#Lone Star Living Bouquet

[burade]

a fairly detailed kirby oc ask meme

🪐 (Saturn) - What planet are they from? Is it in Gamble Galaxy, Another Dimension, the Mirror World, the New World, or somewhere else? Where do they live now?

🧃 (Juicebox) - What species are they? What’s their biology and physiology like? Do they differ in any way from a ‘typical’ member of their species?

⚔️ (Crossed Swords) - What weapon(s) do they wield or specialize in, if any in particular? Any special properties? Do their weapons have names or epithets? [e.g. MK’s Galaxia, Morpho’s Doomblade]

🪄 (Magic Wand) - Are they capable of wielding magic? Is it a learned skill, or is it innate? What sorts of spells can they cast? Do they possess any magical items or artifacts? [e.g. the Dimensional Mantle]

💫 (Shooting Star) - If they were to wish on a clockwork star, like Galactic Nova or Star Dream, what would they wish for?

🪽 (Wing) - Can they fly, hover, or levitate? Is it through natural means or artificial means? If they have wings, what do they look and feel like?

🥘 (Stew) - Do they have any favourite foods or comfort foods? What are their eating habits like? If absorbed by the Cook ability, what healing item would they summon?

🧋 (Boba Tea) - Come up with a Kirby Café item themed around your OC! It can be a savoury dish, a drink, a dessert, or something else entirely.

☀️ (Sun) - What’s their morning routine like? Do they take a lot of time getting ready in the morning? How do they groom themselves? What are they having for breakfast?

🌙 (Moon) - Is your OC a particularly light or heavy sleeper? Somewhere in-between? Do they take naps?

🍅 (Tomato) - If Kirby absorbed them or their attacks, what Copy Ability [or Abilities] would he get? Alternatively, if they themselves are capable of using the Copy Ability, do they have a favourite?

⚡️ (Lightning Bolt) - Which Power Effects [Blizzard, Bluster, Sizzle, Splash, Zap] would their attacks grant? Do they have any particular weaknesses or resistances, elemental or otherwise?

🎶 (Music Notes) - Do they play any instruments? What kind of leitmotif and/or battle theme would they have? Are there any songs you associate with them?

💌 (Love Letter) - How easy are they to befriend? Are they more of a social butterfly or a lone wolf?

💥 (Collision) - What’s your OC’s combat style like? Do they adhere to any particular code of honour or ethics in a fight, or are they totally unfettered by that sort of thing?

⚙️ (Gear) - Do they have any knowledge of, or connections to, the Ancients? What do they think of them?

⚖️ (Scales) - On the subject of a certain someone’s lengthy rant; is your OC moreso on the side of magic or science? Somewhere in-between? Do they incorporate the two together in some way?

🍨 (Ice Cream) - The Invader Armour undergoes a drastic transformation depending on its pilot. If they were to wield it, what appearance would their mech take on? What abilities would it have?

🪞 (Mirror) - What would their Mirror World counterpart be like? If they are a Mirror World counterpart, what traits of theirs are reflected? Do the two of them get along?

🐛 (Caterpillar) - What are your OC’s greatest fears, and why? How do they act or react when they’re afraid?

💼 (Bag) - Inventory check! What items does your OC typically carry around with them? What do they carry them in?

🔮 (Crystal Ball) - Out of all the treasures in the Great Cave Offensive, Kirby is letting your OC pick one from his stash to keep! Which one do they pick, and why?

♟️ (Pawn) - Does your OC get possessed easily, or do they have the willpower to fight back against any possible attempts? Have they been possessed before?

🕸️ (Spiderweb) - Create a bouquet inspired by your OC! It can be based on their colour palette, flower language and symbolism, whatever they like best, or any combination of the three.

💜 (Purple Heart) - If they were corrupted by the Jamba Heart, which negative traits of theirs would be amplified?

🩷 (Pink Heart) - If they were a Dream Friend, what would their moveset be like? How much HP do they have? Would they be a strong attacker, or would they take on more of a support role?

🦁 (Lion) - If they were an animal — that is, of the Earth / Shiver Star / New World variety — which animal would they be? If they already are an animal, what real-life species or subspecies are they most similar to?

🕰️ (Clock) - What would a Dreamy Gear version of them look like? What sort of accessories would they have? What kind of role do they play?

🛡️ (Shield) - Which Clash role would your OC pick - Sword Hero, Hammer Lord, Beam Mage, or Doctor Healmore?

🦋 (Butterfly) - Does your OC ‘fear the reaper’, so to speak? If they fused with Morpho Knight, what sort of form would they take on?

🍒 (Cherry) - Out of all of the Dream Friends [Kirby included], which ones would they get along with the most? The least?

🥀 (Wilted Rose) - Do they have a Soul form? What would it look and act like? How much control over themselves do they have? Is it still possible to save them, or are they too far gone?

[aphrogeneias]

Rockstar Eddie sending assistant reader secret admirer flowers maybe? Maybe it’s when they’re not touring, back in town for a bit.

Idk if that’s the vibe or not but I think it goes with the secret romance vibes

-💛

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x assistant!reader

warnings: yearning. a ton of yearning. tooth-rotting fluff.

You'd never been one to be sad on Valentine's Day.

If you weren't already in a relationship, you were working too much to even think about it. Life on the road didn't give you the luxury of going all out on holidays, for the most part.

It made you happy, though. To see everyone in the crew calling their girlfriends and wives, planning dates for when they see each other next, sending them a letter in the mail, signed with all their love.

To see Rick, the perpetual bachelor, go on dates with a different woman every year, swearing he's ready to settle down this time. He'd ask you about yourself, “A nice girl like you doesn't have a date on Valentine's? I don't believe you, honey.”

You would tell him the same thing every time. “Worry about yourself, Rick. You're not getting any younger.”

If anyone else asked, you'd just say you were too busy. Too busy taking care of other people, seeing the country, looking for yourself in the process — and you always meant it.

This year, however, it had you slumping around the house, wrapped in a warm blanket and roaming your own home like a ghost. You were there physically, but your heart was somewhere in a small town in the Midwest, visiting his family before the next leg of the tour.

Selfishly, you wanted him here. You almost asked him to come with you, but you knew how much he missed home, with the way he'd been counting the days to see his uncle, his friends, and who were you to take that from him?

The longing took hold of your heart anyway, squeezing it tight in your chest, as you curled into yourself on your couch, not really paying attention to the romantic comedy playing on your TV set. It rained outside, the pitter-patter against your windows almost lulling you into sleep.

You pictured him there, wrapped around you on the couch. His warmth enveloping you, arms tight around you. In your kitchen, making coffee, helping you bake, washing the dishes. In your bed, messing up your sheets. His laughter booming across the walls, his whispers in your ear.

A golden halo around his wild brown curls. Your Sun, your Star.

A knock on your front door brought you back to reality.

Groaning, you stood, taking the blanket with you as a cape, dragging behind you as you crossed the living room. When you opened the door, there was a soaked delivery boy waiting for you, but he wasn't the first thing you saw.

In front of him, there was a bouquet of roses. A dozen, half of them red, half of them black, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with a pristine white bow. Dazed, you almost didn't hear the boy call your name, and last name, before asking to sign the paper on his clipboard.

“Who… Do you know who sent them?” You asked, giving him back his ballpoint pen.

“They're not signed. Have a good day, miss!”

As he left, and your door seemed to close itself behind you, the first thing you did was reach for your phone.

With your flowers still in hand, clutched to your chest, and the receiver on the other, you dialed the phone you had memorized, but rarely used. The one that was slipped into your back pocket by a heavily ringed hand, one you were told to call if you felt lonely.

Now was as good a time as any.

The gruff voice that answers after a few rings was not his. “Hello?”

“Wayne? Uh, this is…”

“Oh, I know exactly who this is. I was expecting you'd call.”

“Were you?”

The older man chuckled on the other side of the line. “The boy’s been talking about you all day, but he didn't want to call. Said you'd be too busy to sorry about his sorry ass. Figured it wasn't true, but you know how stubborn he is.”

“That he is.” You agreed, and there's an exchange you can't quite figure out at the other end. The phone rattled a bit, and a voice saying “your girl’s on the phone” came through, followed by more rattling.

“I'll let you go, kid. Happy Valentine's Day, there's someone who's desperate to talk to you.”

Without being able to help yourself, giddiness rising through your chest like butterflies, you giggled. “Happy Valentine's, Wayne.”

The next person to talk to you sounded a bit breathless. “Hey, sweetheart.”

The hand that was holding your heart tight let it go, and let it soar through your kitchen, as if it grew cartoon-esque wings. “Hey, Eddie. Do you, perhaps, know if I happen to have a secret admirer, I got these beautiful flowers but sadly, no note.”

“Oh, I don't know. You must steal hearts wherever you go, could be anyone.”

You could hear the smirk on his lips, practically feel his stare across the line. “Aw, that's a shame. I was thinking of returning the favor, but maybe he doesn't like me enough to make himself known.”

“Maybe he likes you enough to keep it a secret, who knows who else might be listening.”

With a sigh, your understanding came through without any more words needing to be said. It laid thick in the air. “I miss you."

“I miss you too. Did you like them?”

“I love them.” You answered immediately, simply. Maybe it was time to be sincere. “I'd love having you here more, though.”

“Baby, you're getting sick of me next time I see you, just you wait. The flowers are more of an early apology.”

“A threat, more like it.”

There it was, the laugh you loved more than anything. “Yeah. A threat, whatever you want to call it.”

“Promise me, then?”

Biting your lips in anticipation, you waited for his reply. Eddie’s voice came heavy with meaning, “I promise.”

Your heart and the cartoon wings that carry it through your ceiling spinned, and spinned, and spinned.

[makeyoumine69]

Before You Fade (Memory Reboot x3)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After moving to Chicago, you thought you had left your former life behind. But when you receive a mysterious invitation one day, you realize you still have unfinished business in New York.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, penetrative & oral sex, biting, spanking, creampie, masturbating, mild praise kink & degradation, body worship, pet names, dirty talk, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation, cheating.

WORDS: 6.8k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Before You Fade

A/N: Hello everyone! A new chapter is finally here! This story has me in a chokehold! I highly recommend you to read the first chapter and the second one for a better understanding and as always I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [SERIES MASTERLIST].

A new city, a new life, new people and new opportunities—all this was supposed to bring some relief, to ignite a new flame in your chest, to set a new goal, to make you forget everything that happened in New York. It was supposed to, but it never did.

After a few months of living in Chicago and working in a prestigious financial corporation, you began to notice that your life now looked like a vicious circle and the days blurred into one long day that never ended. That was probably the price you paid for running away, for being too cowardly to face the truth that what you shared with Bateman was not just a history—it was a goddamn passion and obsession that most people could only dream of. But you, you were not like them. For you, this obsession was like a plague, a disease, and you were sure that Patrick felt the same way. Still, the words he said that day were like scars on your mind. The poor guy really thought that you would stay with him, that you would miss a chance to reboot your life. Since you couldn't reboot the memory, this was the only way out.

Was that it?

The sleek interior of your office greeted you with the invigorating aroma of fresh coffee waiting for you on your desk made by your lovely assistant—a handsome guy named Vincent—he was quite modest but smart and sometimes you even thought you should have asked him out for something more serious than coffee. But then again, the shitty memories kept ruining all those weak impulses to try something new.

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and took off your coat, placing it on the nearby hanger and glancing at the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the small coffee table next to the big black couch. These flowers…you bought them for yourself just because you wanted them, not because you felt lonely or…

'Fuck, not again,' you shook your head, not giving yourself a chance to spiral again, knowing how quickly that could happen. Today was the worst day for self-digging, because you were going to present a final plan for a future quarter, and you couldn't fail. Not today, not ever. The moment you finally settled into your favorite armchair, you heard a soft knock at the door. You knew who it was even before you let the guest in.

Vincent, smiling as if he saw the brightest star in the midnight sky, opened the door and entered with cat-like grace. "Are you busy?"

Embarrassed by the man's persistent gaze, you folded your hands and leaned down on the table. "No, not really, I just came," you brought the coffee cup closer and wrapped your elegant fingers around its handle. "…and realized I have the best secretary in the world."

A sonorous chuckle rumbled from Vincent's chest. "Oh, you're too kind," the man walked into the office holding a pile of documents. "I brought you some fresh correspondence you might like to see."

"Uh, yes, thank you. Put it here, please."

The brown-haired secretary complied, and soon there was a large white envelope in front of you, next to the documents. There was something odd about having such a large envelope of mail since it was almost the end of the work week, but you just tapped your fingers on the smooth surface of the table in a slightly skeptical manner before turning your attention back to Vincent, who was standing in front of the desk, ready to assist you with anything you might ask.

"Anything else I can do?"

"I think that's about it for now," you answered, staring at the envelope from time to time out of the corners of your ears, sipping the hot drink and letting the warmth flow down your tensed body. "Oh, did you hear that our CEO won't be at the presentation today?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he…has some unfinished business in LA…with a hot blonde chick."

You both laughed in unison, everything was clear as a bell. "Well, that sounds important." Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, the Oliver Peoples O'Malley glasses sitting perfectly on the bridge of his nose, though you tried not to focus on that little detail that constantly reminded you of Bateman. As if he was the only yuppie to wear such glasses. "Have you…"

As soon as Vincent started to speak, your phone rang—the loud sound even startled you a bit, but you quickly shook yourself and picked up the call, being extremely curious who could be calling you like this. "I'm listening."

"(Y/n)!" Paul Allen's cheerful timbre came from the other end of the line, making you almost jump in your seat.

"P-Paul?" You gave Vincent a worried look, and your nervousness seemed to affect your assistant as well, because he didn't look relaxed anymore. "Did something happen?"

"What? No! Of course not," Allen chuckled, and a female giggle could be heard in the background. "I'm calling to ask when we can see each other in New York…"

A noise grew louder, making it difficult to hear Paul's words, so you had to close one of your ears and furrow your brows in irritation. "Where are you calling from? A brothel? I can't fucking hear a word!"

Such a remark made Vincent laugh a little shyly, but then the man bowed his head and retreated in his professional, polite manner.

"Can you repeat…" You began to speak at the same time as Paul.

"…so when can we meet?"

Grumbling, you rolled your eyes. "Why did you even decide that I would visit New York?"

"Didn't you get the invitation to the wedding?" Paul's question made you feel something heavy in your stomach.

"Wedding? Who's wedding?"

There was a moment of silence that left you so nervous that you didn't even notice a pencil in your hands that was about to break because of how desperately you were squeezing it.

"Halberstram…" another pause, then another female snicker. All of it made you sick. "He's marrying a hardbody named… Cecilia, if I'm not mistaken."

Somehow you felt strangely relieved.

"But it's been several months since I quit, why was I invited?"

"Gee, (y/n)," now it was time for Paul to grumble a bit. "You think a few months are enough to forget you?" He laughed shamelessly into the phone. "Okay, okay, maybe I chose the wrong time to call you. But seriously, I'm looking forward to hanging out with you when you get here."

"Argh, fine," you muttered, finally letting go of the pencil only to grab the annoying envelope. "I'll call you later, today is really a fucked up day for me."

When you heard nothing but women laughing, you just hung up. 'God, it's only ten in the morning and Allen's already having fun. What am I doing wrong with my life?' You vented to yourself, twisting the envelope in your hands as if you were about to open Pandora's box.

With a deft move, you pulled out a postal knife and carefully cut open the envelope to gain access to its contents. Time stood still for you as your hands involuntarily reached for a beautifully decorated card that could definitely be a wedding invitation. After a short exhalation, you opened it and it took you several minutes to process what you had just seen, as you thought you were hallucinating.

The card had the following text:

“The honor of your presence is requested at the marriage of

Evelyn Arwyn Williams And Patrick Pierce Bateman

Saturday, the twentieth of October nineteen hundred and eighty-seven at twelve o'clock in the afternoon

Ziegfeld Ballroom 141 W 54th St New York, NY 10019.”

The card fell from your hands without any resistance. You felt dizzy, even nauseous, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the office and you were literally suffocating.

'How dare…' you cursed to yourself, grabbing the collar of your blouse in a feint attempt to unbutton it from the burning itch on your skin, '…you…fucking bastard!'

Dazed, you stood up faster than you should have, making your head spin and nearly knocking you over if you hadn't leaned on the back of your chair. You need some fresh air or a sip of heavy alcohol or a fucking gram. Something that will take you out of this situation, even if only for a moment.

"Boss?" Vincent's worried voice came out of nowhere. "Are you okay?"

Panting, you shot an angry glance at your table, then at your lovely assistant, whose bright eyes were like two glowing beacons. "Vincent, listen," you stammered, unable to find the right words. "Can you please order me a ticket," you closed your eyes for a second, counted to ten and gripped the back of your chair. "…to New York."

"New York? Something wrong?"

"N-no," you managed to laugh off your tension and stop grazing the leather under your fingernails. "It's just… seems like I have some deals to settle in New York, some old ones I thought were closed."

"Only one ticket or…"

"I need a ticket in both directions, of course," you mumbled nervously before taking a coffee and finishing it in one go, thankfully it became less hot. "I won't be there for long," you said as if you were trying to convince yourself, desperately trying. It was only when you met Vincent's eyes that you noticed his sad look and realized that you might have upset him. "Uh, I really wish I could take you with me… but I want someone to look after things here and…"

The dark-haired man smiled sympathetically, and that helped to calm you a little. "Oh, please, don't apologize; it's my job," he said, visibly relaxed, considering his casual pose with his hands in the pockets of his Armani trousers. "I'm just worried about you, I don't want anything bad to happen."

Slightly embarrassed, you couldn't help but grin sincerely. "Ah, Vincent, you're such a sweetheart," you rumbled with undisguised amusement. "Everything will be fine. I promise, you have nothing to worry about."

"All right, then," Vincent pulled himself up and opened the door. "I'll let you know when I have information about your flights."

After that you were left alone again. The muffled din of the city outside the office could be heard faintly whenever you walked past the windows, restlessly making circles around the room.

'Maybe I should just ignore it? Maybe it's just a bad joke and I should call Tim and ask him about it?' You covered your face with your palms before sighing tiredly. Once again, Bateman was forcing you to make strange decisions and you hated it. You hated him, you hated the wedding that hasn't even happened yet, and you hated yourself for being so easily overwhelmed.

No way in hell did you expect to visit New York too soon after you left the city and everything that happened there behind your back the moment you took your seat in an airplane to Chicago. And who would dare to judge you for that? Right, no one but you.

The wedding was supposed to be tomorrow, so you had some time to prepare for… for what? Yawning, you stretched your legs in the uncomfortable backseat of the taxi, the driver asking you where you were from and if you had ever been to New York. And at some point you felt sad because you really wanted to say no, you haven't. But you did, and only God knew how hard it had been for you to survive the past months of constant self-digging and dead-end conversations with your vicious subconscious.

Thanks to Vincent, you didn't have to worry about where to stay in New York, as he booked you a luxury suit at the Plaza Hotel. Ah, Vincent…that boy was so sweet that sometimes you could even believe in supernatural beings, as if life was trying to make amends for the unpleasant situation with Bateman.

Sitting on the big bed, you tried your best not to have a panic attack or, even worse, go crazy and empty the minibar, drinking as much as you could as if tomorrow would never come. 'Gosh, I'd sell my soul to see Bateman's face if I came to the wedding being completely drunk.’ With a silly smile on your face, you kept dreaming about some nonsense to distract yourself until the night came and you had to get some sleep before the wedding.

The next day started terribly when some random maid came early and mixed up your suit with someone else's. In the end, you couldn't say that you were rested enough, but you didn't have much time and you still had to come up with an idea for your outfit. 'Should I wear something extravagant or perhaps something more modest?' You spun around in front of the large mirror, the clock was ticking and that sound was really getting on your nerves.

"Uh, to hell with it…" you cursed to yourself and finally picked out a blue Gucci suit that fit your figure perfectly. "I don't want to overshadow the groom."

Winking at your own reflection, you added a few accessories before leaving the Plaza, where a beautiful Cadillac was waiting for you. A driver opened the back door for you, smiled politely, and at some point you even began to think that this day wouldn't be as shitty as it promised to be.

By the time you arrived at the Ziegfeld Ballroom, it was already quite crowded, with many luxury cars lining the street, delivering more and more stylishly dressed guests. With a heavy heart, you held an invitation in your hand and fought the urge to tear it apart and tell the driver to drive away. The sudden appearance of Courtney and Luis in your vision pulled you out of your doubts. 'So that bastard even invited Courtney,' you hummed and slowly opened the door to get out of the car.

All the way to the Ziegfeld Ballroom, you tried to be careful not to bump into anyone you didn't really want to interact with, like Timothy, Craig, David, Paul… Even though you were sure it was going to happen one way or another, you still didn't want to face reality too soon.

Inside the huge hall, you stopped near the long banquet table decorated with white and red roses—the whole style of the wedding screamed Evelyn. Nothing special, though, Bateman probably didn't care about such things as wedding decorations.

Taking a glass of champagne, you moved deeper into the hall and watched the guests split into groups. Still, you were lucky because you didn't see any familiar faces, even Luis and Courtney got lost somewhere among the faceless yuppies and their dates. Everything seemed fine, you had a plan to see the couple get married and then… slip away? It was such a stupid plan, but at least you had one.

Puzzled, you told yourself to leave all thoughts to the latter, when you wouldn't be so vulnerable, staying in the middle of the ballroom and watching the several waitresses bringing more and more appetizers. You were even about to try one of them when you accidentally noticed Tim and Craig coming your way. Trembling, you almost dropped the glass, but somehow you managed to put it on the nearby table, startling a waitress with your erratic behavior, but you didn't care.

As fast as you could, you rushed in a different direction from the group of your former friends, desperately searching for any room you could get into. Your pulse pounded in your eardrums, forcing you to open the first door and enter.

Breathing heavily, you pressed your back against the door and closed your eyes for a second, only to open them in a blood-chilling shock as you met a pair of hazel, dark eyes as bewildering as your own.

"You?" Bateman's startled voice bounced off the walls of the small bathroom, his face frozen in a confused grimace as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing in here?"

"Me? You invited me, you fool!" You barked back, pulling away from the door and moving toward the brown-haired man. "Have you forgotten already?"

Patrick looked absolutely stunning in his wedding tuxedo, the black bow tie being the cherry on top of his impeccably styled appearance. For a brief moment, Bateman studied your angry expression, his thick eyelashes batting like bird wings.

"It was Evelyn," he replied curly, standing still. "How delusional you must be to think I would invite you?"

Crossing his arms, Patrick smiled, and at first glance he seemed calm, but his slightly trembling lips betrayed him. With a soft chuckle, you moved closer until you noticed a beautiful bride's bouquet—a combination of roses again.

"So did Evelyn get what she wanted? I can see her in every little detail of this wedding. The Ziegfeld Ballroom was her idea too?"

The man sighed wearily and rubbed the bridge of his nose briefly. "No, my mother insisted."

"Oh," you beamed, carefully taking the bouquet in your noticeably shaking hands. "How sweet."

With a quick movement, Patrick snatched the flowers out of your hands and placed them back on the bathroom counter. "I had to walk around with this bouquet like an idiot, because I didn't even see Evelyn all this time!"

Such an outburst made you pause for a moment. "Relax, Bateman," you pretended to cheer him up. "Soon you'll be a family man."

The words forced him to clench his teeth as if they caused him physical pain. "Why did you come here, (y/n)?"

"Do you have any ideas?"

The distance between the two of you became smaller and smaller, melting like ice under the burning sun. You didn't even notice that every time he spoke, you couldn't take your eyes off his plump lips, his perfectly shaped chin that you wanted to touch, the way his eyebrows curled… God, you shouldn't have come here in the first place…

"I'm not gonna play your games anymore," Patrick suddenly blurted out, pulling you out of your lewd dreams. "If you came here just to get on my nerves, I'll tell security to kick you out."

"Woah, woah," you jerked back as Bateman stepped closer, your foreheads almost bumping into each other. "You seem very tense, marriage is a stressful thing, right?"

You continued to back away until you hit the wall behind you, and in the next second, the man caught you between his arms, placing them on either side of your trembling little form.

"Bateman?" You asked him breathlessly.

Frowning, he leaned down. You thought he was going to kiss you, but he just gasped and turned away. "I hate you," those words hurt you more than you could ever imagine. "Do you see these hands?" He asked, raising his hand and bringing it closer to your face. "I could break your neck so easily and watch your dead body fall to the ground."

A creeping fear rippled through your chest as he spoke. "You're kidding, right?" You tried to make a joke out of it, but as he tightened his grip around your throat like an iron ring, a muffled whimper escaped your tense lungs. "Ahh, w-what…"

Instead of actually hurting you, the dark-haired man brought you closer, so that your lips finally collided and the way you kissed was beyond any normalcy of kissing. Growling like a beast, Patrick literally bit into your trembling lips, almost tearing the soft flesh away, his grasp on your neck never loosening, only tightening when you dared to hug his shoulders, snuggling against him.

"Fuck," you cursed as he pulled away to nip at your neck. "You… scared the shit out of me! You psy…"

His hand abruptly covered your mouth, not letting you finish what you were about to say. "You came here because you couldn't forget me, huh? Because you are so fucking miserable in Chicago and no one gives a fuck about you?"

With your eyes shut tight, you whimpered against his palm at the faint physical contact with his hard groin. It was already too much, but then you heard a soft click of the door lock. 'Am I really going to die?' The thought alone made your knees weak. Meanwhile, Bateman was nuzzling against your cheek, inhaling your scent like an animal in rut, and you couldn't do anything, trapped in the strong arms you'd been dreaming about all these months.

The question he asked hung in the air for some time, even after Patrick removed his hand, waiting for your answer, you couldn't speak because… he was right. But to admit it would mean that you had lost. Lost in your own game.

"Why did you run away from me?" The man asked unexpectedly, his whole mood changing from wild to sad, bordering on despair. "Tell me!"

"I thought it would be better for both of us, okay?" You hated yourself for not finding better words, but it was so damn hard to think in a situation like this. "And I still think so."

With a wry grin, the man distanced himself a bit. "And that's why you're here with me… in some random bathroom… in the middle of my wedding?"

It did look familiar. That fleeting moment you gave in to temptation in the Tunnel that changed your life forever and for which you're still paying the price.

"You don't love her, do you?" You didn't even recognize your own voice.

"It's none of your business," Bateman replied before lowering his palm to your hip and squeezing it. "Now get on your knees, I don't have much time."

The audacity of this man was unbearable. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, you stifled a moan from the way he stroked your ass, encouraging you to obey. Biting your lower lip, you remembered how delicious this man tasted—a memory that haunted you every day—you should have resisted, you should have just stopped everything here and now, because there would be no happy ending.

‘I should have, but I can't,’ these six words flashed through your cloudy mind as you slid down the wall to meet the visible bulge in Patrick's tight pants.

"Good, good," he praised, casually unfastening his jacket and then his belt, just as you saw his white suspenders hugging his shoulders so deliciously that you had to hold your breath. "God, if I knew Evelyn was going to give me a wedding present like that, I'd postpone the wedding."

"You're a sick man," you murmured, but he just chuckled. "I hope you know that?"

"So are you.”

There was a small lounge chair in the other corner of the bathroom, and the moment Bateman saw it, you knew what he would do. Smirking mischievously, the man lifted you up with practiced ease and moved you to the chair, sitting down and spreading his toned legs so you could take your place between them. Patrick used all the self-control he had left to undo his pants without actually tearing them apart, his erection jutting out the moment he lowered the confines of his garments.

This scene made you lick your lips with undisguised hunger. Slowly, you leaned down between his wide-open legs and teasingly took his swollen tip into your mouth, then pulled away. "You're going to marry a woman who can't suck you off better than me, aren't you?"

Instead of taunting you back, the man grabbed the back of your head and made you take him deeper until your nose rubbed against his thick pubic hair, but it was still not enough, his cock was too big.

"Ahhh, what's that? Your mouth is too small to take me in?" Bateman commented cheekily as he watched your eyes get wet as you gagged. "You can only use it to say shit, but when it comes to real business…" the man pushed into your mouth again, fixing your head in one place. "…it doesn't seem to be useful."

"Mhmm," you tried to slip out of his grip, but he held you deadly tight. At one point you even wanted to use your teeth, but fortunately a loud commotion from outside attracted Patrick's attention and he let you go. "You…you are so pathetic…" you coughed several times, understanding that your end was near. "Even in a moment like this…you can't keep quiet! Like a fucking chatterbox…"

You wanted to say something else, but the way Bateman's dick pressed against your cheek, the weight of it, the warmth, it was all too overwhelming for both you and him, considering how tense Patrick's face was when you let his erection slide along your jaw as you descended lower to tease his sensitive balls with your tongue.

"Oh-fuck…" The man gasped, tilting his head back to lean against the wall and mumbling something incoherently.

Ashamed of what you were doing, you paused for a second, wondering what consequences awaited the two of you in the future. But all your attempts to stop yourself from falling into the abyss of consuming depravity were mercilessly crushed by reality— Bateman, all spread out for you, his cheeks blushing slightly as he enjoyed the oral pleasure you were giving him. This reality hit too hard. After all, you were enjoying that dick as well.

"So let it happen," you murmured suddenly before you wrapped your wet lips, covered with your saliva and his pre-cum, around his blushing shaft once more, your hands still rubbing his heavy sac. His skin was so soft there that you literally wanted to scream.

"W-what?" The man asked suddenly, as if he had just woken up from the enticing spell. "What are you talking about… are you so cock drunk that your brain can't function?"

At first, dirty talk like that could be really arousing, but now, hearing it for the hundredth time in a row, it was more amusing than hot. Without saying anything, you raised your eyes to him, your sneaky fingers delving deeper between his legs to stroke the rim of his tight muscles. A throaty moan escaped his suddenly dry lips. 'Cock drunk, huh?' You were proud of yourself, having a man like Patrick in a chokehold with your deliberate ministrations.

"Look at you, Bateman, you're such a naughty boy who loves it when someone plays with his ass?" You teased in between heavy gasps, as sucking such a huge cock was quite a challenge. "Does Evelyn even know about this?

Clenching his teeth, he tried to pull at your hair, but you dodged, pressing your finger persistently against his tight asshole before gently probing it, and you could swear to God, if heaven really existed, you wanted Patrick's moans to be music there.

"Uh, you're such a brat, babe," that nickname made you freeze. "This is going to end you one day…" His eyes rolled back into his head as you pushed your finger deeper into him, using a small amount of liquid on it as a lubricant. "(Y/n), you seem to need to bother your hands with something else…" you gave him a questioning look and he grinned in satisfaction, admiring the way his veiny, leaking dick slipped in and out of your lips. "Touch yourself… I know you want to…"

Fucking bastard. Why did he have to say it now? His words involuntarily triggered the memories of the lonely nights you spent in Chicago, masturbating almost every day when you thought of Patrick, telling yourself that he probably did the same. After all, maybe that was true?

As you pulled his cock out of your wet mouth, you quickly undid your belt and then your pants, pulling them down like an obstacle standing between you and mind-blowing pleasure. Locking your eyes with his walnut ones, you got up and tugged at the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to bend over so you could kiss him. Bateman didn't flinch, kissing you back, tasting himself on your lips and sucking on your tongue as you moaned shamelessly. Afterwards, you slipped a finger into his mouth and he licked it obediently before taking it inside.

"Oh, Patrick," you gasped before sitting down. "Why can't it be like this all the time?"

The brown-haired man smiled, exactly that smile that could make you commit a crime, how charming it was, it made you want to cry here and now.

Silently, Patrick leaned down to take your hand and place it between your legs, then he took your other hand and brought it back to his engorged dick, forcing you to resume your ministrations and from that moment on, you just let yourself go.

Rubbing your most sensitive spot, you whimpered and closed your eyes as you jerked him off, feeling the drops of his warm pre-cum dripping down your palm. Your orgasm was looming somewhere near, but it felt like the pleasure of your own hand was not enough. Bateman, as if he could read your mind, suddenly lifted you up by your shoulders, made you straddle him, and in the next moment you let him impale you on his thick cock, giving you the abundance you thought you had lost forever. A loud shriek echoed off the marble walls of the bathroom, a sound that made Patrick grin even more arrogantly as he knew that no one but him could make you feel complete.

He fucking knew it.

Groaning, the man grabbed your hips and set the pace, and at some point you found yourself riding him with pure abandon, literally bouncing on his beefy cock. "A-ahhh, Patrick, yes! Fuck-fuck me, just like that!" You mewled into his ear as he spanked your ass, squeezed your buttocks and spread them. "Mmhm…holy…shit…"

Another slap made you tremble on his lap. "So fucking needy for me," Bateman purred in a husky voice, his hair a mess, you managed to undo his bow tie and several top buttons to stroke his bulging chest. "Argh, you gonna make me cum, babe."

With that, he began to thrust his hips up, meeting yours with a shameless slapping sound. Dumbfounded, you were also so close, but you wanted him to fall first. Passionately rocking back and forth, you wrapped your hands around his neck, catching him off guard.

"You…you missed me just like I missed you…" That was more a statement than a question but the man didn't say anything, he just nodded with his eyes closed as he was completely lost in the embrace of incoming rapture. "SAY IT!" You nearly beat him into his chest. "Say…it…you bastard!"

Your crying compelled him to open his brown eyes which now were so dark, you could draw in them. "Yeah…" Each word was so hard for him to pronounce as his hips began to shake. "…I…I've missed you…too!" Patrick had to hide his face into the crook of your neck and before you knew it, the man bit into your soft flesh to the point of blood.

"A-AWWW, PATRICK!" You whimpered when you felt him exploding inside of you, shooting his hot load and sinking his teeth even deeper, holding you tightly in his strong arms.

"Shhh," the man strived to shush you, licking the fresh wound on your throat. "Just…take it…"

Still trembling, Bateman squeezed your hips so painfully, that you instinctively tried to pull away but he didn't allow you to. Sobbing, you cursed yourself for forgetting how rough he could be or…maybe you simply didn't know about this side of him? By the time Patrick stopped shaking, you were pumped with his seed till the brink, it was pouring out, staining the furniture beneath you, but no one cared. You sat like that for a moment until you began to move again as you still didn't reach your climax. With every buck of your hips against his, you hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but as soon as you reached out to kiss him, the man indifferently pulled away, tapping on your hip.

"Get up," Patrick commanded you, a bit annoyed.

"W-what?"

Bateman didn't repeat, taking you off from his lap before standing up on his feet and zipping his pants. Lost and confused, you sat on the floor, watching him sliding his hair back, opening the faucet and cleaning his face.

What the fuck was that?

"Bateman?" You stammered, finding yourself in the most humiliating position ever.

"You better clean yourself up, too," he commented briefly without looking at you, his voice drenched in venom. "You don't want the guests to think someone brought a hooker here, do you?"

Furrowing your brows, you ran a hand down your tear streaked cheek. "You're going to stop talking to me like that, or…"

"Or what?"

Anger and despair mixed together in a cocktail of pure madness. You wanted to fucking beat this man until he begged for mercy, but unfortunately, it was you sitting on the cold floor with your bare ass, his cum flowing shamelessly between your thighs.

"Fucking scumbag!" You yelled, picking up your shoe to throw it at him, but he quickly moved aside. "You're going to regret this…pathetic…"

Bateman started to say something but was distracted by several female voices. He checked himself in the mirror for the last time and finally spared you with his pitiful look. "You're going to walk around my WEDDING with my SEED inside you. Maybe you should look in the mirror and think about who's really pathetic in this room?"

And then he left.

Being left like that has set your body on fire, your nervous system was on the verge of bursting, but you managed to pull yourself together, gritting your teeth to suppress a loud scream. You felt nauseous, the bite on your neck was bleeding and aching, you were even afraid to touch it. Knowing that the door was now unlocked, you couldn't sit there any longer, so you gathered all the strength you had left to pull yourself up and get dressed. Then you slowly moved to the place where Patrick had been standing moments ago…but it felt like it had been so long ago, as time had stopped. After you cleaned yourself, you were really lucky to find a first aid kit, so you managed to clean your wound as well.

The ceremony had already begun when you finally decided to leave the bathroom. Dazed, you stumbled around like you were drunk. You couldn't remember how you found your way to the main event, where a large altar awaited the newlyweds.

All the guests were in their seats, and you moved stealthily, trying not to attract unwanted attention. The last row of chairs was almost empty, and when you suddenly recognized Timothy Bryce, lonely sitting there, you didn't hesitate to sit next to him.

"Well, well, well," you mused, a little cheered up. "Hello, Bryce."

The dark-haired man almost jumped in his seat when he saw you. "Jesus Christ, (y/n)? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Mmhm, Evelyn invited me."

Timothy visibly grew sadder. " Right…she probably tried to invite all the people in New York."

This sudden change in his demeanor confused you. "Tim? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

The music began to play exactly when you opened your mouth to ask some more curious questions. Soon, the priest and several other people appeared in the alley. They walked up to the altar, everyone around was excited to see the main stars of this event. And as if that were not enough, some women in front of you began to cheer so loudly that you had to cover your ears.

"Stupid bitches." Tim grumbled as he sat back.

"Craig and David…where are they?"

Bryce pointed to other seats that were almost next to the altar. "They're with their chicks and they want the best seats."

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, avoiding craning your neck when it wasn't needed because it still hurt. "I see…and I thought they were doing coke without you."

"They did."

"Really? And what about you?"

The man sighed. "No coke is enough to get lost."

Now it was even stranger.

Another loud reaction from the guests signaled that something was starting to happen. You have to stand up a little to see the tall figure moving down the alley—it was Bateman, looking like he was not the one who fucked you in the small bathroom an hour ago. The way he smiled at the guests made you want to puke. Timothy noticed your trepidation and narrowed his eyes curiously.

"Are you okay?" He asked, not paying attention to what was happening near the altar. "You look unhealthy."

"I… I'm fine, it's just… it's very hot in here." You wanted to loosen your collar, but then you remembered the bite, so you had to sit like that.

In a few minutes the music changed and then Evelyn appeared, accompanied by her father who led her to the altar where Patrick was waiting for her. You held your breath and bit the inside of your cheek, but you forced yourself to look at the way Bateman took Evelyn's hands in his, touching them with absolute tenderness. A single drop of sweat trickled down your forehead and you probably intended to chew your cheek until it bled, but you didn't care. Nothing mattered now, nothing could hurt you, you felt like a ghost destined to walk the earth in search of its salvation. Only when the priest said that the newlyweds could kiss now, you turned away and so did Tim.

When the official part of the ceremony was over, Patrick and Evelyn walked out of the room towards an unknown destination, you and Bryce just sat there, not even talking, just sitting, as if you had nowhere to go.

"I'll get us some drinks." Timothy suddenly rumbled and stood up as quickly as the idea had occurred to him.

You didn't even have a chance to answer. You closed your eyes and rubbed your face tiredly when you heard a child's voice next to you. Turning sideways, you opened your eyes to see a little girl with a small bag in her hands. "Oh, hi…could you please repeat what I need to do?"

The girl smiled and opened the bag in an inviting gesture. "Pull your hand in and choose your destiny advice!" Giggling, you did as she said. Soon you were unfolding a small piece of paper. "What does it say?" The girl asked with undisguised curiosity.

After you rolled up the paper completely, you could read the text. "Find the courage to face your destiny." You swallowed nervously, on the verge of tears again.

"You didn't like it?" The little girl asked you, her face turning sad as well.

"No! Of course not, thank you very much!" You tried to smile. "You're so sweet, thank you!"

The girl suddenly hugged you. "Please don't be sad!"

And with that, the little child picked up her bag and ran to another person, doing the same thing she did to you. Nervously holding the piece of paper in your sweaty hands, you reread the text until several wet stains appeared on the paper. 'I am such a fool.' Wiping away tears, you heard several footsteps behind you. 'God, what if it's him?'

Excited, you turned to see Tim holding two cocktails. "They don't have anything strong."

You took the drink and watched Bryce sitting next to you. "Thanks Tim."

"No problem," he took a sip before looking at the piece of paper in your hands. "What is this?"

"Uh, nothing, just a childish game." You mumbled and took a sip of your cocktail.

After a minute of total silence, Timothy suddenly rested his arm on the back of his chair. "You know, maybe some coke is not such a bad idea after all," he looked at you, his dull eyes now glinting with a mischievous spark. "And since you're here… do you have any plans?"

"No," you replied frankly. "I… I have no plans, Bryce."

Nodding to himself, the man sat a little closer. "What about you coming to my place?"

Fidgeting in your chair, you wanted to turn to face him, but instead you hissed in pain, how crazy must the man be to leave such a mark? You crumpled the piece of paper in your fist and felt your nails digging into your skin, but still no pain came.

"Why not?" You finally replied, giving Bryce a smile he couldn't ignore as he smiled back.

'When one door closes, another always opens.' Was that what the taxi driver told you yesterday? A quote that had made you cringe in skepticism now played with different colors. But in the end, life was a good thing, even when you thought it was not.

Right?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[daydreaming-paradies]

Genshin Men and Their Flower Language(s)

ᡣ𐭩 Summary:Every flower has its own language. What flower language do these genshin men have?

ᡣ𐭩 characters: Xiao(201), Aether(107), Venti(105) and Alhaitham(128)

ᡣ𐭩 Warnings: Fluff(Alhatiham + Aether), Hurt no comfort/angst(Xiao and Venti){Yes I am doing this bc i can :3}, Major character death{reader dies on Xiao and Venti's part} Alcoholism as a coping mechanism on Venti's part, mentions of blood and fighting in Xiao's part

ᡣ𐭩 ~ Want to Continue?~ Part 1

art belongs to @/eriimyon on X/Twitter

Alhaitham

Rosebud- A heart innocent of love

Why is your heart filled with innocent love? That is Alhaitham’s question every single day. Ever since he had met you, you always smile and greet him whenever you two see each other. The thing is..you still did even when you two were dating. Most people describe Alhaitham as a emotionless, blunt and heartless scribe but to you, he is your bookworm and unique lover and you will burn the world for him. Now you have caused him to blush and had to hide his face from others. If he can pick out a flower for you every day, it is rosebud. You are too innocent and lovely for his heart..stop it, you’re figuratively killing him with your love!! He is literally red in the face!!!

Aether

Lily-of-the-valley: You’ve made my life complete

Aether thinks that the archons have blessed him with a cutie pie because he can not fathom how you appeared in his life but what he does know is that he is not letting you go. Searching for his sister is tiring and he often felt lonely but with you, he finally started to see that life has its upsides and downs. Yes you may feel like the world is against you, you felt that you are lonely in this unfamiliar world but..Aether now has you in his arms, just smiling like a goofball. Lily-of-the-valley is Aether’s flower. Why? Well...you have made his life complete.

Venti

Dark Crimson Rose- Mourning

People come and go but for Venti, he did not want you to go. He had to watch your life drained from your eyes. He had to bury you near the tree in Windrise. He uses alcohol to cope with your passing. He was so lost without you..he can’t even live without you but he had too. Everyone who sends their condolences to him but it is not the same. You were haunting his mind as he grew drunk, wallowing in pain. Dark Crimson Rose is perfect for Venti since he will never let go of you. Your memories will always be his songs.

Xiao

Sweetpea- Departure, Goodbye

Where there is life, there is death. Xiao himself has been mortals who live their lives to the fullest to their peaceful demises. Xiao, standing in the Wangshu Inn , staring at the night sky filled with the stars. He thinks back to the memories in his mind. Memories of you and him, your smile, your happiness, how you make his world more lively. He thinks back to how you always give him almond tofu and gifts that remind you of him. Then memories of your death flashes in his mind. The sight of your blood tainted the green grass after a harsh battle. He visits your favorite place in Liyue, with a bouquet of flowers. He looked at the tombstone in front of him and placed the bouquet on the grave. “You are my sun and I am you are my moon. Life may continue forward but..you will never leave me in memories. My heart belongs to you and you alone. Rest in peace my love. May you smile in my presence. I will never forget you. Goodbye..{name}.” Sweetpea is a perfect flower for him. A flower for this moment. A flower to say goodbye to everyone you love.

~Taglist: @husky-studies @purpleqilinwrites @yoghurtsan @ryuryuryuyurboat @windblume-wishes @thestarswhisper @the-guardian-kitsune @sanzach @dailypenpen @asoulsreverie @ainescribe @amxto @kitsuvil @kalims @mccnstruck @rrxaiky / @rx-lounge @dxmoness @areislol

[meazalykov]

baby pink

sydney lohmann x reader

apart of the baby pink series

after winning against aston villa, your excitement couldn’t be contained. 

as a center-back defender, scoring a golozo at arsenal had your team and the crowd blown in joy. 

winning mvp for the match made you feel appreciated as well. this is your third season at arsenal and you've gotten this quite a lot, but your gratitude still shows.

as you're heading into the locker rooms, you look down at the pastel pink and baby blue kit over your body, the colors making you smile. baby pink and baby blue were your two favorite colors. so, having a kit in those colors– made exclusively for the women’s team too– made you happy. 

after tonight, you’ll fly to germany  to visit your girlfriend sydney lohmann, who plays at bayern munich. your three-year anniversary was coming up and nothing could ruin your happy mood about it, not even the yellow card you received in the match. 

after the match, exhausted but happy from the win, you scroll through the photos taken during the game by arsenal’s photographers. usually, they will send the photos in a big digital file. 

one photo in the pink and blue kit made you look like a star. you were– but you wanted to post and highlight that picture immediately. 

(pretend that you're in the picture in replacement of emily fox)

y/n.l/n

liked by leahwilliamsonn, and 67,712 others

y/n.l/n the love of my life (this kit) 🩵🩷

comments

sydneylohmann so what am I.. chopped liver?

stanwaygeorgia HAHHAHA

laurafreigang ya

wosofan783 sydney you're still the love of my life dw ☺️

sydneylohmann I will ignore that caption

laurafreigang wow sydney turned into a football kit?

buehlklara yes.

gunnerwillamso32927 nobody is ruining y/n's love for pink

woso.com THE CAPTION BYE

fcbfrauenluvrr come to Munich ❤️

~view all 3,901 comments~

you giggled at all of the comments between you, your german friends, and your girlfriend. you miss sydney all of the time and can't wait to be with her.

there is a flower boutique down the street from your apartment, almost every week you'll receive a delivery of a bouquet of flowers. all from sydney-- and all pink.

sydney leaves the sweetest notes all of the time. you're grateful that your girlfriend makes an effort to show you how much she loves you from thousands of miles away.

you're enjoying the rest of your time at arsenal, since this is your last season. all of your fans don't know it yet, but some are suspecting that you'll join sydney in munich next year-- since there is no updates on a contract renewal with arsenal.

the next morning, you woke up to a knock at your door.

you groaned as you quickly rubbed your eyes and put your pink slippers on. walking out of the bedroom, you walked into the hallway into your living room to open up the front door.

the first guess of who could be at your door was caitlin and katie, who lived in the same apartment complex as you. sometimes, they come and eat breakfast with you because of how lonely you can get.

sometimes it feels like everyone on the team has a companion or partner, which leaves you feeling left out sometimes. luckily, you won't have to feel fomo for much longer with bayern's offer for you to join their club. thanks to references from sydney and georgia.

"hey cai-" your voice cut off when you saw a familiar face at the door.

a woman, early to mid 40s, named josie worked down at the flower boutique down from your apartment complex. she is a face you see every week at your door-- holding a huge pink bouquet.

"goodmorning josie." you smile as you, softly, take the bouquet of flowers out of her hands.

your hair was messy, considering that you gotten out of bed. however, josie has seen you looking worse during mornings where you're sick or tired from games the nights before.

"goodmorning, sydney got these for you." Josie smiled.

"yeah-- these are beautiful *sniff* and smell great too." you took a smell of the flowers. sydney got you pink flowers all of the time, just as you sent her red bouquets to her house in munich, but she changes the flowers up.

josie nodded and smiled at your observation of the flowers.

"i'm going to the airport soon to see her too-- so I'm surprised she sent me these." you commented.

"you shouldn't be-- its tuesday. have safe travels." josie says, smiling before walking away from your door.

sydney did send you your flowers every tuesday, which josie is right about.

you placed the flowers inside of a pink vase before pulling out the note card in the middle of the flowers.

"can't wait to see you later, honigbiene

-syd <3"

<3

[archiveikemen]

Liam Evans Main Story: Chapter 25 (Crazy Love)

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

If life was a fairytale, it’d be easy to be happy.

As long as you refrain from “doing the wrong things”. For example…

Entering a forest that’s off limits, opening a door you shouldn’t, knowing a forbidden secret, and—

…

Kate: Thank you so much for the help you’ve given me all this time.

Colleague: I’m going to be so lonely without you here. But I’ll always be hoping for your success. Take care, Kate.

My colleagues bid me farewell after I told them that I would continue my service to the imperial court.

I reassured them that there were amazing people at the court, and working there would be like a promotion.

They were delighted to hear that. But had I told them what my new job truly entailed and who I was living with, their response would definitely be much different.

At least, that was me a month ago.

I said goodbye to the post office that smelled like ink and walked away, wiping away the small feeling of loneliness.

…

London, the capital of England, was the world’s most prosperous city under the reign of Her Majesty Queen Victoria.

Everyone lived their lives by their own desires, and today was no different.

In a corner of the street, I spotted a poster of my lover.

(Ah… it’s a poster of Liam.)

The poster announced the performance of a new play at The Scala called “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”, with Liam starring as the main character.

And the premiere was tonight.

— Today, I’m lying to Liam about one thing.

Liam was unaware that I was going to watch the play.

(Liam got me tickets for the closing show, but I bought myself tickets to the premiere without telling him.)

(As a big fan of theatre, of course I have to secure tickets for myself!)

(Also…)

Liam was always gifting me bouquets of flowers, so I wanted to surprise him tonight by buying him flowers too.

(Fufufu, I hope I can give him a surprise.)

…

I went to a flower shop in the ever so lively Leadenhall Market to choose flowers for Liam.

(What kind of flowers should I get him? There's Gerbera, Cosmos… Ah.)

Amongst the various flowers on display, I found some modern roses that resembled the colour of Liam’s hair.

Modern roses were the flowers Liam often gifted me.

(... Yep, I’ve decided. I’ll go with these.)

Kate: Excuse me. Could you kindly put these modern roses into a bouquet for me, please?

Florist: Sure! These flowers are pretty rare and we don't always have them in stock. You’re very lucky.

Florist: By the way, did you know that modern roses have a very wonderful meaning in flower language?

Kate: No… what do they mean?

Florist: Modern roses signify “gratitude”. For example, you’re grateful to have met someone.

(“I’m grateful that I met you”.)

(I don’t think I’ve ever said that to Liam.)

– Flashback Start –

Kate: Thank you so much, Liam. I’ll be sure to cherish them well, so that they’ll keep blooming for a long time.

Kate: If I display them by my room’s window, they’ll definitely bring a smile to my face tomorrow morning…

Liam: If flowers can make you smile every morning, then I’ll give you however many flowers you want!

– Flashback End –

Ever since we met, Liam has gifted me countless bouquets of flowers that signify “gratitude”.

(What was Liam feeling each time he gifted me those flowers?)

(Has Liam… ever received such beautiful flowers from anyone?)

Throughout his life, there was probably not a single person who celebrated his existence.

Liam was physically and mentally wounded, to the point where he felt hopeless and wanted to give up on himself.

But I believed that Liam possessed a pure heart that cherished the people around him dearly.

It must've been so painful for him to live in such a cruel world with that kind heart.

I wished that he would throw his kindness away instead of bear the burden of his pain and suffering, but that was definitely not the kind of person Liam was.

(I can’t turn back time, but I can still express it to him from now on.)

(From now on, I’ll tell him often how grateful I am for him.)

(I’ll continue celebrating his existence.)

…

Seated close to the seats on the first floor of the theatre, I watched the curtains rise for “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”.

– Flashback Start –

Tom: Liam, overcome your struggles. After “Hamlet”, play the role of Quasimodo in “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame”.

– Flashback End –

Just like he promised to that day, Liam portrayed himself as Quasimodo and overcame all odds as him.

Quasimodo (Liam): “This world I live in can be so cruel that there are times I want to look away from it, abandon it… and even stop living.”

Quasimodo (Liam): “But, even so… I have to keep on living!”

Quasimodo (Liam): “Until the day this heart stops beating…!”

The final lines were followed by an atmosphere so silent you could hear a water droplet fall.

— One second, two seconds, three seconds.

Then came a roar of non-stop thunderous applause.

I stood up from my seat and clapped for Liam as he stood under the spotlight during the curtain call.

(Ah… he shines so bright. So, very, bright.)

His graceful bow towards the audience made him look like a beautiful star people longed for, but I knew that my hands could touch that star.

Curly Haired Lady: … *sniffle*

Freckled Lady: Goodness, why are you crying? … *sniffle* I’m crying too. Something feels different about Liam, don't you think?

Curly Haired Lady: … Yeah. I can’t really say it well… but he seems much happier than before.

Hearing the voices of Liam’s passionate fans made my lips relax into a smile.

(Ah…)

My eyes met Liam’s from afar.

Liam: :D

(H-He noticed me.)

Liam flashed me a broad smile when he saw me, and winked at me.

Liam: ;)

Curly Haired Lady: Kya! H-He just…! Liam just winked at me!

Freckled Lady: Y-You fool! Liam winked at me! ME!

Curly Haired Lady: Nooo, me! Liam~! I love you!

Freckled Lady: Not fair! I love you too…!

Liam: :0

Liam: Haha.

…

One of the theatre members told me to wait for Liam on stage, and so I stood there on the empty stage after all the audience had left the theatre.

The spotlight above was so bright, I involuntarily squinted my eyes.

(... With a light this bright, there’s no escaping from or hiding anything.)

Whether it's in the light or in the pitch darkness, there was no such thing as remaining completely unharmed.

Sometimes, life can be so cruel that we feel like throwing it away.

Liam: Kate.

Kate: … Liam.

Despite that, I never want to let go of this miracle — every moment when our eyes meet, when we're breathing together, and when my heart races with excitement at the sight of him.

However embarrassing it may be, I held tightly onto even the tiniest bits of hope, wanting to live.

Until the day darkness comes for us.

Standing face to face with each other, I held out the bouquet I had hidden behind my back to my lover.

Kate: Congratulations on the premiere, Liam! Also…

Kate: Thank you for being alive.

Liam: T-These flowers…

Liam: … Haha. … It’s my first time hearing someone thank me for being alive.

Liam awkwardly accepted the bouquet.

— He smiled with genuine joy.

Kate: I didn't expect you to see me from the stage. I wanted to surprise you.

Liam: These eyes were made to look for you.

Liam: By the way, what were you looking at just now?

Kate: I was looking at the spotlight. It’s so bright.

Liam: When you lie down here and look up — it’s even brighter.

Liam laid down on the floor and patted his side, motioning me to lie down next to him.

Following him, I joined him on the floor under the bright spotlight.

(Woah…)

Kate: The lights kind of look like the stars in the sky, don't they?

Liam: … Yeah, I know.

Liam: Hey, Kate… do you know of this saying?

Liam: The moment you get to a place where the stars are within an arm’s reach, you’ll find it difficult to breathe. Within seconds, you’ll be on your way to heaven.

Liam: I don’t really understand, but for some reason it’s just always in my head.

I found myself staring at Liam’s profile as he spoke.

Kate: … If you could go to that place where you could touch the stars, would you want to?

Liam: If I could touch the stars… huh.

Liam reached a hand towards the spotlights hanging from the ceiling.

Liam: Even now, I still long to touch something as beautiful as the stars.

I recalled the day when he told me that everything apart from himself was beautiful.

Liam: But…

He pulled me close with an outstretched arm, firmly holding my shoulder.

Liam: Right now, however dirty or ashamed I feel… I much prefer being able to touch you like this.

Liam: I always will.

Liam: Perhaps, this way, I’ll always be happy.

As Liam spoke with a soft smile—

I leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the neck.

Liam: … It tickles.

Liam just living on with a beating heart was enough for me to see him as the most beautiful person in the world, like the brightest star in the sky; and yet, he would most likely spend the rest of his life refusing to acknowledge his beauty and wishing to become a star while carrying the burden of his permanent scars.

(Even if you never realise how beautiful you are, I’ll always stay by your side and watch over you.)

Liam: I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Liam: I don't know what will happen, but I think it’d be nice to have you with me…

Liam: I hope that you’ll have me in your eyes tomorrow too…

Kate: What are you talking about…? I’ll always be waiting for you to spend our tomorrows together, until you get sick of it.

Liam: Then… let’s be together until the very last second of our lives.

Liam: Ahh, I’m looking forward to tomorrow…

Enveloped by the light that resembled the stars in the sky, we waited for our tomorrow to come.

Our hearts beating together.

[amarynthian-chronicles]

HI AMARY 🫂💥💕💗✨‼️

It's super early but since I've been seeing the "Our Guest" boys content from you lately - I've missed them so pls allow me to ask a question :

How would all 3 of them comfort Y/N if they were feeling really unappreciated and lonely?

Thanks for answering in advance !!

(hides in sand)

STARRIE hello!!!!! I hope you will have an amazing day today! @starriegalaxy

The Vampire Lords would certainly be greatly concerned and unaccustomed to seeing such a vulnerable part of Y/N and this situation would be an indicator that Y/N is truly in need of the best care possible, and the boys shall go above and beyond to demonstrate how adored and valued Y/N is.

Viscount Sun would create infinite pages of sketches of Y/N, each line and each shade containing all of the love and worship an artist can have for his Muse, and he would take Y/N to the castle gardens, finding a nice and comfortable place to sit together. He has Y/N in his lap as he shows them each and every page, whispering tender praises and promises of eternal love and devotion. He later also makes many paintings of Y/N based on the sketches, and he dedicates a whole chamber to these paintings.

Marquis Moon vows to compose a symphony in Y/N's honour that would be so majestic that it could make the stars weep. He spends hours and days on it, each note and each sound imbued with his love, melodies yet unheard, emotions yet unspoken. When his masterpiece is finally finished, he assembles the best musicians in the world and organizes a concert in a grand regal theatre. He brings Y/N to the special royal box to have the best seats and wraps his arms around them as he lets them listen to the music.

Grand Duke Eclipse assembles all of his tools and materials, hellbent on using all of his knowledge, expertise and craftsmanship in order to create a true monument to his darling Morning Star. Each strike at the marble stone, each gentle gesture with newly formed glass or freshly cut golden leaves, every movement is dedicated to his love, his affection lives within each particle of his creation. When he is finally finished, he brings Y/N to his chambers, kissing their hand adoringly before revealing what he had made: a marble statue of Y/N, carrying a bouquet of flowers, the stems and leaves of brightest gold, the petals decorated with sapphires, diamonds and rubies. A crown made of coloured glass rests on the statue's head, with sapphires, heliodors and red beryl gems.

[merakiui]

Hiiii~ Mera! I've wanted to ask you if you by any chance have any Malleus thoughts?? 👀 👉👈

I may have a few hehe!! :D please accept these very assorted Malleus concepts that have been floating around in my brain.

✧ sugar daddy malleus in ancient times in which he’s the mysterious being of the deep, dark forest everyone tells you to stay away from. but that same mysterious being is leaving lustrous gemstones and exquisite pieces of jewelry on your doorstep or at the entrance of the forest for you to take, always even more generous each time. and in return, you must provide him with something of yours (usually he’d like something from your hobbies, whether a poem or a sketch or a wood carving and so on). one day he’ll steal you away, but until then he provides generous sums for you to continue living comfortably. after all, he’s quite entertained with the lovely art you produce! he must know more.

✧ omegaverse in which, by order of lord malleus, guards silver and sebek free you (and plenty others) from an alpha who had been keeping you captive for various reasons. without a place to live or a madol to your name, lord malleus allows you to live within his castle under the condition that you must earn your keep. sebek doesn’t trust you, but silver thinks everyone deserves a fair chance and though it may be dangerous for an unmated omega and an unmated alpha to coexist, especially when said alpha is a very important ruler, you’ve proven to be a very diligent servant to malleus, always so determined to pay him back for his generosity. malleus has grown rather fond of you in the time he’s gradually beginning to know you, and before long he’s inviting you to take a stroll through the palace gardens with him or to join him for evening tea or to accompany him to the grand library so he may find a book he’s been looking to read. and eventually your heat will sneak up on you, and who better to assist you with it than the lord you serve? :)

✧ a very awkward fwb dynamic in which both you and malleus are horribly inexperienced in romance, so your dynamic essentially becomes one of fwb—by which if malleus gifts you a bouquet because you’re his dearest friend (he is madly in love with you) you hurry to return his goodwill with some of your own. there is no sex in this fwb (yet). the two of you are just always trying to return the other’s kindness and are so worried about forgetting to repay favors to one another or else you think it’ll look rude and malleus fears his favorite child of man will become offended. the benefits in this friendship is essentially just lots of courtship gifts that neither of you realize are courtship gifts. both of you are always friend-zoning each other, too. T_T lilia just wants you and malleus to kiss already.

✧ ceo malleus who is very bad at using technology, so you (his secretary) help him out and handle much of the tech work for him. naturally he has to repay you by railing you behind closed doors in his office (and maybe even knocking you up if you’re capable of having children hehe).

✧ you’re making a wish on a star in hopes that the sky above will answer it. but when you wish for a companion/lover/friend/a horned fae prince who is very tall and can sing and is very handsome and keeps a tamagotchi and is also lonely so he needs a friend (this last one is very specific;;;;), you don’t expect said fae to appear and offer companionship. he may or may not have been watching you for months now, waiting for the right moment to appear before you at your windowsill. but when you’ve made such a curious wish, how can he possibly stay hidden any longer? he adores you too much. <3

✧ arranged marriage in which you’re betrothed to malleus in a marriage that’s meant to serve as the first stepping stone in uniting humankind and faekind and putting all previous disagreements to rest. you think you’ll be fine so long as you’re courteous and obedient, but your fiancé seems to like you a little too much. :)

[cofay]

St✮r(Star) .ᐟ

A/n the song features in here is called ‘Sorry’ by beabadoope if you wanna give it a listen.

~~~~~~

You and Toji dated for only a couple years 3 at best until you decided to call it off because you just didn’t think you were spending enough time together especially with you being in a band and him by the times you get home just not being there. It made you feel lonely and just upset. Even when you would spend time together it was awkward and always short lived conversations.

So when you finally told him you wanted to break up you didn’t expect him to actually flip out…

🀥

Around the time of your performance for some reason Toji thought it would be a good idea to text you and show you that he brought tickets.

[1 image] 5:45 p.m

‘Got your tickets babe..’ 5:45 p.m

‘I’m not your babe’ 5:46 p.m

‘I know you miss me’ 5:48 p.m (Seen 5:48 p.m)

A couple hours later you were getting ready to go on stage just doing some mic checks and checking to make sure your instruments work you were on stage practicing with your guitar when you heard your phone ringing you pick it up.

“Hello?”

“How’s your practice goin’?”

[call ended]

You hated the way he kept in contact with you I mean you would block him but only if you could get a new number and phone to bad you weren’t really willing to buy a whole new phone especially with the way your living it’s not like your broke but you can’t afford a new phone and then pay rent so you’re left on a limb.

The time to go for your show to start and the light shine on your band mates and you. You start to play ‘Sorry’

✰ ✰ ✰

After the show you were putting up your things backstage until you saw Toji leaning against the wall near the exit door

“What are you doing here”

“I just missed you babe—“

“I’m not your babe!”

“Come on…don’t be like that”

You shove past him walking to your car and shoving your stuff inside he grabs your wrist pulling you against his chest. “I miss you” he coo’s

“Toji!—“

He pulls you into a small kiss only for you to push him away and go into your car slamming the door you rolled down the window. “I don’t wanna see your face again!” You roll the window back up driving off into the sunset you show up home late because you went to seek comfort from your best friend after what the stunt Toji pulled earlier.

★🎸🎧⋆｡ °⋆

You entered your house sluggishly kicking your shoes off and laying face down into the couch just being there for a couple minutes made you tired and right as you were slipping in and out of sleep you heard a knock at your door you get up dragging your feet and opening the door with a groan.

“Who is it-“ your eyes widened at the sight it was none other than Toji holding a bouquet of roses with a dumb smile on his face he basically invites himself in making himself comfortable on the roses placed on the coffee table in front of him

“Aah…babe I didn’t know you got new furniture~”

“Toji why are you even here?” You say rubbing your temples

“I want you to take me back come on!”

You make your way to the couch crossing your arms scoffing “seriously?”

“Yes ‘seriously’ come on I swear we’ll spend every moment together this time”

At this point you didn’t even think he was serious about this you just thought he was drunk maybe and he just stumbled upon flowers brought them impulsively with the thought of apologizing to you and showing up at your house yup sounds exactly like him

“As if you’re just saying that—“ he gets up taking your hand in his and placing it against his chest

“Come on baby I’m begging here”

He brings your hand up to his face making your cup his cheeks then he slowly lowers it to his lips placing a small peck on your hand. “I’ll do anything just to make it right come on Y/n”

This form of affection wasn’t new to you but coming from Toji it felt new…it felt real new you’ve never seen the man beg not even a little and now he’s practically begging for you to take him back.

It wouldn’t hurt to try one more time right?

[harleehazbinfics]

Blue Roses | Helluva Fic

✓ author profile

Synopsis: To continue his apology tour, Blitz goes to his ex-bestfriend's place to give an apology.

Hi! Yeah, I watched the Apology Tour EP and I loved it, mostly cuz I liked the songs and how they made Blitz suffer lmao- but hey! I made a fic to live our delulu to. Hope you enjoy! (i just really needed to get this out of my system it's been bubbling in my brain the whole day)

"Heyyyyy bitch."

I roll my eyes as his annoying voice swept across my office. I give him a sigh, then dropping my pen onto the desk to look at him and ask, "What do you want, Blitz?"

"Oh nothing, nothing. Just wanted to drop by and give you these flowers. I knew how much you liked them," he answers feigning confidence as he tosses a bouquet of blue roses, "You know how much I had to pay for that shit? It's hell and you pick the blue ones as your favorite IN HELL."

My eyes widen in surprise as I looked at the roses. I could already smell delightful scent of them. They certainly are genuine but the Blitz I knew would never give these to me just because.

"Are you high?" I asked him skeptically.

He scoffs and retorts, "God! No, I'm not! Lay off my dick, will ya? I just wanted to do something nice for once and this is the shit I get."

He plops down on my couch with a groan as he buries his head down in his hands. I couldn't help but feel pity for him. I frown looking at him then at the flowers before walking slowly towards him.

I put my hand on his shoulder and give him a small smile, "Thanks, Blitz. They're lovely."

He looks back at me with empty eyes before nodding in acknowledgement while I sit beside him placing the flowers on the coffee table.

"I heard you went to Ver's party on earth," I started, I saw him tense up, "You really have balls to go to a party that's just for hating you, you know?"

"Or just really stupid," he admits making me laugh.

"No no. I think your little apology tour went well, no?" I challenged him.

"Yeah, a real eye opener. I couldn't even get a wink of sleep last night," he sighs rubbing his sore eyes. "I'm surprised you weren't there honestly. We haven't talked in years after I just bailed on you."

"Oh, please don't compare me to your petty exes. I, at least, have some class," I say striking a posing before quickly jabbing my thumb at the pile of papers behind us, "And a fuck load of paperwork from Asmo and Fizz."

He stays silent letting me ramble on, "I don't hate you, Blitz. I just knew you had other shit to deal with and so do I. As much as I loved staying as kids with you and Fizz. I, we, had to grow up eventually. After the circus burnt down, I had to work odd jobs to get back on my feet."

"Wanna know what I dreamt of then?"

"What?"

"I dreamt that I made a lot of money, made a name for myself. So that I never had to worry about you guys being sold to someone, so we could make our own circus, we could do what we wanted to do the most. So, I did. But when I got what I wanted, I saw you doing your own shit with the IMPS and Fizz being a star for Mammon, I just couldn't but feel lonely, y'know?"

"Look, I'm sorr--"

"But I'm really happy that I got to see you again and that's all that matters to me."

He looks at me teary eyed which he quickly wipes before they could fall making me laugh at his tough guy act.

I stood up from my spot and held out my hand for him, "Looks like you had a shitty week. Wanna get Fizzy and get out for some drinks at Beelz?"

Finally, a smile crept on Blitz' face and accepted my hand. "Oh, bet."

"Alright! ASMO *bang* I'M BORROWING YOUR BOYFRIEND!"

[enquiringangel]

Family Dinner

for @themarginalthinker who wanted Max introducing Lucy to his Boys. Some David/Michael and vague David/Michael/Star because I am weak, lol.

When Max told him of his plans to turn some woman he met and her two kids, David got it. He was lonely once too. Before his boys came along, it had been just the two of them for a good thirty years.  And Max was many things, but entertaining company? Definitely not one of them. It was like living with an undead accountant. By that point David had seriously begun to wonder if it was possible for an immortal to die of sheer boredom.  

In his own way, Max had understood this. Though he got annoyed with him whenever David had been too messy or too obvious with his kills, in the very next moment he would dismiss it as ‘the impetuousness of youth’. And when David had come back to their lair one night unable to stop gushing about this guy he’d met down by the docks and how fun it had been to watch this scrappy kid defend himself with a crowbar against five guys and win, Max had studied him curiously and asked, “Would you like a brother, David?”  

The rest was history. Max had given him Marko, then later Dwayne, then Paul, and boredom and loneliness had become a thing of the past. So yeah, he could understand Max wanting to have someone on his own wavelength for company through eternity. That didn’t mean Max’s whole ‘let’s play happy families’ shtick wasn’t ridiculous though. He didn’t need mothering. That ship had long set sail. 

Still, Max was pretty insistent on them coming along tonight. “I’ve already told her about you,” he said, in response to the Boys’ complaints about wasting a perfectly good Friday sitting around a table and playing house when they could be off doing things that were actually fun. “Lucy said she would like to meet you all properly. And I wouldn’t want to disappoint her by turning up without you.” Despite their maker’s mild words and genial tone, the look in his eye made it very clear that their presence at this family dinner was not a request.  

"Besides,” Max continued. “Her boys will be there. This will be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know each other better.” 

The four younger vampires had all exchanged smirks, since they felt that they were already getting to know Michael pretty well on their own. But David wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to spend more time with him. There was a wildness hiding behind that Joe-normal façade. A darkness. David wanted to crack Michael open and taste it.  

Michael, he had decided, was even worth sacrificing a Friday night for. When he had shared this opinion with the boys, they had all teased him something rotten.  

Assholes, he thought affectionately as he glanced across at Marko and Dwayne who were crammed in the back seat with him. Paul had called dibs on shotgun to have control over the radio; Max insisted they were all going in his car instead of taking their bikes, but that didn’t mean they had to be subjected to Barry Manilow the entire way. Paul was currently slapping his thigh and singing along to Poison’s ‘Talk to Dirty to Me’. In the interest of keeping the peace, Max endured this in a long-suffering way, other than to keep turning the volume down. Whenever his attention was on the road, Paul would surreptitiously turn it back up again.  

Max drove along a rutted track until they came to a lodge-style farmhouse, the yard decorated with lots of wooden carvings. The boys had been here before of course, when they had dropped Michael home after their fun proved a little too much for his fledgling self to handle. They unfolded themselves from Max’s car, while their maker fussed around straightening out the wrapping on the bouquet he’d brought with him and adjusting his tie.  

The boys were dressed in their preferred style, though Max had demanded Dwayne put a shirt on for the occasion, something that Dwayne had complied with in malicious silence. The black t-shirt was Paul’s, meaning it was a size or two too tight, hugging Dwayne’s pecs. Across the front in white letters were emblazoned the words: ‘GUITARISTS FINGER BETTER.’ Max appeared not to have noticed. 

“Now boys, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you to be on your best behavior,” Max warned as he led them to the front door. The thoughts that streamed into David’s head were a reminder of what awaited them should they fail to do so: a few weeks spent clawing at the lining of a coffin buried in a shallow grave, with wild roses laid on the lid to stop them breaking out. Max had a very literal interpretation of ‘grounding’. 

One day old man. One day, David vowed, careful to keep the thought to himself.  

Just as Max raised his fist to knock on the door, who should open it but Michael? 

The half-vampire looked astonished to see them. “David?” he blurted out, ignoring Max’s attempt to greet him as if he wasn’t even there. “Guys? What are...wait.” He flicked his eyes between the four motorcycle-riding punks and the unassuming and badly dressed man in a suit and did the necessary math. “...this guy’s your dad?” In the bond blooming between their minds, David could hear Michael’s confusion over the fact that the gang had apparently been serious when they called each other brothers. ‘They don’t look anything alike...’ 

“We’re all adopted,” Marko put in helpfully, answering the unspoken question.  

Max cleared his throat. He was smiling, but if you knew him you could see there was definitely an edge to it. “That’s correct. Hi, you must be Michael.” He extended a hand in greeting. 

Michael didn’t take it, instead looking Max coolly up and down. “And you must be Max,” he said, sneering faintly.  

Max was spared from further awkwardness by the sound of heels tapping rhythmically on the carpet and the appearance of a smiling woman with short red hair. “Michael? Is there someone at—Oh, hi!” she said, hurrying over. Lucy smiled at him, before turning her attention to the four (seemingly) young men standing on the doorstep. For a moment her smile faltered slightly and as he met her eyes David could hear her thoughts loud and clear. ‘These are the boys who were in the video store a few nights ago...why would Max kick them out if they’re his sons?’ 

This lady’s smart. Guess it skipped a generation, David thought to himself. But Michael was pretty enough that it didn’t matter, he supposed. 

He gave her his most winning smile.  “Hi. You must be Lucy, we’ve heard so much about you. I’m David.” He clasped one of her hands like she was one of the debutantes he had never been allowed anywhere near as a human, and brushed his lips across the back of her knuckles. A quick glance at Michael told him that the other boy looked like he was either going to have an aneurism or punch him in the face again - it was fantastic. 

Lucy laughed, delighted. “My goodness, what a charmer! Max, you’re raising a heartbreaker,” she teased, still chuckling. 

“I try,” David said, smiling impishly. “This is Dwayne, Paul and Marko.” He nodded to each and the boys greeted her in turn, Dwayne with a nod and one of his bedazzling smiles, Marko with a grin and a little wave, and Paul with a brief hug and a kiss to each cheek, continental style.  

“I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” Lucy exclaimed, stepping back from the doorway so that they could file past her. “Please come inside, all of you. Michael honey, are you going out or coming in?” she added. 

Michael blinked; he had been staring at David so intently that when he tore his gaze away there was almost an audible rupture. “Hm? Oh right. Yeah, I was just leaving."  

Michael’s thoughts were full of Star, and it made David grit his teeth. He was not jealous; that was ridiculous. They were both his, and he didn’t mind Michael fucking her. But they could’ve at least had the courtesy to invite him to join them. 

(Okay, so maybe he was slightly miffed that Star had gotten a taste of Michael before him. Just a little.) 

“Aw, you’re not going are you Michael?” Marko asked as he stepped past Michael into the house.  

“Yeah, come on you gotta stay man.” Paul gave Michael a friendly shove, and then was quickly distracted by the novelty of his reflection in the hallway mirror. He drifted over to it. 

“You could give us a tour,” Dwayne suggested, poking at a taxidermied beaver smoking a cuban cigar.  

“That’s a good idea,” Lucy agreed, eager to have Michael stay for dinner with them all. And pleased that they already appeared to know one another and to get along so well. Max presented her with the flowers and she led him off into the dining room to go and put them into some water. 

Michael appeared torn. He wanted to see Star, yes, but the thoughts continuously leaking across into David’s mind revealed that what he actually wanted more than anything else was answers. Star hadn’t actually told him anything, and had in fact protested tearfully that she couldn’t, and that she didn’t know how to help him. But David had done this to him, hadn’t he...so maybe he could help put it right again. 

David looped his arm around Michael’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze. “Come on, Michael. Stay. I’m sure we’ll have lots to talk about,” he said, eyeing Michael meaningfully. His lips curled into a grin.  

After a moment, Michael nodded and stepped into the house, closing the door behind him.  

((The Boys 5 minutes later: *all jockeying for position at the mirror and standing there pulling funny faces and cracking up at the novelty. The line about Max's interpretation of 'grounding' was inspired by @marypsue's brilliant fic 'look for something left in this world'.))

[arthurcantsleep]

I can't stop thinking about the Hope AU so here are some of my thoughts.

Hope and Death wandering into a tavern in Italy in 1389, to have a drink and mingle, when Hope sees a group of philosophers discussing death.

"I simply find the concept, outside of discussion of the afterlife, too simple. One must struggle all their lives to make something for themselves only to end up in the ground? Seems a waste." A tall pale man in the corner says as if it's really so simple. He's beautiful. "I won't do it. You know what one such as I could accomplish in 100 years?"

"you like that one, don't you?" Death says as she rests her head on Hope's shoulder. He can only manage a smile in response. "Then I shall grant his wish. Would you like to go and tell him?"

"Pardon me but am I to understand that you don't intend on dying?" Hope says to the man in front of him. the other men laugh, but his man, Morpheus just sits up straighter and replies

"No I do not" "I can't wait to see what you accomplish in 100 years then,"

1489 they meet and Hope can barely even focus on anything but the beautiful red tint the wine had left on Morpheus' lip as he asks, quite haughtily, if he has made a devil's bargain. Hope offers him another drink and tells him that he only wishes to understand humanity.

They leave late that night, practically morning time, and Hope has so much to tell Death. So much that she can only smile too knowing as he babbles on.

1589 they meet in Paris this time, and the smell of the city is awful and it's so dirty, but Morpheus is doing quite well for himself as an astronomer and he's been studying the stars and tell Hope about constellations and the stories they tell. He calls Hope Stranger and Hope, feeling a little too seen and a little silly, realizes he has never told Morpheus who he was.

1689, they meet in a tiny town in Ireland. Morpheus looks too thin and his finery has been replaced with simpler unembroidered cloth. He was tried for witch craft and chased through Europe and had to change his identity and is now a bounty hunter.

"they have become quite Catholic since I was last here," Morpheus tells him. "I have offended them with my lack of faith I think," And then he smiles. "Are you Jesus?"

Fast forward to 1889. Hope is in love. He wants to tell Morpheus, wants to enter the little English tavern they settled on and tell it from the rooftops. Morpheus, a surgeon this century, walks in and takes his breath away. All dressed up in his tailored suit and talking of the new Germ Theory that has saved lives.

And then-

"I'm glad you are doing so well, my friend," Hope says and reaches across to rest his hand on Morpheus'. Those shocking blue eyes watched, but he didn't pull away at the touch. "I have a proposal of sorts. Our arrangement, I feel, has changed."

"what do you mean?"

"What I mean to say, is that I have really enjoyed our meetings and I think you have too. I have become quite lonely, so many centuries and millenia on my own, and I think you have been lonely too. I thought perhaps, we could meet more often." Hope felt the hand in his and resisted the urge to squeeze it. "As friends."

Morpheus looked sick. He went both pale and red as his eyes went from Hope's face to their hands. "I don't understand."

"are we not friends?" Hope asked, pleaded, really.

"Look at us." Morpheus said. "You've never even told me who you are! What you are! I am one of the most brilliant minds Europe has ever had. I don't need your company." He ripped his hand away and started gathering his things.

"what if you do? Why does that make you so upset?" Hope pleads as he follows his closest friend out of the door. Morpheus is very pointedly not responding. "I'll still be here. This pub in a hundred years, and I expect an apology!"

Hope doesn't make it to that bar in the next century. He's been locked up for quite some time. He doesn't even know when Morpheus shows up with a bouquet of wildflowers and waits all night for him.

[zoeydripdoria]

The night sky, alive with stars

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉୨୧﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

Trash Magic Lana Del Rey                                                ♥︎

⇄              ◁◁  𝚰𝚰   ▷▷               ↻

   ⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

Sanemi x Kanae

angst/fluff

﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉♡﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉﹉

As the sun starts its descent downwards, casting a warm, orange glow over the woods, a lone figure stands atop the crest of the hill that held a graveyard for all of the souls lost in the demon slayer corps battle with Muzan Kibutsuji. His steps were heavy, his heart even heavier, as he bore a bouquet of freshly picked flowers in his strong, calloused hands. He was a man of few words and even fewer smiles, but the determination in his eyes and the set of his jaw betrayed the depth of his feelings as he neared his destination.

The grave, when he finally reached it, was modest, adorned with a simple headstone etched with Kanae's name and a few choice words. Sanemi took a moment to stare at it, his expression a strange mix of longing and acceptance. He placed the bouquet of flowers gently atop the mound of freshly turned earth, then knelt down to the grave's level, his broad shoulders hunched forward.

Time seemed to slow as he knelt there, lost in thought. His mind drifted back to the day he'd received the news of Kanae's death, and the overwhelming surge of emotions that had threatened to consume him. He remembered the anger, the bitterness, the rage that had consumed him for weeks on end, and how it had driven him to train harder, to fight harder, to become even stronger. Even now, as he knelt before her final resting place, he couldn't help but feel that same burning desire to protect her, to avenge her.

As the last rays of sunlight disappeared, leaving the world bathed in a velvety blanket of twilight, Sanemi closed his eyes and whispered a silent prayer, his voice rough and hoarse with emotion. He prayed for Kanae's soul to find peace, for her to be at rest. He prayed that one day, he would be strong enough to face whatever lay beyond this world, and that they would be reunited once more.

And as he finished his prayer, Sanemi felt a gentle breeze rustle through the branches of the nearby trees, carrying with it the sweet scent of the flowers he'd brought. It was as if Kanae herself were telling him that she was, in some small way, still with him. And in that moment, Sanemi felt a sense of peace wash over him, however fleeting.

He sat there for a while longer, lost in thought, remembering the day they first met.

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with the coppery scent of blood. Sanemi winced as he forced himself upright, his hands pressing against the floor for support. He glanced around, his vision blurred and unfocused. The butterfly mansion seemed to sway back and forth, like a ghostly ship adrift at sea. A figure stood before him, It was a woman, her long black hair flowing behind her like a midnight river. She moved with the grace of a dancer, her steps silent. As she drew closer, he could see the faint outline of a sword hilt protruding from her belt and he could see that she was not much older than he was. Her features were delicate and refined, her lips a deep shade of red. Her sword, he noticed, was made of an iridescent metal that shifted and changed colour with the light that seemed to dance and flow like living things. She must be a demon slayer.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice as gentle as a whisper. Sanemi shook his head, the world spinning wildly around him. "Here," she said, offering him a hand. "Let me help you up." He hesitated for a moment, then took her hand, allowing her to pull him to his feet. His clothes felt heavy and uncomfortable, sticking to his skin like a second layer of flesh. Blood seeped through the fabric, staining it crimson.

The room spun again, and Sanemi felt himself collapsing against the wall. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. The figure knelt down beside him, her face mere inches from his own. "Shhh," she murmured, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead. "It's going to be alright. I'll take care of you." He looked into her eyes, and for a moment, he felt a strange sense of peace wash over him.

The wound itself was severe; a long, jagged gash stretched across his abdomen, spilling thick blood onto his dirty white hoari beneath him. The sound of ringing filled Sanemi's ears, making it difficult for him to concentrate or even hear Kanae's soft voice as she spoke to him.

"My name is Kanae," she said softly. "What's your name?" 

"S-Sanemi," he managed to choke out. Kanae nodded, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Just relax, Sanemi," Kanae said, her voice steady and soothing. "I know it hurts, but I need you to stay still so I can stitch you up properly." She paused, gathering a few more supplies before continuing, "You're a strong man, I know you can do it."

Sanemi gritted his teeth, struggling to remain still despite the burning pain that seemed to be coming from every part of his body. He was grateful for Kanae's calm demeanor; it helped him feel more at ease despite the situation. As she worked, her slender fingers moved with a practiced grace, expertly stitching the wound shut. The butterfly hairpins that adorned her hair swayed gently with each careful movement of her head.

"There we go," she said at last, stepping back to examine her handywork. "That should do it." She laid a cool, gentle hand on Sanemi's forehead, checking his temperature. "You've lost quite a bit of blood, but you should be okay now. Just rest and let your body heal."

Sanemi breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the tension begin to drain from his body as the pain started to recede. He looked up at Kanae, realizing for the first time how truly beautiful she was. Her delicate features, the way her butterfly hairpins swayed with each movement of her head, the gentle way she had with her patients. Even with his injuries, he found himself unable to resist the allure of her presence.

"Thank you," he managed to say through gritted teeth. "I... I really appreciate it."

A moment later, he felt himself being lifted and carried away. He drifted in and out of consciousness, aware only of the soft rustle of her clothes and the faint scent of lavender that clung to her. At one point, he thought he heard her murmur something about his injuries and finding a place for him to rest, but the words were distant and indistinct, like a dream half-remembered upon waking.

It seemed like hours passed before he found himself lying on a soft, comfortable bed. The pain had receded to a dull ache, and he felt surprisingly warm and cozy. He opened his eyes, squinting against the bright light that streamed in through a nearby window. Sitting in a chair beside the bed, Kanae knitted her brows in concentration as she studied a book.

"Ah, you're awake," she said, looking up at him with a gentle smile. "How are you feeling?"

Sanemi sat up a little, wincing at the movement. "Still sore, but better," he replied hoarsely.

"That's good to hear," Kanae said, setting aside her book. "Your wound has healed nicely. It should be completely fine in a few more days." She reached out and placed a cool hand on his forehead, feeling for his temperature. "You should rest some more and let your body recuperate."

Sanemi nodded, laying back against the pillow. He couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Kanae for everything she had done for him. As he lay there, watching her knit and her delicate fingers move with such grace.

"Thank you, Kanae," he said quietly. "For everything."

She looked up at him, her expression unreadable. "It was my duty to help," she said simply. "But you're welcome nonetheless."

Their eyes met for a long moment, and Sanemi felt a strange mixture of emotions coursing through him. He wanted to know more about Kanae, to understand what lay behind those enigmatic eyes. 

He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her presence wash over him and drifting off to sleep once more.

Kanae smiled to herself, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. 

The days passed in a blur of tenderness and healing. Sanemi's wound continued to mend, and each day brought him a little closer to being able to leave the butterfly mansion. Though he knew he should be grateful for her help, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was growing too close to Kanae. Their time together was becoming more than just that of patient and caretaker; it was evolving into something deeper, something more of a friendship.

He would wake each morning to the sound of her soft footsteps in the hallway, the smell of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air. She would carefully lift him from his bed and carry him downstairs to the breakfast nook, where they would share quiet conversations about herbs and their healing properties.

"I've been thinking," she said one morning, her voice barely above a whisper, "that perhaps it's time for you to start exploring the outside again. The fresh air would do you good."

Sanemi nodded, feeling a pang of regret at the thought of leaving the comfort of her presence. "I suppose you're right," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Where do you suggest I go first?"

Kanae smiled gently. "Well, I have a garden in the back. that's perfect for someone in your condition. It's quiet and secluded, with plenty of shade trees and a small stream. It should give you a chance to stretch your legs and enjoy the beauty of nature."

He felt a surge of hope at the thought of returning to some semblance of normalcy. "Thank you," he said, taking her hand in his. 

Her skin was warm and smooth against his, and for a moment, they sat in silence, lost in each other's eyes. Sanemi was acutely aware of the weight of her gaze, the way it seemed to pierce right through him. He wanted nothing more than to confess his growing affection for her, but he couldn't bring himself to break the spell.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" she asked finally, breaking the silence. "I don't want to push you too hard."

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. 

She squeezed his hand gently before letting go, and Sanemi felt a flutter in his chest at the loss of her touch. "All right then," she said, standing up and straightening her hoari. "Let's get you ready."

She helped him dress in fresh clothes and insisted on bandaging his chest herself, her delicate fingers moving with a practiced ease. Sanemi could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as she leaned in close, their bodies brushing against each other.

"There," she said at last, stepping back to admire her work. "You look handsome as ever."

Sanemi, feeling a warmth spread through his entire being. "Thanks."

 back at him, her eyes shining with an unnameable emotion. "You're welcome, Sanemi."

The weight of her gaze felt like a physical presence, pressing down on him, making it difficult to breathe. 

The garden was indeed everything Kanae had promised. The wisteria cast dappled shadows across the soft green grass, and the gentle babble of the stream provided a soothing background melody. Sanemi took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air, feeling a newfound sense of freedom wash over him.

They sat together on a nearby bench, watching a family of ducks swim lazily across the pond. Kanae pointed out the different plants and flowers, their names lost on Sanemi but their beauty not going unnoticed. He couldn't help but feel grateful for her presence, for the way she seemed to make everything more vibrant, more alive.

"Do you come here often?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looked away for a moment, her lips pursing as she considered the question. "Not as often as I'd like," she replied eventually. "My duties as a Hashira keep me rather busy."

"Ah, I see." Sanemi nodded. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness for her, knowing that she was so busy with her duties that she didn't have much time for herself. But at the same time, he was grateful for the moments they did have together.

They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the peacefulness of the garden. Sanemi couldn't help but notice the way the sunlight played off Kanae's features, the way her hair seemed to glow gold in the warm light. Her eyes were filled with wisdom and kindness. Sanemi couldn't shake the feeling that there was something special about her.

Kanae exhales a soft breath, her cheeks flushed with warmth. Her hands, resting gently on the table, seem to glow with their own inner light. Sanemi finds himself unable to take his eyes off them. They remind him of his mother's hands, soft and warm, always there to comfort him when he needed it most.

 She's telling him about her life, about how she became a demon slayer, about her younger sibling, Shinobu. Sanemi listens intently, his heart heavy with sorrow for the loss she must have suffered. He can't help but wonder if he would have been able to make the same choice, to let his own sibling walk into danger like that again.

The image of his own little brother flashes through his mind, the memory of his giggles and the way he would always beg him to play with him. He shakes his head, trying to clear it of these thoughts.

Kanae continues to speak, her voice steady and strong, each word a testament to her resilience. She tells him about the times when she and Shinobu had faced insurmountable odds, when death seemed like a welcome release from their suffering. Yet, somehow, they had always managed to pull through, their bond growing stronger with each passing day.

As Sanemi listens to her tale, he can't help but feel a surge of admiration and respect for her. Her strength, her determination, her unwavering love for her sibling - it's all so foreign to him, yet so inspiring at the same time. He finds himself nodding along, offering her the occasional encouraging word or murmur of understanding.

The sun dips below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. Sanemi realizes that they've been sitting here for hours, lost in each other's stories. 

As they finally stand up to leave, Sanemi finds himself unable to meet her eyes. He feels self-conscious, like he's been peeking into her soul and somehow doesn't measure up. And as he walks away, he can't help but feel a strange mixture of awe and anticipation coursing through him.

And now, the air is crisp and clean as he makes his way, the night sky alive with stars. Leaving her grave, he can't help but imagine her watching over him, guiding his steps, pushing him forward.

[house-afire]

Doggie Heaven (fix-it, Izzy & Fang, Izzy & dogs)

Turns out, when half the Caribbean’s spent the last twenty-odd years calling you Blackbeard’s dog, it really fucks up death’s sense of what berth to hand you.

That’s as good an explanation as Izzy can come up with, anyhow, since he bled out on the Revenge and woke up in doggie heaven.

It’s not so bad, really. Better than most place he’s been. A lot of it is an endless meadow, peppered with wildflowers and crisscrossed with streams. He just has to watch where he steps, because this might be the only heaven with quite this much piss and shit in it. It all fades away after a day, though, so there’s never too much of it; the dogs just seem to like a good bouquet of smells about.

They seem to like him too. Bring him sticks when they want to play. Lick his tears away when he’s lonely. When Izzy stretches out at night, under the glittering canopy of unrecognizable stars, the dogs come and sleep around him. One squat, white, bullet-headed terrier always curls up in a ball up by Izzy’s armpit, so Izzy has to sleep with his arm slung out across the furry, furnace-hot twat. It’s not uncomfortable—heaven and all—but Izzy pretends to mind anyway: he scratches the pup around his flared, pointy ears and tells him he’s a fucking terror.

One day he wakes up with the Fucking Terror lying on his chest, silhouetted by blue sky.

“You’re lucky this can’t kill me here,” Izzy says, rubbing the dog along his ribs and listening to his tail thump. “You weigh a fucking ton.”

The Fucking Terror puts his chin down against Izzy’s sternum and looks up at him adoringly, and all of a sudden, Izzy remembers.

“Fuck me,” he says. “You’re Fang’s dog.”

The Fucking Terror wags his entire back half at hearing Fang’s name, to the point where he tumbles off Izzy’s chest. The weight of him seems to stay, though.

He didn’t give the order for Fang to kill the Fucking Terror, or whatever the dog’s name was back then, but he made sure it was done. Didn’t try to argue Edward out of it. Didn't stop it.

You shouldn’t have brought him here in the first place, he told Fang. Blackbeard’s right: the ship’s no place for a pet. You going to take him out for walkies in the middle of a raid? All he’ll do is eat up more than your share of the rations and make us all soft.

He remembers Fang crying. Fang’s clothes matted with short white hairs.

“I’d stop it now,” he tells the Fucking Terror, “but he wouldn’t order it now anyway, would he? And then there was a time when he wouldn’t, and I told him he should. I hung on his neck about it.” He exhales. “Our whole lives, there were only ever a few days, really, when we could save each other from ourselves. And that was too late for you. We had such rotten fucking timing, me and Ed, until the end. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t look out for you. Didn’t look out for Fang.”

The dog licks his face. Dogs are the forgiving kind.

Izzy knows better now than to take that puppy-eyed love for granted, or think it comes cheap just because it comes easy. He pets the Fucking Terror and presses his face to the dog’s bristly side, breathing in the smell of him.

“Wish I could take you back to him,” he says, one arm around the dog’s neck. “You’re young still, and Fang deserves—”

The Fucking Terror barks directly in Izzy’s ear.

Underneath all the ringing that ensues, he realizes that he has an unnaturally clear idea of what the dog is—wild as it seems—trying to say.

Wish I could take you back, he said.

The bark answers: You can.

It’s a reply that, until this last year, Izzy Hands would have said existed only in places like doggie heaven. Life’s not that kind. You fuck things up and you live with it, that’s all.

But as impossible as it seems, he’s gotten these kinds of chances before. There’s a reason why, even in doggie heaven, where he moves gracefully as ever and without any pain, he still has one golden hoof: because he loved this undeserved epilogue more than anything else in his whole fucking life, and there’d be no heaven without it. Doggie or otherwise.

So he’s going to follow the spirit of Fang’s dead dog, because, well, he followed Stede Fucking Bonnet, too, and it turned out all right until Pinocchio the Cunt put a bullet in him.

“Lead on, then,” Izzy says to the Fucking Terror.

The dog gives another enthusiastic, all-rump waggle, hops to his feet, and starts jogging resolutely towards the west.

“I always thought the west would just take us deeper into dying,” Izzy says. “That’s what people usually mean by it, down there.”

The Fucking Terror, one bafflingly comprehensible answer aside, is the strong and silent type; he doesn’t bark out any particular response to that. Which is probably just as well, now that Izzy thinks about it, because it’s one thing to try to resurrect your friend’s dog and it’s another thing to have a fucking philosophical discussion with it.

He follows the dog west.

It’s hard to tell much about how time and space work in doggie heaven. As far as Izzy can see, they may just do what the dogs want or expect them to do.

The Fucking Terror doesn’t think in miles, just in terms like near or far, and he knows that where he’s taking Izzy must be very far away.

So it is. They go without sleeping or tiring, but all the same, they walk for what may be days or even weeks. It’s a long enough trek that the world around them changes, and the meadows turn to dunes, to shale, to sand, to lush tangles of green. The air warms, and Izzy can smell the sea.

The ocean opens up before them, wide and blue.

And the Revenge is there, settled onto the sand not like Bonnet’s run her aground again but like she’s there as naturally as driftwood. Ships aren’t meant to look this good on land, but this one does. She’s as pretty as Bonnet’s model of her, and she’s waiting for them.

They’ve carved a new unicorn for her prow, painted it black and gray and given it one shining gold hoof.

“Fucking twats,” Izzy says, his eyes burning. “Salt’s going to eat away at the paint. You’ll have to touch it up every other week.”

The Fucking Terror yips at him a bit until Izzy picks the dog up and gives him a proper cuddle. He settles down so comfortably in Izzy’s arms that Izzy decides to leave him there and just carry him aboard. It’s practical, or so he tells himself.

The Revenge is quiet: a living ship is a ghost ship, apparently, if the land is full of ghosts already. But as Izzy walks through it—the Fucking Terror doesn’t seem to object to him taking his time—he finds signs of his crew, here but just out of his reach. Roach’s galley smells like fresh bread and the broth from the Pirate Queen’s ship. There are nicks in some of the posts where Jimenez has been throwing knives. Frenchie’s lute is slung into a hammock. There’s the potted plant that once proved Bonnet’s pirate bona fides.

One of the rooms—Izzy refuses to acknowledge that he knows very fucking well it’s what they called the jam room, because if he does, his brain will start leaking out his ears—has been converted into Spriggs’s personal gallery. Lots of dicks—some of which Izzy knows on sight; you didn’t forget the bend in Pete’s once you’d seen it, God knows—but sketches of ships and shells and birds, too. A few crew portraits where everyone’s got their cocks or other bits put away.

There’s a drawing of him singing at Calypso’s birthday.

The Fucking Terror looks at the picture with interest.

“I know,” Izzy says, trying to make a crack about it and not sure he's putting it over. “Stunner, wasn’t I?”

The dog sends his tail flying into Izzy’s chest.

This little tour of theirs has to come to an end. If Izzy stays here any longer, he’ll be too fucking heartsick to leave the dog behind the way he should. He has to let the Fucking Terror live, the way he once let him die; he never did enough for Fang in life, but he’s going to do this for him now.

Can’t leave him on the deck, though. For all Izzy knows, the weather in the real world isn’t anything like this calm. (And that’s if this half-baked scheme of his—some bastard child of Ed’s plans and Bonnet’s—even works at all.) He hasn’t come all this way to let the little fucker be swept overboard.

But every sailor keeps a trunk, stored down belowdecks for safety, and it doesn’t take Izzy too long to find Fang’s.

Time was, this would have been locked, but nobody here is careful. Somehow, they’ve all found the one place where they don’t have to be.

Inside, the clothes all smell like Fang—sea and sourdough and rum and black pepper. Like the only hug Izzy’s had in years. He strokes the rough cotton of the top shirt and looks at where it’s mended with some bright purple thread that can only have come from Bonnet. It’s turned a tear into a pattern.

Purple’s Ed’s favorite color. Izzy always knew that, even though he used to pretend neither of them had a favorite anything. He knows Ed’s stitches, too—God love the man, but he’s shit with a needle, and Izzy’s crookedest scar comes from the time they both got drunk and decided they could do the surgeon’s job for him. These are too neat for Edward. Fang’s own work, probably.

Izzy lays the dog down in the trunk, in the nest of Fang’s clothes, and it feels like he’s tearing his own heart out of his chest.

“I’ll miss you,” he says, his voice raspier than ever from the tears he’d not going to fucking shed over a fucking dog that was never even fucking his to begin with, over the life and friends he’s already fucking lost. “If you can’t stay here, come find me. And—just fucking love him for me. Love all of them. Be a good dog.”

The Fucking Terror rubs his head against Izzy’s hand, licks him once, and curls up in Fang’s shirts.

Izzy scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his hands and sighs. That’s it, then. It’s done. He turns to go.

But—

His leg hurts.

He can feel the ship rock and sway in the calm, always-there way you almost never notice after a lifetime at sea. You don’t even feel it like this after being ashore, only after being becalmed for longer than you can stand.

The air is filling in with distant sounds.

Behind him, the Fucking Terror barks.

“What was that?” someone in the corridor says. “Is someone up to something weird in bed?”

It’s Fang. That works well enough. It’ll be nice, him being the one to find the dog.

But he won’t find Izzy, and Izzy has to remind himself of that, to not let his hopes rise up so far he chokes on them. He’s a ghost, and if Fang can even see him in the first place, all he’ll do is run—that’s what you do when the dead try to follow you.

And odds are, Fang will never even know he’s here.

The door opens.

“Anybody knocking boots in—”

Fang stops.

“Izzy,” he says, and Izzy doesn’t even get the chance to think before Fang is engulfing him in a tight embrace. It’s like having the dog on his chest all over again: he’s being crushed and he fucking loves it. “Izzy, you’re not dead!”

“I am,” Izzy says. It comes out as a croak. “I was.”

Fang still doesn’t let him go. “You’re too warm to be a corpse and too solid to be a ghost. That’s good enough for me. The barking’s a bit weird, but we can—”

“That wasn’t me, for fuck’s sake.” Izzy disentangles himself just enough to gesture at Fang’s open trunk. “Fucker found me up in doggie heaven. He wanted to come home.”

Fang looks. His eyes were already shining, and this finishes off the job and lets the tears fall. “Fluffy?”

“Fluffy,” Izzy mutters. “No wonder I didn’t remember that. Dog’s not fluffy at all, he’s sleek.”

The Fucking Fluff sits up in the trunk and barks until Fang scoops him up too, and then they’re just like that, all pressed together, wet with tears and dog slobber. And it’s not any heaven Izzy’s ever heard of, not with his aching leg and Fang’s beard half in his mouth and a dog named Fluffy, but it’s life, it’s a second chance, and he holds on and is held.

[trytofic]

Fall

I don't personally have any fall traditions, so it was hard to think of what Amy and Shadow would do. But I thought this would be a family tradition that Shadow does so he can really talk with Maria.

Ao3

Day 15: Fall

Fall traditions.

With the change of the seasons and the trees changing colors, Shadow brings Amy to a forest on an island near what used to be Prison Island. When it was blown up years prior by the Doctor, it changed the ecosystem in the surrounding islands. This island was one of the first where Shadow could really take in nature. She could hear the insects buzzing and saw the trees and flowers growing so well. It was the first time since he had woken up from his stasis that he could appreciate the environment he was left to live in. 

The trees were shedding their leaves and the colors around them had Amy in awe. It all looked so much more vibrant than Hedgehog’s Pass. She smiled looking at how tall and full of life the trees were. It was a beautiful sight that she was so excited to explore with Shadow.

“So how come we’re here? You said something about a tradition?” She turned to see him looking at the colored leaves on the ground with a small smile on his lips. 

“Yes. Every fall when the leaves begin to change I come here and I celebrate what I assume would be Maria’s birthday.” His eyes were sad, even though his smile was still there. He looked up to Amy and he held out his hand. As she took it he led her to a small patch of grass by the largest tree in the area. “I collect leaves of different colors and I fold and glue them into the shape of flowers, leaving them here at this tree.”

“Oh wow, every year?” She looked at him setting down a small bag he carried with him. “Were you lonely?”

“Not especially.” He said as he started to wander towards the leaves on the ground. “I would usually talk to her, and explain what I had done in the past year. I would often bring a lunch and simply enjoy the sounds of the environment. But this year, since we have started seeing each other romantically, I wanted you to be a part of this tradition.”

“I would love to be a part of it. Tell me more about her. If you feel comfortable.” She smiled walking towards another pile of leaves.

“Oh, where to start…”

The hours were filled with laughter from stories of Shadow as a young hedgehog, learning about space, science, his abilities, and the earth which Maria had come from. She had laughed at how they pranked the Professor, how Maria had comforted him after his first set of tests and he felt sick; and he told her about how they would watch the stars every day, making their own pictures with them. Amy learned so much about Shadow and about Maria that day. She was excited to be a part of his tradition and the tree was surrounded by dozens of leaf flowers, folded, and gently placed at the trunk. 

Amy did notice that her name was carved into the tree, though small and sloppily written, it stayed there as a reminder of when Shadow had finally seen the beauty in the world for the first time. Amy smiled at the name and gently, in between one of the bouquets of flowers she stuck a tarot card, the star. A sign to show that life still carried on with Shadow and with the planet he had come to love, even without her in it.

[kaopiak]

Luco Notes

He/They - 30s - Semi-Aquatic alien that has similarities to earth fauna

Their name is based on the scientific name of the Sea Krait, an anagram of the first half Colubrina > Luco.

i stared at that for so long trying to figure out a name for this guy LMFAO AGHH

His home is on the land area of his planet, but spends most hours of the day in the ocean if he’s not doing a job.

Luco collects their poison in many vials; not needing a lot to paralyze or kill a person. Sea Krait venom is one of the most potent of venoms. His bite is usually painless . Prefers injecting targets with the vials by needle or putting it in their food or drink.

I wanted to base his personality somewhat on how sea kraits act in nature; they are actually docile and non-aggressive animals that only attack in self defense or if they’re searching for prey. Luco is easy-going and actually friendly but he uses his personality to ease into people’s walls and strike when they’re most comfortable and when they let their guard down. Their method of betrayal varies, they’re usually loyal to the person who pays the most and pays upfront with consistency.

As for the ‘executioner’ outfit they have; it’s often used and originally made for underwater hunts. Often times it’s used in a method where the target is lured or ‘lost’ in a secluded area and Luco comes from below or along a hidden area in the colorful corals and strikes. The wetsuit is also space-travel safe so he takes care of it very well. Not everyone knows of his special suit because the services rendered in it are more high stakes and also uses a lot of time and planning in order to get it just right.

They don’t seem to be romantically involved with anyone currently and tries not to hang around too long with a person because they fear they may get too attached. Many one-night stands but they DO have their favorites despite trying not to stay in one place. They can be sweet and love to leave little gifts; they give everyone they meet their own special and unique color item. He is especially interested in those who reciprocate. It takes two to tango, baby! Luco also does enjoy teasing and slithering his way into someone’s heart also. His love is a poison that can linger.

Character Relations

Lone Starr knows them from various body guarding jobs, along with seeing Luco on his free time since they seem to get along. They drink whiskey together and have spent the night in a bed with each other before but nothing came of it. Is aware of his actual ‘job’ but turns his cheek to it.

Shuuti has hired Luco as a body guard before, she loves when they give her bouquets of peach-colored carnations. She appreciates his work as a guard but has shown Luco not to mess with her. She is aware of his true character.

Neo has not encountered Luco personally but may have seen them swimming on random planets.

Solare has had Luco reserve a room for themselves at his Inn but does not know much about them.

Luco is sort of unaware that the star siblings are siblings, they do think it’s odd that they have similar colors but are so different from each other. Luco likes to spend long hours watching people here and there at bars, spending time tasting whiskey from planet to planet.. He doesn’t seem to be in a rush to go anywhere and lives modestly.