion and pain I turned to Sarah and said: Nothing. My confusion transitioned into a state of fear when I realized what happened. She lied there motionless, her body hunched over the console, her face smothered by an air bag that seemed to have accomplished nothing. Blood poured in long viscous globs and the arch in her back was now concave. The very sight exuded a deep sense of dread. With a burning hatred, I peered through the driver side window at the man who hit us. His eyes met mine for a brief moment, and with a look of shame he pulled out his phone, presumably to call 9-1-1. "Why...? WHY!?" I shouted. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone but stopped when I heard sirens approaching from behind. I sat there, encased in an unbreakable shell of despair; head down and sobbing uncontrollably. That's when I heard the officer's voice. "You're going to be okay, just try your best to remain calm." A symphony of sirens invaded my ears as I glanced towards the rear-view mirror to see just how many officers had arrived on the scene. That's when I noticed something profound: the dream catcher given to me by my grandmother was no longer hanging there. I scrambled and looked around the car the best I could with my injuries, but found nothing. "You need sit still and stay calm sir. You've been injured and you're going to accelerate the bleeding." I nodded and sat compliantly. It wasn't long until the officer pried open the door and I was whisked away in an ambulance. "You've got a few lacerations on the top of your head, and a few broken bones but you're going to be just fine." said the EMT, reassuringly. I ignored him, still consumed by the events that had just transpired. "You're going to need to do me a favor though." "What?" I asked, growing irritated. "Wake up." Suddenly a familiar voice permeated through the room, and everything started to fade. "Hey, Mitch, wake up babe. Something happened." "What is it?" I asked, still half asleep. "Your dad just called. Your grandma... she passed away. I'm so sorry." A blend of relief, shock, and sorrow manifested itself in the form of tears. I turned to hug my girlfriend, but not before noticing the dream catcher hanging on the mirror, swaying back and forth proudly in a dance that was all too familiar.

Credit to: RyanVetter