#theres a read stain on the paper

[dawnthefluffyduck]

This game is so pretty 🥹

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hwalovs]

Absolution, My Fine Friend (M)

Pairing; Priest! Jayce x Fem!Reader Word Count; 4.9k Warnings; Porn Without Plot (kind of), mutual masturbation, finger sucking, drooling (Jayce), he gets talked through it, misuse of the confessional, trying not to get caught, paper eating, misuse of a bible, blasphemy, religious kink, corruption kink.

Summary; Father Talis has done his best to forget the sin that permeates his office, taking refuge in the confessional. Maybe, by listening to other ask to be forgiven, Father Talis himself can earn his absolution.

First Sin; Temptation Second Sin; Absolution (currently here)

A/N; this can be read on its own, i think, but part one was a hit in my books and i couldn't stop thinking about Father Jayce and reader. Theres also a little someone on ao3 who sent the most amazing comment and I got a fire ignited under my ass so now we're here. Again, this is dedicated to my babies on discord, all of them. This wouldn't be here without them. Anywho, enjoy!

THIS IS NOT EDITED!

DO NOT COPY, REPOST ON OTHER SITES, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK WITHOUT PERMISSION!

Absolution; Formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment. 

It’s customary for the Priest to wait in the confessional, sitting in the small box for the small door on the other side to open, a person to come sit down, and confess to him their sins. From there, he would listen, give advice, and pray with them before sending them on their way. It was something he had done multiple times before, finding comfort in the enclosed space. His own body heat would keep him warm, heating the small space rather quickly. Taking off his rosary, he could drag the small chain through his fingers, playing with the beads. He would think of prayers, roll a bead between the pads of his fingers, grip the small cross and lightly kiss it. He would do this for hours, sometimes someone would arrive, sometimes there would be no one. 

The sun was shining brightly through the small lattice on the door in front of him, directly in his eyesight, blinding him. Gold light filtered through stained glass, casting an array of colorful rays across the pews and patrons. Eyes clenched shut, he sits taller while leaning his head back against the wood, sighing. There was an imaginary clock in his mind, constantly ticking away, bringing a faux comfort. He could hear the slight commotion of people still in the church, talking to loved ones and neighbors who were all smiles and high off of the worship he held. He needed something more to keep him distracted, the LED clock in the confessional was silent, unlike the clock in his bedroom. Its ticking filled his mind now, his foot tapping the ground along with it. 

Arms moving, he moves the slowly sliding bible back into its place on his lap, the book small enough to sit idly on his thigh. It rocks back and forth in time with the bouncing of his foot, the movement bringing yet another distraction.

He wished to go back to his room, sit at his desk in his office- no, the desk in his bedroom. He hadn’t sat at the desk in his office for eight days, two hours- his eyes crack open to peek at the small LED clock in the corner of the confessional- and forty-five minutes. He prayed for the strength to sit at the mahogany desk, to write correspondence to other churches, and send letters to the people who gracefully sent donations. 

Yet, perhaps he didn’t pray hard enough, didn’t kneel at the side of his bed long enough. Didn’t sit in this small box long enough. Perhaps, God has turned his nose up at him, forsaken him from the greatness of being forgiven. Even now, your ghost had its claws wrapped around his heart like a vice, whispering obscenities into his ear while he was alone. You were the one who led him down this path, and now he searched for the bright light of God with his eyes closed. 

Guilt eats away at the fibers of his soul, rips him apart late at night when the image of you appears in his mind, a giggling smile on your lips as they skim across his throat. Your hands were so warm, though, dragging across his body without condescendence. He would wake up and find himself sweating profusely in his cold room the next morning, breathing heavily as his hands grip the blanket. With shaking legs, he would sit up and rip the drawer of his night stand open, glare at the blue rosary that was tied tightly around a small bible, and grab his new one. 

He would drop to his knees, heart racing, and pray until the sweat on his back dried. 

Even now, he thinks he can sense you in this enclosed space with him. Your scent lingering in the air around him, permeating his clothes no matter how many times he changes or washes them. 

Hands gripping his rosary, he hopes the metal cross cuts into his skin. Maybe then, if he sacrificed his blood, God would see he was punished long enough. Maybe then, he could be forgiven. Your face appears in his mind, and his teeth clench. How could you do this to him? Reduce him to nothing but the filth that lines the pristine floors?

Jayce startles when the door on the other side opens, his breath quick as he shifts in place. Clearing his throat, he waits for the person on the other side to get comfortable, their throat clearing. It's silent then, both Jayce and the newcomer getting comfortable with each other. Jayce’s eyes clenched shut, your scent washing over him with newfound strength, the hair on the back of his neck stands and as if he was struck with lightning-

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

Your voice. 

His heart shakes, muscles tight and his breath short. Immediately, he thinks he can zone in on your breathing, so calm and quiet. Eyes cracking open, his head tilts to the lattice, and he can see your lips curved into a smirk. It's sickening, how the sight of you can make him feel so electric. You ignite something deep within him, akin to a lighter held under a sparkler. His stomach clenches, and his leg stalls its bounce. Fingers gripping his rosary, the sudden weight of the bible in his lap taunts him. 

“I’ve never confessed before, could you guide me?”

“I-” his voice squeaked out, and he snapped his jaw shut. Swallowing, Jayce looks back to his lap, gazing at the rosary. Was it just him, or did it suddenly look like the blue one he cast aside? Was the small figure of Jesus gazing with accusatory eyes? Did he know what was reeling in his mind at the sight of you?

“Father?”

His eyes shut tight, head falling towards his chest, shoulders hunched, robes tight over his shoulders, “I listen to your confession.”

It took a lot of strength to force his voice into a steady cadence. The small box seemed to be a little too small, he seemed too big to be in here. What once was comfort, was now torment. Your voice filled his side, bouncing off the wood and surrounding him.

“I give you advice, and you’ll- um,” he shifts in his spot, refusing to meet your gaze through the lattice, “You’ll be on your way.”

“Are you alright, Father?” You’re smiling, he just knows it. He can see your face behind his eyelids, how bright your gaze is, how your pupils are dilating at the sight of him so unkept. 

Nodding his head, he takes one more deep breath. He couldn’t let you see him like this, he was supposed to push what happened between you to the back of his mind. Forget it, even. He was praying to God for forgiveness, and by letting you entrap his senses, he would be pushed back to step one. 

“What was that?” Taunting, you hum, “I didn’t quite hear you.”

Shivering, he lifts his head and finally gazes through the lattice, meeting your sharp eyes. They’re encapsulating, looking at him with knowing. You can see him for what he truly is, a man of sin. 

Yet, it was your fault he was like this, why he swallows a whine and lets his mouth open to answer. If he were to put on a strong front, you would understand why he couldn’t progress in this sinful back and forth. Couldn’t let you torment him with your pretty words, or your addicting touch. 

“I’m here to listen to your confession, please just-” voice trailing off, his hands grip the rosary for comfort, but all he finds is the sharp edges of the cross. 

You chuckle, head leaning against the wood, raising your hand to tap your forehead, chest, and each shoulder. 

“In the name of the Father, Son, and The Holy Spirit. My confession, Father, is that I cannot stop thinking about you.”

Jayce smiles, gaze locked onto his rosary, “That’s normal- I’m your Priest-”

“No, Father,” voice quiet. serious, you shift closer to the lattice, “I think of you when my fingers are inside me, I wish they were yours-”

Muscles tight, Jayce says the first thing that comes to mind, “that was a mistake-”

“Was it? You seemed to enjoy yourself a lot, Father.”

“Temptation is a powerful thing, but you must find it in yourself to resist.”

There’s silence on the other side, your gaze assessing him. Humming, you let your head swing to the side, your own fingers rubbing across the tops of your thighs absentmindedly. 

“How can I resist, Father?”

Finally, his lungs allow air in. He breathes deeply, ignoring his shaking hands. He ignores the fire in his gut, how his thighs clench together, and recites words from the book still resting in his lap, “Asks for guidance out of temptation, and for the strength to use the Word of God as a weapon.”

“Ah,” you sigh, “the Word of God as a weapon? Do you really think that’ll save me?”

There's a teasing tilt to your tone, and Jayce ignores it. Voice closer, you whisper through the lattice, “have you been saved, father?”

“I ask for forgiveness, just as you are now,” he whispers in return. Hands shaking, he lets his fingers return to fidgeting with the rosary beads. His mouth waters, wanting you to drop it into his mouth-

No, he cannot think of that. He was a holy man. Faithful to his God.

“So, you’ve confessed?”

Nodding, he bites his cheek, his skin burning, “I- I have.”

“Liar.”

White hot fear runs through his veins, and his hands unknowingly release the rosary. It clatters to the ground between his feet, and his eyes meet yours. They narrowed, disappointingly pointed his way; All of a sudden, he felt the roles reversed. 

“No-”

“How often do you think of me, Jayce?”

Heart racing, his hands grip the tops of his thighs, feel the muscles beneath tighten. 

His chest heaves, and his legs clench together. Pushing back that licking flame that ignited between his legs, all because of your voice. It's sticky-sweet like honey, drowning him in molasses that clogs his senses. He can feel his cock twitch, wanting your touch instead of his. 

Head leaning back against the wood, he can feel a droplet of sweat run down the back of his neck, soaking into the roman collar. His shaking hands move to grip his bible, fingers sliding between the pages to seek any form of strength. He can hear it rip under the pressure of his grip, yet how else would he ground himself? His mind races, feeling your eyes staring at him through the lattice

“Does your God know you think of me as much as you do him?”

Jayces’ shuddering breath is loud, eyebrows furrowed as he wills his racing heart to calm. He must not give in. This must be another test for him, he thinks. This was God's way of seeing if he was worthy of forgiveness. 

Yet, you seemed so genuine, even if you sounded teasing. 

“What do you tell yourself at night? Maybe I could speak the same, so I can forget about you.”

A whine, and Jayce thinks he doesn't want you to forget him. He couldn’t forget you, no matter what he did, what he said, or tried. Stomach turning, he can see your waiting eyes, how you won’t change the subject until he gives in. 

“If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us of our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”

“Ah,” you nod your head once, “Do you want to be forgiven, though?”

He’s silent, clenching his teeth, “Of course.”

You sigh, and with a low voice you talk with a harsh tone, “then why are you still speaking to me?”

“I-” voice stuck in his throat, Jayce knows he’s had the opportunity to steer the conversation back, to not engage you in such sinful conversation. Yet, he craved it. To be told what to do, to be on his knees between your knees instead of the altar. 

“Oh,” you say, Jayce freezing. Had you read him so easily?

“Oh, you’re liking this, aren’t you?”

Whining, his thighs clench. You laugh, and it makes his chest seize. Cock jumping in his robes, Jayce refuses to touch himself. There were people outside, they would hear-

“I’m liking this too,” you whisper, and he can hear the first button pop from your pants. Shoulders tense, his breathing turns rapid. 

“You’ve plagued my mind everyday, Jayce, its tormenting-”

A zipper, and Jayce can feel his thighs shake. His fingers curl against the pages, and he clenches his eyes shut. You were taunting him, you wouldn’t touch yourself now, in the confessional of all places. 

“You-” he whines, “you’ve been tormenting me-”

“Good,” a sigh, and he wishes to be in the small space with you, to tear down this wall to see your form in all its glory, “should we pray together, Father? Beg together for forgiveness?”

Shivering, he pushes his head further against the wood, swallowing with a dry throat. 

“Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me: do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt. Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit-”

Your voice starts immediately after his, repeating his words, breathy and soft. The fire, slowly swelling in his stomach, licks and burns at his chest at the sound of your sweet voice wrapping around each syllable of the prayer. He sets the bible in the small space beside him, sliding his free hands across his torso. 

He moves, fingers undoing the buttons of his robes. With a shaking grip, he slowly pushes it to the side, the air wrapping around his thighs. Cock jumping, Jayce whines softly. His hands rest on the inside of his thighs, his cock radiating heat under his boxers. Chest shuddering, his back slouches, legs spreading. 

“forgive all my sins, renew your love in my heart, help me to live in perfect unity with my fellow Christians that I may proclaim your saving power to all the world.”

Tone shaking, he barely opens his eyes to find you already looking at him. Your own eyes were half lidded, chest heaving as your mouth opened to copy him once more. He can barely see you, but he can make out how your shirt was pulled up on your tummy, your pants undone, your hand hidden under the fabric. Your back was arching, neck exposed to the light that seeps in. 

He can’t help himself, his hands grip his cock over his boxers, hips jumping into the contact. Jayce growls, rough and gravely as he grips the base of his clothed cock.

“Jayce,” you whimper, and he moans. You sounded so heavenly, his mind reeling at the cadence. 

“Do you think we’ll be forgiven?” You ask, smirking. He shakes his head, and watches as your gaze shifts to the ceiling. Eyes closing, your eyebrows furrow as you lose yourself in your own pleasure. Jayce whimpers, wanting to be the one giving you that pleasure, he wants you to be above him, using him, punishing him for being so sinful. 

“Keep talking, Jayce, be a good boy.”

“Hnng- I-” he chokes, snapping his gaze to his lap. There was a rapidly growing wet patch at the tip of his cock, he grips the top of his boxers, pulling the elastic away to push it down his thighs. The fabric is tight against his skin, straining. With his cock finally free, he softly trails the tips of his shaking fingers along the shaft. Twitching, he presses his finger into the beads of pre that seeps from the tip. 

“Tell me another prayer, Father,” it's harsh now, how your eyes glare at him. He bites his cheek, sparing a glance to the bible next to him, searching his mind for anything to say. All he could think of, though, was you. 

“Therefore, confess your sins to- to one another and pray for one another-” he sighs, tears gathering on his waterline as he finally grips his cock tightly. His thumb swipes across the tip, and he moves his wrist once, slowly pumping his cock from top to base, and back up again, its uncoordinated, sloppy, “that you may be healed. The p- hnn- prayer of a righteous person has great power as it- it is working.”

“I want to taste you, Jayce,” you whisper. He hips jerk, and his eyes snap to the lattice separating you both. You’re so much closer, and when he leans close to look closer, he can see your pants pushed down your thighs. The soft skin of your thighs looked so inviting, spread as far as the restricting clothing will allow, your fingers circling your pulsing clit as your other hand grips onto the edge of the seat. 

“You can’t,” he whimpers, much louder than he intended. He wanted nothing more than for your mouth to taste him, replace his shaking hand and bring him to euphoria once more. 

“I can,” you reply with a hiss, “the gap is wide enough, let me taste you.”

Jayce furrows his eyebrows, his focus turning to how big the gap actually was, it was small enough that at a glance you wouldn't be able to decipher what was on the other side. Yet, if you looked close enough, you’d be able to tell what was what. His hand leaves his cock, gathering his sticky pre onto the pad of his middle finger, and slowly raises it to the gap in the lattice. His chest shudders as he watches you move, meeting your lips on the other side. 

His moan is loud, reverberating in the space as your wet tongue wraps around his finger. You're sucking hard, teeth grazing his skin, the breath escaping your nose warm on his already scorching skin. 

Your mouth is gone just as quickly as it wrapped around his digit, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip as your hand drips deeper on your cunt, no doubt pushing them inside. 

“You’re an angel,” you whisper, and Jayce’s back arches slightly. His hand retracts from the lattice, immediately running the spit coated skin across his lower lip before sucking his own finger. He could taste you, the candy you ate, the coffee you drank, and he could taste himself. A tangy saltiness that lingers in the back of his throat. 

He almost sobs, drool dripping down to coat his palm. When he pulls his finger away, his hands are replaced onto his cock, now glistening with the collection of his and your spit. He doesn’t realize that he’s gasping for air, his legs shaking, the choked sound of a whimper pushing from his throat. 

“Be quiet, Jayce.”

Licking his lips, he clenches his thighs shut, pushing his head back against the wood. His cock was throbbing in his grip, and when he slowly rubbed his thumb across the tip, he moaned. 

“I-” he swallows, throat suddenly too dry, “I can’t, I’m sorry-”

You sigh, and he can feel his stomach clench, “grab your Bible, show it to me.”

“What?-”

“Show me your Bible, now,” you hiss, and his hand leaves his cock to grab the leather-bound book. Raising it, he refuses to look at the gold writing across the front. 

“Good boy, open it up for me, any page will do.”

Dropping it from your gaze, he lets the binding fall to any page, heaving as his eyes blearily look over the page. The text was so small, mixing together in a conglomeration of sentences and prayer he could no longer read. All he could think of was you you you you-

“Rip out a page, and put it in your mouth.”

Freezing, Jayce finds it hard to breathe. Rip out a page? That’s blasphemous.

“Since you love to recite God's words so much, why don't you eat them so no one can hear what's rightfully mine?”

Jayce can’t, he simply can’t. By doing this, he would never be forgiven- 

Yet, would you forgive him if he refused?

You can sense his racing mind, your voice a calm beacon in the rough waves of a storm, “Tell me another prayer, Father- One more, just for me.”

Jayce breathes deeply, calming himself, “You are my refuge and strength; no matter what happens, I trust You and will not be afraid.”

“Good boy,” you coo, “do as you're told, Jayce.”

Mind over matter, Jayce forces his unwilling hands to rip a page, bringing it slowly to his lips. The pages were thin, and when he pushed it against his tongue, his spit immediately soaked through it. The ink was slowly seeping from the paper, bitter against his tongue. He looks at you, teeth chewing down onto the paper to keep it in place. 

Smirking, you tilt your head, “another.”

He rips multiple pages at once, pushing them between his teeth to meet the other. 

You scoff, “such a good boy, doing what you’re told. Yet, you can’t follow your own God’s teachings.”

He can do nothing but whimper around the pages, his hand dropping the bible to the ground to grab back onto his cock, jerking his wrist to the sound of your voice. 

“You would do anything I ask, wouldn’t you?” You taunt, your own hand picking up its pace. Sweat shines on your forehead, lips glistening with spit as you shift in your spot, your other hand joining the one on your cunt. Whimpering, you push your own fingers inside, the other still circling your swollen and throbbing clit. 

“How far would you go for me, I wonder?” A sigh, and your eyes close. Smiling at the thoughts that race through your mind, “would you leave the priesthood for me?”

His head nods before he even realizes it, your head snapping to watch him, smile widening. 

With the small semblance of clarity in his mind remaining, Jayce thinks of the forgiveness he’s been begging to receive for weeks. 

It’s always been you, he realizes. You’re the one he seeks forgiveness from, you’re the one who he prays to each night. Not the God whose teachings he no longer follows. Not the God who judges him for feeling emotions only you can bring him. You would forgive him, you wouldn’t judge him for his actions. He would do anything for you, he thinks. If you asked him, he would be yours- he was yours from the moment you sat on his desk.

His pleasure washes over him in waves, no longer held back by guilt. He allows his hand to squeeze, feels the bite of pleasure in his thighs. 

Your whine makes his hand jerk faster, that sweet noise the only thing that he seeks out in the night. Breathing heavily, he bites down on the pages still lodged in his mouth. Some were becoming too soggy, the ink transferring onto his tongue. 

“I’m so wet, Father-” you sigh, and he can hear your fingers run through your sloppy folds. It’s pathetic, how his hips rise off the seat to chase after it. He wanted to see, wanted to taste you-

“Do you want a taste? I bet you do.” He whines, tongue pressing against paper and you laugh. It's quiet, airy as you release a breathy moan. His eyes strain to watch your mouth drop open, your fingers pressing against your tongue. Eyes watering, he clenches them shut and leans his head forwards against the lattice, the wood cool against his scorching skin. 

Your fingers trail down your chin, chest heaving, and you push your hand back through your folds. Your soft skin glows in the light, blue’s and pink’s coloring you Holy as your glistening fingers come back into view. Instead of raising to your lips, they slowly close in on the small openings of the lattice. Your other fingers were still inside you, he realizes, you were halting your own pleasure just to tease him. 

“Why don’t you taste what I give? Rather than your God,” you taunt, glint in your eyes. Without hesitation he lets the soggy paper drop from his mouth, drool pouring from behind. Down his chin, soaking his beard. Bits of paper remain on his lips, the bitter taste of ink left behind. He can faintly hear the paper hit the floor, a wet smack, and he runs his tongue across his lip. He didn’t want anything to dilute your taste, not even his own spit. 

The tips of your fingers appear on his side, and he surges forwards to meet them. His tongue touches soft skin, lips pressed against wood. You push further into his mouth, your slick coating his taste buds. It washes away the taste of paper and ink, his body shivering as his hand grips tight onto his cock. It pulses, begging for your touch instead of his.

“I wonder what God would think, you forsaking his word for such sin.”

He whines, tongue parting your middle and ring finger to taste the slick between, feeling you press down onto his tongue, sliding as far as the lattice will allow. You almost hit the back of his throat, and he pushes harder against the wood, wanting you as deep as possible. 

“Fucking-” you hiss, retracting your finger and quickly licking across the tips before pushing them back between your folds. The sloppy-slick sounds louder than before, his hand trying to catch up to your rapid pace. 

There's a fire growing inside him, quick and unrelenting as his hand sloppily jerks his cock. His thighs twitch, toes curling in his shoes as his lungs beg for more air. Although he was gasping, he felt like he wasn’t getting enough air. 

“Don’t you fucking cum yet,” your voice growls, and he sobs. Pressure behind his eyes, scalding tears on his cheeks, his tongue searching for your taste that lingers. 

“Jayce-”

“Please- I-” he whispers, hearing the horrifying sound of heels against the floor outside of the confessional. Could they hear what was happening inside? Hear how their priest was touching himself, committing a sin he was no longer guilty about? 

His hand falters, cold humiliation creeping over his shoulders. 

“Ignore them, puppy-” your voice borders a whisper, “keep going- tell me another prayer.”

He looks to you, sniffling lightly as his hand resumes its previous pace. Nodding your own head, you encourage him. There was a gathering heat in his gut, embers collection to prepare a large bonfire. Your gaze threw wood onto it, flames catching quickly. His thighs felt gooey, his mind blank, but he wills himself to think of any prayer, just for you. 

“To all those- those that repent of in this wise- Oh, hnn- and look to J-Jesus- Christ for their salvation. F-fuck- I declare- that the absolution of sins is effected- please, oh fuck- In the name of the F-father- and of the son, oh- hnng ‘m gonna- Wait-”

“You can finish father, come on-”

“Mm- and- i can’t- h-hold-” he begs, your voice pushing him impossibly closer. 

“And of the Holy Spirit, Amen-”

Fire under his skin, and he feels his release begin. A raging fire in his gut, spreading to his thighs and chest. It tingles so intensely, and his hand clamps over his mouth, biting onto his palm to muffle his strained moan. Blinding white explodes behind his eyes, and he can faintly hear your cooing voice talking him through it. He wanted to hold your hand through this intensity, wanted your calming embrace rather than the prayer that was seared into his mind. God could no longer provide comfort, for you had burned him away to make space for your own presence.

He can hear your own whines, choked moans as you, no doubt, go through your own orgasm. You bite down on your cheek to keep yourself silent, hips canting into your hands to chase that pleasure. Jayce tries to watch, but his hands feel his thighs, and can't think of anything else but the euphoria he was feeling. 

Heavy breathing is what he hears when he comes back, his hands and skin covered in his own sticky release, cock still throbbing and red, yet too sensitive to continue. His abs hurt, his arm was slowly relaxing from the cramping that occurred. Licking his lips, he brings his hand closer to his mouth, tempted to taste the opaque liquid that coats him. 

Feeling your eyes on him, he looks over, you’re waiting on the other side of the lattice. With shaking hands, he raises his tired arm, slides his finger through the lattice, and feels your tongue wrap around the digit slowly. Heart in his ears, he makes circles on your tongue, feeling the muscle move and chase after the cum, a smile slowly stretching across his face. 

Your hand appears, your own shining fingers pushing through the gaps in the lattice, and Jayce wills his lethargic body to move to wrap his own lips around your fingers. His cock twitches at the taste of your own cum, his tongue licking away the sweet-tart taste. Your face was so close, he could feel the breath from your nose against his cheek, your body heat seeping through in the slightest. When he pulls away for air, he opens his mouth to speak. 

A voice beats him to it, though, older and questioning.

“Father?” 

Ice cold fear, and he tilts his head to stare at the door ahead.

[evangelinescherryblossom]

Heaven knows im miserable now.

Summary:Matt was searching for a job and indeed found a job and now starts working there..He hates it until he meets you.His colleage.

pairings: barista!matt x florist!reader

warnings:nothing!,this is more of a fluff/info fic!

•not proofread

•english isnt my first language!

(this is long + its more info then really talking and stuff!,so skip if you dont like that)

Matt is your colleage.Your boss told you recently someone would join the shop since you are the only employee who works in the florist section of the building,all the other employees are barista’s or make pasteries and whatnot.You basically just make the ordered bouquets in the back while singing,drinking,eating,dancing and what not.Its a fun job for you.But that didn’t seme to interest matt so he worked in the café of the shop.Since its a tearoom & flower shop.

7:30AM tuesday march 27th

you walked into the flowershop,holding a boiling hot coffee,your journal and a binder with all the flower pieces and info of them.You had a totebag with you filled with a few books about nature and flowers,headphones,some money,a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

You put everything down on the table.Basically there was a cash register with a ton of flowers behind it and a door,you work the room the door leads to.There are a lot of flowers there and ribbons to make the flowers prettier,and even specially ordered flowers,cards and everything the customer asked you to do.You had to make 5 Bouquets today since theres a lot of birthdays an anniversary’s lately.

You made the first two in the morning as intended,and when the customers picked the bouquets up at 11:30AM and 9:30AM they were ecstatic with what you did with the bouquets.

12PM tuesday march 27th

You got out of the room,and counted the money you made today,375 dollars for two custom anniversary bouquets..You were happy and went to the other side of the kinda too small building and sat down at a table of the tearoom,near a window so the pretty sun from outside would make it easier to read your book..Its called ‘the language of flowers’ by mandy kirkby,that your grandma gave you a few years back because she had had it for over a decade and wanted to make you happy with it.You suddenly heard a voice.It was someone that works in the tearoom that wanted to take your order.You looked up and realised it was the new employee.What was his name again?,was it nate?,no it was matt i think… you thought to yourself as you were snapped out of it by chris’s voice.

“hello?,your staring.” you got snapped out of it and giggled slightly “yeah im sorry,i didnt mean to,You’re the new employee aren’t you?” matt looked bored as if he was being forced to do a math test for 5th graders “yes i am,now what do you wanna order?” you looked at your book and up at matt again “could i get some macarons and some hibicus tea?” he frowned at what in his eyes was your mildly weird order.And he wrote it on a piece of paper and walked away to behind the counter and put the sticky note on the wall so he wouldnt forget with all the other five customers what he thinks was a lot but actually wasnt..

Around ten minutes later he returned with your order..and the feeling he wanted to see you around more.Because he actually found you pretty..He was inlove with your smile and your eyes on sight.

4:30PM march 27th

You were just cleaning up after yourself,putting your stuff away since you were done with work for today.You didnt really have hours since your boss didnt care.You just had to get done what you had to get done and if they wanna order thats online,or they put their phone number and request on a paper into a box on the register of the flowershop side of the building.

As you cleaned up and took all the notes out the box,it were around 3 or 4 and you wrote them all down in your work journal,But then you saw the fourth one and one it was ‘Wanna go get coffee sometimes?” with a small coffee stain and a phonenumber on it,you smiled and immediately thought it was super cute so put it in the pocket of your jeans and cleaned up the rest and left.

taglist: @jensturnss @sturns-mermaid @sofiehigdon3 @http-bellaa @courta13 @tezzzzzzzzzzz

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

A r t .

- B.E.

Blurb :p | no use of any names for the characters, just “she” and “you”

a/n: first fanfic posted ever im so nervous | this was my yearning from some months ago i decided to make it into something more | please comment on your opinion on this im nervy

Not fluffy nor sexual but a secret third thing (sensual)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈�� ｡ﾟ︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Have you got colour in your cheeks?

Leftover snack packets and crumbs of cookies and sugar littering the couch of the living room, clock read 12:38AM, its past midnight, yet for two girls with a sleep schedule as theirs, the night is still young, too young.

Family and friends long gone, others went home others went on dates, and another stayed behind to cherish this very moment.

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

Laughs had hit the walls hours ago when they were once gathered up to 7, and even now at 2 laughs are still bouncing back and forth. Sneaky giggles and stupid jokes, unexplainable videos that just seem so funny when its late and for once youre not alone.

Energy drinks on the floor next to the bed and an annoyingly bright light hitting at the side to make up for the lack of sun, yet thats the last thing to bother you right now. Theres nothing that could actually bother you right now, not when you finally have her in front of you.

Ive dreamt about you nearly every night this week

Sketchbook in your lap, pencil in your hand and coloured pencils scattered along your side on the bed, criss crossed bodies mirroring each other face to face.

Even if your face wasn’t able to stay in one place. Even if your face couldn’t handle the urge to heat and melt your makeup off in the process, even if you couldn’t handle looking at her, as much as you couldn’t handle her looking at you.

How many secrets can you keep?

Your heart thumping in your chest the same way it does when you’re at a club next to the speaker, body shook with the beat of the speakers and the bass, and you couldn’t tell if its from the amount of energy drinks you’ve consumed this evening or her presence.

But this is better, oh this is way better, theres no eardrum-breaking noise, or people squished up together, stomach-stirring drinks, uncomfortable heels. None of that.

This is simply adrenaline in itself, it was the excitement pumping in your veins.

Cause theres this tune i found that makes me think of you somehow and i play it on repeat..

Emotions thumping at your heart and in your veins causing your blood to rush to your face, cheeks burning red, but the colour showed at your ears, palms so sweaty you hold your sketchbook carefully to not wet and bend the paper. Neck and collarbone stained with red rash spots, just how into her are you?

Shes not stupid now, you tell that to yourself to sleep better at night. She has noticed everything, a simple blood rush is nothing. The way you look at her when everyone is talking laughing and you’re quiet? When your choice of “recharging” your social battery is looking at and through her? When you’re alone and suddenly your voice drops to just above a whisper, sweeter than any sugarcoated candy? When you doodle her and her only out of so many people, there are 5 other people with you two, yet who do you draw the most? You spend all your effort and time on her, enjoyably so.

Until i fall asleep,

A hand picking up your own has a wave of goosebumps sent across your body, a wave of heat while doing so. An amused laugh breaks your gaze, from the mixed hands, up to her own stare.

Shes staring at you, and you’re wishing she would stare nowhere near you. The fear in your brain banging like a migraine, wordlessly telling you she sees it all, and the very same fear in your body, giving her all the confirmation she needs. Her eyes softening as her one-sided laughter dies down, and you’ve yet to actually see her. So far you have been too caught up in your own thoughts to see in front of you until now.

A hand holding your burning one to her also heated cheek, and a twinkle in her eye right between that blown out pupil and icy blue cloud that dances like the stars do on the dark night sky right outside the window.

“I knew you felt it too, Im not crazy to like you”

spillin’ drinks on my settee.

[sickly-cyclic-cynicistic]

if you’re aware of the loops, then why do you do the same things over and over again?

when the front door opens only two sets of footsteps are heard against the planks, all peeling gray paint and faded wood stain.

(if it's a fun one we can show Soul when he wakes up!)

the mailbox no longer creaks when it opens, either use or maintenance had smoothed its sound.

[it's better to wait for him regardless,] (got one!) [but i see you're overexcited.] (you're nosy too)

the envelope rips open in Hearts hands and they read the words, their expression falling.

[...perhaps it's better we don't show Soul this one.] (yeah....)

[the first thing you need to remember is that we aren't real people. we are the personifications of concepts. obviously normally there is no separation between the metaphorical heart and mind. you, presumably, think and have feelings and they are not intrinsically separated by anything]

theres a soft shuffle sound as Heart sits on the top step, staring at the note. Mind watches him sit as he continues his explanation.

[it's not that we don't know better. we do. neither of us enjoy this. and in fact, things do sometimes change.] (its kind of like a script. we hit the beats and say our lines. sometimes we have to improv. and now we even have an audience) [we're influenced by the person we're supposed to be as much and they're influenced by us. it's complicated] (it's like... knowing better doesn't prevent it. it's like, you can know your friends care about you and want you around, but sometimes you feel like they're only putting up with you? we know it's better if we don't fight but it's in our nature. and at this point we know it better than getting alone. this right now, it's kind of like a grace period. a little bit of time after it starts to just breathe)

another shuffle, and Mind joins Heart on the step, taking the paper

[if it was as easy as simply not doing things it wouldn't be a loop now would it?] (we do try. it's almost like a compulsion though. but god do we try.) [we weren't always aware of them either. Soul was, but the two of us used to not know. We don't really know what changed. I have theories but.]

a shrug, and the paper is folded and tucked into a pocket.

[we aren't telling Soul about this.] (no, it'll just make him upset.) a sigh (i wish it was as easy as just.... not. we deserve better than this.) [not much to be done.] (yeah yeah. the only way through is forward. but it would be nice.) [it would be nice]

[strayruway]

hi! first time really posting anything i made! this is gonna be entirely self indulgent angst cuz id not been feeling so great the past couple days when i initially started this like a year agoo.... might add to it and make a part 2/ actually complete it if anyone asks/ if motivation for this specific snippet pops up again, but either heres some angst✨

cw: mentions of sh, su!c!dal thoughts, angst with comfort!! gn!reader

-

they found them.

kirishima has a guilty but deeply saddened and worried expression. bakugo cant even look at you hes so pissed, but the way he clenches his jaw and glares at the wall so intensely speaks volumes in his own way.

You were searching for your notebook, the one filled with loose-leaf thoughts and writings, most less pleasant than others. As you were about to give up searching your dorm, the door burst open and Kirishima was trying to hold a fuming Bakugo back, but to no avail. Bakugo stormed in anyway, holding your notebook. Your stomach dropped in time with the way he slammed the papers on your bed.

all you could do was watch as he glared at it with an expression youve never seen before. he stomped over to your desk, crossed his arms, and leaned back against it. kirishima was frantically trying to stop him, hushed, urgent whispers telling him to be nice, or how they should apologize, nervously glancing between you and bakugo as he pleaded and begged the blond to calm down. every time his eyes met yours, there was this look of desperation and sympathy. ‘my heart goes out to you. forgive us.’ the flickers of his red eyes meeting yours is only for a split second, guilt gnawing at him and eating him inside out to turn back to bakugo to try again with increasing urgency.

bakugoss eyes meet yours for a second. a fleeting moment of him searching your face, before turning to look back out the balcony window with a click of his tongue. and just like that, kirishima knows hes lost, which brings us to now.

there isnt a doubt in your mind they read your musings. each one worse and more concerning the last. theres a reason you didnt show them. you all have hero training. youre just being stupid and just need to get over yourself. you dont have time to feel sorry for yourself. so what, it bubbles over and stains your skin? so what your pages reek of ink and copper from bleeding your heart out on them? forget it. dont cause a scene. youre just being dramatic.

“the fuck is all that”, bakugo grunts softly. well, soft for his standards. its still rough and mean, but the bite his words usually carry is more of a nip. its not so much his voice, but rather the question itself that nearly makes you flinch. kirishima catches your reaction and tries to intervene.

“Kats-“ “shut the fuck up, shitty hair! Answer the damn question, mutt!”, Bakugo snarls, once at kirishima, swatting him away, and then at you, his rage finally surfacing.

‘helpless’ is the word that flashes in your head when you catch the look in his eyes. a blazing fury of fear. “what the hell do you take me for, hah?!”, he demands, voice threatening to crack, and fists trembling at his sides.

‘im supposed to be the one in charge and looking after you, or am i not your leader? if you have an issue, come to me. its my job to keep you safe. is it not my job? am i not enough? why didnt you reach out?’ is what that translates to. ‘i want to help.’

“the fuck is that shit talking about, huh?! ‘im not enough’? ‘useless’?? ‘worthless’?!”, he echoes your writings and you just wanna curl up and let the ground swallow you whole “no, you dont get to try and hide from me. i already read that shit and were fucking talking about it now”, he hisses, lip curled in a snarl when you try to shrink away, trying to hide how bad you wanna cry.

kirishima catches the way you bite your lip and eyes water, and he rushes to your side, pulling you into a tight hug “bakugo, be nice, dude. i mean it”, he says holding you close. with your head held to his chest, you can feel his heart pound, and how hes activated his quirk just enough to keep steady. the blond growls at him defiantly, but ultimately clicks his tongue and crosses his arms, leaning back against your desk, unable to look at you.

“he means well...”, kirishima tries to reassure you. the redhead holds you close, one arm around your shoulders, his other hand rubbing circles on your back. you can hear and feel him search for words to say, but what does one say to a person after having stumbled on a collection of suicide poem after suicide poem?

kirishimas heart clenches and he holds you tighter. “please know you’re not alone”, he murmurs into your hair after a moment. 

+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+

[bigbucksbailey]

Fanfic: Benny Bread Stick x reader (y/n)

CW: weird, butchered Italian, semi-naked men, potty language, I’ve written worse.

Summary: After a recent breakup you head to Olive Garden to drown your sorrows in some authentic Italian cuisine; only to find that the food WAS in fact made with love.

Chapter 1: Bready, Set, GO!

“Table for one please,” I say sadly to the hostess at the front of the Olive Garden. Today has been the worst. Day. EVER!!

First, I got broken up with by my boyfriend because of some stupid misunderstanding. Second, I get FIRED from my job because I said that the third Alvin and the chipmunks is better than the second.

And THIRD, I’m now eating at probably the worst food establishment in the area, a crummy Olive Garden in the back lot of a Lowe’s store.

The hostess looks me up and down before grabbing a menu, her eyes sharp as they silently judge me. “Follow me…” she says hesitantly, like I’m disgusting for even stepping foot in this restaurant. She’s kind of right, though. Right now I'm dressed in a white blouse and coffee stained khakis– far too overdressed for Olive Garden.

I follow the hostess to a back booth, my head on a swivel as I try to find at least one other diner in the restaurant.

“It’s pretty slow today,” the hostess says like she somehow read my mind, setting my menu down on the table, “You’re also the only one here because it’s 11 at night.”

I look up at the italian clock on the wall (???), was it really that late? I’m now 2x as embarrassed to be here.

“Sorry,” I mumble, taking a seat at the booth, “Can I just have some wine? The purple one…….. (idk alcohol)”

“Ya,” the hostess says, “your waiter will be right back with that.” and then she kinda walked away.

That was fine though, I was now alone with my thoughts, my menu, and– a kids menu??? The hostess snuck a KIDS menu into my own?!?

I would have been OUTRAGED if it weren't for the fact I was too tired to argue, instead I hesitantly opened the paper menu, my eyes scanning the white, uncolored pages and the cute pictures littering the booklet. Actually, this was kinda awesome.

“Heres your goober berry sundae,” the waiter said as he set a glass of white and purple wine on the table, placing the bottle next to it, “Do you know what you want 2 order?”

“Ya,” I say, before realizing no I dont “I mean nah”

“Ok”

And Im left alone again. Boy golly this is boring, until an incredibly HOT, SWEATY, MUSCULAR, HALF NAKED (??? does this happen at olive garden) WAITRE strides his sexy hips past me, swinging his fine ass around. I QUICKLY crawl ontop of the table, situating myself to look absolutely irresistible.

“Yoohoo~” I call cutely, waving at the waiter.

The waiter turns around with a bewildered expression, shielding his naked nips from me.

“Sorry, Im kind of indecent rn.”

“Thats cool…” I say back

He flushes like a strawberry and giggles, “I’ll be back!!” before running away on his tippy toes. That was probably the worst thing I've ever seen.

“I gotta get out of here!!” I say quietly, looking around frantically before spotting the SALAD BAR. Of COURSE! I can hide in there!

I book it to the salad bar and do a perfect back spring hand um I jump back there and duck down behind the breadstick bowl–oh hey! Breadsticks!

I wiggle my fingers above the last breadstick like a little menace, “dont mind if I do,” I say with an evil chuckle, that is, until the half naked WAITER COMES BACK!!

I duck down, peaking over the salad bar as the waiter goes to my booth with a handful of dried spaghetti with meatball flowers, its kind of poetic and beautiful, but I cant let myself be whisked away by the shirtless Olive Garden employee. I havent hit rock bottom just yet.

I hear him let out a loud cry before falling to his knees in agony, the other employees rushing over to comfort the half naked man. I gulp, oh gee they were going to try and find me now!

“I was by the door! Theres no way that customer escaped!” the hoestles yells. son of a bitch.

“Lets split up and look for clues” some blonde kif with brown roots and vans on says, oh god im toast!

I remain behind the salad bar, among the discarded lettuce and tomatoes on the floor. Its going to be a long night. My stomach gurgles hungerly and I think back to the juicy, moist, buttery breadstick sitting on top of the salad bar.

God it’ll be worth it to get that thing in my mouth.

I lift my hand and fumble around looking for the breadstick, before my hand touches the wet bread and I kind of moan (but quietly).

“Come to (unspecified parent)” I giggle, lowering the breadstick to my mouth and placing it between my teeth before an “aiiiiiEEEEE!” erupts from the BREADSTICK?!?

“What the?!?” I whisper yell, pulling the breadstick away from my mouth to reveal a beautiful, slender, italian breadstick. His eyes a dark, brown, glowing prettiliy in the salad bar light, and his mustache curled just perfectly at the ends.

It was the most beautiful breadstick ive ever seen.

“S-s-s” I try to say sorry, but the words wouldnt come out, it was hard to think seeing the buttered breadstick covered in a string of my saliva.

“Whatsa the problem?!” He says, wriggling in my hands, “Distrubina my beauty sleep!”

“I’m..” I gulp, was it normal to be so hung up on a breadstick? “I’m sorry, sir…”

The breaststick grins, finally removing itself from my grip and landing on the floor, he hoists himself up and hops around like larry the cucumber from veggietales.

“Mio Tesoro, whata reason do you have behind the salad bar at this hour?” he freezes, eyeing me suspiciously, “Are you a thief?!”

“No! No no…not a thief…”

The breadsticks eyebrows furrow in worry, he hops closer to me, leaving a trail of bread behind him, “It takes an awful mood to be behind here then. Mio pomodoro, tella Bene whats wrong..”

I slump down, my eyes welling up with tears. “I lost my job, and my boyfriend, and now im behind a salad bar at fucking olive garden talking to a sexy breadshit.”

Bene Breadstick freezes at this, his face blushing tomato red at my words, “s-sexy? A me?”

I blush too, my eyes raking over bene breadstick once more. He really was gorgeous in this lighting, coated in a layer of butter and salt, perfectly cooked to give him a slender, crunch to him. My eyes pause at his slightly burnt stump, god I wished he was in my mouth right now.

“Y-yes…” I say, flushing more, “You…you are sexy….”

Bene giggles, hopping onto my lap, “Yes? You think so, mio pomodoro?”

He begins to do a weird shimmy on my lap, I think hes trying to be sexier, but its honestly disturbing. I pick bene up gently, raising him to my face.

“I think youre a lot of things, Bene. Youre beautiful, smart, awesome, and…and I think I’ve fallen for you…” I cant believe what im saying.

Bene grins impossibly bigger, bringing his breadstick face close to mine, “show me you love me, mio pomodoro.”

I nod furiously and lean in, pressing my lips to his own buttery ones. He tastes like salt and butter, leaving my lips coated in a layer of his natural oils. I pull back from the short kiss, licking my lips and moaning at the taste.

Bene smirks, his mustache twitching, “Do you like the taste, Mio Tesoro? You tasted just as-a well.”

I nod helplessly, longing for the touch of another after the brutal breakup with my boyfriend.

Like 4 part 2

[cyan-lun]

Sometimes i get this weird feeling. Its an unusual feeling thou its become quite regular. Its a feeling where your hands feel wrong, your boddy feels wrong, i feels fuzzy, you vision is unfocused, no matter how hard you try it stays the same, fuzzy, foreign. An unusual pulse rings in your ears, a beating heart, you thunk its yours, but your not sure, and as you sit infront of sheats of paper scribled with words you cant read, numbers you dont recognise, shapes that spin around, you poke at your finger with a pencil, theres no pain. You apply more pressure until you see blood. A single droplet falls, staining the paper in red, another one follows, yet the pain has yet to arrive, you feel numb, the world feels numb, it feels wrong, i feel wrong, aomething isnt right, you poke anothe hole into your palm, more blood flows out, but still no pain, just a pulsing numbness, and as the red on the page keeps growing a sound starts ringing in your ears, it gets louder and louder until it is all you can hear, tge world around you gets darker and darker and then there is sillence.

I forget my name sometime, i forget my age, and when i look in the mirror i dont recognise the person who stares back at me.

Its confusing, it comes and it goes as it wishes, i dont know when it starts, normally i fall asleep before it ends. Its an endles circle of unsureness, im scared of it, but also crave it, as numbing and confusing as it is, it also feels freeng, like seeing the wprld from a diferent perspective, with a diferent mind almost. I dont know how to escape it, i dont think that matters anymore.

[oaksbugcollection]

watch as a young girl grows older. blond hair that crinkles at the ends, wisps that curl loose and free from a pulled back elastic. a twisted grin that splits her face wide open, a red mouth as a watermelon severed in two. the crisp rasp of a wrapped library book lives aloft in the cradle of her elbow, a slip of shrived notebook paper splitting the pages down the middle. she stands off center, knees bent, fingers wiggling and legs shivering at the weight of her own heart. slick jeans that sit above her waist, tight and sticking to the soft skin of her stomach. and a buttoned shirt where the cotton tangles up under her arms.

she'll swing from monkey bars, and gloat when she hooks two feet in and dangles head down. her smile widens, a flipped crescent moon.

wood chips leave splinters in her palms, and teasing leaves slivers under her ribs. she'll be shoved in the halls. she'll be laughed at in math lessons. boys will toss wads of small paper at the net of hair that wont stay tame.

"can we be friends?"

"we already are."

and friendship will blossom in the classroom, two kids left to work on old assignments. she'll move after this year, but the girl had learned that friendship would not need be asked for. it would always just be.

everyones lunch is stellar, yet cold, dry turkey between crystal white bread, crunchy carrots stale with air, and hardened granola bars will greet her in that uncomfortably moist, square lunch box. if she could only have the spectacular lunch-ables.

she sits with her back to a young boy in her class, facing the wall. he has a mouth like a cobra, wicked teeth peaking past ruby red, chapped lips. his hands shuffle around. he eats a glistening donut, washing it down with gulps of sugar filled coke. she has no friends. she snaps those pale, puckered orange carrots alone.

"are you scared of me?"

"no."

"why do you sit with your back to us?"

from that day forward she faced the table properly, and learned that she need not outcast herself. that might be a task for others to curse towards her, instead.

its fifth grade.

"ill give you my chips."

"if you do, you can hang out with us at recess."

never once did she eat chips that year. she learned that friendship could be born from sacrifice. she learned that beautiful girls were easily admired. it was okay to be the odd one among them, with thighs like thick tree branches, hair like the withering fall leaves, a voice that crackled from nerves, hands that always ached from writing, eyes that squinted from endless nights reading with a flashlight.

how quickly friends can turn upon you. suddenly it was echoing staircases, a slow push and a swift stumble, toppling down the last four steps. blood trickles from skin pulled off. giggles bounce off the walls.

the boys wont talk to you. the rumors start. theres no use chit chatting with the gay girl.

fifth grade ends.

and in this juvenile blink of life, there manages to still be light. grass stains and after school apple slices. bus rides home where kids would gush over friday folders. cold winter days where kids would trickle in with wet soaked snow pants. legos scattered to the floor. food that was scarfed down with no second thoughts.

a childhood like amber around a moth. dangerous but beautiful, liquid fire turned ice.

[watery-melon-baller]

3, 7, and 40 for weekend and belos'

3. Is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole?

ooooh theres so many i would never touch. the first one that comes to mind is accidental pregnancy which like. i dont even write romance much. also hate student/teacher. uhh nonromance id go with. uh. i cannot think of anything rn lmao

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

ooooh id have to go with a snippet from a shera fic i did a while back. torn between two but ill go with the shorter one just because. not sure what counts as a snippet oops.

"Adora rolls her eyes, but stands up to join them. As she runs over, she knows that she’ll trip over her dress several times, and their clothes will all be covered in grass stains that will take forever to wash out. But Adora is here, in a future where there is no war to fight, where they can laugh freely and love and she doesn't feel selfish anymore for wanting a happy ending."

bad at explaining myself but like. its the potential of a happy ending, of not everything being perfect but it good, and thats worth living for. its a whole metaphor about feminity and wartime and accepting yourself. that its okay to be safe now, its okay to be soft and vulnerable and to start healing. apologies for being incoherent

40. Write an alternative ending to [insert fic title] (or just the summary of one).

ohohohohhohho you know whats funny. i actually did have an alternate ending planned where hunter just. slept through the rebelllion and just woke up after it was over and was like "what the fuck." anyways i sat down and wrote this in a night (ive been saving the ask until it was finished so thats why im answering it late sorry!) so enjoy 2k words of that under the cut. apologies for typos i tried my best to read this over lmao. you can also read this on ao3 now yipee

Hunter stared at his clock, and scowled. Shit. He had 20 minutes until the coven head meeting!

He stood up, quickly scrambling for his notes.  He wanted to try and get there early, so he could figure out somewhat of a plan.

Flapjack lifted their head up, disrupted from their slumber. What is boy doing?

His foot slipped on a piece of paper, and he barely managed to catch himself on the edge of his desk. “I have a meeting! I need to go talk to the other coven heads, and-”

Have time! Should rest!

He scowled. “Flapjack, I don’t have time to rest! I need to prepare my notes! I still haven’t figure out what I’m going to say to Terra, or Adrian, or how to deal with the recent riots-”

Nap time! Boy too tired to think!

“You always say it’s nap time.”

Because boy is always tired!

He sighed, flopping back on his bed and letting the stack of papers in his arms scatter onto the floor. Flapjack did have a bit of a point. He had been staying up later and later, getting less sleep in favor of trying to take care of… well, everything.

He could get ready in ten minutes. It wouldn’t take long to teleport. Just closing his eyes for a few minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. And he wouldn’t actually fall asleep. He would just lay here!

“Just ten minutes. Then I have to go.”

Flapjack chirped. Nap! Nap!

“Not a nap, Flap,” He mumbled. “M just resting my eyes.”

He didn’t even realize he was falling asleep.

___

He woke up to the smell of smoke.

He shot up out of bed, head swiveling as he took stock of the room. Everything seemed to be in order, except-

“FLAPJACK!”

The bird had at some point moved inside his shirt. They peeked their head out, looking adorable as always, but Hunter wasn’t fooled.

He glared at them. “I said ten minutes.”

Boy needed nap!

He pointed at the window. “IT’S DARK OUTSIDE NOW! IT’S NIGHTTIME!”

Not that late. Sun just set. More like evening!

He dragged a hand down his face and groaned. “Flapjack. I missed the coven head meeting. The one thing I cannot, under any circumstances, miss.”

Flapjack did not look even remotely apologetic.

Hunter sighed, standing up and brushing back his hair. The smell of smoke was still lingering in the air, and he poked his head out the window, following the smell.

Ah. That might be a problem.

The area of the castle where Terra and Adrian had been fighting the other day looked even worse than before, mainly because it was on fire. Several scouts were running around in a panic, and if he listened closely, he could hear the faint sound of screaming.

Flapjack had moved to sit on his desk, and he slowly turned to glare at them. “Flapjack.”

They chirped.

“This is why we don’t skip coven head meetings! Look at what happened while I was asleep. The castle is on fire!” He sighed. 

Could be worse!

He flung his arms out, staring the bird down in frustration. “How could this be worse?!”

The Titan must have thought that was funny, because at that moment his door was slammed open with a war cry.

“GOLDEN GUARD!”

Something (someone?) charged through his door, and he screeched, barely avoiding their tackle. Whoever it was slammed into his wall, sending feathers flying everywhere. Why there were feathers, he didn’t know. Maybe they were because of the large wings that were almost smacking him in the face. 

Flapjack screeched, dive bombing the intruder, and Hunter quickly scrambled back, grabbing a heavy textbook detailing the criminal justice system and hurling it at their face. They shouted in pain, falling back onto the floor, and Hunter decided that was his cue to go.

He skidded out into the hallway, his slippers barely staying on his feet, while Flapjack circled nervously around his head. Behind him, he could hear the sound of the mystery attacker getting up, and he risked a glimpse behind him as Flapjack transformed into a staff.

“Golden Guard, kid, wait a second-”

Their voice sounded somewhat familiar, but he was too busy grabbing his staff. The last thing he saw before teleporting away into a haze of golden light was what looked to be some kind of harpy woman, heading straight for him.

He bounced across the castle, not having much of a destination in mind besides something that was away from the harpy lady. He materialized in a small room with dim lighting, and as he leaned against the brick walls he realized he was in the break room.

There were technically several break rooms scattered around the castle, but those were all empty storage closets scouts had converted into a break room in their free time with their own money. (Hunter may or may not have contributed to them with money from the castle treasury). This, however, was the official break room, the one all the coven heads used, and the one that the Emperor made somewhat of an attempt to maintain.

He hadn’t been here in a couple weeks, with the whole “accidentally killed my Uncle and now running the government from my bedroom” issue. Not much had changed since the last time he was here. The table was still stained, one of the chairs still had a wobbly leg, the sink was still dripping water because no one knew how to fix the leak, there were still a few spare coven cloaks lying in a pile on the floor, and the fridge still had several post-its about labeling your food properly and not letting it sit in the fridge for months and stink up the room.

The bulletin board, however, had a few changes. The ‘days since Kikimora tried to assassinate someone’ board had been reduced back to zero (last time he saw it it was at 11, which was a new record), and there were several notes stating that due to being understaffed, everyone would be getting extra shifts. Which was weird, because Hunter thought he was in charge of scheduling guard shifts, but he had handed off so many of his duties to Kikimora and random coven captains that he wasn’t sure anymore. Also, why had no one told him they were understaffed?

Someone had also brought in cookies, and there were still a few left. Yay! He grabbed one from the box, biting into it. 

“Want a piece? Its chocolate cricket flavor.” He broke off a small chunk, offering it to the palisman, who began gleefully pecking it. He finished eating the rest of the cookie, wandering over to the sink.

He smacked the faucet, hoping that maybe this time it would stop the leaking, but it did nothing. Like it did every time. He sighed, and turned towards the clawfee machine, turning it on. Next to the sink was a small collection of drying dishes, one of which included a mug that said ‘world’s best nephew’ in hot pink script.

“Hey Flapjack, I found my favorite mug!” He picked it up, thankfully finding it clean. He had been searching for that mug for weeks! Although, it seemed a bit inaccurate, with the whole ‘killed my uncle’ and ‘being a grimwalker of his brother’ thing. Nope, that was a problem for another time.

He shrugged, watching as the clawfee pot came to a boil. Flapjack was hopping around the table, pecking the various crumbs that had been left behind. Hunter should probably be stopping them, but he figured if Flapjack had survived this long with such little self preservation, they would probably be fine.

Probably.

He poured the clawfee into his mug, and moved to sit down in a chair. The good chair, not the one with the wobbly leg that made you rock back and forth every time you moved the slightest inch. 

He sighed, leaned back in his chair, and stared vacantly at the wall. “So,” he said calmly. “I think there might be a rebellion going on right now.”

Flapjack chirped anxiously. Hunter stared at the bird. “You know, this is why we don’t skip coven head meetings.”

He sipped on his clawfee, savoring the bitter taste. Oh, sweet caffeine, how he missed it. Having energy was fantastic.

“I should probably go out there and deal with that.”

Or don’t! Don’t risk yourself!

“Flapjack, I don’t think that's an option.”

Run away to woods! Can hunt for worms!

“I can’t eat worms! You can hunt all you want, I’ll forage for berries.”

Good plan!

Hunter groaned. “Terrible plan.” It wasn't like he had any ideas. He had been slowly preparing a runaway bag, but he had hoped he would have a few more weeks before he had to use it. This was his punishment for procrastinating. 

He stood up, taking a long swig of the coffee. “Okay, my stuff is in my room. Let’s see if we can try to sneak back there, and if anyone is still alive.” He looked down at himself, grimacing at his lack of armor. He was still in his PJS! 

Hesitantly, he lifted one of the coven scout cloaks from the pile on the floor, checking it over. There didn’t appear to be any visible stains, so he shrugged, putting it on.

Flapjack chirped, and fluttered on top of his head. Hunter sighed, but said nothing, pulling up his hood to cover the bird. He opened the door and hesitantly peeked his head out. There didn’t seem to be anyone, so he stepped out into the hallway, letting the door shut behind him.

Picking a random direction, he began walking, the only sound being his bunny slippers slapping against the tile. He nervously clutched his cloak, suddenly beginning to regret every decision he had ever made that had led him to this situation.

He rounded a corner to see a hallway that looked very much destroyed. A section of the ceiling had collapsed, and plants and abomination goo was everywhere. Several coven scouts were lying unconscious on the floor.

Hunter bit his lip, and with a start realized he was still holding his mug. There was still a little bit of clawfee in it, so he could throw it at someone and run if he needed to. The perfect weapon. What a plan.

He froze at the sound of footsteps, frantically looking for a place to hide. He slid behind a pile of rubble, hoping that he would just be mistaken for an unconscious scout.

The sound of footsteps grew closer, and then stopped. “I could have sworn I heard something over here,” a familiar voice muttered. Oh shit.

Hunter involuntarily flinched, shifting the rubble he was hiding behind with his movement.

“Over there!” Oh, he recognized that voice too, although it was only marginally better than the first one. Maybe if he stayed very very still, they wouldn’t notice him?

He yelped as abomination goo wrapped around his legs, dragging him out into the open and pinning his arms to his side. He scowled at the awkward angle his arm was held at, the clawfee slowly dripping out of his mug and onto the floor.

Darius crossed his arms, lifting an eyebrow at Hunter. “Ah, Little prince. You’re looking… unwell.”

Hunter, very maturely, stuck out his tongue, something that only caused Darius’s scowl to deepen.

Behind Darius, Luz cheerfully waved at him. “Hi Hunter! You kind of caught us at a bad time.” She turned down the hallway, cupping a hand to her mouth. “HEY GUYS, WE FOUND HUNTER! OVER HERE!” 

Darius winced at her yelling, rubbing his ears. Hunter wished he could do the same, because wow Luz could shout loud.

The two of them turned back to face him and he grimaced. “Uh, hi?” He said awkwardly. Maybe they would be nice and just kill him right away. Luz could probably convince them not to hurt Flapjack.

Luz shoved her hands in her pockets, grinning casually. “Hunter, my man! I’ve been looking for you! Sorry about the whole, uh, overthrowing the government thing.”

‘It’s fine,” He said, even though it was very much not fine. “It was already falling apart anyways.”

Darius stepped towards him, frowning. “About that, actually. We have quite a few questions to ask you, Golden Guard.”

Luz’s grin became just a bit more shaky. “Not bad questions! Just, uh, questions. It’ll be great!” She did not sound convinced of her own words. “It’s fine.”

Hunter sighed. He should have just stayed in bed. This was all Flapjack’s fault. He was never trusting that adorable little bird again, no matter how cute they were.

[little-fairy-forest]

hey i saw your asks were open? ignore if they aren’t or if you’re not comfortable with this but....

how would Aged Up!Bakugou react to their s/o having to take care of their really young nephew or niece and bakugou comes home to them being motherly and taking care of the little kid😳😳

if you aren’t comfortable with this you can ignore this request but i’m excited to see what you think!

Wow what a username-

🍀 Hello! Yes my asks are always open ♡

I was thinking as well how would Bakugou react to smaller children, I mean he seems okay with them from the anime but I have a feeling his short fuse might make it hard

Bakugou reacting to his s/o being motherly

F/n = first name, extreme fluff, domestic

Bakugou hasn't come across many children by choice, may it be at a family gathering or his own colleagues bringing in their newborns to show to the office

He doesn't mind when children come up to him and ask for an autograph, that's easy. Smile. Hug. Autograph. Done

But when you mentioned you chose willingly to mind a young child, your nephew however. He was sceptical

Bakugou parked his car outside your shared apartment. He picked up some small bits for dinner that evening aswell as some Mochi ice cream to enjoy later. As he opened the door he could hear silence. Weren't you meant to be minding some shit stain?

"Babe? I'm home" Katsuki kicked off his shoes and exchanged them for slippers, dynamight slippers, and made his way into the small kitchen. As he placed his keys down and the small bag full of ingredients he noticed small toys littered the sitting room and couch.

Specifically a Red Riot Lego set half built, a Deku action figure and Creati play dough.

"Who the fuck brings so much crap to someone's house, I swear the ever loving fuck if that play dough got on the rug-" "Katsuki were in here!" As katuski's rant is paused for the time being, he makes his way into the guest room, he see's you and your nephew on the bed as you brush through his wet hair. "Hi..uh what's your name again?" "Katsuki!" "What I can't remember all your families names theres too many" katsuki says in defence. "Its f/n" your nephew says as he whines at you tugging on his hair "hey hey I'm almost done, after that can you go get comfy into your new pyjamas for me?" You say as you finish drying his hair.

"Katsuki can go grab f/n pyjamas from the bathroom I left them in there" you say as you put the dirty towel into the laundry bin "sure"" katsuki says as he makes his way into the bathroom, he sees the last of the bubbles from the clearly fun bath time left over. He grabs the dinosaur themed pyjamas as he steps on a floppy bath toy "ah what the fu-" "katsuki" y/n says with a tone that katsuki now knows he is to behave "what?! Theres shit everywhere-" "don't curse confront on f/n he will copy you!" y/n says as she takes the pyjamas and sets them out for f/n.

###

Katsuki is finishing up on cooking dinner, as he looks over at you and your nephew cuddled up on the couch as you read him a story from the bookshelf. As Katsuki watches how you speak in a calm tone as you brush your fingers through f/n's hair. He realises how your demeanor changed from not only 20 minutes prior in the bathroom. How did you go from threatening girlfriend to now soothing mother-

Mother

It hit him. Your acting like a motherly figure to the little boy. A small cry takes Katsuki out of his train of thought as he looks at your nephew about to cry as he shows you his paper cut on his finger "oh no! Let me go get a plaster, I'll he right back" you say as you go grab a 'magic plaster' .

"Would you like a glow in the dark Chargebolt one or a scratch n sniff Dynamight one?" "Dynamight!" "Hold on since when did I have scratch n sniff plasters?! and what the fuc- Fudge! Fudge does it smell like?!" Katsuki managed to save himself from cursing, but seriously who makes scratch n sniff plasters?

"It smells like caramel" f/n says as he watches y/n place the plaster on his finger. Y/n kisses it better . "Is it okay now?" "Yeah" f/n says as he makes his way over to the table waiting for dinner. "He's so cute" y/n says as she plates up the dinner "yeah yeah he's no brat for sure" katsuki peers over to see f/n is sitting quietly as he scratches his plaster and then sniffs it after "jesus might need to check with my merch management to see if we have anymore weird shit-" katsuki mumbles as he sits down to eat

###

Time passes as you all start to get ready for bed. You have a quick shower as f/n finishes watching the show on the tv. Katsuki is finishing up emails.

As y/n tucks f/n into the spare bed she starts to read him a story. She whispers so if he is to fall asleep during the book she won't wake him.

Katsuki gets suspicious as he hasn't heard anything in a while coming from the guest room. He makes his way over incase he wakes f/n. Katsuki peeps his head into the room to only see y/n fast asleep with f/n cuddled up to her side as the book long forgotten on the bed. Katsuki has a clouded look in his eyes as many thoughts are running through is mind

'She's so good with kids, no hassle at all'

'She's so gentle and caring, almost doting to the little guy'

'Will she be like that for our kids-'

Katsuki snaps out of his bubble...your kids? Like mini Katsuki's and mini y/n's running around? Would you like that? Because Katsuki is deffiently on board now

He wonders how long till that page of your journey together arrives.

Holy shit that was so fluffy and cutesy~

But for now, he is happy with how the love story between katsuki and y/n is going so far

Honestly love Bakugou being all fluffy <3

Anyway Requests are always open!

Thank you for reading :)

[stitchwork-madness26]

*GENTLY HOLDS SMOL LOVE*

Paring:mag agent torture x scientist!reader

Warning:mentiones of gore and murder with swearing

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Working under a being made of shadow in nevada isn't so bad once you look past the occasional threats and murder...and lack of breaks....and the occasional breathing down your neck........and the lingering dread of you becoming a experiment if you don't do as your told - ok its terrible.

You kinda forgot how you got into this mess in the 1st place or how it started, as the distant memory of the time before Nevada went to shit was a big blur, almost like it was all just a dream. You tend to keep looking at the bright side even if its really hard to do that in this place, its almost a miracle that your still standing as most kind hearted grunts don't live long in this blood stained world. Maybe its because of your brilliant ideas? That you are to valuable to become a experiment? A ray of sunshine thats still around after the suns disappearance? You'll never know...

But enough of the depressing thoughts, you had a job to do. You stood up from your chair with a grin, a pen and clipboard in hand. Its time to meet someone very special to you.

Walking out of your office and down the hall you stopped at a large metal door shut tightly, on one side of the door displays a warning sign telling anyone who reads it that they must be a certain rank to enter such room while the other is a card reader. Pulling the card thats dangling around your neck you inserted the card in the card reader and the door pulls itself open allowing you to enter inside, with a grin still on your face you walked inside and the door slides shut behind you. You looked up at the mag agent that sits infront of you "hey big guy" you said in a sweet tone, followed by a hum in response. The large nails in his head preventing him to speak to you normally.

Mag agent torture was his full name but you call him tor or big guy for short, he was a special case practically one of the best agents the facility has. However in some certain tests to make him more powerful to defeat the infamous hank j. Wimbleton he gets really aggressive and had caused a massive massacre among the staff a few times because of this (see incident: 011A for details) but for some odd reason he had a soft spot for you. You made him calm, almost peaceful, he would not lash out or hurt you in any sort of way even if he was in pain from experiments. That is one of the many reasons why you and only you had to do the experiments on him, not like you wanted to do that to him but it was your job.

It was either do your work, or be 'fired'. And frankly. NO ONE WANTS TO BE FIRED.

"Head still hurts?" You asked, pressing down the top of your pen and once again getting another hum in response, yet somehow knowing exactly what hes saying with only a simple hum or gesture. "I hear you tor" you sighed, checking out a box on the paper "luckily theres not much to do today...so it'll be done quick" you attempted to reassure him, you know he would never harm you, yet somehow you still had this tingling feeling at the back of your mind that one day he will turn on you, paranoia and over working tends to do that to you though.

You smiled after noticing torture reached over and pat your head as gently as he could, almost like he had sensed your worry. "Im fine tor really" you said with a smile still on your face and set the clipboard and pen down on a nearby desk "lets go ahead and get started kay?" You continued, returning to your normal mood and tone. You didnt mind that you felt his eyes on you, he tends to observe what you and used to be others too on what they are doing. Almost in a curious manner.

It was and still is kinda cute.

You was just about to fill a large needle with a serum of some kind before you was suddenly scooped up by a large hand, you practically dropped the needle "what the fuck!?" You squealed in surprise before being pressed against fabric and hear the sound of a loud rumble resembling a purr. Honestly you kinda blanked for a minute before you realized what was happening.

Torture had picked you up and gently pressed you against his chest in a large hug, he continued to purr as he held you in place with his hands. You smiled warmly, your face growing warm, and tried to hug him back as best you could "love you too tor" you chuckled, enjoying this peaceful moment in the giants embrace as all your previous worries faded away...

[secretsandwriting]

Murder Made Us Do It

Part Twleve: A History of Cults summarized

It starts off with the black ops going over who knew about the details of the plan. Just them, the batfam, and Jacob. They all agreed the only one who wouldn't face any direct problems from the plan going wrong would be Jacob, As they were discussing it, Jacob and a scientist they remember from Devil's Hell broke in with a few men and kidnapped them.

Tim got a text from Alistair but it was just a ping at their house, next Jason got a call from Ry but it was actually Trash sounding distressed. Dick reveals that its part of a 3 person sos so they go to the house where Trash and Appa show them how to get into the safe which is hidden behind a bookshelf. (the classic pull a book and the door opens, the book to open it is called A history of cults)

Behind the bookshelf is an empty safe but Trash acts out that theres another safe under it, when jason pulls the decoy out, Dick puts in the code he had been given where they find three files and a notebook.

Once the entire justice league is there they scan the files so they can all read the page. The first file is Alistair and it all the information the cult collected including the experamentation and his death before he was resurected with a dose of an enhanced lazurus pit injection. They they find the same type of thing in Ry's and Y/n's files. However Y/n's comes to an abrupt halt and theres a blood stain on the paper.

There was nothing in the files that gave them the information they wanted so all that they had left was the notebook.

[novinoviarts]

FAIR WARNING! This is a bit of an au as there is very little lore on the witch's in bot ovenbreak and kingdom, two wiki pages worth. so theres your warning. dont like au's? Don't read further. credit to Blaze-On-Fire for the template

Name: Candy Cane Cookie

Gender: Female

Rarity: Witch Hunter (Rarer than Ancient) (Oh so special!)

Unlock quote: Everyone has power… Let me help you unlock yours

Class: Magic

Position: Front

Skill: TBA

Story: Created long ago by a witch, she was rescued by a group of rogue cookies, eventually becoming a Witch Hunter. After a disastrous mission, she and the remaining hunters found the “Cookie Realm”, a pocket world that they still defend to this day. A wanderer and a teacher at heart, she helps every cookie she meets unlock their true potential. Few can come close to matching her raw power and energy. Her full force can be devastating, but she is the pacifist of the Hunters, choosing peace. But if needed…

Facts: Candy Cane likes her naps

She is old, like really old, legends say she was The Third Batch, taught the secrets on killing witch’s by the First and Second Batches, and passed her knowledge onto the Fourth and Fifth Batch’s

So many don’t believe she is a witch hunter. Considering few have ever encountered a witch in the modern day, beside the St. Pastry Order, some don’t believe they exist

She hates the Crème Republic and the order for those reasons, thinks them idiots who think themselves safe if they do the witch’s bidding

She only became a teacher for one student at the Parfaedia Institute

She loves the rain due to her umbrella

She understands dark enchantress cookie. DOES NOT agree with her starting the war, and is miffed that one of the few non witch hunter cookies that knows the truth is evil

It gets worse when she finds out the truth about her

She has fought in several wars: The Great Hunt, The Reckoning, The Judgment, The Great Divide and The Great Reunion. She did not fight in the Dark Flour War, to busy fixing the barriers DEC was destroying

Cookie Décor: TBA

Associated Bonds: Once a student, always a student Candy Cane/Espresso/Pure Vanilla

Leaning back into her chair, Candy Cane looked over the two letters. They were so different, from the paper, to the handwriting, to the ink. But they both carried the same message.

Please, come visit.

One was written on a rich parchment, the handwriting flowing almost lyrically, although it was more relaxed than she had seen him write to dignitaries back in his kingdom’s heyday, knowing she cared little for political games. The little doodle in the corner of the page had her smiling, a flower that she had once given him on a staff years ago.

It reminded her of assignments, another’s handwriting with it although that filled her with nothing but sorrow.

The second was far more comfortable, in fact she could see stains along the edge from what she knew was coffee. The handwriting was neat, never sloppy in his letters, even after years of teaching his own class. It sent a pang of emotion she wasn’t sure of, a mixture of pride and sadness, of knowing she wasn’t really needed anymore.

It reminded her of assignments, of the little cookie she took under her wing years ago and fiercely defended.

But they had ended up in this new “Cookie Kingdom”, each there for their own reasons but now reaching out for her to come visit. She had of course heard the whispers on the wind of the return of the Dark Enchantress, had already written to Peacock ages ago with information.

Maybe it was time to visit her students, to help out once again. Standing up from the chair, she looked out upon her (friend? partner? lover?) fellow Hunter’s land, watching as the cookies below lived their lives, confident in the Hunters that watched over them, comforted that they would keep them safe. They would not lose that trust and she turned back towards her library. She would leave come morning.

The Hunters Reunite

Tree of Wishes Wish: Take your time, I have it

Soulstone Description

This stone holds a piece of Candy Cane Cookie's soul. It emanates so much energy, you can't hold it for very long...

Quotes:

Come on, its time for a break

This ol’thing? Just my Umbrella, nothing more

Lets make sure the lesson sticks this time, alright?

Bonds are important, make them, and keep them close

Touch:

Do you want to join a lesson?

What I can help with?

I prefer the rain

Time for a new lesson

Come on, lets walk together

Maybe I like a fight or two, so what?

Loading:

Candy Cane Cookie has always been a teacher, even in her fresh baked days with the younger cookies.

“Come on, lets use our power!”

“Of course I’m here, I will always fight for justice”

“There is so much the cookies of this world are protected from”

Level Up:

Alright, lets do this!

Lets take a walk together, hmm?

Thank you for this chance

Bring it on!

You can always learn new tricks!

Promotion: My Power is always growing

Victory: 

It was always assured

I knew we could do it

Oh, its raining!

Defeat: 

I need a nap

Its okay, we’ll do it next time

Aw, its sunny

[hypixelsblade]

[a small folded letter, paper ripped from the notebook and with instructions simply stating "put in his cabin somewhere". theres blue stains on them, and when opened up theres scribbled out words and a wilted, dead poppy. at the very end, is the message.]

dear technoblade.

i wish we could have been friends. i still think about the flowers we picked together. this one migjt be dead by the time this reaches you. sorry. for what its worth, i really did care

signed, @presidentubbo

Technoblade opens a drawer, and places the letter inside gently - wilted, dead poppy & all. It rests upon an envelope never sent, but the text on the back of the folded paper simply reads: Tubbo_.

[There is a letter inside that envelope. Though the recipient will never get to see it, it reads:

Tubbo_,

You were always stronger and more dangerous than the majority of the server gave you credit for. I hope you know that I never wanted to hurt you. Children should not have to fight wars, and I regret pulling that trigger almost every night. I'm sorry. You deserved better from me. I hope that you still love flowers as much as you used to.

Technoblade ]