AFTER the whole fiasco with Alastor, you were a little wearier when it came down to trusting others. For example, two nights ago, you had awoken from the nightmares that subconsciously purged your mind, only to make eye contact with a suspiciously stag-like shadow leaning over your formerly unconscious figure. You decided it would be best for you to shove the thing away, not wanting to stir up any more drama, especially with the up-and-coming ball lucifer was hosting.
Throughout the week, you continued to catch the familiar shadows lurking in your peripherals. You noticed the slightly increasing droop in the translucent buck's ears as the days breezed on.
"It's kind of freaky," You whispered to nobody in particular, suspiciously eyeing the grinning stag whose ears had long pined to its head but it's Cheshire smile never left. You very well understood that it was simply carrying out a task handed to it by its physical form.
You let a long, drawn-out sigh leave your supple lips. "It's not your fault, is it?" you gently reached up and scratched its ears the being purring in delight "Aw, your just a sweet little thing aren't you?" You cooed as it started to nuzzle itself into your clawed hands.
"It's almost like the real thing.."
'No! he's not good for you (y/n)!'
the shadow's ears sagged back into their original position, almost as if it heard you. with that, the entity disappeared like it did every time you caught it.
"(Y/N)! you wanna go dress shopping with us?" Charlie's happy tone could be heard from the fourth floor where you resided.
"I'll be down in a second, Charlie!" you hollered back down to her, excited for your day out.
??? P.O.V first person.
it had been only five years since I died, and I've been starting to affirm myself as an overlord to the public, posters scattered throughout pride saying; BEWARE THE RADIO DEMON!
Occasionally, in my spare time, ill take short trips back up to the surface world, observing those who could be good potential candidates for a deal. Today was no different. The same old routine, rise to the surface, make deals, then, return home for my nightly hunt of venison, or an unlucky sinner.
At least, I thought it was going to be no different. walking along my usual route, I spotted a small, (h/c) girl walking the streets alone, with only a large Rottweiler wrapped around her wrist tightly to accompany her.
Dogs are dreadful things, aren't they? It may be a personal bias, considering they played a large factor in my demise, but I've never liked the vermin, to begin with. regardless, the young miss continued down the street like it was nobody's business; even though it wasn't, to begin with. I trailed not far behind her, as something inside of me told me that she has great potential. she sauntered down the path, making her way into an upper-class neighbourhood, and strolling up to the largest house on the block. 'Her parents must be wealthy, then.' "I'm home!" the child shouted. almost instantly, an older woman walked into the main hall to greet her daughter.
"Hi baby," the woman with long (h/c) hair, and grey eyes said.
"Hello mommy!" the young girl squealed, her (e/c) eyes, full of excitement. The child scrambled into her mother's embrace, and a warm comforting aura surrounded the two.
"Alright now, (y/n), go play," her mother urged, shoving her into another room. The girl, who I now know as (y/n) wanders off into a room, it looked similar to a study, clad in a nautical theme.
"Fathers study.." the eight-year-old whispered, seeming almost weary of the sailor-like environment. 'that's peculiar,' I thought to myself, thinking back to my boyhood, also being weary about anything mentioning my father. Alas, he means nothing to me now.
the small lass sat in the large love seat that resided in the back left corner of the study the hardy leather seat swallowing her whole. She let out a content sigh then, grabbed a book that had been sitting on the side table and started to read her worries away.
at least two hours later the youth seemingly decided that she no longer wanted to read, seeing that she abruptly got up and saved her place in the book she was immersed in, then placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged. (y/n)'s pace quickened when she neared the door of the study, quickly slipping out of the room as if she was never there, to begin with. the young miss slammed the door shut on her way out, to make the rickety old, Burch wood door close properly.
A very notable 'CRASH!' was heard from inside the now sealed-off study. (y/n)'s mother rushed over to make sure her daughter was alright and unharmed. The two females peeked their heads into the old room, daring to investigate the source of the loud noise's origin. Unluckily, the bottled boat had shattered to the ground when she slammed the door.
she turned to her mother, and with tears streaming down her round face, (y/n) explained what happened. "I'm so, so sorry!" the child cried, gripping her mother's shirt as if it would disappear if she let go.
"Don't cry," Octavia (l/n), a renowned optometrist for her time reassured, "when he comes home tonight, we can make everything okay, this is all you have to say, 'we don't remember a boat in a bottle, it must have fallen off its shelf alone. We know you loved it, were so sad it's broken, but neither one of us was even home.'" It was their word against his, and for two women, that's a pretty damn good weapon.
when the great Scott (l/n) came home, both his wife and daughter were sitting in front of the picture show box, one more awake than the other. "I'm home," the ash-blonde man grumbled.
from an outside perspective, one could very well see where (y/n) got her features from, to her (s/c) skin, or her (h/c), and her mother's (e/c) eyes. They truly seemed like the perfect family; the American dream.
the man simply brushed off his wife and left for his study to unwind. Scott Wesley (l/n) was not a family man. he enjoys spending his time with his military colleagues or in his studies chest-deep in paperwork. It's not as if he didn't have time for his wife and daughter, no, quite the contrary, he just avoided them. he wasn't abusive or an alcoholic, much to Octavia's taste, but he was an uninvolved, cold man, who didn't bother to dabble in relationship things.
I never liked men like that. if you were married to a woman, you should make her swoon every day you can, not leave her on a shelf for someone else to take! when I was alive, I had women begging me to be with them, alas, none were interesting enough to have a place at my side. Though this isn't about me, it's mostly about the child, whom I saw so much potential.
Hi, everyone! Im not dead! (shockingly) seasonal depression is a bitch, but I have the motivation to write so expect something more soon! I tried to change it up a bit with a bit of (y/n)s backstory and if you haven't guessed who the pov is for this chapter already don't worry, it will be revealed soon. ALSO THANK YOU ALL SM FOR 17k READS I LOVE YOU GUYS SM❤️❤️
(p.s this takes place in 1938, (y/n) is 8 right now)
-Al<33
Question of the day! What's your favourite emoji rn? (mine is 🤩, 🥰, or 😰)