#but it's not like thorn is fully off the hook yet

[voidbeau]

🌿Promises, Promises🌹

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Thorn x Mr. Flower fic i wrote spontaneously for me. i need.

so sorry if some things don't make sense lmaooo

Mild hurt/comfort, mild angst, some fluff, mentions of blood and injury.

Thorn and Mr. Flower have a conversation about some things.

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As per usual, when it happened, he hadn't been told much.

Workers in the manor sprinted to and fro and much to Mr. Flower's annoyance, grew hushed whenever he'd draw near.

It was all the same vague answer.

"There was an accident." Said the maid, the nurse and even the bodyguards who were often the ones dragging a half beaten Thorn in from god knows where.

And never did the explanations come with any further details.

So there Mr. Flower stood, in the middle of the foyer, body as tense as his face was stern.

Nurses stood at the ready, quietly and uncomfortably whispering to each other.

It seemed they were called on short notice and they themselves had only been apprised of so much regarding Thorn's recent situation.

Or so Mr. Flower was told, which of course only made him that much more tense.

The gnawing anxiety that made his mind race and his stomach flip were never not the driving force behind Mr. Flower's insistence on trying to get as closely involved as possible and to drag out every detail possible from whoever he could.

Because he knew he wouldn't be getting it from Thorn.

But that wasn't going to stop him from trying and he had a few choice words for the rose man for making poor Mr. Flower worry so often.

The heavy double front doors crashed open almost at the same time the thunder rolled from outside, pulling Mr. Flower from his thoughts.

His eyes widened as he watched the now wide open front entrance intently.

The biting winds cut through the foyer and the heavy rains speckled the cold marble floor of the manor.

There, with either arm draped over the shoulders of two of his bodyguards, Stag and Leo, was Thorn.

He was a mess. Rips in his suit like he'd been attacked by a wild animal, blood dripping from freshly torn wounds, bruises on his face. His neck appeared to be missing a few of his protruding thorns as well.

Mr. Flower winced upon seeing his partner stumbling through the doors as he was.

While Mr. Flower had certainly seen Thorn, Stag and Leo struggling up the driveway, to see Thorn up close was a different matter.

Mr. Flower's ear petals closed up tightly against his head. Simultaneously, Thorn in his half alert state seemed a little startled to see Mr. Flower there with everyone else and Mr. Flower knew it was because Thorn had no intentions of letting Mr. Flower see this.

Much as it irked and confused the floral creature.

As Thorn was being held up by two different people, it was clear Thorn was unsteady for the moment. But he seemed well enough to flash Mr. Flower one of his typical toothy grins.

"Sorry I'm home so late babe, there's a- was an accident." He slurred, before completely slumping over unconscious.

Anything Mr. Flower was about to say was gone. His stomach dropped almost in tandem with Thorn's battered body. His expression had instantly gone from stern to scared.

Wordlessly, Mr. Flower rushed towards Thorn, along with the private nurses who had been notified a little earlier to be on stand by.

Nothing was said in that moment, aside from shortly phrased and direct instructions from the head nurse to promptly get Thorn to the medical wing and start treating his wounds.

It was a bit of a blur from there for Mr. Flower, all he could do was try to keep up. Admittedly he did feel somewhat under foot the entire transition from the foyer to the medical wing, but he didn't want to leave Thorn's side.

For a mercy, it seemed like most people in the manor understood that now. Especially when Mr. Flower was allowed to linger when so many times before he'd always be gently escorted out.

He wasn't sure if it was because the nurses were distracted as things were, or if everyone was aware of the nature of Mr. Flower's involvement with Thorn.

It wasn't exactly a secret, the budding romance that had grown between the two, but it wasn't something that was outwardly broadcasted either.

At least not on Mr. Flower's part. There was never any doubt of interest on Thorn's end and as such, their relationship always held a kind of ambiguity among manor staff.

But of course, folk gossiped.

Mr. Flower sighed, sitting stiffly in a chair in Thorn's room, off to the side but where he could watch the nurses as they worked.

According to one of them, Thorn had lost quite a bit of blood and on top of it was going to need to have some of his wounds stitched shut. But it seemed his private set up here in his own home was well equipped to deal with that.

No doubt that was a detail that was among the many, myiard questions Mr. Flower had for Thorn.

For now though, the rose monster was still very out cold on his hospital bed, hooked up to an IV and carefully patched up.

All that was left was to wait.

And wait Mr. Flower did- Or at least he tried.

It was already late into the night as things were and somewhere along the way, Mr. Flower had drifted off in his seat. But when he had awoken, things had quieted down considerably.

It was just him and Thorn for now, though no doubt someone would be in and out periodically to keep tabs on Thorn's vitals.

Mr. Flower yawned, quietly stretching his arms and legs out in his chair.

He scanned the room for a clock and then patted himself down to see if he had his phone on him.

Thankfully he did, flipping it open to read, "2:33 am".

Seemed Mr. Flower had been out for at least an hour, a fact backed up by the stiffness in his neck which he tried for a moment to fruitlessly massage out with his free hand.

The creature snapped his phone shut, tucking it into his back pocket as he rose to his feet.

His eyes fell upon the still unconscious form of his poor monster.

Mr. Flower approached, with almost careful steps, as if the state Thorn were in were fragile enough to be disturbed by one wrong move.

Mr. Flower knew Thorn better than that of course, but it was still difficult to see him in such bad shape.

It had been one of the worst conditions Thorn had ever come home in since Mr. Flower began working with him months ago. Every time Mr. Flower struggled to extract details from Thorn and every time Mr. Flower was met with insistence that he needn't be so concerned over the incidents.

"It was just a minor scuffle! Don't you worry your pretty little petals over it, alright?" Thorn's voice rang through Mr. Flower's head as he recalled a conversation they had had during the first few weeks of Mr. Flower's employment with Thorn.

"Well these minor scuffles seem to be happening more often. Just this week you've gone through two different vehicles because one was covered in bullet holes and the other was almost completely shredded!" Mr. Flower replied, his voice raised slightly, "it was like a beast had sunk its claws into it! What on earth are you doing out there?" Mr. Flower demanded, arms crossed as he stood before Thorn's desk.

The rose monster scoffed, flashing Mr. Flower an unbothered grin as he shrugged in response.

"What can I say, Void's a wild place." Thorn said, all too casually, reaching into one of the side drawers of his desk and retrieving a pack of smokes.

Mr. Flower was not the least bit amused.

He watched with a frown and knitted brows as Thorn lit a cigarette for himself, taking a long drag as he remained reclined in his large leather office chair, bandaged and bruised for the fourth time in almost a month.

"You'd think by now you'd learn to at least be a bit more careful." Mr. Flower muttered, the intensity of his gaze barely waning.

Thorn's however expression however, did soften from an almost teasing grin to a much more empathetic smile as he happily gazed back at his fiery flower.

"C'mere..." Thorn said, sitting upright in his chair as he beckoned Mr. Flower over.

Mr. Flower hesitated for a moment before he dropped his arms and made his way around Thorn's desk to stand before him.

Without warning, Thorn reached for Mr. Flower's hands, gripping them in his own gloved ones as he looked him in the eyes with such a reassuring smile.

"I promise you love, if it there was anything you needed to be concerned about you'd be the first to know."

That was what he had the gall to tell Mr. Flower all those months prior to this moment, but as Mr. Flower looked on the unconscious Thorn, one hand gripping his other arm nervously, he felt ill.

Whatever was driving Thorn to keep putting himself in these dangerous situations felt like something Mr. Flower should already know about.

"So much for that promise..." Mr. Flower said under his breath, his petals falling slightly just as his shoulders did.

It was late enough as it was, and it seemed to Mr. Flower that Thorn was likely going to stay out for the rest of the night.

Seeing as Mr. Flower was confident the nurses had things in order the tired creature felt he had no further reason to stick around.

Thorn was for the moment safe and that was all Mr. Flower could ask for but, just as he turned to make his exit he felt a firm, warm grip encompass the wrist closest to Thorn's bed.

Mr. Flower's ear petals perked and he jumped slightly, but quickly composed himself as he turned to face Thorn who still lay with his eyes closed.

His chest rose and fell steadily, then expanded in one big inhale as the wound riddled monster took a deep breath, as if he were just waking up from a harmless nap.

Thorn turned his head towards Mr. Flower, his spiral eyes fluttering open and he dared to greet Mr. Flower with such a soft smile.

It was of course, quite irksome for the creature then to find himself responding with such an overwhelming wave of affection and of course, true relief to see the rose monster awake again.

"How long was I out..?" Thorn asked, yawning as he spoke.

So annoyingly casual as usual, but perhaps that was a good thing in this case.

"Couple of hours." Said Mr. Flower. He looked at Thorn's blood bag, roughly a quarter of the way gone. "A nurse will probably be in soon to check in on you."

"Great. What time is it?" Thorn asked, head lolling back onto the bed as his eyes fluttered shut. Drowsy most likely.

"Almost three in the morning." Said Mr. Flower.

A thoughtful and affirming "hm" left Thorn's chest as the hand that rested on Mr. Flower's wrist gently and ever so slightly, worked its way up and down the creature's forearm.

Mr. Flower's ear petals twitched at the warm sensation of Thorn's hand on him. He almost wanted to grab the stupid thing and intertwine those fingers with his own.

But he had his priorities.

"It's late. You should be resting." Thorn mumbled.

Mr. Flower tensed lightly at that. "Can't. Needed to be here to make sure you were okay." He said. His voice still soft, quiet, but there was a subtle bite to the statement.

Thorn's eyes opened again, his hand stopping but still lingering on Mr. Flower's wrist as he met with Mr. Flower's sullen gaze.

Thorn seemed to contemplate something for a moment and for that moment, Mr. Flower braced himself for Thorn to make light of the situation as he normally did.

"I'm sorry." Were the unexpected words to leave Thorn's mouth, leaving Mr. Flower noticeably stunned for a second.

He quirked a brow as if questioning the validity of the simple claim or to wait for some sort of addendum. But nothing of the sort came.

Thorn sighed as a sad half smile brushed across his face and he shrugged somewhat.

"Well don't look so surprised, sweetheart." He said, "Look, I know I put you through a lot, and maybe things seem hard to understand right now, but I promise it'll all make sense." Thorn said, trying to adjust himself in his bed so that he might be able to sit upright, but was impeded by the sudden sharp and searing pain of his wounds.

Thorn grunted in pain and Mr. Flower grimaced along with him, as he sighed and shook his head.

"I don't understand why you can't just tell me what you're doing." He said in exasperation. "Do you not trust me? Have I not been good enough for you in all of this?" He went on, sounding more desperate as he spoke.

Thorn wanted to stop him, but struggled to get his voice out over the pain as he tried to settle back down in his bed.

He was forced to sit and listen, his hand leaving Mr. Flower's wrist to rest on his stomach.

"It's been almost two years since I met you, and almost a year since I started getting involved in your 'work'", Mr. Flower spat, "...but the only thing I've understood is that you don't want to tell me the full story of what it is you're actually doing around here! What is it all for!?" Mr. Flower went on. "And is it really worth all this?" Mr. Flower desperately questioned, motioning to the entirety of Thorn's bruised and tattered form as the rose monster sighed pathetically in place.

Thorn winced, finally finding a comfortable position, then looked up at his angry flower and simply smiled through knitted brows.

"Well, I think you make a lot of things worth it honestly" He said simply, and Mr. Flower's frown deepened.

"Don't. Don't make this out like this is all for me." He said bitingly, shaking his head as he spoke.

A soft breathy single laugh left Thorn's lips as he barely had to think about it.

"In a sense." He said, his gaze wandering to the floor for a bit, "I would have given up a long time ago if I hadn't met you." Said Thorn thoughtfully, fondly even.

Mr. Flower's frown softened and while his crown of petals drooped sadly, his ear petals had perked ever so slightly.

He was already feeling the creeping, annoying defeat crawling up his back as he looked at Thorn, who looked back with sudden unwavering enthusiasm.

"Maybe it was better we never met then." Mr. Flower tried to say, but the horribly optimistic look in his monster's spiral eyes ignited that terrible, comforting warmth inside of Mr. Flower. Like for a second, he could believe that maybe things would be okay.

"Can't really imagine things without you love." Thorn had the gall to say. "And that's why I need you to trust me." He said so boldly, so confidently. That ambition that fuelled Thorn constantly day in and day out was hardly obstructed by the state he was in and by whatever encounter had put him in it.

The way Thorn always looked at Mr. Flower made him wonder if he really was somehow at fault for that awful inextinguishable flame.

"I-... You're not giving me a lot to work with." Mr. Flower sighed, "not when you constantly leave me in the dark and leave me wondering if the next time I'm going to see you is in a body bag." He said with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms as his shoulders fell.

"Ha! you're not getting rid of me that easy." Thorn said as his usual sharp toothed grin returned to him in full.

Mr. Flower took a moment to take it in, feeling some tension leave him as he did. And still...

"I wish I could believe that."

Thorn's grin softened to a warm smile as he reached out for Mr. Flower's hand, who acquiesced after a moment's hesitation, ear petals pulled back yet still fanned out slightly.

"Well sweetheart, I haven't died yet," Thorn said matter-of-factly, "and I promise I have no intentions of dying before my plans are through." He finished with a grin, ending the claim with an assuring squeeze to Mr. Flower's hand.

The creature sighed and allowed himself to give way to a soft smile, still adorned with knitted brows but he smiled all the same. To the best of his ability.

"Fine, but that's a promise." Said Mr. Flower, and as Thorn planted a kiss on his hand he replied, "That's a promise."

Just as their conversation had come to an end, one of the nurses entered the room, her heels clicking steadily against the tile floor.

She came to an abrupt and slightly startled halt when she saw Mr. Flower with a very awake and seemingly alert Thorn.

"Oh-! I hope I'm not interrupting." She said, her eyes flicking between the two lovers. "I just came in to check up on things.

"Oh of course. I was just leaving." Mr. Flower said with a polite smile.

"It's probably for the best. It's late and you should get some rest." Thorn added, "I'll see you in the morning?" He went onto question, still holding onto Mr. Flower's hand, caressing it with his thumb.

"Yeah, of course. Good night." He said gently, giving Thorn one last affectionate gaze. But Thorn wasn't entirely satisfied with that, not until he abruptly pulled Mr. Flower forward and down enough for a quick kiss and a quiet "I love you" between them, knowing Mr. Flower wasn't always the fondest of open displays of affection.

So Thorn kept it brief and chuckled a little when he watched his flower exit the room a little bit flustered as the border collie nurse looked on with a stoic face but a wagging tail.

No doubt she'd have a lot to tell the other nurses later.

[sweet-honey-tears]

Just Turn it Down

dad!Aizawa x biological!GN!Reader FAMILY FLUFF!!!!!

…. I’m so sorry for how long this took… I hope you like it🖤🤍🥺 and thank you for your amazing request!!! -🍯

WARNING: None, cute stuff. Possible gender mix ups, when I write a draft, I write in fem tense (she,her,ect) and then go back and fix it after- but I’m sick so may have missed a few. I’m incredibly sorry.

To say it was a surprise to the world would be an understatement. The scary, hard-headed, slouched teacher of AU had a kid—an actual, biological child. It was no surprise that Aizawa would keep it under wraps. Your safety and his patience could easily be strained.

“Who is the mother?”

“Was it a Fling?”

“Did the Pro-Hero Eraser Head hook up with…”

The world got its answers; with it, you got your silence. “My mother is dead. Died in childbirth, I’d like to be left alone now.” It was a blatant lie, and when Hizashi asked you why, trying his best to understand, his tall frame slumped slightly as he rubbed the back of his head, you answered, “Because she is.” The subject was never brought up again.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

While not your biological siblings, Eri and Shinso have been part of your family since they stepped through the door. Shinso, who was older than you, had offered advice more than once on subjects such as schools, relationships, and your future career. The world is aware of your future decisions, another blunt shut-down.

“Do you wanna be just like your father? A hero”

You glanced at your dad off to the side, his arms crossed yet still tense. Ready to pull you back the minute they ask a question that crosses the line. Aizawa smiled slightly, ever so suddenly that only you caught it. Then, there was an ever so slight nod.

“No.”

Shinso supports you fully; he always feels the public backlash of his decisions due to his quirks. Villain, villain, villain. He’d prove them wrong. But that didn't stop his anger when his mind bounced to the idea of you being put through assaults. You can manipulate living organisms. Specifically, increasing the size of plants and controlling movement. As always, with their lack of space, the press managed to grab photos of you using the quirk. Your sweet smile as you lean over some old lady's rose bush, the spiked vines climbing up to reach your fingers as soft pink flowers open. According to you, it had been stepped on and crushed under some careless foot, and you just wanted to fix it. Yet that story would be too sweet. The public zoomed in on the aspect that you could grow thorns! What if you decided to covered the town in poison ivy?! You huffed at the so called fears written in the paper.

“I wouldn't play their game, so now I need to be their villain.”

Your quirk explicitly comes from your mother's side to your disgust. Thou Aizawa couldn't care less about the quirk; he wouldn't care if you were quirkless, something he’s said more than once. However, he felt the slightest bit of glee as he watched you quiet the loud blonde in his class. It wasn’t your fault; he wanted to spar, and you did. Thou, you slightly regretted your decision as you watched the problem child, as your dad called him, scribble furiously down his journal.

You don't go to UA, a choice that sometimes stresses Aizawa. Yet, considering the recent events with this group of students, it now seemed like a safer choice, ironically. But when you do go to UA, for whatever reason, it feels like another home. Surrounded by the many staff and heroes that raised you, taking you on days, Aizawa had patrol. AllMight, in his uncle-like glory, yelled:

“Ah Young Y/n, how tall you’ve grown!”

This caused all students to stop and look at the one kid who was not in uniform. You’re as much their daughter as you are, Aizawa. Your hair getting ruffled, cheeks pinched, comments how beautiful you’ve become. Midnight, despite what the media says, and Rumi

have been wonderful mother figures throughout your life. Aizawa, as great a father as he is, knows when to throw his hands up for your comfort and sometimes his. You tell the two women secrets, crushes, and heartbreakers, and they keep it locked up, never spilling the information on even Aizawa.

Your little sister, Eri, clings to you like a koala and you her, pulling you to a point where your spine is more of a bridge than a body part, just so she can whisper you a secret or happily show you the family photo she drew in class, with you, Shinso, and Aizawa all drawn with wide smiles, stick hands holding stick hands.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

You blame Shinso for your music taste because if you admitted that Bakugou was the one to introduce, you think your father would get his motto tattooed onto you. “Stay away from loud blondes.” But you couldn't help it. Scene Queen seemed to attach to every cell of your body. The loud, angry music about worth and the media seeing comforting as you watched the world around you. There is so much pain, so many big problems, and yet some so small and meaningless, silly almost. These are easy ones to fix if people just agree. Maybe the same could be said for the argument of where Villains came from; the same ones you watch hurt your family, but the thought feels so sickening. So switch to another artist, the screaming, feeding, and subduing the boiling anger that lingers in your chest due to the media. You were getting ripped apart by the bloodhounds for not giving them the bloody steak they required, so instead, they chose you. You're a small, converted life forced to be nailed and screwed since you wouldn’t play their games.

Your finger mindlessly tapped to the next artist, pondering slightly if your hearing will be gone when you reach your 20s due to Metalica. Your fingers lightly drum on the page, your body unconsciously moving to the beat of the song that blasted too loud in your headphones. To be stuck in your own world and notice your dad walking past you, peering over the couch to see what you were doing. Aizawa paused; the screeching music from your headphones sounded all too familiar. With little hesitation, he reached down and grabbed one of the earpieces, listening for the split moment he had before the music paused. It was clear he startled you from the way you jumped and whipped around.

“Dad!”

“(Enter favorite metal band)?”

You paused, searching his face for something you weren't really sure of. ”Uh Yeah… Shinso introduced me to them.”

Aizawa smiled a bit, handing you back the headphones. “The band came out when I was in UQ,” He huffed, watching your surprised face. “Mike was very much into them and even met the band.” He watched the excitement in your face take over. He’d need to call Hizashi and tell him the radio hero would be over the moon. “They’re from (Enter Country), I believe.” He leaned against the couch.

“Yeah they did!” Azawia paused, about to speak again, when his phone rang, the screeching sound leading from the kitchen; it was UA; you both knew it. He sighed, looking back at you, smiling slightly. “Just listen to them at a lower volume.” He ruffled your hair before leaving to get his phone.

He left and was gone the rest of the day, some issue on the campus. Damn problem children. And when you came home from school, he still wasn’t there. But sitting on the kitchen counter,rested a small keychain of the band of the bands logo.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twenty Eight}

Alastor x (Fem)Reader

Warning: Kidnapping, Violence (Vox hits reader), Threats Of Dismemberment/Torture (nothing actually happens tho)

A groan left me as the world finally came back into view, maybe a bit too fast, I shut my eyes tightly and tried to fight off the nausea I felt. I inhaled deeply a few times before slowly opening my eyes again.

I was somewhere I didn't recognize, it looked like a empty room. Nothing but a door ahead of me, and a small window on the wall to my right. It was the only thing lighting the room.

I tried to move, but was quickly stopped by a slight tug. I furrow my brows and look up, my arms had been raised above my head, and my wrists tied together by cuffs, held up by chains that were securely tied to the hooks in the ceiling.

I gasped sharply, it was muffled however, by the rag tied against my mouth. I tried my wings next, but the joints were cuffed as well, preventing me from flapping them.

My breathing became forced and erratic as panic finally set in fully. I tugged harshly at the chains, trying to free myself, but it was of no use.

My legs felt weak as well, I tried to move them, but they were about as useful as my arms, despite not being tied down.

What the fuck was happening!? Where was I!?

Suddenly the door to the room opened, and in walked a familiar looking overlord. "You awake?" He asked before flipping the light switch on. "Good...Now we can get to know each other." He approaches me and crouches to my level.

"I know we've met before. But I think we should start over, we're gonna be seeing a lot of each other from now on so..." He chuckles darkly.

"The name's Vox, nice to meet you."

"Aw, don't look so scared." Vox said with false pity. "I'm not gonna hurt you. Not yet anyway." He smirks. "I'm just gonna keep you here until your little boyfriend shows up. That asshole has been screwing around with me for too long. It's about time I put an end to that radio fucker, and you, are just what I need to do it."

I furrow my brows, I was worried of course and no doubt scared for my own safety. But now I was angry too.

"Wanna say something?" Vox tilts his head, he reaches for the rag at my mouth and pulls it down. "Go ahead then."

"You think just because you kidnapped me, that Alastor won't tear you apart?" I ask. "You underestimate him, if you believe that." Vox laughs at my words. "If he doesn't want you loosing a few limbs, he will come here and behave. If he doesn't, well, that'll be one thorn out of my side."

"Don't you dare hurt him. I don't care what happens to me, you can do whatever you want, but do not hurt Alastor." I say, tugging at the chains slightly.

"Oh, I don't need anything from you. Though, my associate might. I'm sure you've heard of him, and I'm sure you know how popular his films are." He could only mean Valentino. Oh god...I would rather die...

"You won't get away with this. Alastor will come here and rip you limb from limb. And telling from this kidnapping act, you like to play cheap. I bet that's why you're doing this. You can't match up to Alastor."

Vox delivered a harsh slap to my face after that. I failed to hold back a yelp as my head was forced to the side from the blow. I could feel the sharp sting blossoming in my cheek.

"Keep talking shit, and I won't be so forgiving next time." He stood up fully and looked out of the window. "I tried to get that dumbass hell hound to bring you here. But I guess he fucked off somewhere."

Hell hound? Did he mean Liam? Liam was in on this? I guess that would explain why he was at the hotel in the first place.

"Anyhow! I feel like we should start moving things along now. I'm sure he's noticed you're gone, so, how about we give him an idea of where you are. Speed things up, you know?"

"Let's see...maybe I could send him a finger or two? Or maybe one of those pretty eyes of yours?" He grins wickedly. I tried not to let my fear show, but it was clear by the shaking of my hands and shoulders. Vox's eyes trailed down. "That'll do."

I follow his gaze, my eyes falling upon my necklace. I gasp and try to move away as he reached down. "No! No, stay away!" I yelled. "Relax, will ya? I'm just taking the necklace. What? Did he give it to you? How cute." He says bitterly before grabbing at it. "No!" I cry just as he ripped it from my neck.

And just like that, my true form was revealed...

"What...the fuck!?" Vox exclaims.

If I wasn't panicked before, I definitely was now. My true form, my angel wings on display for Vox to witness. This wasn't good. This was the absolute last things I wanted to happen. What would he do to me now that knows? I couldn't look at him, I kept my eyes glued to the floor as I drew ragged breaths.

Vox then began to laugh.

"Fucking really!?" He cackles. "Well no wonder he likes you so much! You're an angel! Oh that's priceless!"

Vox's laughter died down slowly. He crouched back down and grabbed my chin, jerking my head up to face him. "You are both so fucked..."

"Alastor!" Mimzy shouts, before dodging a person being thrown her way. "Damn it Alastor! Calm down, you're making a mess of things!" She calls up at the now titanic sized radio demon. Tendrils grown from his back, were the cause of the randomly tossed objects and unfortunate demons in the way.

This had been going on for several minutes. He was beyond frantic, beyond worried. He wasn't thinking clearly, he was far too distraught for that.

"Don't you tell me to calm down!" Alastor yelled back. "Y/nis missing!"

"Well you're not gonna find her all worked up like this! Get down here and use your head!" Mimzy demanded. Alastor knew she was right, though it didn't make him any less frazzled. He did as she said however, and returned to his normal form.

Now it was just them in the empty longue. Alastor did feel a little bad about causing such a commotion in Mimzy's lounge, of all places. He let his anger and worry get the best of him, and it controlled his every movement. Blinded him from what was going on around him.

He was so upset by this...and he was scared...

"Where could she be?" Alastor's voice cracked slightly. "She wouldn't have just left on her own..." Mimzy didn't like seeing Alastor like this. She was worried too, but she knew it was nowhere near what he felt. "Isn't there any way of contacting her?" She asks.

"You know I don't own a cell phone. She doesn't either..."

Mimzy narrowed her eyes. "Isn't she from the modern era? Why doesn't she have a phone? You know what, never mind. Let's just stay calm and focus alright? Is there any place she might go to that you know of?"

"Other than the hotel, no." Alastor answers. "Alright, let's start there." Just as Mimzy said that, her phone rang. She looks at it then to Alastor. "Speak of the devil." She answers it. "Hello?"

'Hey, Mimzy? Is Alastor with you?' It was Charlie on the other end. The two had exchanged numbers the last time Mimzy had visited the hotel, to see Alastor.

"He is." Mimzy tells her.

'Well, a package showed up for him here at the hotel. It's pretty weird looking...We didn't want to mess with it. But I think it's from VoxTek, which is why it's weird. Alastor isn't really tech savvy you know?'

Mimzy hold the phone away from her to speak to Alastor. "It's Charlie, she says you have a package at the hotel, from VoxTek."

The loud screech of a record skipping made Mimzy wince. Before she could get a word in, Alastor had sunken into the shadows and disappeared. She sighs before speaking into the phone again.

"He's on his way. A word of advice, when he shows up...stay out of his way." Rage couldn't even begin to describe what Alastor felt the moment he opened that package. It was small, small enough to hold the necklace along with a few white feathers inside.

Vox knew...and now, Alastor wanted nothing more than to rip his soul apart, for even daring to lay his filthy hands on his beloved.

He should have known. Of course it was that bastard. Of course he would do something like this. Alastor swore right then and there, that he would invent a whole new form of pain, when he got his hands on that flat-faced motherfucker.

[arighmaa-dataq]

Danganronpa Crown of Thorns Character Bios

(I'm so sorry this took ages to finish, but I hope you enjoy!)

Toby Agar Ultimate Indie Game Developer Mild-mannered and with a talent that’s easily overlooked, Toby Agar is a rather unassuming person at first glance. He’s obviously very smart and has seen much success, but most people who see him don’t know of his double life as the famed indie developer, KogiDev. Understandable, since he was one that preferred to keep his identity secret. Needless to say, the fact that he was found by the Western Hope’s Peek Talent Agency and invited to Salvation’s Summit Camp was a big surprise. He often likes to use his experience and knowledge of making and playing games in real life problems and scenarios.

David Samuel Ultimate Teen Heartthrob The absolute portrait of a charming prince, David Samuel grew up surrounded by admirers. Along with his looks he also has shown a very charismatic personality, being very polite and always offering a compliment to any damsel he sees. While he’s very much experienced with the fairer sex, he doesn’t always get along with other boys. There have also been rumors that his “prince charming” appearance is merely a front. For what, exactly, is yet to be confirmed.

Irwin Asher Ultimate Cowboy Born and raised in the south, Irwin would say that God had him hand made for his talent. He’s very rough-and-tumble and is proficient in everything from lassoing to breaking horses. He made a name for himself as an online presence before being picked up for TV and county fair shows. He’s also garnered quite the fanbase of lovestruck ladies. The two thing he loves more than anything else are good apple pie and his dear meemaw.

Carmel Abilene Ultimate Botonist Carmel has had a green thumb since birth, having grown up with two herbologist as parents. He knows a plethora of information on plants, and especially flowers. From what flowers would grow best in a garden to which flowers are edible, if you have a question he can answer it. He also is very good at keeping a level head, even in stressful situations. When he does get stressed, he likes to make a pot of his personally crafted and cultivated tea and is more than happy to share with others who need to take the edge off. And if you need something stronger than tea, he can hook you up there too.

Sidd Ammon Ultimate Mechanic If you need anything regarding machinery, Sidd is your best bet. A very bright young man, he’s always had a way with machines. At a young age he was already working with vehicles of all kinds from cars to tanks. He was picked up by the Hope’s Peak Talent Agency very early in life, so he’s quite used to getting many opportunities others haven’t, including many highly classified projects. His two biggest dreams include making the newest tech available for everyone who needs it, and building the first ever gundam. Do be warned, if you do have questions regarding machines, expect to be stuck there for a while.

Gabe the Great Ultimate Stuntman Make way for the most radical dude in the midwest! Gabriel, or Gabe the Great as he likes to be called, grew up in a small, rugged community that was mostly farms and taverns. With not a whole lot around in the way of entertainment, he’s mostly had to make his own kind of fun. He started off with the usual scooters, bikes, and skateboards, but didn’t fully find his niche until he got into more motorized vehicles like motorcycles, monster trucks, and even managed to operate a jetpack with ease. It didn’t take long for word of his daring doo to reach outside his little town. While his fame has definitely been earned, it doesn’t take much for him to get cocky.

Noah san Pedro Ultimate Hypnotist With his habit of dozing off every so often and his clothes looking more fit for sleeping in rather than going out in, Noah does seem pretty unassuming at first. He’s often described as incredibly laid back and slow going. Despite this, he’s an extremely talented hypnotist and has a particular affinity towards those that have a harder time relaxing. He mostly uses his talent in cases of helping insomniacs be able to go to sleep, but on occasion will put on a show of getting people to act like animals or say things meant to get a laugh out of others.

Ethan Semolina Ultimate Patissier At first glance, you’d be forgiven for thinking that Ethan was a man of combat, with his tall and muscled structure. Although he’s the son of a local war hero of his hometown, he found his calling at a young age making brownies and cookies to raise money for school or local charities. His hands are as delicate as they are strong, capable of very intricate work. Above all else he’s a believer of the strong protecting the weak.

Penny Appleseed Ultimate Activist A believer in justice since she was young, Penny has been fighting for noble causes for a long time, having led many movements against corruption. She’s a bit rough on the edges, and despite her good intentions has a hard time getting along with others. She hugely dislikes those who take advantage of rules or the good nature of others to get their way. Underneath her tough shell is a soft heart that aches for the misfortunate. She dreams of a day that all wrongs of the world will be no more, and everyone is equal.

Maria Susan Ultimate Fangirl If there’s a popular piece of media with a sizable following, Maria has been in it. Whatever new trends come onto the market; she will most definitely be one of the first on the wagon. She’s very bubbly and energetic, likely from copious amounts of sugar or energy drinks, and can easily retell any movie, game, or story that she gets into. She’s amassed several fanmade accounts of fictional characters and even real life celebrities and is frighteningly good at getting into character for each. Unfortunately, this also means that she doesn’t quite grasp when she goes out of line. Not to mention, she tends to treat reality as if it were fiction, and above all else HATES boredom.

Lilith Keyes Ultimate Housekeeper Lilith is a rather quiet and inverted person at first glance, to the point that most forget she’s in the room. She’s a meticulous cleaner that prefers to keep things neat and tidy and doesn’t like having anything “unnecessary.” She doesn’t talk about herself very often, and whenever she does it’s in very basic terms. Her aloof nature tends to drive most people away, but she insists she prefers working alone. It takes a lot for one to gain her trust.

Nala Zebediah Ultimate Dancer A graduate of an illustrious dance school, Nala is someone who has had to bite and claw her way to where she is. She’s very assertive, but beneath her rough exterior is a very friendly individual. She was adopted into a rich family after losing her birth parents in an accident, and since graduating is no stranger to the stage. So long as you don’t try to get in her way, she’s willing to be friends with just about anyone.

Hannah “Sakura” Taylor Ultimate Chanoyu If you were to ask her, Sakura is the reincarnation of a Japanese princess. Though in actuality, Hannah is from the USA, she does have a deep respect and reservoir of knowledge of Japanese history and customs, hence her talent in being a tea ceremony host. She’s surprisingly serene and graceful, always greeting people with utmost courtesy and politeness. However, in some cases there are times when she’s caught off guard she’ll slip back to her American roots.

Deliah Rose Ultimate Occultist Gloomy, dark, macabre, these are just a few things that describe Deliah. Since she was young, she’s had an affinity for ghosts, goblins, and dark magic, to the point of fully believing them to be reality. Outside of these things, she doesn’t show much interest in anything else. Despite her spooky appearance, she does yearn to find others she could share her interests with. Also has a bit of an insomnia problem, hence the dark circles under her eyes.

Mia Lamb Ultimate Knitter Mia has been known by her peers as shy but very loving. It may take a bit for her to get comfortable around others, but she does like to give those she likes gifts of things she’s knitted herself from mittens to blankets. She also has a voracious appetite for sweets. Once she’s out of her shell, she has a very motherly disposition to her, likely from having been the oldest of several siblings.

Jessie Belle Ultimate Romance Novelist Jessie is a girl who sees love everywhere she goes. At just a young age, she’s already become a well-known author of many romance books. She’s often been asked about what exactly inspires her novels, to which she always answers that it’s mostly “love” that inspires her. What exactly this means, however, is unknown. She also has pretty awful eyesight without her glasses.

Monowool Monowool is a peculiar sheep, and the caretaker of Salvation’s Summit Camp. She appears to have a split personality, personified by her black and white split coloration. One half is a very kind and caring personality, who only wants to see her campers to be happy, and often talks in a southern belle style accent. The other, however, which kicks in whenever faced with anything horrific, like say a dead body, is much more ruthless and queenlike, and is usually the one presiding over the camp trials. She’ll also often be the one to punish those that break any of the camp rules.

[thenovelartist]

ABC Fluff Headcanons - Vyn Richter - Tears of Themis

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

If this was a fairytale, it would be Beauty and the Beast. Except he was simply the Beast and you were his magic rose he got to watch bloom. But instead of watching you under glass, he preferred it to be removed, even if it shredded your innocence in the process, but oh, watching you grow anyways, both blooming beautifully while growing fierce thorns to warn anyone before they touch, just to spite the adversity you were faced with was his truest pleasure. Your fortitude; that was what he truly admired about you.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

You’d think it’s your eyes, being the windows to the soul and all. But you’d be wrong; it’s your hands. Specifically, your tender touch. It’s gentle, warm, and safe. Being able to hold your hand feels intimate for him, and he actually enjoys when you tap his arm to get his attention, then let your hand linger when he gives it. It’s like a reward and a comfort all in one.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

He does enjoy a good cuddle, but hugging you from behind might be his favorite. Whether sitting together on the couch with you on his lap or spooning you in bed, he likes when he can nuzzle the side of your head or rest his chin on your shoulder.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He will have planned this to a T because he’s not much for spontaneity. And it would involve a walk together, flowers, and he will either have made you a dessert or the two of you will make something together. It’s something quiet and intimate for you to enjoy time together, talking about anything and nothing while the date is riddled with affectionate touches and some kisses.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Good grief, this man’s emotions are… complicated. He’s very logical, but he’s not ignorant to his emotions. It doesn’t seem like it, but he frequently tempers them, only to bring them up again in full when he records his diary so that he’s able to manage them.

But you have ruined him. His carefully kept emotional balance has been thrown to the wind. You make him feel intensely and strongly, to the point it almost trumps his logic, which makes him uncomfortable. His diaries have been getting longer as his inner turmoil increases, and that’s all your fault. It’s something you notice, too, watching his even temperament waver more and more frequently around you as the emotion inside him wars with his rationality. You will have to give this man time. Time to open up and be honest with himself, and you, about his emotions. Be prepared to validate his emotions in his moments of weakness. It’s the only way he’ll get better about honestly expressing them to you.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

He wouldn’t be opposed to staying childless. He also wouldn’t be opposed to having a child, and you could probably talk him into two if the first goes well. Little humans would be fascinating studies, after all. (“Dear, do not psycho-analyze the children.”)

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He does not care for trinkets. Nor does he care about giving you them. Gifts should be practical.

At least… that’s what he likes to think. His one exception to this is when he gives you something to wear. It’s his way of marking you and wearing it will spark a possessive streak in him.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

He likes—no, needs to be either touching or holding your hand in quiet, private moments. And he wants to hold your hand when he’s jealous. Especially when he’s jealous. And you know when he is because he holds tight as though reminding you that you’re his while also sending passive-aggressive signals to the cause of his jealousy. When you’re just out walking, he will sometimes hold your hand, but he also likes when you loop your hands over his elbow and he can escort you like a proper gentleman. (It also causes you to pull yourself in close to him, so he actually quite enjoys when you do that.)

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Depends. Minor cuts or burns are treated with care and, occasionally, a kiss. Get into an accident, and he gets shockingly worried about you. However, if you end up hurt because of a reason to do with NXX, he’ll be sick with emotions. Guilt, fear, anger; all of them brew for a deadly concoction. He will not rest, even to the point of abusing his own body, until he finds the person who hurt you and sees to it they are paying dearly for their crime.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He doesn’t always joke around, but when he does… this man is a wicked tease. Don’t expect to get off the hook easily. You better learn how to tease back, or he’ll use words and puzzles to twist you exactly where he wants you, which normally is you as a blushing, stuttering mess.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Sweet kisses off-the-cuff are quite nice, and so are the passionate ones, but the ones he likes best are the slow, lingering ones that take place hidden away in your own world. They convey so much with no words. There’s no frantic holding or clinginess. Rather, it feels like a moment of security, coming together and staying. He likes the comfort they provide him and the way they actually settle his heart.

L = Love Confession (how do they confess?)

He actually was super nervous to confess. He’ll have practiced and planned this confession before it happens. Which you never would have guessed because it was in such a smooth conversation during one of your outings that he admitted he held feelings of a romantic nature for you.

M = Marriage (What does the wedding look like?)

He wants it small, intimate, and preferably outdoors in a garden. He wants it nice but not overly fancy. He won’t fuss over the smaller details. Besides, he doesn’t realize it yet, but he will barely remember anything beyond how utterly stunning you look in your wedding dress, anyway.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He hates being a failure, but if he’s everput in a position where he fails you, he will never forgive himself.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

This man has literal decks of cards of only one kind of card. You want a 52 card deck with all ace of hearts? He has that. Ten of spades? He has that too. Four of clubs? Yup. You don’t know why he has them, and he won’t tell you, but you think it’s literally just because he’s highly amused the way you wrack your brain over it.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He’s classic. Love, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart. But he’s half-German (At least, that is my best speculation considering he was called “Vilhelm” and is canonly mixed-race), so “Liebling” is also an endearment he calls you, and my guess is he saves that one strictly for the sweetest, most tender moments you share.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Calm setting, electronics put away, and preferably some form of physical contact with you. This could be working together in the garden, side by side, or going out to walk around town together, but those are not his favorite. Baking with you is one of his top ones, though. Expect him to tap some sort of batter or frosting on your nose. His other favorite is lounging together on the couch, your back leaning against his chest, and just talking. Communication is important to any relationship, and he finds it a joy to communicate with you.

R = Romance (how do they show their love and affection?)

He’s the kind that shows his affection by giving you his time and attention. He’ll show it in the little touches exchanged back and forth and in the way he’s attentive to your well-being, particularly your mental well-being.

He’ll also show he loves you by playing mind games on you until you’re a blushy, stuttering mess. He’s usually forgiven with a kiss and “I love you”. You know you’re too soft on him, but whattcha gonna do?

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

He is an onion you have to peel back layer by layer to get to open up to you. And like an onion, there’s likely going to be some tears shed as you do that. Time will determine how many secrets he’s willing to share with you, and it’s likely going to take years for him to fully open up to you. But keep at it. You will be rewarded with his innermost thoughts and feelings and the discovery of how insecure this seemingly unflappable man is.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

This man doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but falling hard and fast for you? That he did. One of his biggest hurdles he had to get over was logically evaluating his feelings and what he thought your feelings for him were as well as coming to terms with the way he’s been treated in past relationships (And not just romantic ones. He has an… interesting way of creating carefully crafted ties to people.) So it might take a little time for him to get comfortable enough to ask you out. And throughout the relationship, he’ll probably still be working with his past demons, so be prepared for that.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’ll comfort you the best way he can if you’re a sad upset. A mad upset, and he’ll probably give you a little space to work yourself out while offering his guidance. And upset at him? This is where a good chunk of your arguments happen, to be honest. So then you both have to calm down before coming together again and talking it out. But you always do and are stronger for it.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’ll never admit it, but he loveswhen he can leave you impressed. It thrills him if he can show off a trick or his general intelligence and have you praise him for it. Occasionally, he’ll search for ways to impress you just because he wants that attention. But never will he admit it.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well…he’s all okay with fighting as long as it’s not physical fighting. If you’re going to verbally spar with someone, he’s more than happy to let you go, and he takes pride in the fact you usually wipe the floor with your opponent. But the moment it’s going to turn into a physical altercation, he’s your shield. Part of him thinks that in times he is unfortunately not around, it might be good to have some self-defense under your belt, but at the same time, he’d rather you just flee instead of fight. Because he knows you well enough that if you had the ability, you’d probably knock someone’s lights out if they came at you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s a psychologist; he can already read you well. But on top of that, you are his favorite study, and he will catalogue everything he learns about you away to pull out for future reference. So while he already reads you well early on into your relationship, give it a few years and you have basically no secrets from this man.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

He will never forget the “surprise over romance” opinion on proposals you shared with him. So, determined to give you the best, he sets up an elaborate puzzle for you, getting all the important people in your life to get in on it. Together, the two of you will trapeze the town hunting down little clues—in places, that you only realize later, hold significance to both of you—before he’ll “conveniently” take his leave so you can finish out the last leg, which ultimately ends up leading you to his office, the place you first met. And there he is, sitting behind a house of cards sits made solely from the Ace of Hearts with a ring in the middle of the top tier which was made from two different cards: the king and queen. Only once you realize that and he revels in your joy and tears will he properly get on one knee and ask you to marry him.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

When everything is “right” in his world. His patients are doing well, he’s got no massive cases on his plate, nothing requires his immediate attention, and you are close by, doing well in your own right.

[iphoenixrising]

DickTim Week Day 4: Dark!Dick and Vampire!Tim

So. So. *Steeples fingers* this may or may not be the fic for you. Yet another combination prompt because the people on the Capes and Coffee Discord are fucking enablers. You know who you are.

Warnings for: captivity, blood-letting, missing-in-time Bruce

The hidden bunker is outside the city limits of Gotham, a perfect place to stay off the grid.

Officer Grayson makes the drive with the radio on WKKG, All Gotham, All the Time. He moves his head to the beat of the pop song blaring over the line.

The outside of the abandoned gas station looks positively deserted and if they were any more rural, tumble weeds would be rolling around the decrepit gas pumps.

Officer Grayson parks around the back of the building out of sight and grabs the paper bags from the passenger side, holds his cup of coffee in the same hand, whistles to himself as he gets out of the police cruiser.

A complex locking system on a seemingly outdated walk-in freezer opens up to an elevator that is decidedly the newest fixture in the place.

He hums the chorus of the pop song from the radio on the way down, small smile on his face reflecting back at him from the mirrored doors.

The underground is a completely different world.

Apparently constructed to be a bunker, the basement is lead-lined and spacious with all processes set-up to stay off the grid, perfect for his needs. He has a separate power supply, a separate HVAC system, a security system with nearly imperceptible cameras to make sure no one, no one gets close enough to the property without alerting him immediately.

And he certainly doesn’t want anyone finding his personal mission here.

Officer Grayson puts one of the grocery bags down on a table littered with notebooks and read-outs he’d left the last time after he’d gotten samples. He sips on his coffee as he walks around the first room, lit only by the emergency lights at the top of the low-slung ceiling, and turns on the power, turns on the lights in the rest of the bunker.

The beeps behind him are the locks resetting on the elevator, the only way out.

Dick is still humming when he passes into the next room, blocked on either end with thick, metal doors complete with a complex locking mechanism and impressive alarm system. The many tables in this room are filled with laboratory equipment, a biotechnician’s playground.

Half-completed analyses are still running on the impressive screens mounted overhead, status bar at 68%.

Five-gallon buckets under the tables with black Sharpie denote chemical names with dates scribbled hastily below.

Dick sips his coffee as he looks up at the running totals, makes mental notes, compares previous tests and results.

It’s discouraging, but Dick just sighs to himself. Of all vigilantes in Gotham, he’s the optimist, and he knows that each failure will just bring him closer and closer to success. He just can’t give up.

Bruce is counting on them.

With his coffee and bag in one hand, he lets the analysis churn, and enters his code in the next door, then places a palm print on the pad outside. Leans down so his eye scan can be completed.

Unlike the other rooms, the lights come on the second the door fully unlocks and opens to allow Dick entrance.

The reason for that is to turn on the intense sun lamps to further weaken the figure strapped down to the gurney in the center of the room, strategically lessening the possibility of an attack.

Dick puts the bag and his coffee down on the only table in the room.

“Sorry I didn’t come yesterday. Rupert Thorne had a big shipment planned and we were up late tracking it,” his voice is light and cheery, his smile wide and white. He comes to the side of the gurney, takes note of the slight burning smell that always seems to permeate the room no matter how much he tries to avoid it by making sure there’s always something between skin and pure silver. Struggling dislodges whatever he uses, so the result is the smell of burning flesh.

He clicks his tongue in disappointment, looking down at Timmy’s closed eyes and painfully pale face.

His frown deepens when Tim Drake rolls his head over to face the wall instead.

Silver chains wrap his arms, legs, neck, and torso, rendering him utterly immobile. Holy relics hang over the gurney as an added safety measure. He’s completely naked under a flimsy sheet.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” He asks softly. “I’m letting Alfred pick up Dami so I can spend some extra time with you today.”

IVs are grotesquely hooked into each major artery, set on slow drain. The multiple blood bags hooked under the gurney show the slow trickle as the bags fill to a crawl.

Tim’s violet-blue eyes crack open a sliver, but he doesn’t look away from the wall, away from freedom.

“That isn’t very nice,” Dick’s tone stays soft, yet firm. “You know what I’m trying to do here.”

The sound of Tim trying to swallow is heard over the soft mechanical beeping, the hum of working equipment. “You know how important you are to this, Timmy. I don’t like how you keep refusing to be a team player.” Dick pauses just a moment, eyes narrow, “is this still about Damian being Robin now? Because you know how many times we’ve been over this.”

Tim closes his eyes again, a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“Well, I think you’ve been sulking about it long enough,” Dick brusquely throws the sheet out of the way to show IVs, burns, and the network of complicated blood vessels below deathly pale skin. “You knew even before you went to Iraq my choices were the best for everyone, not just you.”

Dick checks all the leads, makes sure the drip is slow. He doesn’t so much as lift up the solid silver chains and nudge them with the cloth he keeps underneath, the point of it is to try and keep Tim’s skin from burning, temporarily cauterizing his veins and killing the supply. The last time the chains were displaced this much, Dick had made the mistake of lifting one, giving Tim enough power to bare his fangs and lunge. Since then, the chains have stayed put, only shuffled around a little.

“And if you would have just listened to me and stayed in Gotham, you wouldn’t have been caught by vampires in the first place. You know that, don’t you? If you would have worked with us at home, Ra’s would have never taken that much of an interest and led them right to you. Heck, you might still be alive and have your spleen.”

Shaking his head in frustration at all the events from last year when Bruce’s body was brought back, when the Battle for the Cowl had forced him to raise his hand against Jason again and break his heart over Little Wing again, when he knew Tim didn’t need any more mentorship, didn’t need the support and encouragement Damian did after losing their father, and the ultimate decision to let Tim decide his own future after Robin, when seeing Tim six months after his disappearance as a vampire in a cape, all of it had made the choice on how to handle this situation.

How to fix everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

Do what he had to do, try disseminating the secrets of immortality so they could bring Bruce back.

And like this, Tim is going to help him do it.

“But it’s okay,” he’s back to smiling again, “we’ve worked past all that, haven’t we, Timmy?” Dick is satisfied all the leads are fine and the slow flow unimpeded. He steps back to the bag on the table.

In one hand is a pint of O Positive. In the other, a Krispy Kreme with sprinkles.

Both their favorites.

“C’mon,” he cajoles after taking a bite of his donut, “it’s one of Steph’s extra pints. I know you’re going to like it.”

He holds the oozing bag to Tim’s averted mouth and patiently waits, nibbles on his donut in the other hand.

“Why don’t,” and the tone is hoarse, faint because Timmy mostly doesn’t really talk to him anymore, “you just kill me?”

Dick pauses mid-chew, blinking down at the eyes filling with bloody tears, the hitch in the chest that doesn’t really move anymore.

Dick swallows the bite, suddenly more like ash than icing in his mouth. “You know I can’t do that,” is more harsh than he means. “We don’t kill. Not even vampires.”

“Then let me go.”

“Can’t let you go out and kill people either, Tim, and I need the supply for testing.”

“This is torture. This is fucking torture and you don’t even give a shit about me anymore–”

With a flick of his fingers, a crucifix falls right on Tim’s chest, and the screams are awful, horrible, but that is probably never going to outweigh the smell.

By the time Dick finishes his donut, Tim is weakly writhing in agony and the screams have died down to soft whimpers, mouth open to show those killer fangs.

He dusts his hands off and pulls on a glove from the Nightwing suit under his uniform, gingerly lifts the holy item off, grimaces when tissue and flesh stick to it.

“Kill me,” Timmy whimpers. “Just fucking kill me.”

Dick scoffs and takes the chance to lean down, presses his mouth to Tim’s forehead. “You know I can’t lose anyone else,” is the softest of reprimands. “Don’t worry. Once I just figure this out, we’ll get Bruce back and he’ll help us reverse the turning. Before you know it, this will seem like just a bad dream.”

Dick presses another kiss to each eyelid, talking softly against the deceptively soft yet immortal skin. “And when you’re back to yourself, we can be together again. I’ll take care of you just like I used to, promise.”

Dick leans back up with a small smile on his face and familiar fondness in his eyes. He holds the bag up to Tim’s mouth again, ignores the red tears streaming down the pale face. “We’ll get there, okay? I’m close to the answers we need. I just need a little more time. But, I have to have samples to work with, which means you to drink, Timmy.”

Like usual, the pink tracks down his face stand out starkly in the false sunlight when Tim finally gives in and punctures the bag with his fangs.

[oumaheroes]

Afterlife

Word Count: 2229

Names:

Alba- Scotland

Cymru- Wales

Albion- England

Ériu- Ireland

Set in the same world as ‘Wind Walk’

-----------

‘What happens when we die?’

Alba paused, halfway through carving a gouge in a block of wood to look over at Albion where he was stood by the fire, face turned to the flames. He had his back to Alba, a roughly spun blanket draped over his shoulders which was made from thick, undyed wool that scratched but did the job. Cymru was getting the hang of making them now, able to weave in a few patterns if he had the time and the colours, but it was haphazard work and nothing fancy at all. They were sometimes able to trade for nicer ones, ones with intricate designs of knots and swirls, charms woven into the fabric to dance across borders and seams, but food was more important, usually. Things they couldn’t catch or pick from the land, like bread.

Mama had never really praised overly nice things, or stressed their importance beyond a passing aesthetic appreciation, and so none of them were too concerned that their everyday clothes were dull and shapeless. Their nicer things Alba kept in a bag at all times near his person- golden armlets and bracelets folded in the plaid of their family woven by Mama herself to show them as children of the earth, Gods amongst men. Rich colours and bold patterns that Cymru eyed with greedy wonder.

Alba saved these for when they visited their people, the scatterings of them spread across the island that bore them. He was thankful that he and his siblings didn’t really grow.

‘What do you mean?’

Albion hesitated, mouth pressing into a tight line before opening again to speak, ‘When we die. Because people…’ Albion shifted, casting a quick glance back to him before turning once again to the fire, ‘humans don’t come back, do they?’

Alba, gave up on whittling anything further and sat up straighter, left hand holding what would one day be a bowl resting on his knee, ‘No, they don’t.’

He looked about their camp from his spot on the floor, back pressed again the trunk of a large tree they’d pitched their shelter against. Despite it being night Cymru was off somewhere, away on one of his walks that sometimes took him for days and there was no telling when he’d be back. This time Alba wasn’t too sure what had caused him to need space, the air was calm and friendly amongst them all, but Cymru had grown silent and still regardless and Alba had followed him with watchful eyes until he had taken himself away, seeing him retreat to the West where he could feel him linger on the edge of his perception.

He was the one that usually had these conversations, the ones where there wasn’t a clear answer, or a kind answer. Cymru could mould the truth into something palatable, something easy to understand and swallow without it becoming a lie. These sorts of conversations were not Alba’s strength- he did not like things for which there was no answer, or no easy answer, and so either worked at them silently until there was one, or ignored it. Not all things needed to be understood or reasoned with, some things just were and it was easier in the end to accept that.

But Alba had a feeling that Albion was leading to one of those sorts of questions and he was going to have to be the one to answer it.

‘But we do come back,’ Albion continued on. He said it as a statement; the tone was unquestioning but also unsure and Alba cracked his knuckles on one hand with his thumb as he tried to read between what Albion was saying and what he might be leading up to.

‘Yes, we do.’

An unspoken ‘sometimes’ fell flat and awkward between them. Mama hadn’t come back.

Albion looked down at the ground and rolled a stone underneath his foot. He was barefoot, again, because he refused to stay in shoes for very long if he could help it, and he balanced the pebble under the ball of his foot, round and around.

‘What is it?’ Alba knew this had come out rougher than he had intended by the way Albion’s shoulders twitched, a sudden self-conscious jolt that made Alba click his tongue in regret and try again. He was still getting used to this, ‘What are you thinking about?’

Alba watch the curve of Albion’s brow furrow into a frown, light from the flames silhouetting him and making him appear older and unknown, ‘Do we turn human? When we die? Is that why Mama…’ he trailed off, no words needed.

‘No, we don’t,’ he said it confidently but really, Alba knew as much as anyone did. Which is to say, he knew nothing concrete at all. None of them truly knew what happened to Mama, although her disappearance was as sure and real to him as much as his own hand was. Mama wasn’t missing or elsewhere, she was gone. He felt it as a truth deep within him, somewhere ancient formed long before his time. No matter what Alba didn’t know, he knew this all too well, ‘we stay as we are. We fade, when our time comes.’

He could see that this reply brought more questions than it did answers and thought of a way to try and fill the gaps, ‘humans die from age or sickness, or injury. We die from other things.’

Albion turned around to face him fully, ‘Like what?’

‘By the Gods, what is it with you today? Why so many questions?’

Albion scowled and lightly kicked the pebble he was worrying away from the fire. It rolled somewhere to Alba’s left, landing by the roots of a small shrub. They both watched its progress, ‘doesn’t matter.’

Damn it. ‘Don’t be huffy, why’re you asking all of a sudden?’

Albion shifted his weight from one foot to the other and tensed under the blanket, pulling it tighter around him and huddling in on himself. He ducked his head to stare somewhere off and down, ‘You’ll laugh.’

‘No, I won’t,’ Alba was slightly offended, although it couldn’t say for sure that it was unwarranted. Maybe there had been times when he’d read his youngest brother wrong. Albion was often prickly and capricious and it was difficult to tell how he was truly feeling, hard to know whether he was hiding another truth under thorns.

Alba also wasn’t used to talking with him in such a way yet. Before Mama died, he could be a brother: tease Albion whenever he said something stupid, or fell over, or messed up. But now Alba had to be something more, had suddenly found himself thrust in a role he didn’t ask for and the shape of caregiver hung too large on him. He was trying to fill a space of parent for everyone but all he himself really wanted was for someone else to come and do it for him, for Mama to come back and fill it perfectly.

It was hard to know where to tread on a path you’ve never gone down before, especially one made by someone else.

Albion still looked unsure and as much as a large part of Alba was tempted to let it go, to take the easy option that was presented to him and move on with the evening, another, more stubborn, part wanted to prove Albion, and maybe himself, wrong, ‘I promise I won’t laugh. Now will you just spit it out?’

Albion remained staring somewhere at the ground between them, ‘what if-,’ he cut off, swallowing, ‘what if you die?’

There was a beat of silence in which a flurry of emotions coiled in Alba’s chest, ‘I will die. We all die.’

Albion pursed his lips tight together and blinked a few times in succession- too quick, ‘But I don’t- I don’t want you to.’

Alba’s throat felt thick suddenly, ‘Hey, come here.’

Albion refused to move, still studiously looking down at the ground and locked stubbornly in place, so Alba half stood to reach out and grab hold of the blanket and tug him closer. Albion stumbled at first, unwilling to allow himself to let go easily, but another tug had him near enough for Alba to wrap him in arms, falling back down into a sit with him. Once there, all pretence was dropped and Albion lifted his arms to curl them around Alba’s neck, chin coming to hook over his shoulder.

Alba shifted him to settle more comfortably on his lap, legs around his waist and blanket forgotten on the floor, and rubbed his back, holding him tight with his other arm. Albion’s hands gripped Alba’s tunic in a tight bunch, tugging it awkwardly askew around his back. They stayed there for a few moments, mostly silent and unmoving apart from the odd jolting repressed sob from Albion who still refused to give in completely.

After he’d calmed down, shaky breaths softening into regular breathing, Alba reached up to cup the back of his head and lightly ruffle his hair, ‘I’m not going anywhere any time soon.’

Albion sniffled and released one hold of Alba’s clothes to rub at his eyes, ‘How do you know?’

‘Because I do.’

Albion dropped his hand to once again grabbed hold of his tunic but looser, tugging and pulling at the fabric in a half-hearted distraction, and huffed, ‘That’s a stupid answer.’

Alba prodded him in the side, smiling when Albion twitched in surprise, ‘It’s the truth. I think Mama knew; we knew as well, didn’t we.’

Albion hmm’d, unwilling to agree. Alba knew he had noticed though, as small as he was. He had never fussed or questioned when she’d wandered away and left them, had never tried to follow her on her journeys alone. He had known, as they all had, that she was disappearing into time and a place no one could follow.

‘We are our people. We watch them and speak for them- we remember them,’ Alba shifted him and rested his cheek on the crown of Albion’s head, speaking into his hair, ‘when our people change, sometimes we can’t change with them. I think that’s what happened to Mama.’

Albion stayed silent. Alba could feel him thinking, sense him turning this over in his head to search for holes.

‘What brought this on?’ Alba tried again, gently. He felt Albion swallow against his shoulder.

‘Things feel more different now. Cymru goes away and sometimes I can’t feel where he goes. Ériu feels the most different and-‘ he paused for a moment, thinking, ‘humans feel different. Some I can’t feel them at all, I know they’re not mine now. So, I thought… what if…’

Alba raised his head and shrugged his shoulder for Albion to move off. He leant back, heavy in his lap, and Alba caught him by the chin to keep him from looking away, ‘Just because we’re growing apart now, doesn’t mean we’re going away,’ he smoothed a thumb under Albion’s eye before resting his hand on his neck, steady, ‘we’ll be different but we’ll still be here. You’ll know when it’s my time to go.’

Albion’s eyes slid to stare at Alba’s shoulder so he tapped him under the chin to get him to look back, ‘Alright? You’ll know.’

Albion gave a small nod, ‘yeah, okay.’

Alba eyed him critically, searching for anything lingering that he still wasn’t saying. Finding nothing and feeling satisfied that Albion had taken in what he’d said, Alba gave a moan and rubbed theatrically at his thighs, ‘Good, now get off- you’re heavy.’

Albion scowled, ‘No I’m not!’

‘By Gods you are, I can’t feel my legs.’

Albion shoved at his shoulder but stood, moving off to the side, ‘Maybe your legs are just weak.’

‘Maybe it’s all those raspberries you keep filching when you think I’m not looking.’

Albion coloured, ‘No it’s not!’

‘Must be, I did think you were looking rounder,’

Alba prodded Albion in the stomach and he scowled, swatting his hand away, ‘I’m not round!’

‘Well, you certainly ain’t a feather. Here,’ Alba picked up his block of wood and his carving knife and held them out to him, ‘help me work on this. It can be for you to carry the berries in rather than stuffing them in your shirt and staining everything.’

‘I don’t do that,’ Albion huffed but took the wood and tool anyway, sitting down next to him. Alba picked up the blanket and shook it out to shake off the dirt before draping it back around his shoulders.

‘Do you think I can’t tell? Stop grousing and hollow me out a hole, we can smooth it later.’

‘What are you going to do?’ Albion began to carve in the centre, widening the impressions Alba had made earlier.

Alba fished in his pocket for his hunting knife, ‘I’ll sharpen this and then go and check the rabbit traps.’

He leant behind him and around the tree for his travel bag, pulling it closer and rummaging about inside it for his whetstone.

‘Thanks.’

Albion’s voice was small and quiet- Alba probably wouldn’t have heard it if he hadn’t still been so alert to noise from him.

He prodded his brother on the arm with his knee and turned to carry on digging through his bag, ‘of course.’

-----------

AN:

Another mini story that will be fleshed out for AO3 one day. Can you tell I’m procrastinating updating my other WIPs? Because I am and I am a cretin.

This is very self-indulgent with no historical accuracy or research whatsoever- please forgive me. If I go digging for historical truth, I fall into a rabbit hole and that is very difficult to peel myself out of.

Thanks for reading!

[quietmyfearswith]

thorned flowers ; andy barber x fem!reader

status — completed oneshot

word count —8,528  words

summary — in which andy barber mourns the loss of his family, until he finds another reason to be hopeful for the future.

warnings —SMUT, DARK THEMES, stalking, drugging (like putting some fertility things in their food and drink, oral (female receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, andy being sad, SOFT!DARK!ANDY, dubious pregnancy/breeding

pairing — soft!dark!andy barber x fem!florist!reader

a/n — DNI IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!,, this is my entry for @imanuglywombat​‘s “is that even a sex position” challenge. and the certain position was the special breakfast(you can find it liked in the smut part)... anyway here is the second oneshot for my folklore series! next is either a oneshot for the same series or a preference... feedback is appreciated!

tagging — @la-cey​ @pedropcl​ @iloveshawnieboi​

masterlist | series masterlist | join my taglist (please follow the rules)

As Andy drove closer and closer to the graveyard, he felt the sweat from his hands drop onto the steering wheel — making it even more difficult for him to grip onto the leather. The last time he visited Jacob was when they buried him a few months ago; the pain was too much for him to bear, making it difficult for him to go and visit his deceased son — the son he loved, cared for, and protected. The son whom he once had precious memories with was now gone.

It wasn’t that he had fully grieved his loss, but he was getting there. But he didn’t just lose his son in that fateful accident that happened nine months ago, he had lost — or more accurately, divorced — Laurie when she confessed that she still had doubts about Jacob’s innocence and crashed the car for she couldn’t believe the monster her son had become. Every ounce of self-control was used by Andy the moment he got the chance to speak with his ex-wife in the middle of her hearing; every curse word he knew was thrown at her for her brutal actions that led to his untimely death.

Now as he faces the aftermath of every single thing that has transpired over the past months, he couldn’t help but feel empty. Happiness was something he longed for; he once had it all, but a series of events reversed that situation quickly. He would do anything to once again look forward to going home, knowing that he had a loving wife and joyful child; instead of coming home to his house filled with silence and agony for it serves as a reminder of what he once had.

Well, maybe not what he had — it wasn’t perfect and the ideal picture he always dreamt way back then. A fresh start, he thought silently, a new start with someone who can fulfill my dreams.

Parking in parallel, Andy looked to see if there were oncoming cars before going down to enter the flower shop. The soft bell that hung above let out a small chime as he opened the door, his blue eyes scanning the different floral arrangements that were littered across the store. Roses, lilis, orchids, sunflowers — all of them looked and smelt lovely. It made him smile how pleasing to the eyes every bouquet was, making it difficult for him  to choose what to get.

“Hi! How can I help you?” A voice spoke up which made Andy turn his attention to the girl wearing overalls who just came from the back room. Once he quickly took in her appearance, though her face sweat a bit and her overalls had patches of greens thanks to the plants, he thought she looked adorable and cleared his throat, “I was hoping to buy some flowers.”

Smiling widely, she wiped her forehead with a towel draped on her shoulder as she said, “I’m happy to help,” She stood by the shelves as she pointed through some flowers, “These have just been arranged today. Oh! And these lilacs and peonies just came in today, too.” Andy couldn’t help but chuckle softly upon seeing how cute her excited state was. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the occasion or for whom these flowers are? Just so I could suggest a few things to you,” She turned to him after listing some of the fresh flowers she had.

“It’s for my son, I’m visiting his grave today.” Y/N wanted to smack herself; her shop was located less than ten miles away from the nearest graveyard. His gloomy, silent aura should have been a clue on how he was mourning, she thought. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. How an arrangement of lilies and roses?”

Following her as she walked towards the opposite side of the store where a shelf containing an arrangement of lilies and roses were displayed. With a nod, Andy confirmed, “I’ll take that please.” Grabbing the vase, she excused herself to move onto the counter. Placing it on the wooden surface, she went to get a watering can to place some more water for the flowers. Wanting to talk with her more, he decided to initiate a conversation, “Slow day?”

Peering her eyes up as she returned the can, she nodded her head a bit, “We’ve had customers, but there’s no rush, you know?” Mindlessly, he bobbed his head up and down as she continued, “Some are for their wives, some for their mistresses — but don’t tell!” She placed her index finger on her lips to make her point and the lawyer couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore and shook his head at her goofiness.

“And you’re the first to buy then go to the cemetery, usually they don’t come this time of the day,” She gasped upon realizing what she said; as she punched in his total she didn’t have time to analyze what she said, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry about that, sir!”

Eyes widening at her apology, Andy wondered why she was saying sorry for, “What for?” Looking down as she played with the denim material of her outfit she muttered shyly, “Well you know, I didn’t mean to bring you up. Or the whole cemetery thing.”

Catching her drift, he nodded and genuinely smiled as he reassured her that he took no offense, “It’s alright, you didn't mean harm with it, yeah?” She nodded as she changed their topic before she could embarrass herself any further, “Your total comes to $26.25; how would you like to pay?”

“Credit,” He curtly replied as he took out his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans; as he was inserting the PIN, he found himself wondering why she suddenly meant all business. Staring at her focused expression which included her lips slightly pursued gave him a faint clue that perhaps she didn't want to embarrass herself any further.

“Here’s your receipt,” She slid the paper across the counter; as she placed her hands on the glass jar to move it closer towards the customer, Andy placed his on top of hers as he too made a move to grab the vase. Surprised with the warmth and spark she felt when their skins grazed against each other, the florist shyly smiled as she moved her hands away from the vase, “Thank you for visiting us, sir.”

“Andy,” He introduced himself as he carried the vase with one arm as the other extended to her direction, offering to shake hands, “And your name is?” She shook her hand as she gave him her name — the lawyer repeating it as he liked how it rolled off his tongue. Disentangling their hands, Y/N fiddled with her hands nervously as the attractive man waved at her one final time as he left the store, not before promising, “Gonna see you real soon, petal.”

Placing the floral arrangement on the front passenger side, Andy couldn’t help but feel giddy with himself as he jogged to the driver’s seat. “Y/N,” He repeated to himself as he began the drive to the cemetery. In their short, yet sweet interaction, he couldn’t help but feel lighter upon meeting her. Could this mean something? He wondered as to why he was feeling this way with her.

Once he found a decent parking spot, he went out of his car with the flowers and walked to where Jake rested. “Hey buddy, how you doing?” Placing the flowers by the stone where his name was engraved, he sat by the grass as Andy looked up in the sky. “I’ve been doing good, I think. Work keeps me busy and I’ve been doing some outdoor exercise as an excuse to get out of the house.”

Picking at the grass as he recalls what has happened the last nine months, “And I think your middle school named something after you. Though I wasn’t paying too close attention to know what it actually was — sorry about that, buddy. But your friend Sarah, she asked for some of your things and clothes. Think she has, or had, a crush on you,” Exhaling deeply as he paused, the lawyer couldn’t help but mourn about the endless possibilities and chances his son would have had if it wasn’t for her.

“Anyway, Laurie has been sending some letters. I don’t if I should read them — part of me wants too, I still want to know if she’s doing well. But there’s this part of me that wants nothing to do with her, because of what she’s done to you, us, and because of what she failed to do,” Hooking his chin on the palm of his hand as he could feel the slight sharpness of his elbow against his thigh, he contemplated a bit, “What do you think I should do, Jake?”

Grass slanted towards the east as sharp gusts of winds prickled Andy’s skin which made him smirk slightly as he looked at the name of his son, “I take that as I need to be the bigger person and reach out to your mother?” When the grass was left unmoving, it was seen as a confirmation that his son did want him to reconnect with her. Nodding to himself, he guaranteed he would do so, “Okay then, Jake. I’ll do so.”

A softer wind brushed and swayed the flowers he bought, making it look even more graceful than it already was — which reminded Andy of the woman he met earlier. “And I met someone earlier, on the way here, actually.” His lips formed into a smile as he thought of how charming and sweet she was as he was being accommodated ; he wondered something out loud, “Do you think I should do uh, what term did you use? Shot your shoot? No, it’s shoot your shot, right?” He scratched the back of his neck as he racked his brain remembering how he’d be teased for finding it difficult to familiarize himself with this decade’s lingo, “Anyway, she just seems so kind and welcoming; and there’s something about her that makes me feel like I could have a second chance at happiness.”

Should his headspace not have been in a remorseful one, he would have found it frightening how it seemed the wind only moved the arrangement of lilies and roses in an almost ludicrous fashion. Whether it was a sign his child had sent him or something his mind was making up, he interpreted it as a sign he should go for it. “Guess I will shoot my shot, Jake.”

Kneeling by the slab of marble, his thumb was rubbing against his son’s full name as Andy sadly smiled, “I love you, buddy. See you soon.” Standing up, he walked away and to his car feeling lighter. Being able to go to his son was progress for the lawyer as he was slowly coming to terms with the events that happened. Reaching out to Laurie was also another way of him acknowledging the past and coming to terms with — and it would probably give him the closure he needed as he ventured on to the future.

The future, he thought, seemed to be brighter right now. And the sole reason why he thought that way was because of someone he had just met. Normally he would be rolling his eyes at the thought of love at first sight; but now things are different since he’s a changed man. Hastily exiting his parked car, he entered through the back door where he discarded his shoes and socks by the doorway. Flipping his laptop open, he opened his browser and searched for the name of the flower shop he visited.

This was far from the usual search engines — like Google or Ecosia — for this allowed him to know every single thing there is to know about what he searched. Usually, he would use this solely for work; and this was the first time he ever used it for his own selfish reason. Not only the reviews, location, and services offered by the flower shop appeared on the screen after a few minutes. The business and clearance permits were shown; but so did the owner's name appear. “Y/F/N,” He read out loud as he highlighted her name and searched again.

Social media accounts, educational background, cell phone number, and her address shown up in an instant. A smile settled on his lips as he took in everything there was to learn about her. Part of him was glad that she didn’t post too much of herself online for he couldn’t see how pretty she was — but he considered it a good thing for it wouldn't attract anymore competition or creeps. Flowers filled her feed and by reading through each and every one of her posts, relief washed over him upon knowing that these were flowers she arranged and were not gifts to her by a beau.

Peeking at her phone records, he noticed how there had been only a few register of incoming and outgoing calls — the fact that her most called number was of a restaurant that delivers had been slightly concerning for him — and digging into her text history, there was no hints that she was in a relationship. As he searched for her address online, it was brought to his attention how she lived not too far from where he was residing, in just twenty minutes he could be over with her. As he closed his laptop it was clear to Andy how perfect Y/N was for him — and that she would be the perfect woman for him to build a family with.

Going to the living room, he grabbed for the letters sent by Laurie. There were a total of four, and until now he hasn’t opened a single one. After reading them he was relieved to find out that she was doing well and that she wasn’t being mistreated by anyone over there. She also has repeatedly apologized for what she has done. Fear and uncertainty were just some of the two overwhelming emotions that affected her decision-making. Sentiments of how she misses their son and long for how they once were.

Grabbing a pen and paper, Andy then wrote his own letter in response;

Laurie,

I apologize for taking too long to reach out to you — it took me a while to come to terms with everything that happened. What you did came as a shock to me. I never knew about how still had your apprehensions about Jacob. I wish you would have talked to me about it, or even to him.  Perhaps by doing so things would have been resolved better.

I won’t lie to you so I will just tell you that I believe it was harsh of you to end Jacob’s life like that. He had so much waiting for him — so much potential and fire within him, and to see it all disappear breaks my heart. After his trial ended, I thought of it as a chance for all of us to have a clean slate — granted it didn’t feel like it — and have the chance to redeem ourselves and build another life for all of us. But I didn’t imagine for it to be this way — us divorced while you’re in jail and our son buried six feet under.

Nevertheless, I won’t dwell on what has been. I will focus on the future. Speaking of, I would like to apologize as well for shoving the divorce papers in you. It might seem like a “heat of the moment” decision; but I think we both saw it coming. Having our marriage and relationship built on a lie, it all would have led to this moment — one way or another. It was neglectful of me to lay it on you when you already had your plate full, but I guess there was just really no perfect timing for it either, no?

The frequency of my letters to you might vary, but rest assured I will write to you as much as I can. I hope that you will find peace and safety despite your current situation. I wouldn’t fully say that I have forgiven you for what you did, but I am on the path of reaching that point.

Take care always, Andy

As he folded up the piece of paper and slid it on an envelope, Andy felt lighter. Somehow there this part of him knew how shitty the content was. But that was what he felt. What he wanted to tell Laurie. Sealing the envelope, he then pasted a stamp on it then stood up to place the letter on his coat jacket; that way he won’t forget to drop it off.

Returning to his work desk, he then looked over the information he had collected. Another thing that the letter made him feel was that he has already made closure with his past; and now he can venture on and look forward to the future. And he sees one with Y/N.

*

Having worked at a flower shop for almost five years, Y/N almost memorized the frequent visitors of the cemetery. She always engaged in polite conversations with them. Another thing is that she noticed a pattern as well. If one visits every week, it was a sign that they have yet to come to terms with the loss of their loved one. Once their visits became less frequent, say with two weeks in between, she took it as a sign that, slowly but surely, they were getting over their grief and sadness. And when the gaps between their visits stretched over a month or so, it showed that they had reached the final stage of grief — acceptance.

That’s why as much as she enjoyed her small talk with the customers — which ranged from their daily activity to workplace gossip — she felt fulfilled for them once their visit became less and less frequent than their initial ones. Besides, there were always new friends that she could make along the way. It just so happens that Andy happens to be one of her potential friends. Having never seen him before and their brief conversation, led her to believe that the death of his son was fairly recent.

“Hey, Y/N,” His warm, deep voice rang through her shop. Fortunately, she was in the front checking the sales so far when he entered. It was exactly seven days after he dropped by her shop on his way to the cemetery — and then her hunch was somewhat confirmed. “Hi, Andy. how are you?”

He carried with him a tray with a couple of drinks — one was his preference for coffee while the other was her favorite kind of drink to start off her day. Placing it on the counter he smiled at her, “Busy day?”  Placing down the clipboard she was holding she rested both her hands on the counter, “It was, yeah. Wedding bouquets, centerpieces for events, any occasion you can possibly think of suddenly needed flowers. Not that I’m complaining! But I'm just thankful I’m gonna be having a break in a few.”

Laughing at her dilemma he then casually brought up, “Well I was in the coffee shop earlier and they gave me a spare drink,” Pushing the cup of her favorite drink to her, he offered it to her, “Do you want it?” Not wanting to seem ungrateful, she brought the cup to her nose, she smelt it and was surprised to find out it smelt like her favored drink. Taking a sip a bit, she smiled after she placed it down, “Thank you so much for it, Andy!”

Hiding a smirk, he simply nodded at her as he took a sip out of his own drink too, “I have two orders of flowers for today. White carnations on a small vase, and yellow orchids on one of those small boxes,” He pointed behind her, where mounted on the wall were some packaging ideas for the flowers. Nodding her head, she pushed the hot beverage aside as she got to work.

A slow, melodious song played in the background; and the lawyer just found it even more adorable with how she hummed along to it. While working on his purchases, she shifted her gaze to look at him. However, she quickly turned away due to the intensity of his stare — no one had ever looked at her with so much interest. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She cleared her throat, as she tried to diffuse the tension. With every move she made while cutting the orchids to fit the wooden box, she could feel his eyes trailing her in an instant, “It certainly is.” Her eyes were focused on trimming up the stems of the carnation, so she missed the way he was looking at her and not on the flowers.

Placing the trimmed up carnations on the vase, she then grabbed for the watering can to fill them up a bit with water. “Here you go, Andy,” She shyly declared as she was done with the yellow orchids and white carnations. Heading over to the  cash register to punch in the items, he spoke, “Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

Shaking her head no, “That’ll be $45.17,” She turned the card machine towards him, “No plans tonight. Just gonna be staying in. How about you?” After entering the card details he was asked for, he slid his card on his back pocket as he joked, “Well I’m gonna try and stay in with you then.”

Hearing her giggle made him wonder if she realized how serious he was. He truly wanted to be a part of her life; and she didn’t even know the effect she had on him. Handing him the receipt, Y/N watched closely how Andy only grabbed for the white carnations, “Andy? Are you forgetting these?”

As she held the yellow orchids, he shook his head and smiled warmly, “They’re for you. I’ve read somewhere that they represent friendship.” Taken aback with what he said, she nodded her head and confirmed, “They do, yeah.” A hand then reached over as it caressed her cheek before settling it under her chin, lifting her head a bit to stare at his passionate eyes, “And I hope that this is a start of a beautiful one.”

His thumb tapped her jaw softly before letting go and walking out of the store; it was only then that Y/N managed to let out a breath she didn’t realize was being bottled up inside her. Holding the box with one hand as the other patted the flower’s petal, she spoke to herself, “I really hope that it is the start of one.”

“I’m going out with Y/N tonight, Jake,” Andy told his son as he sat on the grass after placing the wonderful arrangement she made near his name. “Well, it’s not really a date. She wrote down on her schedule app that she’ll go to the grocery store today during her break. So I’ll just casually bump into her there.” It was incredible that with today’s technology he was able to even see what was in her phone. Using it to his advantage, he tried to pattern most of his schedule with hers; and so far this was the first one that lined up.

As his legs crossed, his hands were rubbing against his shin while recalling what the past week looked like for him, “I also finally wrote back to Laurie. The letter I wrote might have been shitty but it’s still been a struggle for me to put into words what I feel.”

Like the last time, a cool breeze of wind prickled his skin even as he wore a gray henley, “You’re right. It was harsh. But I’m hoping that as time goes on, I’ll be more of a friend to her.” He once again found himself staring at the flowers and smiled, “I’m gonna be honest and tell you that I was planning to divorce her either way. It just wasn’t working out anymore, bud.”

Memories of their fights that happened in the garage so Jacob wouldn’t have to see them yelling at each other flashed through his mind. “And somehow I can’t help but think that maybe Y/N would have been the perfect stepmother for you. She’s really nice and sweet. Based on what she listens to, I feel like you two would have gotten along well.” Once again his heart aches at the thought of how his son had his future right in front of him, and yet it was all snatched away from him.

Kneeling down, his fingertips brushed against Jacob’s name, “Anyway, gonna let you know how’d the date go next week. I love you, buddy.” Walking to his car, he felt giddy at the thought of going to the grocery store. He never imagined doing something so mundane would make him feel this way.

Noticing that the Oreos had a two for one deal, she didn’t hesitate to grab two packs. Pushing the grocery cart down, she was proud of herself for not getting every snack she craved for. Stay on budget, she reminded herself mentally, you’re saving for that new laptop, remember? And that explained why she’d always buy what was on sale; brand loyalty be damned!

Checking her list, she now had toiletries, vegetables, a small selection of fruits, meat and fish, as well as her snacks and drinks. She even managed to buy rice that was on sale. As her eyes scanned for pasta, she let out a small huff how the last one was at the very top, pushed at the back. Standing on her tippy toes, she tried to reach for it — but as her nails scratched the container, it only pushed the item further away.

Feeling a warm body press against hers as they reached for the box, she turned around and was shocked to see it was Andy, “Here you go.” Grabbing the item from him, she smiled at him after placing it on her cart. “Thanks, Andy. would have ended up climbing my cart just to reach it.”

That’s dangerous! Can’t have you risking your body when it’s soon to be carrying our child, He scolded her in his mind. But what he really told her was, “Well we can’t have that happening; some are gonna think that you’re a die hard pasta lover.” They both laughed at what he said as they both walked. She noticed how he only had a basket with him that was filled with a few personal hygiene products and a reusable bag.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you shop here before,” She’s shopped at this market in different times and days, and not once has she seen his face before. Already having prepared an answer, he smiled, “Well this is further from my home. But it was on the way back, since I did just come from the cemetery.”

Shaking her head as she cursed herself, she turned to him to express regret, “I’m sorry for that. It seems like I always unknowingly bring that up.” Bopping her nose with his finger he reassured her, “Like you said, unknowingly. You didn’t know that it would somehow lead to that — so don’t sweat yourself about it.”

Bashfully, she just kept her head down as she lined up for the cashier. Andy didn’t follow her directly as he opted for the self-service check out. Still, after he was done paying he waited for her at the end of the lane. When he noticed that she struggled to carry her items, she took two of her bags — leaving her to carry only one.

“Andy! Let me get it, there’s no need for you to do that,” She tried grabbing for her bags as they walked out of the market. Bringing the bags to his side so she wouldn’t reach it, he stuck his tongue out, playfully, “No way! Plus these are too heavy for you. So allow me to be a good citizen and carry it for you okay?”

Deciding that it wasn’t worth her time and energy to fight him, she just nodded and began to silently lead him to her car — but what she didn’t realize was that not only did the lawyer know what kind of car she had, but also where she had parked it. “You know it feels like I’m taking advantage of you.”

What she said had him interested as they both neared her vehicle, “And why is that?” Opening the trunk of her car, she placed the bag she carried before reaching over to him and grabbing the ones he brought, “Well you buy flowers from me — and this morning you even gave me one — and then you carry my things like you’re my servant.”

Oh if you only knew, love, he thought to himself. But he smirked at her as he closed the trunk before placing his own bag then resting his elbow on the car, “Well how about a repayment then?”

“Done! Your next order, or orders, of flowers are on me.” Her quick response had Andy laughing, “I didn’t mean for it that way, petal.” The nickname he used had her stuttering for a bit as her brain felt like it was being transformed into a melted mess. “What’d you mean then?”

“How about we text? You know, we exchange numbers and just get to know each other a little better,” For some reason Andy felt nervous as he proposed the idea. Insecurity lingered on his head as he tried to gently weasel his way in. But it brought him comfort when she smiled and nodded, “I’d love that, Andy!” While she grabbed for her phone that was in the pocket of her leggings.

He already had her number registered in his phone, it was only for formality’s sake that he put in his number on her cellular device so as not to raise any suspicion. “I look forward to chatting with you,” She giggled at the term he used, causing him to raise an eyebrow at her. “I just found it silly how you said chatting. It’s silly, really.”

Placing a hand on his chest as he pretended to be offended, he defended himself, “I may not use today’s terms but I sure am a great person to have a conversation with.” Chuckling, she just bopped his nose before heading to the driver’s seat, “Only one way to find out, yeah?”

Nodding, he winked at her before grabbing his bag and heading on over to his car, “Only one way. See you soon, Y/N. Take care on your drive.” As she entered her car, she unlocked her phone and sent out a text to Andy:

take care as well, Andy! thank you once again for helping me out :D ‘til next time!

Placing her phone on the seat beside her, she turned on the engine and was preparing to leave when she heard her phone chime. Surprised with how quickly responded, she then decided to read the message now:

Can’t imagine this will be the last time I’ll be helping you out. (I’m kidding of course! Unless…)

Shaking her head at his goofiness, she began her journey back to the shop where she decided it would be best to not reply to him right away. They’ve only interacted twice but she couldn’t help but find him attractive. He had this charm in him and the way he carried himself was amazing. It also helped that he was pleasing to the eye and quick-witted. Perhaps this could be more than just a friendship; but Andy had already had an entire plan hatched out in order for that to happen.

*

Andy was having a bad week. He wanted to have gone to visit Y/N on Wednesday since those were the days of when he had previously visited her. Granted, they have been texting throughout the previous week, it still doesn’t compare to seeing her actual face and getting the chance to touch her skin. But having been swamped with work since he was assigned to a massive, imperative case; and now that it was almost being resolved, he thought to unwind and relax. And what better way to do so than spending time with his best girl?

The moment he stepped foot in her floral shop, his sweet, positive attitude he had quickly turned out to be a sour one. “Andy, hi!” Her excited voice made him put on a fake smile, stopping his earlier activity which was piercing daggers through the back of the man’s head she was earlier talking to. Cautiously, he stepped forward to stand behind the till as the man stood off to the side as he held out his hand, “Hey, man. I’m Scott Lang!”

“Scott here just delivered the flowers,” She pointed to the crates of flowers that she has yet to unpack. “Oh? And he’s still here because?” Despite being serious, the two took it as a joke and just laughed it off. Scott even hit his palm against Andy’s muscular bicep as he threw his head back laughing, “Well I was just catching up with Y/N, it’s been awhile since I got assigned to her little shop. And i’ve got a few more deliveries to make, so I’m gonna go ahead.” The relief that the lawyer had when Scott waved goodbye was short lived for he heard him call out to Y/N, “I’ll see you on game night, okay?”

It even pained him when she nodded her head while she placed her elbow on the crate on the counter, “So, Andy, what can I get for you?”

“White chrysanthemums on that white box, please,” Patting down his pants, he shook his head and scowled, ���Shoot, I forgot my wallet in the car. Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He didn’t even wait for her reply as he was quickly heading out the door. Looking to his right, he noticed Scott’s delivery trunk and how he was reading something off a tablet as he stood with his back leaned against the door to the driver’s seat.

Scott was taken aback with the sudden force on his shoulders, prompting him to look up from the tablet and on the face of the man he just met, “Andy? What?” The bearded man had his hands pressing onto his shoulders, shoving the delivery man even more into the car’s material, “Stay away from, Y/N.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Leave it to Scott to find the current situation he was in hilarious as he chuckled out his response. Andy, however, didn’t find humor in the situation; the intense gaze his eyes trapped Scott in partnered with the firm grip he had on his shoulders made it clear how serious he was. “You heard me,” He spoke after gulping down the tension he was bottling up, “Stay away from Y/N; she’s mine.”

Breaking into a heartfelt smile, Scott cooed, “Did she tell you about her crush on you? Are you finally together? She has been gushing to me and Hope about how nice and handsome you were being.” At his statement, the lawyer released his solid grip on the man; confused at what he said he questioned, “She said that? Who’s Hope?”

Chuckling at his confused state, Scott playfully hit his arm, “Hope’s my wife! She and Y/N are close friends you know? And my daughter, Cassie, absolutely adores Y/N. We try to have her over as often for game night. We’ve only seen her once in the past few weeks, and she talked our ears off about how great you are!”

Andy could feel himself getting all shy and warm with how his girl was crushing on her; Scott shook his own head as recollection of how dreamy his florist friend was at the thought of this man. And to think he was being the same right now! The expression he had on his face also gave him a clue that two weren;t officially an item yet. With a final nod, he hopped into his van, “Next time I see the two of you, you better be a couple already! ‘M sick of this pining and puppy dog looks of love!”

Laughing out, Andy shook his head as he waved off to Scott who was already driving away. To think that I saw him as a threat, he scolded himself as he began walking back to her shop, when all this time he was a big help.

“Hey! You found your wallet?” She inquired upon seeing his smiling face walking right back in her shop; she thought that he looked even more handsome in that state — there was something about him sporting a boyish look despite looking dignified made her undergarments wet. Nodding, he moved to the counter and admired the arrangement she had made, “Wow! These look wonderful, Y/N. How much do I owe you?”

“Just $19.35. So, you finally got a break from your big case huh?” Tapping his credit card on her machine, he nodded as he let out an exaggerated sigh to which she giggled at, “Finally! I think my back’s starting to ache from all those long hours of sitting down!”

Pushing the floral arrangement to him, she decided to tease him, “You sure it’s not your old age catching up to you?” With wide eyes, he feigned offense as he gasped out loud, “I’ll have you know I am extremely handsome and even look young for someone my age!”

“Don’t I know it,” She mumbled lowly, but still wasn’t soft enough for the lawyer to miss. So he asked her with a smirk etched on his face, “What was that, petal?”

Like a deer caught off guard by headlights, she shook her head, “Nothing! I didn’t say no thing.”

“Well that’s a double negative; so it definitely means you said something,” Both his hands grabbed for one of her hands from across the counter as he held it delicately, “What kind of tree can you fit in your hand?”

Unsure where this was going, she asked, “What? What kind?” Bringing her hand up, he placed a gentle kiss on her palm before answering, “A palm tree, of course!”

Snatching her hand from his grip as he said his joke, she laughed as she teasingly chastised him, “You and your dad jokes, Andy! I swear to God!” Loving how flustered she was, he decided to tease her even more, “Does that mean you’ll call me daddy?”

By now she was a stuttering mess, “Ha, very original, Andy.” Bopping her nose, he bid her adieu as he carried out the arrangement out of her store — walking away with a wide smile on his face. Now feeling more relaxed than ever.

Giddily, he placed the flowers by the top right end of Jacob’s grave as he sat down and told his son, “You’ll never believe what I found out today, Jake!”

*

Are you busy tonight?

Andy bit his lip in anticipation as he stared at his phone, waiting for a reply. Considering how it was just 3 in the afternoon, he gave her the benefit of the doubt that she was busy with the flower shop — maybe counting her inventory or checking her sales. His blue eyes lit up when she replied:

well depends on who’s asking :P but after work i have no plans…

Perfect, Andy thought. He had enough of waiting and he’d like to think that his plan was working out well. They’ve been texting each other consistently for the past two weeks and whatever she hasn’t told him yet, he already knew thanks to his research. She also began to open up to him and so has he. The more he got to know her, the more he was assured that she was the right person for him to begin a new chapter of his life with.

Would you want to come over for dinner then?

Y/N’s breath hitched as she read his text; she was in the middle of watering her flowers when that invite dropped onto her like a ton of bricks. Over the past few days that they’ve gone talking, she felt herself getting more and more attached to the older man. In her mind she had doubts about if this was just a simple dinner or a proposal for a date — so she voiced out her uncertainty:

i will if you answer my question… is this a date? or just like a simple dinner??

Andy had to laugh at her question — she must have been confused and understandably so. So he decided to smooth things out:

If you’re fine with it, it’s a date. But if you’re not, it can be just a friendly dinner.. No pressure on anything, petal.

Squealing as she twirled around, Y/N had to compose herself before sending out a text:

well looks like we’ll be having a date later, andy… can’t wait to see you!

Thankful that time cooperated as it went by quickly, Andy looked over the table one more time — he lit up candles to make the scene even more romantic, brought out napkins to make it seem even fancy, and added some of the flowers he had bought from here the previous day.

Hearing the knock on his door, he put up a bright smile as he opened the door and greeted her, “Hello, petal.” He stood at the side and let her in. surprising the two of them, Y/N surged towards him and hugged him; but it was a welcome surprise as he too wrapped his arms around her.  “Missed me too much, hm?”

She could only hit his arm lightly as she shook her head. Sliding her coat off her body, he hung it on his coat hanger and guided her to the dining room. “Smells great in here. Is that,” She trailed off and looked intently where Andy removed the cover of the pot to reveal her favorite meal.

“My favorite!” She gasped out loud excitedly, “Are you a mind reader, Mr. Barber?” She squinted her eyes suspiciously at him. “Well that is exactly what I am, petal! How did you find out?” Though she took it as a joke, Andy knew better that it wasn’t her mind that she read; instead it was her entire online profile that he monitored.

With that, they began dinner that was filled with laughs and chatter. It seems that despite their difference in age, they always found something to talk about. “Wait, so you really hid your cousin’s clothes in the freezer?”

Nodding her head, she drank the last bit of the wine before answering, “She had it coming her way! She told me I had no chance of marrying Harry Potter!’ There was a baseless jealousy forming in the pit of Andy’s stomach, but he reminded himself that it was just her silly, childhood crush.

“Let me help you with that,” She offered once she noticed that Andy was clearing up their plates. Waving her off, he shook his head as he told her, “You’re my guest — more accurately, my date,” At the reminder of that, she looked down on the floor and Andy smirked, “Why don’t you go wipe off the table instead?”

Nodding, she proceeded to do so as a pleasant silence hung over them; Andy loaded the dishwasher as Y/N wiped off the table. Heading to the trash bin, she threw the trash and the paper towels she used —leaving her to stand beside Andy.

“Look at you, like a real housewife,” His comment had her taken aback. She didn’t know why, but part of her was delighted in the idea. “My, Andy, this is just our first date and you’re already thinking of marriage? What’s next? You wanna knock me up with your kid?”

Oh petal, you have no idea, do you? Andy smirked mentally, but his hands circled around her waist as he laid a gentle kiss at her nose, “And if that is my long term plan?” Pursing her lips, she could only tilt her head down; though it might be too soon for what he had said out loud, there was a tiny part of her that wanted that.

Lifting her head up with a hand, he smirked down at her, “I’m guessing you do want that, do you, petal?” She gave a slight nod which only fuelled Andy’s lust as he kissed her feral, leading her to walk backwards onto the dining table. She gasped as she was being lifted up to sit on the mahogany; granting the lawyer access to let his tongue enter her mouth. He groaned upon relishing the sweet taste that was her while his nimble fingers brutally tore the fabric of her shirt, “No bra? Why petal, were you hoping the date would end this way?”

She shook her head but quickly stopped as she let out a moan when she felt his lips and teeth nip at the skin of her breasts. Her hands clawed at his hair as he sucked on the nipple. “God these will fill up with milk,” He groaned out, but it was too indistinct for her hazy brain to fathom.

His lips trailed down to her stomach as he groaned against the flesh of her stomach, “Such a glorious stomach.” Upon feeling the coarse hairs of his beard, she giggled against him which allowed her to miss his husky moan of, “Gonna swell up with my seed.”

“Andy, please,” She moaned when his lips pressed kisses along the hemline of her pants. “Since you asked so politely,” He hastily shoved off her pants and panties in one go as he placed her thighs to rest on his shoulders, lifting her slightly off the table, while she planted her elbows firmly on the table. “Fuck!” The cuss she let out was dragged out caused by Andy furiously licking from her clit to the opening of her pussy. Her thighs trapped his face firmly, the rough texture of his beard contradicted his silky tongue lapping at the inside of her tight cunt.

“Can eat you all damn day, petal,” He caught the juices she was leaking with every flick of his tongue as his left hand rubbed on her hardened nub; while the other hand lowered his sweatpants until he was able to stroke his erect cock. Feeling her walls close in on his tongue, he smirked as he drove his tongue deeper inside her and rubbed her until she mewled out loud, “Fuck, Andy! I’m cumming!”

His beard was splattered all over his lower face, coating his beard. With a few more final licks, he let her legs fall from his shoulders and hang limply by the edge of the table. Standing up from the dining chair, Andy quickly removed his gray shirt as her hands weakly, but successfully, slid his sweatpants off legs. Her hands jerked his length while looking into him with desire, “Gonna fuck me real good, Andy?”

Loving the way she sultrily said it, he kissed her lips roughly as he pushed her by the hips, closer to the edge of the table. His right hand guided his cock to slide right in her, their tangled tongues moaned out loud upon being intimately connected. She tried to rut her hips against him, wanting to feel more of him. “Oh petal, let me do it for you.”

Both his hands settled on her thighs, using them as leverage to match his harsh thrusts as he slid in and out of her tight canal. Her walls gripped onto him tighter every time he slid back in, making him groan against the skin of her neck. The sting of her nails as they raked down on his back only added to his pleasure as it motivated him to plow her harder and faster, until she felt his tip hit her sweet, sensitive spot.

“‘M so close, Andy,” She whined, accentuating her point by digging her nails into his shoulders. Maybe it was the way she was piercing to his skin, or the way was falling apart under him beautifully, or the fact that he felt confident that after this she was going to be carrying their child, but it drove him feral which was evident when the table moved and shook in time with his relentless thrusts.

“Open that fucking cervix for me, petal,” He moaned out as his hand rubbed her swollen clit, “Let me shoot my seed in you.” Perhaps in the proper mindset, she would have viewed it as a red flag — bringing up marriage and having kids at the first date would have freaked her out. But in the heat of the moment, she found herself submissive and compliant with all his desires.

Her hands pushed his back closer to her, making her rub her stiff nipples against his chest as she begged, “Please, Andy. Cum in me.” And just as she moaned out the last word, she could feel her body tense as she clenched on his cock and cum at the thought.

Smirking, he continued his harsh assault on her pussy as pinched her clit to milk out more of her orgasm. Gasping out, she tried to restabilize her breathing — which was a challenge given that Andy was grunting wildly as his thrusts slowed down while the force remained. Feeling his cum fill her up surprised her, but she didn’t protest it.

Carrying her over to his bedroom, Y/N could feel herself getting tired from their activities. She willed herself not to close her eyes, but sleep seemed so enticing. The way Andy rubbed her back and lay her down on the bed gently didn’t help either. The lawyer smiled upon seeing the peaceful expression on her face; he kissed her forehead before reaching over to the nightstand and fish out the plug he bought and cleaned for her.

The plug was snug inside her as he slid his cock out. Laying down beside her, he cuddled her as he stared at her features, “I just know you’re gonna be pregnant, petal,” Her breathing was even and her closed eyes gave him the impression she was now falling asleep, “I checked your period tracker app, you should be ovulating now. Plus, I have been slipping some vitamins in your food and drink to help make you even more fertile.”

Wiggling around, his breath hitched when she nuzzled her face even more to his chest, “Goodnight, Andy,” Plus a kiss to his chest made his heart swell up even more. Smiling despite the joyous tears leaking in his eyes, he kissed her forehead once more before bidding her goodnight as they both slept.

“Here’s to new beginnings, petal.”

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

Monster - Part 1

AO3 Link

Characters: Commander Fox (Main), Captain Rex, Commander Thorn, Corrie Medic Triage (OC), Anakin Skywalker, Fives.

Summary: Fives' death through the eyes of Commander Fox.

Warnings: 16+, swearing, mentions of death.

Word Count: 1.6k

Click here for Part 2

Author’s Notes: First trip on the angst train folks. I've had this in my head for ages because I wanted to try something that wasn't relationship focused and I'm still not over this whole storyline with the chips, they were so darn close to exposing ol' sheev. Fox deserves some spotlight but i'm very sorry it had to be on this. I have got a part 2 practically written up already but wanted to test the waters with this bit first. Let me know what you think!! Fic below the cutoff :).

The title is from the song Monster by Starset. If you're after some good sci-fi related songs for the feels, Startset is where it's at.

Under the knife I surrendered The innocence yours to consume You cut it away And you filled me up with hate Into the silence you sent me Into the fire consumed You thought I'd forget But it's always in my head

Each step was quiet, calculated as CC-1010 moved into the storage bay. His men following his lead as they prepared to surround their target. General Skywalker was verbally defending the Chancellor from where he was captured in a ray shield. The target was unaware of their presence, time to move in.

Set to stun.

“Stand down, soldier! Get on your knees!” CC-1010 commanded, surrounded by his Shock Troopers. The target looked over at the unattended pistols. “Don’t do it solider.”

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“FIVES NO!”

Threat. Eliminate the threat.

Good soldiers, follow orders.

Set to Kill. CC-1010 never missed.

No.

Rex was screaming.

General Skywalker was ordering the Guard to lower the ray shields, not that CC-1010 could hear him over the ringing in his ears.

No.

The Captain was at his ARC-Trooper’s side, cradling his head. The blaster wound a disgusting contrast to the pure, shiny, white plastoid of his armour. The blaster wound that CC- no, that Fox inflicted.

No no no no no no.

The pistol fell from his hands and clattered to the ground as Fox came back to himself, the only sound which could be heard among the silence apart from Rex’s begging to Fives to stay with him.

Fox tore off his helmet. He couldn’t breathe. Fuck. The weight of what he just did crashed into him like a tsunami, threatening to take him down, tear him apart.

He stared at his gloved hands which shook uncontrollably. He tried to stop them but his brain didn’t have control of his body anymore. His men were looking at him, he could feel their gaze tearing into him like a jury to a defendant. Watching as their Commander fell apart.

He fell to his knees. No longer able to support his own body weight alongside the weight of his actions. He’d just killed another clone. One of his own vode. His own flesh and blood. That’d never happened before. Sure there had been traitors before among the clone ranks, but they’d never been executed on site. They’d never been pursued by Fox. Lucky them.

The chancellors’ orders echoed in his ears. “Eliminate the threat, Commander.”

Not bring him in for questioning. Eliminate him. No court hearing, no hearing Fives’ side like Slick and others before him. Just execution. And Fox was his executioner. Fuck he was going to vomit.

“Rex” Fox didn’t realise he was speaking until Rex’s eyes met his over Fives’ lifeless body, which he continued to cradle like his last hopes in this war.

Rex’s eyes were cold as ice, the power behind them attempting to freeze Fox to his very core. He didn’t blame him.

The heartbreak at losing another member of Torrent Company cracking the Captain’s usually unshakeable composure. As it fell apart piece by piece in front of Fox’s eyes, he was left staring at his little brother. His Rex’ika. Distraught, heartbroken, empty. He wanted nothing more than to protect him like back on Kamino, when Rex was a young cadet who feared the thunderstorms of their home planet. But Fox couldn’t protect Rex from this, Fox was the reason behind his brother’s agony, his loss. Fox was the monster.

“I-…” he couldn’t get the words out. He couldn’t explain himself. What could he say? I didn’t have a choice, I had to follow orders? That wasn’t going to fix the hole left in Rex’s heart. For losing Fives and for losing Fox too, because the Commander was sure he was dead to him.

Rex finally pulled his eyes away and it broke Fox’s heart. The Captain looked back down at his friend in his arms, his brother. He brought his forehead forward as he raised Fives’s, meeting him in one final Keldabe as he recited the Mando’a that had become far too familiar for them all. Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la. He cradled Fives close to his chest and hooked a hand under his legs as he got to his feet.

Rex’s face was stony, emotionless as he carried his fallen brother out of the storage bay. He held himself together as he brushed past the helmet-less Shock Troopers who stood stock still around their shaken Commander. He didn’t even spare Fox a glance. General Skywalker was hot on his Captain’s heels, going to offer support where he could. Just like that they were gone.

“Sir-“ one of the troopers went to place a hand on his Commander’s shoulder.

“Tell the Chancellor it’s done” Fox snapped out, the words tasting like bitter bile in his mouth. He did his best to regain himself as he grabbed his bucket, re-securing it and his emotions behind as strong a wall as he could fortify in his current state. Still shaking hands clasped around the dropped blaster and Fox finally returned to his feet, slightly unsteady.

“Return to base” his orders were flat as they came through the helmet. His soldiers didn’t react for a moment. He looked each of his men over, their shock at watching what happened bared to the world on their faces. He couldn’t take it. “Now.” Finally they nodded and made the move to leave the Gods-forsaken place.

Everything was a blur; people, places, all fading into nothingness behind Fox as he paced back to his office. His safe space. His feet carried him while his mind drifted, almost leaving his body in an attempt to protect himself from the internal horrors that threatened his grasp on reality.

Next he knew he was back in his office, no idea what route he’d taken to get there. The door had barely shut behind him before he stumbled to the small refresher attached and vomited. Choked sobs wracked his body as he emptied his stomach, tears creating salty tracks down his cheeks.

Once his body stopped torturing him, he finally backed away from the toilet and crawled to lean against the ‘fresher wall. His legs sprawled out in front of him as he threw his head back against the cool tiles. The sharp pain from the action doing nothing to bring him back, to distract him from the agony in his mind.

————

“Fox, Fox!! It’s Thorn, are you there?” The heavy gunner shouted from outside, his fists banging on the door demanding entry.

Nothing.

Thorn had heard what had happened, half the Guard already knew by now. Fox had been ordered to execute another clone by the Chancellor. As soon as the confirmation reached his ears, the Commander dropped everything to find his superior. He’d been friends with Fox long enough to know when he was nearing his breaking point, and he knew that this would throw him off the edge of his sanity.

“Kriff, Fox. I’m coming in!” He announced before punching the code in and rushing in to find his friend.

What Thorn found wasn’t pretty. Fox was propped up against the fresher wall, his head covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his amber eyes glassed over as he sobbed. He looked absolutely wrecked.

Thorn dropped to his side and took hold of his hands in an attempt to ground his friend. “Fox, hey Fox, can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“I heard what happened. I need you to come back to us, yeah. Maker, we need you Fox.” That got his attention, Fox’s watery eyes met his, but the Commander wasn’t fully present behind them yet.

“It wasn’t me” Fox choked out in barely a whisper, tears flowing freely again. Thorn moved forward and pulled the Commander into his arms, their armour fitting awkwardly against one another but it was enough. The broken man clung to his brother as he continued to repeat his words in a tear filled mantra against Thorn’s armour.

After what felt like forever, the shudders that tore through Fox’s body eventually died down to something more manageable. Thorn took that as his moment to try and get his Commander sat up again, maybe even get some water in him. He began to pull away slightly so he could look him in the eyes but as soon as he did, Fox started babbling again. At least it was a few more words than before.

“I set the gun to stun, I swear. I don’t know what happened. Once I saw Fives, everything went dark.” He tried to explain with as much coherence as he could. “They’ll never forgive me for this.” Thorn knew who he was talking about, his batch mates. Cody, Wolffe, Bly, Ponds and Gree. Fox had felt that their relationship was strained ever since he joined the Guard and his brothers went out to fight on the front lines. He’d become the cold leader of the Coruscant Elite Guard, he had the ‘cushy desk job’ while they had to watch their men die day in and day out on the battlefield. The sad truth was that they’d never understand the things the Guard had to go through each day. One night after a particularly tough day, he’d listened as Fox admitted that he wished he could provide his men with honourable deaths in battle to save them from their fates within the Guard.

Thorn’s chest felt like a vice as he cradled his friend, trying to absorb some of his pain as if it would help make things a bit easier on him. He’d never seen Fox like this and it was killing him. Why did the Chancellor always place the worst jobs on the Commander, why did he have to keep him so close, right under his thumb ready to make him do the dirty work. Never thinking about the aftermath, because the clones didn’t matter. So long as Fox kept showing up and performing admirably on the surface, the day to day pain and suffering wasn’t of concern to the Republic, least of all to the Grand Chancellor.

“Fox, I’m going to call Triage alright? He’ll know what to do.” Thorn announced softly, not getting much of an acknowledgment for his words as Fox started to drift off in his arms, his body’s exhaustion overtaking him for a blissful moment.

Continue to Part 2

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[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only) | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten | chapter eleven | chapter twelve | chapter thirteen (ao3 only, smut) | chapter fourteen

chapter 14 - prince

SFW, around 4.7K words. Heisenberg is a man of absolutely no feelings I guarantee you

Heisenberg has never done this before, not in almost a hundred years of existence, this tangling of limbs and shirking of duties. He has never once given in to such base urges without careful thought and consideration, instead preferring his encounters planned, short and sweet, in and out before anyone could get attached. He racks his brains looking for things to say once she is awake, for ways to tell her that this means nothing and that they will go back to being flirty acquaintances who spoke to each other in riddles. He digs deep into his thoughts to bury his feelings, refuses to acknowledge their existence long before they can rear their ugly heads. He breathes in, eyes closed, to gather his confidence, to build his persona like he did with the dawn of each new day. Whoever Karl Heisenberg truly was, truly wanted to be, he died every morning and was replaced by a driven, heartless monster.

She was a smart woman, she would get the hint. He will unwrap her arms from his torso, put his clothes back on and make some stupid comment about how she had a pair of tits to die for, but he had already been far too generous by gracing her with his presence this long. Then he will smirk and exit stage left, hold the mask until he is out of sight and has entered the forest, and will finally be done with the theatrics. Perfect plan, until his breath catches in his throat when she first stirs, fingers sleepily caressing his chest like she did the night before. He curses her for never making things easy on him.

She seems confused as she pulls away from him, her lazy stretch reminding him of a cat after a long nap. Her face has softened some, the usual furrow of her brow relaxed, deviant smile replaced with one of pure serenity, like a burden had been lifted off her shoulders. “Good morning, my lord,” she greets as she rubs sleep away from her eyes, and he is glad to notice her tone has changed, away from the throes of their passion and back to the casual nonchalance they had become used to treating each other with. “Did you sleep well?” He has no intentions of answering and she does not expect it, either, slides off the couch to gather their clothing scattered about. She hands him his without looking at him, dresses in silence as he does the same. The silence is tense but not awkward, like they were both content to ignore the existence of the other and of everything that had happened between them just hours prior. “Are you staying for breakfast?” The implication that she did not expect him to is crystal clear. If there was any hope of staying longer in his mind, she had quelled it quickly with that question, like she was done with him for the day, perhaps enough to last her a lifetime. It stings, but he is glad for it.

Heisenberg busies himself with putting his clothes back on - whoever’s clothes those were in the first place -, oblivious to her pacing around the house. He believes he is out of the woods and her reserves of kindness have run dry, only to lift his head and find her holding a basket with a loaf of bread in one hand and his trench coat in the other. From afar he can see it looks ten times better than it did when he walked in wearing it, cleaner, for one, holes stitched back together. He doesn’t stay and she sees him off with the same joy she has always shown him, watching him as he grabs the trench coat and food, then his hat from a hook next to the door, waving him away like she has done every time. They sign an unspoken contract that dictates they never speak of it again, though the fine print reads that it is not off the table and might once again come to pass if the opportunity ever presents itself. His journey back to the factory is quiet and uneventful in more ways than one, the forest sleeps away the early hours of the morning and his mind is void of thoughts and worries. He cannot help but notice that the world feels different, brighter, more vibrant even, the wind not hostile and instead a gentle breeze.

Heisenberg seems enveloped in a mist of cheer and placidness for the days that follow, all he has set in motion moving along like clockwork. Sturm awakens unbidden one night, for good this time, both a blessing and a curse upon him. He manages to study its performance and sketch improvements, however finds that he has forgotten to install an off switch on the damn creature. The freak hums and whirs night and day like it is singing him the song of its people, sometimes joyfully, sometimes in mourning, and that he is able to identify when the fucking thing is happy or sad is a clear indication that he has been listening to it for far too long. A stab of guilt hits him every time he yells down towards the bowels of the factory to tell the monster to shut it, he needs to work and the noise is maddening, but he is always reminded that he is the reason for it all, he has bestowed them all with a new lease of life and now has to deal with the consequences. This is all for a good cause, he reassures himself, and once the rebellion is over he will see to it personally that those who remain are given a humane dismantling and burial.

Every now and again he visits his little witch in the woods, when his days could have been better and he needs a pick-me-up. They never speak of the stormy night and the things they had done, not unlike he had planned, but speak of everything else, and they slowly climb the steps to an awkward friendship that is never truly allowed to blossom. It felt as if every time they would give each other a key, an intricately designed, golden key that would open the lock in their hearts. And every time one would try to open it, they would find yet another, stronger lock, closer to the end but not quite, mystery maintained. It was infuriating and addicting all at once, and he had grown quite fond of the back and forth that had become the most exciting part of his life.

Happiness is a drug that he should not indulge on, he decides. Amidst his work he plans something other than rebellion, other than murder. Sketches something other than machines, looks out the window on the top floor of the factory to daydream about the cabin that stood long abandoned at the edge of his land. It was large for a home in this ass-end of the world, two floors and an attic, a cellar that was used for coal storage and doubled as secret entrance to a tunnel connecting the house and the factory. A fenced garden in the backyard, a shed for tools and firewood. The outhouse was awkwardly placed, too close to the edge, but he had always thought it gave it some extra charm. Answer nature’s call while being dangerously close to it, as it were. The masonry oven outside had not been used for at least half a century, and the well had probably dried up by now. It had been his home for many years, before Miranda took away everything that was theirs and his life with it, before he began dedicating his life to rebellion and dreams of freedom. His room was the one at the end of the corridor upstairs, with a view of the river and the forest extending beyond the confines of the village. It was cramped and cold, a single floorboard always rattled during the night when the wind hit it, the window never fully closed and his father never bothered to fix it. Still, it was home, or it had been, and he sometimes found himself thinking of the good memories he’d had before it all went to shit.

Could it be home again, he wondered? It would be one hell of a spring project, between clearing the debris, dusting and fixing everything up. Nails and the corrugated metal roof would not be a problem, naturally, and the stonework of the first floor was still intact. But he hadn’t fixed a fence in many years, hadn’t sawed nor sanded a plank of wood in longer still. He had never been very good at cleaning anything except weapons and machines, and interior decorating was simply something that had never gone through his mind. It could be a home again, he mused as he brought the blowtorch close to his face to light his cigar, and maybe it would do him good to step away from the damp vapors of the factory every once in a while. But then again, would it be worth the effort and upkeep? He doubted the haulers would make good housekeepers, and he was content enough with his independent, bare, unkempt bachelor lifestyle. But those had never been his intentions, had they? A home but not for him, a home for her, right where he could see her, where he could walk a few minutes and knock on her door whenever.

All strictly professional, of course. She would be effectively isolated from the village and the outside world. Effectively isolated from everyone but him, and he could keep tabs on her and call upon her services when necessary. It was a proposal she would be dumb to refuse: a home easily three times bigger than the one she owned, a larger plot of land for her animals and garden, peace and quiet, access to the Duke for supplies, and even some fun every now and again if she played her cards right. There was also the matter that she would be… Safer, living so close to him, but that was of little importance. Naturally. It had only just occurred to him. He had not begun at that, no. He will give it some more thought over the next few weeks - neither of them would be going anywhere, now would they?

Mother calls him later that day to inform of a family meeting two weeks and a half away, to discuss usual business. They will gather at Donna’s this time around, and it should give them all an opportunity to parade themselves to the public. This is important, you see, she begins like she always does, for their worshipers grow restless with their absence. Heisenberg often feels like she has trained the villagers as one would a dog: starve them for long enough and give them a meager treat to keep them going, teach them that their devotion is rewarded with small miracles brought by hellfire and the tearing of flesh by lycans. He has spent far too long away from the public eye and it is always good practice to remind the villagers of his splendor, she continues. He agrees to strut down main street, bless every crafter that he comes across, and kiss the top of the head of every snotty child pushed in his direction by their parents. He even agrees to wear his Sunday best: the same thing he wore every single day, but with a shiny pin in the shape of his house’s crest.

He conceives his greatest idea yet in the meantime, a soldier that combines the combat capabilities of Eins and Zwei with the mobility of an aircraft. He has Sturm to thank for it, the incessant spinning of the blades having given him the spark to try and create a flying machine. No propeller blades, he decides as the very first thing when he begins drawing the schematics. He has had enough of the noise to last him a good couple of decades. Unsurprisingly, he is caught in a trance of working and passing out and waking up to work some more in the weeks that follow, entire days spent combing through the scrap heaps to find the right materials. He is reminded that the goddamn bed had done wonders for his back every time he deadlifts another engine to pick apart, but still refuses to say goodbye to his uncomfortable armchair and the wonderful massage of its loose springs.

He figures the name for it will strike him at the right moment, and for now focuses on adjusting the thrust speed, ensuring the soldier will land adequately and not simply crash while airborne, as funny as that would look. While Sturm required a sturdy specimen, this will need someone lighter, lankier, and he finds the perfect specimen in Miranda’s latest failed experiment, a young boy of some twenty years who had been orphaned long ago and had turned to the Black God for guidance. In truth, he was nothing more than an errand boy for Mother, bringing messages to and fro, collecting tithe and offerings for her. Heisenberg is curious to know what horrible sin has led him to where he is now, dead and open on his operating table, a wound bigger than his fist where the top of his spine should be. Cadou had begun to take hold when he passed, tendrils shooting out of the infection, and he saved the recently dead nematode for further study later.

Removing the organs is always the messiest part, and he drops armfuls of guts into a nearby bucket to discard later. The boy has broken ribs and is missing his heart, a sign that he had greatly felt Mother’s wrath. Heisenberg almost pities him, alone in the world with nothing but his faith to keep him going, but sooner or later he would have to learn that was the way of the world. It had worked just fine for him, painful but invaluable. He had played the cards he had been dealt and come out on top. Perhaps in another life he would have reached out to give the kid a hand, take him in and give him a job, so long as he stayed out of his way and kept his mouth shut. But then again, perhaps in another life circumstances would not have turned him to a ruthless bastard only out for himself.

Setting up the tubing always takes the longest, delicate work that requires his full attention and steady hands. It feels like fighting an octopus at the best of times, and it is a fight he does not always win. He blows away a hair strand that insists on obscuring his vision, but all he succeeds in is having more of it fall onto his face, beads of sweat also finding their way down his forehead to pool on his brow and slide onto his eyelashes. He wishes he had an assistant every time he does this, every time he pulls a corpse open and finds that his body seems to get in the way every time more than the dead one does. He wishes he had an assistant, remembers the offer he never made her, and regrets it an instant later.

Suddenly his mind has wandered away from his subject on the operating table and has wandered off into a fantasy world, where his little witch gently pulls his hair back to tie it securely away from his face, where she dabs away the sweat on his face with a cloth that smells of wildflowers. She stands patiently next to him, takes notes and follows orders, brings him refreshments and even gives his shoulders a good rub when she feels he has been working too hard. A world where she awaits him every night after a long day, where she greets him with the comfort of home and a hearty meal. His focus is lost from that moment onward, for he is taken with the need to see her, to spend time sitting quietly beside her near the fireplace. To hold her and watch her fall asleep in his arms, to hear her laughter and exchange glib lines with her after dinner.

Goddamn witch.

The poor boy suffers the brunt of his annoyance when Heisenberg punches the side of his ribs, the body resists but does not complain and helps none with doing away with his wishes. What was he thinking, losing sight of his goals because he wants his cock sucked? This is why it was always so much better to stay indoors, to kill such annoying roaches on sight. His carefully constructed mental balance has tumbled, his nirvana disturbed. He was doing just fine before she decided to kill some random lycan and forgot to hide the fucking body. Bored, but just fine. Lonely, but fine. Incredibly depressed, but f-i-n-e. He tries in vain to return to his work once, twice, and gives up on the third time, finally accepting that it would be impossible.

Perhaps it is best if he gets it over with, no? This was but a momentary stumble. He had all but forgotten about her for the better part of a fortnight, having instead turned inward towards his work and growing his intel network by skulking around and reading through papers Miranda had ‘lost’ in transport. Just as quickly as he had latched onto her, he had let her go, back to the hum-drum day to day of developing his metal army.

Or so he thought, faced now with a burning need to walk, almost run towards the forest to catch a glimpse of her again.

He looks down at himself, for the first time conscious of how presentable he was, and decides that it is probably best if he wears something that is not covered in rotting chunks of flesh. Somehow he does not think she will mind it; she strikes him as the kind of woman who would think it adds to his charm. He changes into cleaner clothes regardless, the same moss-colored shirt she had given him the day he showed up at her cabin. An idea shines upon him as he tightens his shoelaces, and he is soon giving orders over the comm system to all haulers: clean the damn place up. Throw the garbage up and over the railings onto the scrapheap, hide it under a carpet, it doesn’t matter. He wants the place presentable enough for him to bring his little witch over - he will tell her a little bit of what he intends, he will show her some of his plans, and he will ask her to work for him. The cabin would take a while but she could always drop by for a visit. All that he has decided in the span of less than a minute, and he hopes there will be enough time for everything to be set up when he makes his way back, holding her hand tightly as he shows her all of the wonders he has created. He also hopes he can keep up the momentum and not soil the plan by chickening out a while later, though something in his mind tells him that might be best.

Heisenberg stops in front of a mirror-like metal plate to check out his hair and wipe the blood of his face, at last satisfied with his appearance and ready to make his next move. He almost skips through the factory on his way up and out of the garage. He is getting laid tonight, goddamn it.

He is surprised to find the Duke’s carriage standing just outside. It must be a Tuesday, though he feels like he last saw the man yesterday; the merchant always completed his regular schedule around the village by making a last stop near - and in - his humble abode. He had much to discuss with the Duke, things of both professional and personal nature, but now was not the time, and he walked by briskly and greeted the man with a tip of his hat, intent on simply passing by.

He knows something has gone terribly wrong when the Duke cackles, and he spots the familiar tail wag of a furry hoofed animal beside the carriage. Heisenberg stops dead on his tracks then, a cold tingle running up his spine, his mouth dry. He stares at the man, mouth agape, trying to form his question but failing miserably. Had something happened? Had the Duke known about her all along? Had he done something to her? The Duke is the first to speak, his usual jolly self, oblivious or uncaring for the situation that has begun to unfold in front of him. “Ah, Lord Heisenberg! How’s the day find you?” There is a pregnant pause as Heisenberg looks at the merchant and back at the tiny goat that bleats at him incessantly, and the Duke roars in laughter, his massive frame shaking the entire carriage. “Oh, it seems the little one likes you! Two hundred lei and it is all yours, my lord. Should be quite the tasty dinner.”

Prince seems to understand its predicament, and cries ever louder, until it is all they both can hear and the sound almost drives him insane. “Where the fuck did you get it?” Is all he manages to say, his tone vicious, but the Duke does not seem to mind it. He looks around for any other signs of her, the dog, or the horse, a chicken, anything.

“My friend in the woods has sold it to me, of course. She no longer has any use for it where she is going, and thought it best to rehome it.” The merchant’s hand reaches out to pet the goat on the head and the whole carriage almost topples over with the weight.

“You know her.” It is not a question, and though there is much he needs to ask there is little he is able to process.

“Indeed. We have been friends for many years, her and I. Since she was a malnourished little girl living under Lady Heisenberg’s protection. Since long before you were born, my lord.” The man takes a long drag from his cigar as if to give Heisenberg enough time to go through his words, and he is glad for it, mind racing a thousand miles a minute. A hundred and something years, the mention of his grandmother’s name. “She has always been quite the ravaging beauty, however. Although I’m sure that has not escaped your notice.” He can hardly contain his exasperation, not at all used to the feeling that currently boils within him. If that man had ever touched her- “She is quite a talented healer, you see. For many years now she has supplied me with the most wonderful of concoctions.” As if to prove it, he lifts up a bottle of the antiseptic he has become so famous for, gives it a little shake and flashes Heisenberg a bright smile.

“She’s gone.” Again he doesn’t ask, simply repeats the information he has been given, and wishes he had his hammer close by to crush that smirk off the Duke’s face.

“Why yes, she has left, of course. It would not be the first time,” the merchant says with a shrug. “A free spirit she is, always has been. Off to find herself some excitement and adventure, I’m sure. I have told her many a time that the village life does not suit her,” he puts the bottle down and interlaces his fingers in front of him, resting on his enormous stomach. “Yet she has come back every time. Sweet, idealistic Morganna, always so kind for her own good.” In his confusion, Heisenberg realizes he has forgotten to breathe, and inhales sharply, blow after blow though he tries to recover, and the Duke is relentless. “Ah, that reminds me, she has left something for you.” He is no longer listening after the Duke’s mouth closes, far too stunned to process what is happening. The blond man hands him a small wooden box that smells like her, and Heisenberg does not care that he can see how much his hands are shaking as he pushes off the lid. He does his best to swallow the rage and the tears that well up in his eyes, the bittersweet thought that she had remembered him before she parted. The woolen slippers lay perfectly arranged inside the box. “If you wish to find her, I am sure she has not made it very far.” Heisenberg continues to stare down incredulously, and the Duke continues to yap like nothing has happened. He has tuned out completely by the time he closes the box again and raises his head to face the merchant. He might as well have been a shadow, disoriented as Heisenberg was, his face a misshaped blob in his eyes. There is no space for thoughts and he lets himself go instead, anger bubbling so close to the surface underneath his skin.

He grabs the goat before the Duke can protest, tucks it safely under his arm, box secured in the other as he marches back inside the barn and closes everything behind him. Gone? The way down is hazy and red, one foot after the other, instinct taking him through the halls and down elevators. Gone. He feels the haulers’ gazes upon him, and hopes they won’t dare showing vestiges of humanity now, or he will kill every last one and set fire to the corpses. The door to his quarters is kicked with entirely too much force and flies off its hinges, he places Prince gently on the floor in the last showing of kindness he would ever allow himself. Gone! The box is thrown across the room and shatters against the wall, tears in his eyes, a strangled cry coming out of him before he can stop himself.

“She’s gone.” He repeats and the words feel like sand in his mouth. He knows them to be true and it only serves to hurt him further. Behind his eyelids, she takes him by the hand and skips down the stairs ever onward towards the darkness, and he knows he is far too weak to stop it now. He has no tools to explain any of it, the crying and yelling and the way his body has slid against the wall and onto the floor like a puddle of muddy, gooey, revolting water. One last bit of control tells him that he should not care, that she is not important, that this is good, that he is free from her grasp. But its screeches are drowned in the uproar within him, and all he can think of is that she is gone and he misses her.

He is once again alone in the world and, for the first time, he knows what heartbreak feels like.

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Kill Me Hardly (Ch.4)

Notes: Tai’s Point of View in the beginning. She/you used

@youtubequeens : It’s a roller coaster, lol

Warnings: cussing, deranged criminal, poor excuse of sibling rivalry, death, PTSD, ect. Read at your own risk

…….

He fucking hated it. Craving warmth and friendship, a familiarity that he’d once known. For so long he’d push those feelings down, and then a fucking ethereal ghost had to show up, tearing down the walls that he’d built, while wearing a little heart on her sleeve while not giving a shit.

He wanted to strangle the damned woman to death, well, to another death.

He was too prideful, he knew, but he had demons of his own that were locked tightly within his personal hell, and this fucking...annoying angel, he guessed, seemed to calm them. He didn’t let her know that, though.  

 Two months. Two months he fought to keep those barriers up, metaphorical walls had been covered in thorns, and for what?

What was he even fighting for? He questioned himself. Memories of blood and lifeless eyes filled his mind. It was such a dark place that he’d tried to shut out for the longest time. He ran from his fear, yet he had embraced whatever life had thrown at him. He had spent so much time either stalking the streets, in hospitals, or behind bars, and he was getting tired of it all.  

The ghost’s company actually helped. He had to tear his gaze away from her. Telling himself that she wasn’t special, she was a dead woman walking. She was a thorn in his side until she could move on. His own words hurt him, for he knew that she was more than that.

Brick by brick, she seemed to remove, and yet, he found himself placing three or four more on that wall.

 Then, he woke up without her in the house for once in two months. Empty. Cold. He couldn’t help but think. He didn’t know how much influence she had on him, until he began panicking. Did she finally cross over? He should feel relieved, he berated himself. He didn’t. He felt as if he had accomplished nothing, and now the only one to seem to really give a shit about him, was gone.

Hours later, he seen your figure, and yelled out his displeasure, sounding more violent than he meant too, because he was scared. Then your eyes met his, and his world stilled, and then cracked as you admitted to what you’ve heard.

No, this couldn’t be, couldn’t it? His stubborn, stupid little ghost was actually fleeting, this time when he finally decided that he tolerated her company. It would be hours later when he would see you again, but he couldn’t help but feel weighed down by the news, how you looked with a broken heart, and how he was feeling such feelings that he never really did want to.

He actually gave a genuine damn about somebody who he could say that was stuck to him. Tears slid down his own cheeks as he hastily rubbed them away. It’s been so long since he had cried for another person. The last one was for the kid who he was trying to save. Opening a pack of smokes, he looked at the thing with disgust as he threw the things in the garbage can, opting instead to light his favorite candles, the vanilla cream one that oddly smelled like you.

He couldn’t save you, even though he kept saying that he wanted to kill you. He awoke later with your hand floating through his hair, a gentle expression of care marred your features, and he couldn’t help but sigh. No, he couldn’t think about such thoughts. You were going to die. Then the two of you began talking, and then, it hit him on how truly lonely and fucking scared you must’ve been.

No warmth, no safety, nobody to care about you or hug you, or brush away your tears, as your family grieved for your dying body.

A dumbass, is what he had felt, another set of tears stinging his eyes as he took your exhausted, tired form in. You weren’t fully dead, but you looked like that’s what you wanted to be. He had to be alone and think some more. After telling you that he was going to take a nap, he sat on his bedroom floor and thought. You were dying, and although he could understand why that you stuck to him like glue, you did things that he wanted to do. You stuck by him as he hurt those people, taking their money as you helped be his eyes and ears, never betraying his trust.

Then he turned on the news in his bedroom, to get his mind off of things. Tough luck for him, for when he was about to switch the channel, the subject had changed, revealing a very familiar face of a certain caught criminal. Your brother, he couldn’t help but think as certain physical similarities between the two of you had matched. There was no doubt that the young, hooded-eyed young man was related to you.  

He needed to talk to you.

…………

Here you were, staring at the man with bewilderment and wonder. Who was he, and what did he do to Taishiro?

“Stop fuckin’ lookin’ at me like that.” He griped across the dining room table.

 “But it’s so weird, you look so soft.” You said.

“Pft. Ya have a weird image of ‘soft’. Anyway, let’s get started. Ya don’t ‘ave enough time, an’ probably need to make peace, right?” He asked suddenly, and it confused you.

“Peace with what?”

“Yer brother. Fucker got arrested last night’, and you and I are gonna see him.” He said smoothly, and it caught you off guard.

“What?” Was all your brain could ask.

“Ya heard me! We’re gonna see yer brother! Ya wanna, or not?” He snapped, and your heart pounded in your chest. Although it was two months, why was he doing this for you? Didn’t you annoy the hell out of him, constantly? You asked him, and he groaned into a sigh, palming his face with exasperation.

“The sooner ya make peace, the easier it is for ya to finally fuckin’ leave.” Came out harshly, he bit his lip, as if embarrassed by his own words. It had hurt, yes, but he was right. You didn’t want to be like those spirits who weren’t at peace. The bloodied ones who had an emptiness to their eyes, stalking old memories that they only knew.

“Will you be my voice, Tai-chan?” You asked, instead, and he looked at you as if baffled.

“What else, ya Ninny? Tch! Don’t let anybody, even me, say stupid shit like that to ya!” He huffed out, and you smiled despite the churning of nerves within your stomach.

………

It was easier to visit than you expected. With a roll of her eyes, the secretary had one police officer escort Tai into the cells, you following as you gathered your courage, sick to your stomach. You wanted to face him and your fears.  

“I’ll leave you to him.” The officer said finally, opening a metal door, and Taishiro gave a curt nod as the two of you went inside. It was a fairly large, yet empty room, surrounded by chairs and in front of the chairs, were different, mostly empty cells. Save for one.

You swallowed thickly you had easily found your brother, who was looking down, hooks underneath his eyes as he resembled a pale, sickly shell of his former self.

“Ya sure ya wanna do this?” Tai asked thickly. You stared at him, seeing his mouth pursed in a thin line, eyes trained onto your brother with a look of fury and yet exasperation. He seen the type, you knew, yet his hot-blooded anger wasn’t aimed at you. It seemed as if it never was, not this type.

“I’ll be fine. I just…want...closure, I guess.” You admitted, looking at the shell who use to protect you from bullies. As the two of you neared closer, you felt nauseated and tired, but it was as if it was nothing compared to the loneliness and lack of warmth and closure that you had felt for a little over a year.

You and Tai still as your brother raised his head. A sinking dread churned your insides as you felt as if you knew what was about to come.

Your brother’s eyes met yours, and you froze.

“Holy shit.” Taishiro murmured.

“Yeah.”

    “T-the fuck? I-is this a nightmare? You’re suppose to be dead!” Your brother shouted, his words echoed in the almost empty room.

“Not dead, thanks to your shitty skills with a blade.” You swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill, already. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this.

“Why did you do it? Was it worth it? Leaving us all behind while you snorted crack beside some dumpster with your ratty friends?” You couldn’t help but growl out, anger bubbling within you as tears of frustration threatened to boil over, yet you couldn’t care less, as all of your focus was pinned onto your brother.

“What do you know?! They were all I’ve got! You know Mom and Dad held you onto a pedestal, leaving me to fend for myself!” He gripped the bars, knuckles turning white as he stared at you with wild-eyed abandon. He wasn’t making a very compelling argument, and you knew that it was due to the drugs.  

“Says the guy who had a scholarship in Nursing! What was the real reason for that night, dumbass? You’ve been missing for months, and finally! Finally when you visited, Mom and Dad welcomed you in, crying with relief...and then…and then….” You choked, holding your hand to your throat as you pinned your brother with a hateful, seething stare mixed with agony. He stilled, as if seeing your wound   for the first time.

Paling, he fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands as he grit his teeth, his eyes widened as fat droplets of wet fell onto the floor.

“You were in the way! I was gonna just hack the old goat and hag! But then, the inheritance would just fall onto you, instead! I wanted to spare you, I did! But I needed that hit, that high! You’ll never understand!” He growled out, facing towards you with a furious glare. Your stomach sunk as the realization had hit you. You weren’t the only target planned for that night, and you were wasting your time with somebody who had replaced you, along with the rest of his family, so easily. The knowledge of the fact had hurt worse than you wound, you swallowed thickly.

“We’re done here.” You choked into a whisper.  

“Okay.” Your attention snapped towards Taishiro. He was so quiet, and yet you’ve never seen so much fury and hurt burn underneath those amber irises, before. His hands clenched as if itching to tear the other man apart.

“Let’s go home.” He growled out, instead, and you nodded dumbly, following him as your brother shouted more obscure things, wedging that metaphorical knife deeper into you, still. Knocking on the metal door, the police officer’s face looked pale.

“I didn’t know that he was that bad. Are you alright, Sir?” He asked, and Taishiro huffed out a nod.

“Man’s been admitting that he was gonna kill the girl’s parents, too.” He thoughtfully added. The officer nodded.

“Yes...we have the right to record, and so it’ll show up in his court hearings. If you mind me asking, who is this man to you?” The officer prodded gently.

“His sister’s a friend of mine.” Was all he said. The two of you moved in silence as he unlocked the front door to his house, actually holding it open for you, this time. You could tell that he was worried about you, glancing at your grieved expression as you felt almost nothing but numb as the realization had hit you. He was going to cause your parents more grief after his confession, you couldn’t help but think bitterly.  

“Sit down.” It was a demand, yet something in his voice sounded as if it were pleading. Curiously, you looked at him. Once again, he was biting his bottom lip, his hands clenched as if he was preventing himself from crying.  

“Okay.” You said softly as you sat on the couch. You wanted to touch him, to hug him, and let him comfort you, yet you couldn’t. He sat close to you, though, and the action was rather comforting.

“I known them since high school,” He began, shifting himself to be in a comfortable position, eyeing the carpeted floor, rather than at you. Yet you listened closely with awe. “older adults who preyed on hurtin’ kids like me. They offered me a way out from underneath my pa’s boots, an’ I took it.”

“Older adults?”

“Yeah. Yakuza wannabes who plucked out fledglings for sport. Anyways, the group taught me how to fight, steal, sneak, and then allow me to crash at their homes. I was good at it, an’ soon, I began thrivin’ on my own, crashing at different hotels, an’ runnin’ with them. I grew to hate the fuckers, but it was the only home I’ve really known.”

You opted to say nothing as he continued, letting your hand to rest inches away from his as he glanced at it.

“Been doin’ gigs that they’ve wanted me to do. I never really wanted to murder anybody, but they sure as hell did. Laugh at the corpses of drug-dealers, robbers, salesmen, shop-owners…ya get the idea. They were a bunch of sick bastards, but they were my sick bastards. Then...this fuckin’ kid, all starry-eyed and hopeful, wanted to join.” Tai’s voice cracked, but he swallowed thickly as he continued.

“He had to support his ma. He’d start doin’ crimes tryin’ to impress us. He annoyed the fuck outta everybody else, but he took a shine towards me. I was the youngest, and my ego was easily stroked when some hotshot declared me as “big brother”. So I ran a few gigs with ‘im, helpin’ him get money for his mother ‘cause he was a fresh face, and wasn’t an asshole crone who thought he was better than me.”

“….” Your mouth was pursed as you listened closely.

“His ma was nice. Reminded me of mine. Cooked for me whenever I came, totally unaware of our lil’ activities. She helped with the orphanage and donated a lot of stuff. Anyways. Like Icarus, he flew up too close to the sun. Word got out about it. I didn’t get into any trouble, seein’ that I was the “baby” of the family, but….they didn’t like that a young, inexperienced hotshot bargin’ in on ‘em. When I came to his house to pick ‘im up for a job...the door was unlocked.”

“What happened, Taishiro?” You gently prodded. He looked worse for wear as he glanced at you.

“He and his mother’s throats were slit open, and the fuckers had the gall to stay and wait for me, and laugh ‘bout it. Laughed as I fuckin’ stood there, seein’ white film over their distraught faces. I couldn’t help it. I fuckin’ snapped.”

“You…”

“Did what I should’ve done years ago. Reached for the same knife, inspected it, and lunged it in the closest one’s throat. I hate killin’, but I felt like that kid and his ma could do some justice. Burned the bodies n’ place, never looked back. Course word got out that I wasn’t with ‘em, anymore. I found myself doin’ things what his mother had did, and felt as if I was atonin’ fer her son. How I should’ve left him alone, shouldn’t let ‘im get so close to me.” Taishiro finished, gripping the couch as you let everything sink in.

“His death wasn’t your fault.” You said. He sighed.

“I know that, now, but the guilt of how I easily murdered my comrades, and letting this kid prance around me while I knew that my former gang were murderers, shook me. Started findin’ myself turn towards thievin’, giving money towards the same orphanage that his ma donated to, and other charities. Dabi and Tomura found me, then. Knew that I was good at my job, an’ were good at shuttin’ up the police.” He finished, laying fully back with glistening eyes.

“Taishiro...you went through so much.”  You said. You honestly couldn’t imagine the pain he had went through, as well.

“I saw myself in ya. Goin’ through all of this crazy shit, your mind on the brink of insanity at the exhaustion as the ones closest to ya hurt ya. We both have nobody.” He shrugged.

“I have you, though.” You admitted, letting the words flow out before you could stop them. He then stared at you in surprise.

“Yeah, I guess we have each other.” He admitted it softly. Despite of everything happening, you couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

…….

He took a break from being a criminal the day after, the two of you just taking a walk in the park as he snacked, and you enjoyed the view around you. After both crying your eyes out in separate rooms, he offered to take a break away from the violence and hurt, if only for a little bit, and you agreed hastily.

“Whatcha gonna do when I’m gone?” You asked, floating beside him as he popped a piece of candy into his mouth.

“Don’t fuckin’ know. I’m twenty-nine, been doin’ this shit since fifteen.”

“F-fifteen!? No wonder why you’re emotionally stunted!”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“Wish I could do that. So? What about charity work? Or a job that requires you to be swift, like housekeeping!”

“Housekeepin’?”

“Yeah! I use to work as a housekeeper for the nursing home! It’s a pretty rewarding job.” You grinned.

“Pft. If ya went there now, could ya see the gho-

“Tai, noooo those are nice, elderly people! You can’t make a joke about them being dead!” You pursed your lips.

“What? You’ll have somethin’ in common, then.” He snickered, and you huffed.  

“Okay, you blonde giraffe, do you have any ideas?”

“Probably work as a stripper.”

“You’re kidding.” You deadpanned, giving him a guffawed look of disbelief. He grinned at your expression.

“I don’t know, Dabi might hit me up. Might look good in heels.” He chuckled, but you were fighting with your dirty mind, trying not to imagine him looking at you seductively as the lingerie rode up- no! No!

“You can’t be a stripper, Taishiro.”

“Oh, an’ why not? Might be afraid of seein’ something ya might like?” He grinned sleazily, wiggling his eyebrows.

Yes.

“Nope! Do you even know how to dance? Or work your way around a pole?”

“Hey! I’d make a pretty damned good stripper!” He shouted, and you bit your lip.

“We’re in public, Tai-chan.” You said instead.

“So?”

“A bunch of kids just heard you shout to thin air that you’d make a good stripper.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up and c’mon.” He growled, yet there was pink dusting his cheeks. How cute, you thought.

………………..

      Your two months left had slowly became one. His attitude had shifted into something calmer, friendly on some days, and it didn’t help your growing emotions. You liked him. You didn’t know if you loved him, but you knew that the two of you had helped each other, and made a great team. You wished that you could live certain moments forever, but not in the gruesome way some spirits did.

 The missions had dwindled down as to your amazement and pride, he started doing more charity work, helping out Dabi’s girls and other places such as the orphanage through non-violent crimes. It was as if he was another different person, despite him still being snappy to you, it was a little bit softer. Of course he didn’t change over night, he had a lot to learn. Such as biting his tongue when there were children nearby, trying his best to keep his temper in check, and you, still being a little shit, but less, still liked to rile him up sometimes.

“Oh! I’m going to kill you!” He huffed, crossing his arms as you smirked, standing behind him as he made pottery for a small business, earning a little bit of money.

“Maybe next time, I should lift a penny for you to prove that I’m here?” You grinned, and he gave you an ugly, disapproving look.

“I’m not Demi Moore, an’ you’re not Patrick Swayze. Fuckin’ cut it out.”

“Whooooa~!” You started singing. He turned to you and growled.

“Don’t you fuckin-”

“My Loooooooove! My Daaaaarlin~!” You laughed manically as his ears and cheeks flushed red. Oh, it was a treat, you thought with glee.

“If ya somehow miraculously make it alive, I’m gonna make you sit through so many fuckin’ horror movies.” He huffed, turning his attention back the pottery. You smiled, seeing his ears flush with red.

………..

  Fate didn’t want to give you a break, however. It was the day of Halloween, and you went back to the hospital, having another, dreadful epiphany. Fear churned within your gut as you tried your best to rush towards your body’s resting place.

“-doctor, please. I’ve already lost one baby...I can’t lose another!” Your mother’s dreadful wailing greeted you when you finally had reached your destination. The old man’s eyes held nothing but sorrow and sympathy. You glanced at your body. It looked pale and thin, and you knew that if you couldn’t inhabit it soon, it was going to wither.

“I’m terribly sorry, but it has to be done tonight. You and your husband have been grieving for the longest time, and Kami knows how long it’ll be until her body decides to shut down itself.” His gentle tone wafted over you as you clutched your chest. It was sooner than you’ve expected, but you felt oddly relieved and yet so scared.  

You swallowed thickly and you rushed to tell Taishiro.

…….

“What?” He looked pale, disbelieving at you as the noodles slipped from his chopsticks.

“We have all day until night falls. So...would you like to spend the remaining time of my life with me?” You asked softly.

“Of fuckin’ course, Sweetheart. Where do ya wanna go?” He didn’t hesitate, and if you could blush, you knew that you would. You glanced up at him.  

“Everywhere.”

………………..

   The two of you just took your time as he took you to Disneyland’s Halloween theme park, enjoying your lightened up face with pure joy and innocent happiness for the first time since he’s met you. He was the only one who could eat, of course, but he delighted you in describing the texture and sweetness of each candy and treat, your eyes shining with your own memories as you replayed them aloud.

Of course there were stares, but for once, you didn’t try to egg him on. He was sweet to you, and you knew that he was crumbling on the inside. It hurt you, seeing him like this, yet the both of you wanted to spend your last moments together.

“Ugh! Damn it, it’s getting dark!” He shouted as the night had started to crawl upwards into the sky, and you knew that you didn’t have much time left. You were correct, seeing your ghostly arm burn brighter with white. Yet, you didn’t feel too scared. For over a year, this is what you’ve been wanting. The people you loved dearly, could grieve properly and move on, and you were more than willing to accept that.

“Taishiro.” You said slowly, catching his attention. His eyes widened with horror.

“Damn it! Y-you should’ve been wakin’ up! Why does it fuckin’ have to be you, huh?” He growled into a choking sound, trying to grip your arm, but no avail. You felt oddly peaceful as you stared into a teary-stained face, your body burning brighter as you looked in amazement. It didn’t hurt, but your fingers had evaporated into floating white butterflies, floating along loftily, as if seeking your body.

“Don’t fuckin’ leave!” He tried gripping them, but no avail, your heart lurched at his determination.  

“I’ll never regret meeting you. In the next life, I hope that we can probably become friends. Perhaps something more. I hope that you have wonderful parents, and an amazing job. Please don’t lose hope in this life.” You said softly, more of the butterflies evaporated from your body.

“Y/n!” He cried out, gritting his teeth. You could only give him the location of you hospital, finally as your world floated to black.

…………..  

 The reference is Ghost, a classic 90’s movie if anybody was curious

[thenightau]

Endangered

((TW: Generalized gore, vomit))

The deity sighed within its castle of destruction. The walls were rotting and covered with vines and moss and mold. In the distance was screams of those who hadn’t lived such peaceful lives. The wind picked up the scent of blood, rot, and desestation. It lounged in a chair made of human bones, legs thrown over the arm of the chair, and its blue hair falling behind them as they stared up at the ceiling. 

“Uuugggh. Im bored.” It muttered, turning onto its stomach and puffing its cheeks out in a pout. “I should check on that SMP. I wonder what they’re up t-”

“Your dastardly-ness!” Came a small, squeaky voice of a man. And it turned its head. The man was mortal, a spirt enslaved in this hellish place. “Words come in from Builder. He needs your help-”

“What?” It asked, sitting up with a wide grin. “You’re telling me. Alexios. Needs my help?” It leaned forward, and the mortal coward back at the gleam in its eyes. 

“Yes Endanger.” He said, “Builder wrote that he needed your help containing Night before-”

“Oh.” It deflated, relaxing back in its chair. “Bo-ring. Go get him to have Protector fight his battles.” It waved its had dismissively. 

“But your dastardly-ness. Protector… can’t.”

“...What?” It asked, eyes narrowing in on the mortal like a lion’s on its prey. 

“Protector… is dead. Night killed her.”

“HE WHAT?!” 

The mortal coward under the shaking roar that was Endanger’s voice. Endanger stood, extending it’s hand as a battle axe, caked red with blood, flew into its hand. It stormed towards the door as the human stammered to explain. But Endanger didn’t hear an ounce of it. It slammed the door shut, yelling behind it to make sure nothing got better in its absence. 

___

Builder paced within the night, pulling his hair as most of the hermits slept. Save for Xisuma, who was watching over Grian and Wels like a hawk. He stared uselessly at a large map plastered to the wall, his brain trying to come up with something, anything that might help him defeat his sibling. But no matter what thought crossed his mind, it was always met with;

‘Protector wouldn’t think thats a smart idea.’ 

‘Protector wouldn’t like that.’

The thoughts made him want to scream out of frustration. He kicked at the wall holding the map, watching as the item frames crumbled to the ground. He let out a slow sigh, leaning down to gather the papers and put them back up before anyone saw his stress induced anger. 

No. He had to stay calm. Collected. For the sake of his son. 

He heard a loud, shrill battle cry. One that came from the heavens and made the hermits jolt to attention. Builder looked up, seeing a blur of blue in the sky before it landed in a ball of smoke. 

Endanger as joined the server

“Endanger! You came! Oh thank void-” Builder smiled, but that smile faltered as the war god stood slowly, skin still steaming. 

“Oh-” muttered Cub

“My-” gulped Bdubs, sweating nervously. 

“Void.” Xisuma cured, eyes wide at the god in front of them. 

Endanger was tall, as was the rest of them. With longer blue hair parted heavily to the left with the right side shaven. In its hands held a battle axe, one still oozing with blood. Covering its chest was a pale dark purple colored chest plate, wearing skin tight clothing underneath it that was tan in nature. 

But that wasn’t what horrified the hermits, no. 

It was the multiple gashes on the deity. The burned, charred hands and feet. Its face was horridly mauled, and Xisuma briefly wondered how the hell that thing saw anything. It was glaring heavily, but not towards the hermits. 

Its anger was directed at Builder. 

“L-Listen, Endanger-” Builder stuttered, waving his hands around and taking a step back from the clearly angry god. 

“You mean to tell me. I had to find out. My sister was dead. From a servent?” The god, known to mortals as Endanger, or the god of brutal war, snarled, its axe pointed at Builder. 

“I’m sorry! I was just busy with trying to get the other hermits back and-”

“Wait wait wait. Hermits?” Endanger looked at the mortals, who all inched back at its gaze. Its eyes locked onto Iskall’s, who was still mostly in his own daze and not paying attention. “You.” It pointed to the other, “You’re Iskall, right?” It asked, and Iskall looked over, nodding a little. 

“Yes. Why?”

“You’re Doc’s friend. Right?”

“I mean we’re all friends-?” Iskall looked at Builder, confused by this gods questions. 

“Then where is he? I don’t see him in your ranks.” Endanger asked once more. Iskall paused, afraid to tell this deity the truth. “Answer me.” 

“Hes… with Night.” Iskall said, eyes glued to the axe in the others hand. Endanger went quiet at that. It seemed to ponder something, only for a few mere moments before it’s angered expression turned into a large grin. 

“Well then. Lets go get my disciple back.”

___

Xisuma was crouched beside the god, and had to breath through his mouth as to not smell the heavy scent of rotting flesh that came with it. Endanger was grinning, completely hidden by the brush of the jungle. Nearby was Iskall’s half burned Omega tree, the start of Grian’s mansion, and the start of Mumbo’s…. Mega base? 

He slowly looked at the god, whose eyes were narrowed in front of it, peering through the bushes and looking about ready to pounce. Its clawed and charred fingers were curled tight around its battle axe’s handle, the sharp blade shining in the dim light. Endanger glanced down at him, only flicking its eyes over at him. 

“Do you want to know how to scare a god shitless?” It asked. 

Endangers voice was… odd. To say the least. It sounded like at least two people talking at once, it sounded sharp and cold, hissing like a snake. And yet it sounded joyful and mischievous. 

“Uh… Sure?” Xisuma asked more than said, but Endanger nodded anyways. They only waited a few more minutes in the jungles humidity, before Endanger’s body tensed, clawed feet digging into the ground as it got ready to pounce. 

“Follow my lead.” 

Was all Endanger said before an ear splitting war cry left its lips, well. It seemed like a war cry. To anyone else it sounded like a banshee screech. It leaped out from the bushes, catching Night fully off guard as it slammed its battle axe into the ground, Night barely missing. 

“SHIT-!” Night hissed, Beside them was Doc and Stress. Well… Doc and Princess. 

Xisuma rushed forward, and used his sword to try and knock Doc down, but was simply met with a sword rivaling his own. 

Endanger laughed, pulling its axe from the ground as its milky white eyes bore into Night’s through the mask. “Did you really think I wouldn’t show?” It taunted, swinging its axe brutally fast. It heard a yelp as Princess ducked down to dodge the swing, creating wither roses to hopefully still the god. The blackened thorns tore into Endangers skin, infecting the god with the withering effect. 

But it did nothing. Endanger ripped the vines from it, lunging once more for Night. The other drew their sword, barely blocking the axe in time. 

“I was counting on it actually. Just wanted to get to you first.” Night grunted, sending a punch to the other god, even if just to make them back away. Their fist collided with Endanger’s nose, and a loud crack followed by blood flow indicated they broke its nose. 

Endanger stumbled back, before glancing over to Princess, who had instead focused on trying to subdue Xisuma. It grinned lowly. 

“You hurt my disciple. You killed my sister. And you think I’d join you?” Endanger asked, its axe hooking around Princess’s waist and drawing her close. 

“Fuck. No.” 

Princess drove its clawed hand through Princess’s chest, the mortal gagging on her own blood as she shakily looked up at Night, fear flashing through her face before Endanger ripped out the mortals heart. Princess’s body collapsed onto the floor, before it vanished. 

Stressmonster101 was mauled by Endanger 

Endanger grinned at the look of horror Night was inevitably giving it. Endanger tilted its head back, mouth opening at it raising the still beating heart above its mouth. Its long tongue wrapped around the organ. Before swallowing it whole. 

“Thanks for the snack, Night. Now. HOW ABOUT THE MAIN COURSE?!” Endanger’s axe drove into Night’s arm, nearly cutting the limb in two. Night just straight up fled with their wound, vanishing into the dark of the jungle. Endanger laughed, blood dripping from its hand as it turned to face Xisuma and Experiment. 

Xisuma had ran into the jungle a small ways, vomiting onto the ground. Experiment stood in horror as the deity came closer. It rested its bloodied hands on his shoulders, falling to its knees. 

“Doc? Can you hear me?” It asked, and Experiment dared to growl at it. 

“I am not Doc.” It said, and Endanger laughed. 

“Always so feisty.” It sighed, before lifting Doc onto its shoulder. “Well. I have what I want. Hey wimp! Come on! Lets go back to the other wimps! Wait till they hear bout this!”

Xisuma groaned, slowly standing on shaking legs as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. 

“How about we don’t horrify the others to the point of throwing up?”

“Awwww-”

~~~~~

AAAAnnnd!!! I’m back and able to post one shots on this account again!! :DD 

Happy New years everyone! Take this as my present to you all! ~Ollie

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was RAUM, a DEMON loyal to the cause of the DEMONS. She is said to be IMMORTAL and uses SHE/HER pronouns. In this New Testament she serves as a MEMBER of the VICES. Blessed be her name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

Her existence and power both teeter atop the same fulcrum -- the capture of what was never meant to be hers. As the Vice of Envy, Raum possesses ravenous focus which, when trained on the object of her desire, devours it through greedy, irrevocable theft. It can only be one thing across each individual; and it can be a physical matter, such as an item or a body organ, or it can be a visceral notion, such as one’s life or voice. She must truly covet what she seeks, otherwise her powers will not latch onto it, and what is stolen can never be returned, as it becomes branded with Raum’s name in the ancient demonic tongue; an unseen mark of everlasting ownership. The degree of her capability varies according to the nature of the object; stealing someone’s eye, for example, would be less strenuous than taking their life, and if one were to resist her hold strongly enough, it would require greater focus and force for them to be stripped of what Raum has claimed for herself. Having been granted the gift alongside her title, Raum is relatively inexperienced and has yet to fully grow into her powers or develop them further. However, that certainly doesn’t stop her from harnessing them to stoke her envious appetite, insatiable as it ultimately is.

THE HISTORY.

Hers was a story with neither beginning nor birth; a tale relayed through torn pages and faded ink, where the only things separating the factual from the imaginary were one’s own musings and a barren, blistering-red introduction. It seemed as though Raum had blinked and then found herself in Hell, coming into existence through the flutter of wayward wishes as they nestled into her lids rather than the trickle of God’s breath or the lashing of Lucifer’s tail. She simply came to be, and then with her wandering eyes and charred wings, she became; branded as a demon and cast astray across the pits and trenches of Hell to wreak havoc in Lucifer’s name before she could even grasp the worthless worship that was demanded of her. She provided it, because what other purpose could her vacant existence possibly have? Surely not one that the dreaded Morningstar would be keen to reveal; gleeful as he appeared to be upon being met with the aimless trek of her gaze and the unadjusted twitch in her wings. Contempt was the first emotion to thread its string through Raum’s newly-molded heart, and she hoped it sent pin-pricks stabbing into the dead flesh beneath Lucifer’s skin as she met his mirthful gaze with an imperious glare. Nonetheless, she turned around and set off to do his wicked bidding; for all she knew, she had been born into it.

Had she, though? Where had the stars spilled into the unruly alignment of her creation? Across the infinite mortal skies? Over Heaven’s towering peaks? Along Hell’s howling vacuums? One must venture down a road before they could lose their way, and Raum longed to find hers; desperate to unearth it from the shapeless ruins of her past and wrap her hands around it in ardent discovery. The wonderment was a speck of stark, pure white whirling through the overbrimming crimson of her boundless days in furious, ceaseless burning. All were blind to it; Lucifer and his demons scraped their barren gazes along without a single glimpse of what was eating its way through the veil of her solemn obedience, and all the while, Raum could see nothing else, vision consumed by all that lay beyond her limited, covetous sight. It was only when she was given the duty of guarding the borders of Hell that she finally blinked, willing her fixation to fade just enough for her to see the turn her path was about to take. Glancing over the corner, she expected to be met with many things, and Heaven certainly wasn’t among them. Yet such was where Raum found herself as soon as she had taken flight beyond Hell’s gleaming gates; on the cloud-misted outskirts of the unreachable.

At first, she was driven by sheer curiosity and nothing more; after all, some would give anything for a look into the hallowed void. She imagined that even Lucifer, for all his primordial pride, would give up his empire for an entryway into Heaven, and so how could she possibly resist stealing it for herself? As time passed, however, it became a lot less simple than that. Raum spied on the angels with fervent diligence, chasing the shadows of their opalescent wings and following the loop of their steadfast worship until another crucial sentiment began to take root in her heart -- only this one did not trickle in with a slim, worming thread. Instead, it ensnared the humming ember in a thicket of gnashing tendrils; long as roots of ivy and thorned as the stems of roses. It was envy, and it was vicious; choking out her heart all while mercilessly lurching it towards the realization that the angels possessed all that she yearned for and coveted from afar. They knew who they were and what they were meant to be; knew where they came from and where they were destined to go -- and they seemed utterly unaware of the value of such rarified knowledge, traipsing around in aimless adherence, eyes bleary and shoulders stiff as though they couldn’t bear the weight of the divinity sprouting proudly from their spines. Yet it was that exact thought which eased what had begun to fester, quelling the blaze of her heart into a simmer so quiet and gentle that it almost seemed to warp her envy into something akin to love.

There was no other way for Raum to explain the pale, tender hue that fogged up her vision of the angels from that moment on; no other way for her to identify the frail, stuttering ache that soon bloomed in the wake of each illicit venture and every stolen glance. With the history of Heaven unfolding before her, she witnessed as Adam and Eve claimed their place at God’s side as though they belonged nowhere else, and it was then that Raum couldn’t find it in herself to deny her sentiment any longer; eyes welling with tears and wings curling into her back as she watched the angels bow before the very same beings that had snatched God’s love from them. In the end, there was no hope of holding her fuming vengeance at bay. The legends often spoke of a serpent, wrapped around Eve’s ankle in a coiling climb as her teeth slowly sank into the forbidden fruit, yet it was in fact a crow which lured her towards her fated sin, black and beckoning as the bistre of Raum’s eyes. At the tail of Adam and Eve’s fall, Raum dragged in the retribution of the angels then eased back with heaving relish -- only to realize once the haze had cleared that she was utterly untouched by the change she had incited. She remained on the outskirts, same as always. Yet upon returning to Hell, her disillusionment was soon replaced by an unexpected sense of belonging, crafted at the hands of none other than the revered Anti-Christ. He brought her into the fold of his Vices and in turn, ushered her into a newfound era in her existence; one of looming confidence, brimming aspiration, and boundless, yawning hunger. Rising alongside Hell, Raum set out to leave the mark that she had always been denied, and she vowed to make sure that not a speck of the world would be bare of her brand. All shall see it, and all shall bow before it.

THE CONNECTIONS.

DAMIEN WARD: Liege. It was from his obliging hand that Raum had seized everything that had once lingered far beyond her reach; he had given her a title to be defined by, a power to grow into, and most crucial of all, a place to belong in. In the wake of losing all hope of retrieving her past, the last thing she had expected was to be given a future, and yet there Damien had been, welcoming her return with all of her dreams and desires laid at his feet -- and they hadn’t been stolen, but crafted specifically for her. It had sealed Raum’s loyalty to the name of the Anti-Christ, and she had vowed to march under it until the end of her days. She couldn’t help the sliver of trepidation that wormed its way in every now and then; after all, the Vices had sealed their purpose, and it was unclear what goals Damien could dedicate them to now, or if there were even any at all. Yet in spite of that, Raum could never doubt him. He was her guiding light, and she would walk along the glorious shadow he cast forevermore.

SAMAEL: Tether. When she had seen Samael for the first time, the despondent sight of him had tugged on her heart. He had lain there, arranged for Lucifer’s perusal like any valuable thing that shone through Heaven’s waste; plucked from the peak of glory and discarded in a pit of decrepitude. Having already spent centuries taking in the pride and prosperity of the angels, Raum had had an intrinsic understanding of all that he had lost in the wake of his fall. Even though she had spent ages of uncertainty before finally taking the step, she had eventually come forth and reached out to him -- and they had been inseparable ever since, sharing a visceral understanding and an invaluable trust that cemented them in each other’s lives well beyond their fickle hungers and dastardly desires. Samael was her anchor, her fulcrum, her balancing point. Greedy as she was, she would give away everything for him.

EVANGELINE TRAME: Remembrance. She often caught a trace of Evangeline in her mist-ridden memories of Heaven, particularly when recalling the countless glimpses she had stolen of Eve’s resplendent visage. Upon first glance, something about Evangeline had pierced through Raum’s eye and hooked itself to a groove in her mind, tugging on memory and rousing remembrance in a way that had become a steady fixture in their encounters from that moment on. The resemblance was vague and untraceable for the most part, yet it was always Evangeline’s eyes which kept Raum from dismissing it. They never failed to bring her back to that crucial moment when she had settled upon Eve’s shoulder and nudged her gaze towards the forbidden fruit. It eluded Raum time and time again, yet never seemed to abate her ravenous intrigue. There was certainly more to Evangeline Trame than meets the eye, and the mystery was Raum’s to unravel.

CAPHRIEL: Fascination. It was impossible to overlook the depth to which Caphriel let herself fall into the embrace of the mortals, especially when the longing-drenched sight so closely resembled the way Raum would lose herself in the hazy borders that had once kept her and the angels apart. Yet even though they seemed to share the same burning brand of yearning, it was laced with too many shards of differences for the two of them to be truly kindred. For one, Caphriel’s love for the mortals was returned tenfold, whereas Raum had only ever been able to cling to the angels from afar. For another, Caphriel dedicated herself to the mortals with no doubts or limitations, whereas Raum was reluctant to let her lingering sentiment for the angels take root; not when she was far more eager to grow into her newfound individuality and focus on nothing other than herself and her aspirations. Yet Caphriel had already caused her to falter in her drive, stirring a fascination that Raum found herself unwilling to relinquish. It could prove to be ruinous, yet it could also prove to be grandly fulfilling.

Raum is portrayed by Tati Gabrielle and was written by JEN. She is currently TAKEN by LIA.

[earlfeytea]

A “LFRP but really a basic profile holder for Briar Duval” Post

**Still subject to change, just wanted to get basic info out there**

The Basics –

Age: 31

Birthday: 13th Sun of the 5th Umbral Moon

Race: Miqo’te, Keeper/Seeker mixed heritage

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Marital Status: Single

Physical Appearance –

Hair: Black and Grey

Eyes: Blue

Height: 5’2”

Build: Toned

Distinguishing Marks: Instead of the usual male face markings, Briar has stripes at several points starting at the edges of his face similar to female miqo’te markings. Has a large scar on his left hip. There is also a beauty mark just under his left eye.

Common Accessories: Wears a gold chain necklace with two gold banded rings at all times.

Personal –

Profession: Part time dance instructor as well as small jobs he can handle at shops to get by, former adventurer.

Hobbies: He mostly likes to people watch when he isn’t working. Enjoys seeing shows and enjoys cross stitching in the evenings. 

Languages: Common Eorzean

Residence: Lavender Beds

Birthplace: The North Shroud

Religion: None

Patron Deity: Menphina

Fears: Unknown at the moment

Relationships –

Spouse: None at the moment. Was married to his late husband, Allric Sullivan

Children: None

Parents: Jere'li Duval (Father) & E’raxu Duval. Both are alive and dwell in the north shroud by themselves.

Siblings: None

Pets: None

Traits –

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal 

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information –

Smoking Habit: Sometimes

Drugs: Only medicinal

Alcohol: Quite frequent

RP Hooks –

Hook 1 : Due to certains events and injuries to his hip, Briar does easy going dance lessons for the elderly or physically impaired as well as starting classes in which he instructs. He uses these lightweight lessons as a means to keep himself in shape while offering easy exercise and enjoyment to those who need it. It also kinda helps him remember to do it. So perhaps you need a dance class or know someone who has had them and have bumped into him during a meet up.

Hook 2 : If lessons aren’t making the money that week or he’s unable to do so,you might find him doing smaller jobs that don’t require a lot of physical work. This could just be as simple as him sitting behind the counter at a shop or bakery. Even just taking orders at the bar. Don’t count on him to be there always however. 

Hook 3 : As cliche as it is, at a tavern, people watching. Even if he isn’t with anyone in particular, he finds just sitting in a corner and watching others while having a drink soothes him during his more lonely days. 

Hook 4 : He used to be part of a small adventuring group, Crown of Thorns. Since the death of his husband 3 years ago along with the lasting effects from the injury he received during that event, the group has since broken apart. But perhaps you might have known the group or possibly worked with them at one time or another. 

Hook 5 : Sometimes duty calls, whether you like it or not. If someone is in need or a job sounds too good, Briar’s health isn’t so bad yet that he can’t assist. Sometimes he still yearns for the glory of the old days and can certainly work his dancer magic in the battlefield... Provided there is rest in between mind you.

Hook 6 : Briar finds true happiness in foggy weather. While others find the density to be almost suffocating, Briar finds peace. His finest work was done hiding in the mist, his hearing ability giving him an edge over most. Perhaps you’ve come across him before by accident, meditating amongst the foliage of the shroud surrounded by a dense sea of grey cloud.

Hook 7 : As with many severe injuries, he’s gonna need a doctor to help him take care. While the nerves in his leg have done a good job healing, early arthritis and ever mending nerves mean constant visits to the chirurgeon. Never anything too serious, just check ups and such. Perhaps you’ve met him during a trip or perhaps a chirurgeon/nurse yourself.

What am I looking for  –

Most anything I suppose? I am open to shipping but there needs to be something there. I am open to ERP and dark themes but won’t RP such things with anyone under 21. I am just not comfortable rping such things with one under that age, especially since there could be times where I want to draw such things. 

I will be happy to do light hearted events with people younger but nothing more than that.

Other Information  –

I am a multi-paragraph rper though I do like shorter ones too and tend to match who I am RPing with. 

Discord is my preferred method of roleplaying. Being from the UK, it really helps me to get things going with people, especially since I work full time and most of the community I know is overseas. It also allows me time to think on things and go back if needed so it can be picked up easily should something happen. (It’s also a good excuse to slack off at work where I can’t get ingame, ssssh, don’t tell one!) I also like to headcanon a lot and feel it’s easier to go back and forth on this platform. I am happy to do mini ingame things however, even if it’s just hanging around for photos and such. Just please excuse me if I end up going a bit quiet as my brain shuts itself off until I am fully comfortable and confident.

Messaging here is fine also but hard to keep track of. Twitter, sure? If you do want my discord, ask me first. 

If you do see me ingame, please note this character is still under Sacha Desyre with the switcheroo happening later after payday.

Thanks guys for reading!

[wonder-kid-pugh]

Not so Innocent - (Rose Lavelle x reader)

Y/n's Pov

It was time again for camp. Meaning I could see my girlfriend Rose again. We've been together for a few months now, but none of the team knew. Honestly I don't know how the team haven't know out yet seeing as we can't extremely subtle about it seeing as we're always cuddling and being touchy with each other. Rose just says that the team refuses to accept that their baby is growing up.

Ever since they found out I was the youngest on the team, the team have been extremely protective and baby me when they can. There was one time at a meet and greet where a guy started hitting on me. By the time I blink they pretty much had a protective wall around me and were glaring down the guy. If looks could kill the guy would have dropped dead.

So I was waiting in my room for my roommate. We haven't seen each other in a while seeing as everyone went back to their hometown to spend time with family. So while Rose was in Wisconsin, I was in Jersey. I look up when I hear the door open. I squeal when I see my girlfriend walk in dragging in her bags behind her. She drops her bags just in time to catch me as I jump into her arms wrapping my legs around her waist.

"I missed you so much" I whisper into her neck. She laughs, "I missed you too daisy".

I shook my head at the nickname Rose had for me. At Rose's first camp, the first time we met I was wearing a daisy crown which Rose commented on. So later on at dinner I made her one and gave it to her. Ever since then she called me daisy after the first time we met.

"I can't believe we're roommates. Now I can get you all to myself before the rest if the team arrives" I smirk. I nuzzle my face in her neck and start kissing down her neck. I continue until I get to her collarbone and start to suck on and nip at her neck. She lets out a small moan at the action and tightens her grip on my legs. "Maybe I can show you how much I missed you" I whisper right into her ear before tugging on her earlobe. I pull back only to be pulled into a searing kiss. Rose started walking towards the bed and lower me gently onto the bed. We both get lost in the kiss a bit, almost trying to commit the feeling of Rose's lips against mine to memory. But before long I flip us so now I'm on top. I hover over Rose slightly looking down on her as she pants trying to regain her breath and smile at the effect I have on her. Let's just say it's a good think there weren't anyone in the rooms next to us.

We were late down to breakfast the next day. Everyone had arrived at this time and we were the last ones down. Rose went towards our usual table with was full of the youngsters on the team, while I went to see the veterans of the team. "Y/n!" I hear an excited Christen scream out. She hugs me tightly as the rest of them give me a hug as well. I talk to them for a while before heading off to my table sitting beside Rose. When I sit down the whole table is laughing while Rose has gone bright red and tries to sink into her seat. Emily is the first to recover, "Y/n what time did you get here?". I tilt my head confused, "I got here yesterday". The girls nod while I hear Lindsey say, "So it must have happened over the break". "Someone want to clue me in here?" I say taking a drink of my water.

"Rose is hooking up with someone".

I choke on my drink. Rose pat's my back as I sputtered trying to catch my breath. Once I recover I look at all of them shocked, "What?!". Mal just points at Rose, "What didn't you notice your best friend had a big ass hickey on her neck?". I turn and see a dark hickey peeking out from under Rose's hoodie.

Shit.

But Kelley just smacks Mal in response, "Of course she didn't notice. Y/n is too innocent to know about stuff like that". Rose and I look at each other. If only they knew how wrong they were. "So you going to tell us about who gave you the hickey?" Lindsey asks. But before Rose can reply, Alex comes over, "Cmon time to get to practice guys". Rose breathes a sigh of relief but quickly pouts again. "Don't think we aren't going to talk about this later Rose". We get on the bus and Rose and I are bus buddies. "This is your fault" Rose whispers into my neck as she leans her head on my shoulder. I chuckle slightly, "Not my fault your irresistible".

It's been a long day for Rose. A lot of the team have been teasing her about the hickey. Thankfully she was able to hide it from Dawn or else she would have been in major trouble. She's slightly annoyed at me laughing at her misfortune which I caused. But she still finds it funny when the older players scolds the youngsters for talking about it in front of 'Y/n's innocent presence'. We are gathered in Tobin and Christen's room for team bonding, which so happens to be Truth or Date.

I wonder why.

Eventually it's Rose's turn. "Rose, truth or dare?" Emily asks. Without hesitation Rose answers, "Dare". The team moans in response. "The one time we don't want to you to pick dare" Mal complains. I giggle knowing why the team wanted her to pick truth. Emily dares to jump in the pool fully clothed. After she finishes the dare, we come back into the room and she goes dries off and comes back wearing shorts and my thorns hoodie.

Then it was my turn.

"Truth or dare little one" Kelley smirks. I glare at her. She knows I hate the nickname. I roll my eyes and smirk back at her, "Dare". "Ohhhhh" all the youngsters say. Kelley thinks for a minute before grinning wickedly at me, "I dare you to kiss someone in this room". The veterans break out in arguement while the youngsters and Kelley argue against them. I see Mama Press telling Kelley I shouldn't have to kiss anyone. I just laugh and turn to Rose to see laughing at the mayhem as well. I wink at Rose before pulling Rose into a kiss. We get slightly lost in the kiss. When we pull apart the room is silent. The whole team is looking at us, some with their mouths hanging open.

"I called it! I knew they would get together sooner or later" Kelley exclaims. I roll my eyes as I wrap my arm around Rose's shoulder and pull her closer. "Wait so are you two actually together?" Christen asks. I smile and nod at her. "Wait so the hickey on Rose's neck. That was you?" Mal asks. Again I nod my head while the veterans stare at me shocked. "Rose corrupted our innocent baby" Alex shouts. I can physically feel Rose roll her eyes. "Or maybe I'm not as innocent as you thought?".

[sidereal-fantasies]

Sincerely, Not You

[Choi San]

01: Valentine’s Woes and Chance Encounters

WARNING(S): None (except one curse word)

College AU in which Choi San and many others receive letters that threaten to break their already fragile hearts.

“For a poet, you truly are oblivious to the emotions that make up a person. That, or you don’t know how to convey your own.”

Hailed as a genius writer, it came as a surprise to many when the great Choi San would reveal that he hadn’t experienced true love. True love, in the thoughts of San, was a state where nothing could mean everything. The tiniest details suddenly multiply and matter so much more, as if a mind filled with unfinished sentences and distractions that focused solely on the target of affection wasn’t enough. Their name would be repeated like a broken record. Their flaws would turn into your favorite things about them. Sharp edges turned into soft corners. Heavy stones would suddenly be light as a feather. In other words, true love to San meant dedicating your entire being to one person and one person only for a rather long time.

Today just so happened to be Valentine’s Day; a holiday meant to emphasize the importance of the everlasting concept of finding and loving someone with all their heart and showering them in sickeningly sweet affection. A day where Choi San viewed like any other day despite his specific fantasies about true love.

Valentine’s Day was also a holiday that San didn’t quite understand.

And his bemusement with the day of love only continued as he watched his dear friend, Jung Wooyoung, politely reject a girl after one of their lecture classes.

San had decided to linger around the corner as he eyed the peculiar scene in front of him. Why should it be today where many people suddenly deem it perfect to confess their interest in somebody and shower them in roses that would only wilt a few days later and chocolates that would be gone within the next hour? 

San pouted slightly as he watched the girl scurry off, face stained with an embarrassing shade of ruby red while his closest friend stood there in a slight daze, clutching the rose with his own frown plastered to his lips. He then approached the wordless man and placed a hand on his shoulder which shook him out of his wandering thoughts.

“Weren’t you just complaining about not having someone to spend Valentine’s Day with last week,” San teased. Wooyoung muttered a curt ‘shut up’ before shoving the rose into San’s chest.

“Don’t you have an entire essay due in the next two days that you have yet to start?” Wooyung countered.

“You mean the essay we both procrastinated on plus the new assignment we got today?”

Wooyoung exhaled softly, holding his hands up in defeat with a little shake of his head. Their conversation came to a momentary pause as Wooyoung glanced back at the direction that girl ran off in, heart squeezing slightly in guilt. San noticed the lingering feelings, but couldn’t help but to cast his own gaze down to the scarlet flower in his hand. The stem itself was trimmed, leaving it shorter than usual and thorn-less as well. The petals, however, were crushed slightly, either from Wooyoung’s brash action or the girl’s lack of focus on the delicate flower. His fingers brushed over them, taking in the odd texture. Figures, he thought. It’s plastic. Perhaps he missed some kind of attempt of a semi-poetic confession.

“It happens sometimes, Wooyoung,” San simply said in an effort to comfort the younger man. “It’s just Valentine’s Day, anyways. A lot of people get in a frenzy to hook up with the nearest person.”

Wooyoung’s shoulders slumped forward slightly as his frown increased. “I know, but I still feel guilty. A lot of people expect a lot to happen on Valentine’s Day and I probably just crushed her heart,” he explained. 

San tore his gaze away from Wooyoung. He was right, in a way. He noticed how many people’s hearts swell at the idea of either spending this particular day with their significant other or in the arms of a newfound love. He’s seen it so many times that he wondered if that’s all he ever witnessed on a day he would rather skip over instead. Hearts were delicate things, as he had observed from his friends. Made of tangled webs and thin glass, it was almost too easy to leave a crack or two in them every now and then. He just couldn’t understand why so many were so willing to risk dropping their own hearts on one particular day.

“How about we hang out tonight? We’ll drag some of the others out of their dorms as well and maybe we could go on another adventure to the local convenience store,” San suggested. The corners of Wooyung’s lips turned upwards as he nodded his head vigorously. “Maybe we can get Seonghwa to tag along then and make him pay for all of us again,” Wooyoung joked. A small chuckle rumbled in San’s chest.

“I’d rather not hear him nag at all of us for not being able to agree on a single brand of ramen...“

Unfortunately, San and Wooyoung were only able to drag Kang Yeosang and Jeong Yunho out of their dorms. The older members of their friend group, Park Seonghwa and Kim Hongjoong, decided that studying was top priority while San’s roommate, Song Mingi, opted for a nap instead of a late night adventure. Choi Jongho, another friend of theirs, was focused on editing a song cover and simply told them to bring back something extremely caffeinated for him, claiming that editing was ‘sucking the very soul of his being out’ with how frustratingly picky he was. Nevertheless, the four of them made it work, effectively getting Wooyoung’s mind off of today’s confession with cheap ramen noodles that had to be inhaled within minutes due to the store owner wanting to close up really soon.

Since they all still had class tomorrow, the group’s mini-adventure ended rather sooner than expected with the others walking home while San seeked shelter underneath an awning as he waited for Mingi to pick him up. As San pulled his jacket closer to his shivering body, he realized that it may have been smarter to linger within the convenience store instead. It was too late now, however, leaving San to miserably accept his fate as the late winter breeze nipped at his exposed cheeks. The thoughts of curling up underneath a blanket once he got back to his dorm was eventually interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching him.

San quickly glanced out of the corner of his eye to see who had joined him under the awning only to be greeted by the sight of your flushed face and [hair color] hair tucked messily underneath a black beanie. He had seen you a few times before on campus, most of them having been in the library in hopes of finding a study space on last minute’s notice. As he recalled, you were in most of Yeosang’s lecture classes since you dropped off notes for him on a few rare occasions. Not a talkative one, as Yeosang described from the very scarce encounters and group projects he was assigned with. Yet, those vague descriptions didn’t look like they exactly fit you. The writer in San’s mind was already attempting to dissect you based on your rather oblivious self right now. Tired [eye color] eyes remained glued to the glowing screen as one of your small hands raised to the scarf wrapped loosely around your neck to adjust it. The pink hue from the late night’s winter breeze barely peeked out, leaving him to assume that you may have been waiting for a bus now to rush by much longer than he was.

Your eyes peeled away from the screen before catching sight of San. “Is there something wrong?”

San nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of your voice. Momentary panic rushed through his veins as his previous thought train came to a sudden crash. Say something, he almost screeched at himself. Anything to relieve this awkwardness.

“I’ve seen you around campus a couple of times,” San stated rather bluntly. 

“And so have I, Choi San.”

Shit, he mentally cursed. San’s mouth parted slightly, yet no words rolled out. Only silence from the dark haired male as he tried to regain his thoughts once more.

“That was weird,” you murmured under your breath with San not knowing if he was meant to hear it or not. “I’m [Surname] [Name], by the way. We have a morning lecture together on Tuesday’s and Thursday’s. Plus, everyone always goes on about how amazing of a writer you are,” you explained as you finally turned to face San.

A mischievous glint flickered in your gaze, igniting something deep within San’s chest before a chuckle left him.

“Then why don’t I see you as often then?” San inquired.

“Most likely because I prefer sitting in the back,” you answered honestly. 

San hummed in response. “I see, then. Maybe I should start looking for you more.”

You blinked a few times, tilting your head slightly at San as he flashed you a gentle smile. The dimples adorning his cheeks were not helping with the sudden flusterness washing over you either. 

“Wait, why?” you questioned.

San turned to fully face you now, hands tucked into his pockets in an attempt to conserve what little feeling he had left in his icy fingers. For some reason, it didn’t feel like he needed to in your eyes. Cold, dangerous, lethal in many ways; while regarded for his work despite only being just a year into college, he was untouchable. Perhaps it stems from the fear of being featured in an upcoming writer’s work for life experiences and extreme rollercoasters of emotions are what fuel them to make some of the most heartbreaking stories. But, you couldn’t see that. The San that stood in front of you radiated warmth, comfort, and safety despite standing out on the corner of the street and bracing the late night’s cold wind. A rosy hue dusted his own paled cheeks as the heart-stopping smile was still plastered to his lips. It was as if he was wordlessly encouraging you to let your guard down. It’s alright, his smile read,

“Because I want to be friends with you now,” San responded.

Your eyes widen at San’s declaration before the ticklish sensation of laughter bubbles out of your chest. 

“Sure, San, it’s nice to be friends now.”

Soon enough, the soft, yellow glare of headlights steadily rolled by before coming to a gentle stop in front of San and you, signaling for the two of you to part ways for now. As you stepped on, your head quickly whipped back to San.

“Don’t forget about the essay and extra credit assignment,” you reminded the male just before the doors closed.

San opened his mouth only to close it as he watched the bus pull away. With that, he let out a loud groan before he slipped one of his hands out of his pockets to pinch the bridge of his nose.

That’s right. That stupid letter assignment I have still yet to contemplate about.