#v. a hopeless wanderer ( main )

[waynes-multiverse]

Plastic Hearts – Part 21

Pairing: Director!Dean Winchester x Actress!Reader

Series Summary: Los Angeles, 1985. Y/N’s a young actress without any success, hopping from one failed audition to the next until one desperate mistake brings her to her breaking point. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, is a grade A asshole and washed-up director at the end of his career, known for his godawful slasher movies in the 70s and his love for blow, booze, and women. Lost in the toxic Hollywood life, their paths cross when one hopeless little wrestling show changes their trajectory.

Chapter Warnings: +18, language, smut (p in v, dirty talk, spanking), fluff, angst, comfort

Word Count: 7.6k

A/N: It's finally happening! Get the Office gifs ready 👀😂 It's so good to bring this series back after such an unexpectedly long time away. We've got five more chapters left, so let's make 'em count with as much drama and ridiculousness as possible, shall we? Ready? And action! 🎬

<< 20 || Spotify Playlist || Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

21. Rock You Like A Hurricane

Dean swallows the clot that has formed in the back of his throat as the first button of her white cotton blouse flies open. The air in the office feels dry, his mind hazy. Is he dreaming? Once again, he reminds himself to stop mixing booze and blow. It never ends well and barely ever helps.

Another step forward, another button, another swallow.

Y/N is a Fata Morgana, a mirage, slowly moving towards him through blurry lines and summer heat.

“Don’t you want me?”

The innocent lip bite that accompanies her question sends him downstairs, predestining him to burn in hellfire. He swallows again. Of course, he wants her. He always does.

The heels of his boots dig into the rotten floorboards as he pushes back on his office chair, enough to free his thighs from underneath the wooden desk and show off the bulging erection blooming in his jeans. It started to form as soon as she walked in and turned that damn lock behind her back.

The corners of her pink lips rise to a smile. She likes what she sees, and soon enough, she finds herself slotted between his bow legs with his greedy palms smoothing up her denim-clad thighs until they find a home on the juicy globes of her ass and squeeze tight. Green eyes darken as they wander up her frame before they meet two sparkling orbs that mirror his own lust back to him.

More buttons spring open, the blouse slipping off her shoulders and hitting the ground. A gray leotard becomes visible, two pointed peaks on luscious hills poking through the thin material, his mouth forming a ring around one of them, hot air igniting her skin and stealing her breath. Her arms weave around his neck, her head lolls back between her shoulder blades, her legs grow unsteady. Eyes close, fingers tangle in his hair and claw at his skin.

One large hand travels to the front, works the zipper of her jeans, and shimmies the denim fabric down two smooth thighs. His other arm snakes around her waist, holds her tight, and pulls her closer until she straddles his lap and lets their hips fuse into one.

Their eyes find each other. Gently, he brushes her hair out her face, tucks it behind her ears, strokes her flushed cheeks. She’s breathless and breathtaking, and then she dips her head and catches his lips, kissing him until he is, too.

“Wait, wait, wait…” He draws back in a drunk state of mind and gasps for air, hoping oxygen will help in clearing his head.

“What?” She pouts, her voice velvety soft and delirious.

“I just-… I have to ask you something first, make sure…” The air works wonders, the fog dissipates from his mind. Green eyes watch her closely. There’s something off, something wrong, something out of place. Y/N wouldn’t just stroll into his office and throw herself at him. As much as he enjoys this little dream sequence, it’s not who she is. “Why are you doing this? You’re not-, uhm…” He swallows harshly, his mind racing in circles. “You’re not fucking me, so I’ll stop being mad at you, right? ‘Cause that’s not what I want.”

God, the thought alone kills him. It’s his goddamn nightmare. What if he subconsciously manipulated her to do this? What if he’s taking advantage of her? What if he drove her so desperate that she sees this as her only option? What if she actually doesn’t want this?

But a gentle smile forms on her face instead. She pecks his lips, rests her forehead against his, and softly shakes her head. There’s amusement in her voice. “You already said you weren’t mad at me, remember?”

“Then why?”

Y/N shrugs and licks her ample lips. “I want to. I want you… You’re the best guy I know. I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more,” she assures him with a sweet smile and caresses the scruff on his cheeks, her hips grinding against his crotch. “It’s just-…” She bites down on her lower lip, cutting off her sentence.

“What? Tell me, sweetheart.” He clutches her chin and draws her gaze to meet his eyes.

“Even with the show being over, I don’t want the girls to find out,” she confesses nervously.

Dean nods in understanding and gifts her a smile. “Lucky for you, I’m good at keeping secrets. Have I ever let you down in that regard?”

She thinks for a beat, then shakes her head and matches his smile. “No.”

“See?” He grins, showing his pearly white teeth, and pulls her lips back to his for a searing kiss that seals their deal.

His hands begin to roam the curves they’re holding, her hips rocking against his in a needy rhythm, desperately searching for more friction to scratch the unbearable itch he seems to cause.

“Need you so bad, need this cock so bad…” she whispers between kisses and ragged breaths.

“Yeah? You think you can get off like that?” Dean lifts his thigh a little higher, shoves it right against her clothed cunt to give her a bit more friction, and listens to her whimpers in satisfaction. “Show me how much you want this… want me, baby girl. Wanna know how desperate you are for this cock, Y/N. Work for it.” His challenge is accompanied by a little smirk, which soon disappears and becomes stuck in his throat when Y/N accepts with eager nods.

Shit, he really needs to stop underestimating her. That’s already been his first mistake when he met her.

Her arms lock tighter around his neck for more balance as she rubs her pussy against the rough denim that covers his thick thigh. Her breathing grows so labored that kissing becomes an impossibility, the need for air in her lungs greater than the need to stay connected. The strong arm slung around her waist helps her move while his other hand tweaks, pinches, and gropes her tit, prying the gray cotton of her leotard over one shoulder to free the flesh and expose her nipple to the cool office air and his hot breath. He feels a wet patch forming on his leg, sees the stain on his jeans from her arousal as he peeks down between them.

“Dean, I’m–…”

Y/N doesn’t have to say it out loud. He can see it on her face that she’s damn close. “Such a good girl. Cum for me, huh? Let me finally fill and stretch this nice pussy with my cock, baby. Been waiting for you,” he coos. “Bet you’re so tight, yeah? How long’s it been?” His tongue licks the hardened bud before he pops her tit in his mouth and sucks, bites, tears.

“Fuck!”

She explodes, his name falling from her lips in prayer as she trembles and quivers in his arms. Her mouth parts, sucks in as much air as she can to fuel her lungs. Her arms cling to him, fingers denting the skin on his broad shoulders.

“That’s my girl,” Dean praises her, smiling as he lets her ride out her orgasm. “So, so pretty when you come. I missed that face.”

“Dean, please… Need you inside me now,” she purrs against his lips, swallowing his groans as they connect.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Uh-huh, please,” she begs breathily. “How d’you want me, boss?”

“What do you want, Y/N?” Hearing what a woman wants him to do to her or what she wants to do to him has always been one of the biggest turn-ons for him. “Tell me.”

“Want you to bend me over your desk, take me hard, punish me… Been a bad girl. Need you to punish me, please,” she whimpers and hungrily claims his lips, her nails digging into his jaw.

Now, Dean should probably be worried or at least stumped by her somewhat strange request. Not because it’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard a woman ask for in the bedroom, but because it’s not necessarily something Y/N would say. However, she’s also an actress, and he’s about 99.9% sure she’s playing a role and following a script in her head. And well, hey, he likes playing too, so who would he be to deny her wishes? He’s been dreaming about spanking her ass and punishing his favorite Russian villain for weeks at this point.

“I think we can arrange that, baby girl,” he promises, a saucy smirk plastered on his lips. “But first – need to see your face when I break you in, yeah?”

Y/N grins and nods against his lips, her hand reaching down between their heated bodies and unbuckling his belt, pulling it from its loops, metal clinking before the sound of a zipper follows. Lifting her ass from his lap, he helps her strive off the denim, pushing it down his legs till it pools by his ankles, only leaving a thin barrier of cotton between them.

“Condom?”

Dean nods and motions for her to stand up, so he can reach into the bottom drawer of his desk. As he fishes out a foil packet, Y/N discards her leotard, nothing but naked skin and flesh left for his eyes to devour. Removing his own pair of boxers, his long cock bounces against his stomach and stretches to his belly button, fully erect, head swollen, and leaking at the tip. He tears the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex down his aching length before his hands drag her back into his lap.

Her arms settle on his muscular shoulders, her lips find and bruise his as he lines himself up with her entrance and threads his dickhead through her dripping folds. Her cunt is pink and glistening, hot and wet as he slowly slides inside, lets her feel every inch that fills her tight hole to the brim, her small body sinking down on him till they’re inseparable.

A moan escapes them both when he’s fully sheathed in her heat, and Dean knows lasting long would border on a miracle. Her mouth falls open as he stretches her tight walls, her eyes seeking his and not daring to look anywhere else. Unsurprisingly, Y/N takes direction well. She remains connected to him – mind, body, and soul.

“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes and swallows at the sheer thickness inside of her, her eyes finally falling closed as their foreheads meet.

Dean caresses her cheek and softly pecks her hairline. He then shuts his eyes as well and just focuses on the feeling of her wrapped around him for a blissful heartbeat. This is all he ever wanted.

Her. Here.

“You good?” he checks, his fingers trailing soothingly up and down her spine as she relaxes her muscles and adjusts to his size.

A gentle smile twitches and tugs on her lips. “Yeah, I’m great… You feel great.”

“You know, if you keep giving me compliments like that, it’s gonna be hard for me to smack your perky ass purple and blue,” he chuckles and watches a grin form.

“I like to make things hard for you,” she sasses and kisses his lips, her pussy purposely gripping his throbbing dick.

“There’s my bad girl.” Dean can’t fight the smile on his face. “Alright, you ready?”

Dean doesn’t have to wait for an answer as her hips begin to lift and rock against him, calming like the Pacific waves and soothing like the lullabies his mother used to sing when he was sick as a child.

“M-more,” Y/N whines, the needy desperation haunting her vocal chords.

“Beg for it,” Dean whispers, nuzzling his nose against her ear with a smirk.

“Please… Please fuck me, boss,” she rasps her pleas. “Need it hard and fast.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” Dean catches her lips, the kiss scorching and lasting before his hands smooth up her bare thighs and grab her ass tight, lifting them both from the chair.

Swiftly, her soles hit the ground as he swirls her in his hold and bends her over his desk. Her tits press flush against the wood, his palms finding her hips as he pulls her closer to him, ass up until it brushes against his solid length. With his knees, he spreads her legs wide and easily slots between them. He palms both asscheeks, caresses the skin before he administers his first slap, the sound echoing through his quiet office with her whimper as he watches the juicy flesh ricochet, completely entranced.

“You got a safe word, Y/N?” Dean asks as he soothes the red spot on her cheek.

“Hmmm,” she muses and bites her lower lip, and he can see the mischief twinkling in her orbs. She giggles, “What about ‘camera guy’?”

His palm strikes the other globe, making her yelp and jolt on the spot.

“Ow, fuck!” Y/N’s moan drowns in a laugh. “Jesus, Dean, I was just kidding.”

The director chuckles, “Yeah, well, I wasn’t.” With one harsh and fast thrust, he drives his cock back into her tight cunt, causing her to slam forward, her hips bruising against the desk. Her fingers curl tightly around the edge, knuckles white as she keeps herself pinned in place. He leans forward, his chest pressing against her back as his warm breath fans against the shell of her ear, his blunt fingernails denting the skin on her hips. Smirking, he demands, “Safe word. Now.”

“Fuck, uhm…” Breathlessly, her mind spirals, his cock slowly dragging in and out of her and not stopping to give her even a second to ponder. “Squirrel?”

“Squirrel it is,” he agrees amusedly, straightening as he picks up his pace and drives in deeper, watching as his dick gets swallowed by her soaking cunt, his swollen shaft glistening with her slick. “Shit, baby girl… Wish you could see how well you take me. Your needy little pussy sucks my fat cock right in,” he groans, listening in delight as his balls slap against her ass with each roll of his hips.

“Maybe you can bring your camera next time, boss,” Y/N mewls her suggestion as she falls apart underneath him.

“Yeah? Would you like that, huh? Would you like to see how fucking desperate you are for me, sweetheart?”

“Uh-huh, would love that, boss. Wanna see how you fuck me and split me open,” she breathes hazily, her moans getting louder with each slam of his hips. “F-fuck, so close… Wanna come on your cock, please.”

“Oh, we can arrange that, sweetheart,” Dean chuckles, his breathing growing more labored as well as sweat starts to collect on his skin in sticky beads. He’s close, too, feels his cock throb and swell inside of her. His palm smacks her asscheek one last time. She cries out with pleasure as the sting burns her skin, her pussy clenching around his dick and gripping it tight.

But just as his hand sneaks to her front and finds the sensitive little nub, their ears both perk up as the big metal door of the gym flies open and a wave of female chatter floods inside.

“Oh, shit!” Y/N moans loudly at his last violent pound into her pussy before Dean’s palm covers her mouth and stops the rest from spilling out.

Pulling her up, her back straightens and presses flush against his body. He slows his thrusts but still pushes in deep enough to tickle her cervix and keeps the little circles on her clit alive, feeling her knees give in as her legs become putty. Her breathing is harsh and restricted against his palm, her lips straining and tightening to keep the screams inside.

“Ssh, ssh, ssh… you’re doing so, so good, baby,” Dean whispers his praises into her ear and chuckles as she clenches hard around his dick. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Trust me, they won’t hear us over their blabbering,” he chuckles. “Relax, okay? Let loose… little more,” he orders her, feeling the tension in her muscles shift to her head as she bites down on his fingers to keep it locked inside. “There you go… Gonna need you to come quietly, and I’ll be right behind you, alright? Can you do that?” Y/N nods against his hand. “Good girl,” he coos and pecks her temple quickly.

And then, he draws out till only the tip remains inside her drenched channel before he roughly slams back in. His thrusts become relentless in both speed and force as he fucks her, her screams of pleasure only muffled by his palm and the harsh bite of her lip. Tears sting her eyes and stream down her cheeks, trickling onto his fingers at the intense pressure as her walls tighten. One more thrust, and they begin to flutter, her body convulsing as she falls over the cliff and milks his cock for all he’s got, pulling him over the edge with her.

A primal grunt rumbles in his chest and crawls out of his throat, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips behind as he spills hot ropes of his seed into the condom, his cock throbbing in rhythm with her twitching cunt. His hand falls from her mouth as she braces her palms on the wooden surface in front of her.

Deliriously, they both gasp for air, every breath jagged before the storm within them calms. Dean brushes her hair from her sweat-covered neck and lovingly kisses the salty skin on her shoulder blade, a blissful smile gracing his lips.

The sun blinds her eyes as Y/N stands on the green, perfectly cut lawn of the Dusty Spur. The boys have called an emergency meeting at the motel this time, gathering all the women in front of the reception outside.

It’s been three days since she has fucked the director in his office. He was careful not to leave any marks on her throat behind or anywhere else where it might catch unwanted attention, no one batting eyelashes at the new bruises on her hips that joined some of the old ones from training.

Dean told her he wanted a repeat of their encounter, whispering the dirtiest and most sinful promises into her ear. However, they haven’t seen much of each other since then. Both of them have been quite busy after the news of their new time slot and impending cancelation broke. And while it certainly dampened the lighthearted mood in the gym for a day, hope was not entirely lost, though, and still thrived in everyone but Y/N and Jo.

Yet, the two of them played along with the illusion the show still could be saved for the sake of the team. She didn’t know why Jo was entertaining the farce, but Y/N did it for her friends and, well, Dean, who’d been pondering and working nonstop to try and figure out what went wrong in his well-oiled machinery.

Y/N hates that he blames himself, not having the guts to tell him it’s in reality all her fault. Even with his sunglasses on his freckle-dusted nose, she can see the bags under his green eyes from the lack of sleep in recent days and feels more guilt pooling in the pits of her stomach. She doesn’t want him to be mad at her again, which is why she’s glad she can use Billie’s new, harsh training regiment as a good excuse to avoid him.

“They gave a men’s wrestling show our slot! And you wanna know why, hm?” Cas throws his rhetorical question into the group. Y/N has never seen the producer so angry and swallows more shame down. “Truth is, they’re better! They fly higher and hit harder!

“They hit harder because they’re bigger. It’s physics,” Y/N points out and tries to keep her annoyance at bay. It’s a men’s world they’re living in, and she’s getting sick and tired of the comparisons.

“Oh, fuck physics, Y/N!” Cas yells, causing her to flinch at his tone. “I need you to take everything you got and push it all the way to the limit, okay?”

“I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve been training for hours almost every day. Sun up till sun down,” Donna says and sighs.

Maybe it’s not too late, and Y/N should request a private meeting with Dick at the network, try and smooth things over before they get any worse. Maybe a blowjob in the office is enough to get them their old slot back and save the show. Dean wouldn’t ever have to know, right?

Besides, would he even care? Maybe he’d be grateful. After all, she doesn’t have much worth beyond fucking someone if you asked anyone here.

“I don’t need to hear excuses. I need to hear results,” Cas huffs and places his hands on his squared-off hips, shaking his head.

“You want bigger moves? Fine, you’ll get ‘em,” Billie assures him with a biting fighter spirit.

Cas’ lips curve into an enthusiastic smile. “That’s what I wanna hear! Look, I know this is gonna be hard, but I believe in miracles, and we’re going to make this miracle happen!”

Jo heaves a sigh. “Right, so we break our bodies and wrestle harder and magically get our time slot back?” she asks wryly, but her sarcasm is sadly lost on Cas.

“Yes!” the producer agrees joyously. “Look, I have it from Richard Roman himself that this is what they’ve been missing.”

At that, Jo’s blaming eyes wander to Y/N as the two former friends share a look. Shamefully, Y/N averts her gaze to the green grass underneath her feet, and Jo clenches her jaw tightly and starts to grind her teeth. Ever since their heated conversation in the gym, things have went downhill between them. Nowadays, there are just judgmental looks and passive-aggressive comments passed between them.

“So you met with Richard Roman?” Jo turns her unresolved anger towards the guys.

Cas groans loudly and rolls his blue eyes back. “Jo, I’m sorry, okay? It was a guy thing. We had to storm the gates,” he explains.

“Yeah, don’t get back up on your feminist high horse, alright? We didn’t leave you out, okay?” Dean jumps to Cas’ defense and unsuccessfully smooths things over. “We just think your focus should be on performing this week, you know? You and Y/N have a big match coming up. The, uh, continuing tale of the bereaved mother and the insane Russian, right?”

Jo nods and clenches her jaw once more, biting back her surely fiery comments.

“Okay, enough talking! Let’s do it!” Cas announces eagerly and claps his palms together as the women scatter back to their rooms to get ready for today’s training.

“What time do you wanna rehearse today?” Y/N bitterly asks her blonde opponent, already expecting a bitchy answer.

“Oh, any time, really. I mean, we could rehearse all day and night. It won’t make a difference,” Jo replies in an annoyed tone as anticipated. “You of all people should know that.”

Y/N watches Jo leave, trying her hardest not to strangle her former friend. She gets it. She fucked up, but she still doesn’t agree with Jo. Would sleeping with Roman and sacrificing her dignity really have saved the show?

“Hey, everything alright?” Dean’s deep voice startles her. She was so preoccupied with killing Jo in her mind, she hasn’t even noticed the director sneak up on her. “I know Cas was a little intense today. Never seen the guy this riled up before. It’s like a puppy getting rabies.”

Y/N forces a chuckle from her throat and brushes him off. “Oh, uhm, yeah, wasn’t so bad. I get it.”

Dean’s brow creases, sensing something is off with her. Shit. She does not want the director to find out about what happened.

“You’re not mad at me, right? I know I’ve been a bit MIA the last few days. It’s just been crazy with everything going on,” he explains sincerely and shoots her a soft smile. “I meant to call you or at least talk to you. I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, no, like I said, I get it, Dean. Don’t worry about me, okay?” she assures him and compels another smile to her face before her curiosity takes over. “Did Roman really say our moves weren’t good enough?”

Her hope comes flooding back. Maybe it truly wasn’t her fault. Maybe the guy hits on so many actresses on a weekly basis that he doesn’t even care if one rejects him. Maybe it’s just all in her goddamn head, and it was just bad luck all around.

Dean shrugs and scratches the back of his neck. “Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you girls are amazing. He’s gonna change his mind, and you’ll be back in your old slot in no time,” he promises her hopefully.

“Yeah, I guess so…” Fuck. It’s definitely about her.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean checks again, noticing her absentminded behavior. Y/N’s usually chipper, eager, talkative, and hard to keep contained. She’s a warrior. The woman in front of him right now is the complete opposite, however. He almost doesn’t recognize her, and it worries him a little.

Is it him? Did he break her?

“Uh-huh, yeah, just tired, you know? Billie’s been riding us pretty hard this week,” Y/N excuses her strange mood with a half-truth, and Dean seems to buy it.

“Yeah, I bet.” He nods understandingly, chuckling. “Well, uhm, I’ve got some free time tonight. You wanna come over for dinner and I don’t know maybe… stay? You could ride me pretty hard, too,” he suggests, making her snort. “Admittedly, that sounded better in my head. Sorry.”

“No, uhm, I’d love to,” she replies honestly, giggling at his bashfulness. “But I’m pretty beat. Probably gonna fall into bed around seven like a dead person. Raincheck?”

Truthfully, there’s nothing she’d rather do than spend her nights (and days) with Dean, but the guilt in her belly is eating her alive. She can barely look him in the eyes. As of right now, though, she can see even more disappointment shimmering in his green orbs.

“Sure, yeah. Open invitation, sweetheart,” he says and acts as if her rejection doesn’t bother him. “But still, if all you wanna do is sleep, then you’re welcome to do that at my place as well. I do have the better mattress than the motel. Maybe a good night’s rest and a hot bath is all you need to recover, you know?”

Hot bath. The words make her skin crawl and take her right back to that horrible night where it all went wrong. How could she have been so stupid?

Y/N swallows the lump in her throat and fights for words. “Oh, uhm… I don’t, uh…”

“Hey, it’s okay, alright? No explanation needed, sweetheart,” Dean says and lets her off the hook. “Just wanted to offer, you know?”

“Thanks, another time.” Y/N forces one last smile to her lips.

Dean hasn’t seen Y/N in a whole week. Well, that’s not entirely true. He sees her every day at training in the gym, rolling around with Jo in the ring. But he hasn’t seen her privately since their little naughty stint in his office.

By now, he’s sure she’s avoiding him for some reason, but he doesn’t have the guts nor the balls to ask her straight. He’s too afraid of her answer, scared she has changed her mind about them and their arrangement. He’d accept it, of course, but he still doesn’t want to find out if that’s the reason why she keeps her distance. It would most certainly break his heart.

A knock on his office door makes his head snap up with hope that it’s Y/N. Either she’s here for another booty call or to end it. He’s prepared for both. To his surprise, though, it’s Donna who’s stopping by for a visit.

“Dean? Can we talk?” the curvy blonde asks insecurely, concern etched into every crease of her face.

“Sure, uh, what’s up?” Dean knows Donna and Billie have given their all to train the girls over the last few weeks, and if production could afford it, he’d give them both a gigantic raise. Unfortunately, he can’t but hopes it’s the thought that still counts.

“It’s about Y/N and Jo,” she informs him, and his ears perk up at that.

He’s noticed some tension between those two as well, so he’s not as surprised as he should have been. But honestly, sometimes it’s hard to tell what those two are fighting about. If it’s something new or just the same old beef.

“Usually, they do a good job of keeping their weird friendship stuff out of the ring, but not in the last week. There’s something wrong with them,” Donna tells him.

No shit, Dean thinks. Those two having issues is not an entirely new thing.

“What d’you want me to do about it?” Dean asks. He knows Donna didn’t just stroll into his office to chat and gossip. She’s looking for direction. Like the rest of these women downstairs, the blonde expects him to solve their problems. In the end, that’s his job.

“Postpone the match,” Donna prompts, the worry deepening. “I don’t think they should fight. They’re not communicating properly. Someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Dean tries not laugh, but in reality, it’s just fucking funny. Do these women ever think things through? Y/N and Jo’s match is the main storyline, the two of them being the best fighters as well. If they’re not entering the ring, he might as well just throw in the towel now and quit. The show would never make it back on air.

“Donna, I can’t do that,” he tells her frustratedly and runs a palm over his face. “C’mon, don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like they’re gonna kill each other.”

“Dean–” Donna is about to interject when he stops her.

“Fine, all right? I’ll talk to her,” the director assures the blonde.

Donna’s brow shoots up. “Her?”

“Them. I’ll talk to them,” Dean corrects quickly and watches her leave his office, clearly dissatisfied with his solution.

Dean hates West Hollywood like a mouse hates a cat. He can’t believe he fucking agreed to this thing in the first place. And the only reason he did agree was his stupid daughter, who’s not even here tonight because she’d rather spend time with her boyfriend than with her dad.

Fucking teenagers…

Honestly, Dean’s got no clue why he still came here without Claire. Maybe because he’s old-school and actually keeps his commitments, or maybe it’s because he’s got nothing better to do since neither his kid nor his not-girlfriend want to spend time with him. So, it was either getting drunk at home alone like he always does or do this.

As Dean enters the dark theater, he notices not a lot of seats are taken. Surprise, surprise! No one cares about him or his movies…

There’s a group of teenagers in the front row, though, who seem to be way to young to watch one of his films. But who is he to judge? He’s not their fucking parent. God knows he’s got his hands full with one teenager already.

He’s about to take a seat somewhere in the back when his green eyes spy a familiar head of hair. His heart skips a beat when he recognizes his favorite actress. Out of all the places in all the world, he’d never thought he’d meet her here.

“Hey,” he says as soon as he’s made it to her row. Her head darts up, but she doesn’t seem too surprised to see him here, which makes this coincidence even weirder. He assumed she strolled by this theater by accident and saw one of his movies was showing, deciding to check it out, which just so happens to flatter him and stroke his ego perfectly fine. “What are you doing here?”

Dammit. That sounded way too aggressive. He’s honestly happy she’s here; he just hasn’t expected it. Call it a ‘pleasant surprise.’

“Oh, uh, Claire invited me,” Y/N explains and gulps nervously. “But I can leave if you don’t want me here.”

Damn that kid. Of course, she meddled in his affair. Does she know he likes Y/N? Is it that obvious? Well, either way, someone’s getting a bigger allowance this week. Doesn’t he have the best kid?

“No, uh, stay. Please,” he says and sends Y/N his best smile. “Can I sit with you?”

Her face lights up. “Sure.”

Dean sits down on a red velvet seat next to her and feels like a goddamn teenager on a first date. His knees are shaking as he anxiously taps his boots on the sticky movie floor and drums his palms repeatedly on his thighs. Something inside of him urges him to hold her hand and interlace their fingers, or do one of those moves where he yawns and slings his arm around her shoulders.

In fact, he can barely concentrate on the movie until he takes her hand in his. But who cares? He wrote and directed this masterpiece, so it’s not like he’s missing out on anything important. He already knows the plot and every single shot.

Once their fingers touch, his heartbeat accelerates to light speed. She shoots him a look and raises her brow with a teasing smirk. He can catch it from his periphery but doesn’t dare to look straight at her. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat and glues his green eyes stubbornly to the silver screen, pretending it’s not a big deal.

When did holding hands become such a fucking thrill? He’s not goddamn sixteen anymore, for crying out loud.

Y/N takes note of his uncomfortableness and focuses back on the movie but still gives his hand a small squeeze, telling him everything is all right. They remain exactly like this till the end credits roll across the screen.

And then, to his greatest surprise, there are cheers and claps from everyone in the theater. Y/N lets go of his hand to clap as well and bites her lip to hide a smile once she sees him blush furiously at the attention and admiration.

The group of teenagers then approaches him and stops by his row as a young, scrawny boy speaks up, “You’re a genius, Mr. Winchester.”

Mister?! How old do they think he is? Well, granted, he probably shot that movie before those kids were even born. Talk about feeling old.

“Your disorientation factor is truly masterful,” the boy continues. “Claire told us we’d love it.”

His brow shoots up in surprise. “Claire? How do you know my kid?”

“Oh, we’re all in AV club together,” the boy replies and gestures to his peers before they filter out of the theater.

“Huh.” Dean is gobsmacked, truly. For one, he didn’t even know Claire was in AV club. And secondly, he’s goddamn proud of her. Who knew the kid would take after her old man?

“See?” Y/N pokes his arm with her elbow, a big grin adorning her face. “You have a whole fan club of teenagers who adore your movie that they are, for sure, too young to see.”

Dean chuckles softly and wishes he could hide his reddening cheeks from her.

“I liked your movie, too,” she says then and watches his reaction closely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Dean tries to brush her off. She’s probably just saying it to appeal to his ego. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of his work. “Really?”

“Yeah!” Y/N says enthusiastically. “Those kids were right. It was disorienting. You were doing your own thing.” But then she catches her mistake and corrects herself, “Are. Sorry! You still are doing–”

Dean, however, shakes his head at her correction. “Nope, you’re right,” he admits and scoffs. “That was me twenty years ago. My hands all over everything like the biggest control freak, driving everybody nuts. I mean, my operator actually became so frustrated with me that he quit the first day and threw his camera at me. I had to shoot the rest of it myself.”

“You shot that?” Y/N’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow.”

“Yeah, I did.” Dean sighs and pensively scratches his beard. Something’s been bothering him for a while now, and talking to Y/N usually helps him sort through his jumbled thoughts. After all, she’s his Alma. “You know, I’m accustomed to a certain level of failure. When a project usually goes wrong, I know exactly what happened. It’s just-… with our show… I have no idea what went wrong there. I don’t know why they shit-canned us. Not a fucking clue. None. It’s driving me insane.”

Y/N grows quiet next to him and fumbles with her fingers. She swallows deeply before she opens her mouth. “I have an idea. I know why,” she confesses.

The director’s brow furrows. As he looks at her, he recognizes her nervousness. It causes him to worry. “What d’you mean?”

“Richard Roman, the head of the network? He-, uhm, he invited me to dinner… at his hotel room,” Y/N begins, the uncomfortableness growing inside of her and expanding in her chest.

Dean, on the other hand, stays perfectly still and quiet. The calm before the storm, so to speak. Because as soon as she said those words, he could feel his heart stop and drop several feet into the depths of hell. There, he’s sure he’ll find some kind of weapon he can use to kill that motherfucker before he comes back topside. The director knows how that story ends before she has even finished it, and it makes him want to puke his guts out and burn this godforsaken city down.

“He came on to me. As in… he wanted to have sex with me,” Y/N continues and clarifies in case he didn’t catch on. She’s not entirely sure the director is getting the message since he hasn’t said a word yet. “But I left before anything could happen. Ran away, actually. Bolted right outta there.” Her little chuckle at the end is a futile attempt to lighten the mood.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Dean’s furious, his nostrils flaring. He wants to punch and kill someone, but most of all Dickhead Roman himself.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N replies meekly. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.”

Bewildered, he frowns. “Mad?” That’s when he notices that she suddenly seems scared. Is she frightened… of him?!

“Maybe I can still fix it. Just call him and ask him if I can come by his office,” Y/N suggests, her voice laced with desperation. But not the good kind that usually turns him on. This time it’s just plain sad.

“To do what exactly?” Dean prompts grimly, already knowing her intentions. Over his dead body is she doing that!

“Well–”

“Fuck no!” Dean doesn’t even allow her to finish her sentence. In fact, he doesn’t want to hear it at all, or he might have to scratch his ears out afterward. God, he doesn’t even want to think about it. “You’re not fucking doing anything, alright?”

“But–”

“That stupid fucking son of a bitch,” Dean huffs and shakes his head. “What a goddamn prick!”

“So you’re not mad?” Y/N checks insecurely.

For a moment, Dean stops his rage to look at her, his heart almost breaking as he does. She deserves so much better in this life than all the shit she’s getting. How the fuck is any of this fair?

“At Dick cocksucking Roman, yeah. But not at you. Never at you, okay?” he emphasizes and sees her nod in relief. His heart shatters anew. How could she even think for a second he’d hold some sleazebag’s actions against her? But then his suspicions grow as he puzzles the pieces together. “When the fuck did this happen?”

“Uh, a little over a week ago,” Y/N answers quietly. “The night before they moved us to the nighttime slot.”

“That’s when you came to my office, and we–” Dean doesn’t finish his train of thought and cards a hand through his messy hair. Now, it makes sense. Her strange behavior, the inexplicable need for punishment, and everything in between.

‘You’re the best guy I know,’ he remembers her words. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’d want this with more.’

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Was that why you were avoiding me?”

A part of him feels unbelievably relieved. It’s not him but literally someone else’s fault. For once, he’s done nothing wrong. For once, he hasn’t ruined everything. But another part of him, the bigger one, just wants to rip Dickbag Roman’s throat out with his goddamn teeth. What a pathetic fucking loser…

Dean wishes he could beat the guy black and blue and leave him bleeding on the highway till a truck runs over him. He wishes he could cut off that guy’s dick and put it through a meat grinder. His mind can’t stop imagining the most gruesome ways to make that asshat suffer and die. In fact, he wishes Manson was still roaming Spawn Ranch and would send his Family over to that Roman’s mansion and leave Sharon Tate the fuck alone.

“I’m sorry. I guess I was scared you’d react like Jo.” Y/N gulps and averts her eyes to her trembling hands in her lap.

His brow knits, Donna’s warning words echoing through his mind. “Jo knows? What did she say?” But before Y/N can answer him, the director stops her again. “No, wait… I can take a fucking guess,” he mutters bitterly. The blonde bimbo probably told her to blow the guy in his goddamn office. Typical…

“Well, she’s not entirely wrong, you know,” Y/N mumbles and bites down on her lip without looking at him.

“What d’you mean?”

“All I’m good for is a fuck,” she says with a wry smile and wipes away a small tear. Dean’s heart twinges and hurts for her, but that pain is nothing compared to the cool blade of a knife he feels soon instead. “I mean, you of all people know that…”

Dean’s quiet for a moment and bites his nails as he ponders. His mind is a maze, and he knows he has to pick and choose his words carefully in order to get out of it.

“No, I actually don’t know that,” he states and catches her attention.

He tries his best not to sound angry or offended, even though he is a little. Hasn’t he been building her confidence for weeks now? Hasn’t he been instilling in her that she’s his favorite – and not just among the cast but on this planet in general? He figured she knew how much she truly means to him, but maybe he hasn’t been clear enough yet. He knows Y/N’s self-worth issues could fill every damn swimming pool in California, so maybe he shouldn’t expect a miracle so soon.

Mostly, he’s angry at Dicksuck Roman and Barbie for ruining all his hard work with one asshole move and a few bitchy words.

Dean wets his lips and lets out a sharp exhale through his nose before he looks at her. “Y/N, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met in my entire life. You’re never just a quickie in the office to me. Do you understand that?”

She nods in slow reluctance. “I think so.”

“Good,” he says sternly. “Now believe it ‘cause it’s true.”

The green-eyed director cups her cheeks and pulls her to his lips, tongue meeting tongue in a searing kiss. The old seats creak when their weight shifts, Y/N leaning into his touch as she wrings for oxygen with heavy breaths. And where words fail, he tries his best to show her how he feels through his actions.

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes cheekily once he lets her get some air. “Couldn’t hold myself back any longer. That’s okay, right? We’re still on?”

Suddenly, it dawns on him that she might’ve still changed her mind about him. Has he just sexually harassed a woman right after she told him how she’s been sexually harassed by a superior? Jesus fucking Christ, he’s goddamn tone deaf, isn’t he?

To his luck, though, Y/N finds his stupidity amusing and giggles, placing another sweet kiss on his plump lips as she shakes her head. “We’re still on, boss,” she assures him and hears him heave a big sigh of relief.

“Awesome.” He grins from ear to ear and brushes a strand of rogue hair out of her face. “Are you and Jo okay? ‘Cause if you’re not, you gotta tell me. You wanna postpone the match?”

Now that Dean knows there’s no chance in hell the network’s going to let the show survive, he doesn’t even give a shit if the girls resort to doing the chicken dance in the ring or taking a dump on stage. No one truly gives a fuck anymore, least of all him. He never has.

The only thing he cares about is sitting right next to him.

Y/N, however, vehemently shakes her head. “No, we’re fine. I wanna fight. ‘Sides, I’m supposed to win this match, and I can’t wait to kick Jo’s bitchy ass.” She grins broadly.

“That’s my bad girl.” Dean smirks and pecks her lips. “You’re gonna stay over at my place tonight? Play a little Cold War in my bedroom?”

“Only if I can do my accent,” Y/N says, beaming.

The director playfully rolls his green eyes, even though he’s direly been waiting for that sort of role play. “Oh, you’ve got yourself a deal, Natasha.”

22. Girls, Girls, Girls

Hope you enjoyed this one! We came back with a literal bang 😂 Next up we deal with more drama and a hospital stay 👀

Don't forget I re-did the tag lists after the break, so pick your new place (everything, specific character, or series) and put your username in there ❤️

TAGS:

Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey @deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies @agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28 @mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33

Old Series Tags (only for this part): @jessjad​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​ @smellingofpoetry​​ @justrealizedimmascifygurl​​​​ @leigh70​​ @4getfulimaginator2022​​ @yeahmynameiscool06​​ @luci-wiggles​​​ @darkened-writer​ @mimaria420​​ @samanddeansannoyingsis​​ @sarasolros​​

[nikeiyomiurioverthinker]

So.

Episode 10, huh?

Let's talk about it.

(Gonna make some references to this previous post of mine so you may want to give that one a read before reading this one, I'll try to make this as stand alone as possible tho)

So I was wrong about the name in the letter. This was signed Eden and not Julia as I had theorised.

I still was right about the fact that the name it was signed with was misleading on purpose, and that the killer used Arei's desire to be friends to coax her into coming to the playground and therefore be killed. So I'm taking like... Half a W. I'm taking the V.

Now, how does what we know now impact my theory about Hu being the manipulator, convincing Nico to kill and then killing Arei? Honestly, not that much.

Hu is still most likely the manipulator, Arturo having the sister secret helped us whittle down the 'unknown secret' list to 4 people (not counting Teruko because everyone and their mother knows that David lied and the secret he got is hers) and Hu doesn't really have any other secret that fits her. Her secret quote talks both about how she feels regret for what she has done but still wants to live, which doesn't really fit what we know about either the murderer or the hopeless child, and the other secret... Well, it's pretty clear that one is Veronika's.

The only secret that even makes sense for Hu is the manipulator one, so that bit remains unchanged.

Hu also definitely played a part in Ace's attempted murder, the weapon used was hers and she has been protecting Nico to an absurd degree- I know that Ace is an ass, but he is in more than the right to be distrusting of the person that tried to kill him, and it is also fair of him to find them suspicious because they don't have a set alibi, Hu is getting unreasonably angry at him. He could use a less shitty tone, sure, but I don't think he even really owes it to the person that almost killed him- Nico and Ace's situation is not black and white in the slightest, but Ace is not the bad guy here anymore.

(Nico is also really not helping themselves, honestly, who gets asked "what were you doing at the time of the murder?" and answers "just... Wandering around..." Nico please I know you are socially inept but you have to realise how suspicious that makes you sound-)

Back to the main point of this post, do I still think that Hu is the killer? Yeah, I do. We know that someone could have easily overheard what happened in the infirmary, it isn't as though anyone was being all that quiet in there, and the note makes the killer of this case look more manipulative by the second- and I already stated who I think the manipulator is.

And sure, Hu 'has an alibi', since she allegedly spent the entire timeframe of the murder with Eden, but alibis are notoriously the easiest piece of evidence to fake. We also don't have all that much knowledge about the murder itself, like why the fish was there in the first place. It's still too early to say that knowing the alibis for the time window between 7:30 and 10 PM is gonna be actually indicative of who had the means to commit Arei's murder.

So, for now, my opinion remains unchanged. Hu is still most likely our killer- the only real other potential suspect is Levi, but him being the most likely not first-time murderer in the group makes him, funnily enough, the least likely to have murdered Arei at the same time. I'm still waiting for him to become more relevant in the trial, because it's so weird that no one is asking him anything about Arei- like, did he tell her he had her secret? I'm hoping next episode we get some more answers.

[melogranoinsanguinato]

Fausto sat on a bench with his trusty guitar, casually plucking out the newest song he’d finally managed to learn after about a month of practice. Central Park had to be his favorite place to play, especially just before sunset, when the leaves on the trees around him seemed to change colors with every shade of the fading light. It was relaxing. Freeing, even. And as he switched to playing a love song, he found himself thinking it rather romantic.

[carrdas]

( @jjedi )

“YOU’LL GET USED  to it,” he said with a shrug. There was something about making your first run; the uncertainty, the excitement. It was a bit of an adventure. But they also had a job to do, & he’d taken a special interest in the girl & her career in his organization. He’d personally recruited her, & therefore had a personal investment in making sure she learned the ropes. Generally that would fall to someone else, one of his lieutenants, but -- rules were made to be broken.       They’d cleared spaceport control, their ID overlay had proven adequate, & it would only be a few minutes more before they landed.       He glanced over at her from the copilot’s seat & nodded towards the sensor array. “You have any final questions? It’s now or never. When we touch down it’s the real thing.” 

[falconcoast]

an alchemist’s affections | albedo x reader

(reposted because it didn’t show in the main tag? also, if you can see this on the tag, please let me know with an ask or a DM! )

klee asks you to celebrate valentine’s day with her and prepare a gift for her friend! while you do so, you can’t help but think about the charming alchemist who is spending his valentine’s day in his laboratory, mountain of gifts waiting for him on the other side.

pairing: albedo x gn!reader

tags; just cute fluff!! sprinkled in sibling dynamic between albedo and klee too, plus wingman kaeya!!

author’s note; happy v-day! i hope you’re spending it with your loved ones and friends :) the borders are pink instead of brown bc it’s a valentine’s special OuO !!

it was probably a bad idea for you to answer’s klee’s question over valentine’s day, now that you thought about it.

the little girl had wandered into your office, rolling on the balls of her feet. mondstadt’s winds were on the brink of being springlike, remnants of the cold season still breezing through the room’s window.

“master y/n?” she had asked, eyes wide with innocent anticipation. “i have a question for you!”

“yes, klee? what is it?” you replied, turning to the tiny tot. you crouched down to her height as she shyly put her hands behind her back.

“can you tell me about today’s holiday? valentine’s day?” klee said with eager eyes. “lisa was busy when i asked her, and she told me to ask you!”

“ah, valentine’s day, huh?” you said, crossing your arms in thought. mondstadt, along with being the city of freedom, wine, wind, it was also the city of romance. a day to show off such love was popular in the town, especially between young couples. “it’s a day when people show their love for one another. they give each other roses, and chocolate, and write cards for each other.”

“really! i wanna do that, i wanna do that!” she squealed, squeezing her tiny fists in excitement. you only shook your head with a smile.

“i don’t see why not. how about we start around the city, getting flowers and such?” you said, rising and taking her hand.

“sounds good! let’s good!” she said, leading you along.  

klee led you out to the hallway, giant backpack jingling its buckles. kaeya greeted you hello as you two walked by, arms full with bright pink cards and flowers. “oh? heading off, y/n?” he asked as klee tugged at your leg.

“yeah, klee wanted to celebrate valentine’s day today, and i’m not one to say no to her. what about you? busy breaking hearts today? your arms sure are full,” you replied, nodding towards the gifts in his arms.

“hmph, you make me sound like a playboy,” he scoffed, to which you rolled your eyes. “i’ve been confronted with several confessions already today, same as jean and lisa. but no one’s been quite as busy albedo, over there.”

you stared at the door to the laboratory, briefly hearing the sound of an explosion. below the door, a growing pile of valentines were stacked at the door; heart shaped chocolate boxes, scarlet red and pink bouquets with blooming roses and tulips, and love letters so stacked that almost went to the door handle. your face flushed in surprise, it looked like albedo had many admirers vying for his attention today.

“he’s quiet, polite, a little mysterious, quite charming,” kaeya interrupted as you continued to look at the heap of gifts. squeaking, you realized you liked the alchemist for all those reasons. “who can blame anyone if they admire him, like yourself? but alas, i think albedo will cast a blind eye to all of them. well, all except for one, if they give him anything.”

“who would that one be?” you asked, curious to see if you would stand a chance if you even gave him something.

“you’re dense, y/n,” kaeya only chuckled, shaking his head. “who else has he been staring adoringly at for the past month?”

you tilted your head. “no one that i know of. kaeya, if you’re trying to tease my...feelings for him, you’re really no fun.”

“ah, it’s hopeless,” he sighed, shaking his head before heading to his office. “you should get him a valentine, though, y/n. he’ll be bound to like it if you make it.”

“master y/n, we haven’t got a second to lose! how are we gonna celebrate if you’re talking to kaeya all day?! come on!” you only sputtered out a response to the cavalry captain as she tugged on your leg again.  

“i’ll think about it!” you called back as you opened the doors to the knights’ headquarters.

mondstadt was full of lovers celebrating the holiday. couples made wishes at the fountain, tossing in coins. you saw a pair make a wish on a dandelion, wishing upon a prosperous relationship between the two of them, and another feeding each other dessert at the tables of good hunters. the city of freedom was swelled to the brim with love today.

“you said we should get sweets first, right?” klee said as she began dragging you towards the restaurant. “let’s ask miss sara if she has any sweets. she owns a restaurant, she’s gotta have something!”

as you neared the restaurant, the waitress perked up. “oh, hello klee! hello master y/n! how may i help you?”

klee’s little beret barely peeked over the counter as she piped up. “do you have sweets? or candy? or desserts?”

“yes, many!” she replied, ducking under the counter to find a menu. she handed over the pamphlet to klee, who looked at the pictures eagerly. “so, master y/n. are you and klee celebrating valentine’s day today?”

“that we are,” you chuckled. “it must be so busy here at good hunter. the people of mondstadt have always taken the holiday seriously.”

“busy indeed,” sara sighed, leaning on the counter. “the brunch special had almost all the tables full, and as you can see, we’re still stuffed. i was almost surprised to see that you didn’t come along here to reserve for the dinner special.”

“o-oh, no! i’m not really… i mean--” you stuttered, trying to compose yourself. “i don’t think i’m one for a date today. or a date ever. i mean, i wouldn’t not enjoy it, but i just don’t think someone could perceive me that way.”

“oh? but what about that charming knight? there’s this young man who will often come by and sometimes talk about you and order a ton of sweets and--”

“master y/n! i found the one i like! these heart cookies with the raspberry jam!” klee interrupted as you stared with shellshocked eyes at the waitress who ramble on and on. “master y/n? do you not like it?”

“w-what?” you replied, shaking your head. “oh, no. that’s fine, klee, i’ll pay for them. we’ll take two boxes of them,” sara packaged the cookies in heart shaped boxes with a tiny silk red ribbon.

“well, if that knight ever does ask you out, you’re more than welcome to stop by good hunter. we’ll always have a table waiting for you.”

“yeah…” your voice trailed off, staring at the embarrassingly pink box. “i’ll think about it.”

“who are you planning on giving this to?” you asked as you and klee walked hand in hand towards floral whisper. “if we’re running around the city, we must be giving this to someone really special, right?”

“they’re a super nice friend to klee, and i’m not telling!” she squealed as she approached flora. “hi, flora! do you have any extra special flowers for valentine’s day?”

“certainly! i have a couple. there are cecilias, roses, daisies, and tulips. pick as you’d like.”

klee stared with widened eyes at the tiny brown pots. her tiny hand pointed to a collection of soft white daisies. “these look really pretty, dontcha think, master y/n!”

“yes, klee. they’re a beautiful flower to look at,” you smiled back. “would you like to buy them for your friend?”

“yes, please!”

“any flowers for you, master y/n?” flora asked as you handed over your mora. “that is to say, if your office isn’t already full of them. you seem to be the talk of the town. er, well, there is this one blond boy who will pass by and mention you, though.”

“really now? that’s...quite flattering to hear,” you shyly smiled back, dreaming of how it may have albedo. you internally shook your head; you were sure he didn’t see you that way. briefly, you looked at all the option available before your eyes landed on the pristine white cecilias. “anyways, i’ll be taking those cecilias over there. they look beautiful; it’s a shame that not more of them have been sold.”

“excellent choice. you must have someone really special in mind. these flowers are said to represent adoration and romantic affection,” she smiled as she wrapped up both sets of the flowers into a neat bouquet. your face flushed at the thought; it conveyed your exact feelings for albedo! it was tied off with a pink silk handle, wrapped into a perfect bow. “there you are. have a lovely time giving these flowers to whoever your lucky recipient is, master y/n and klee!”

gasping, the young arsonist began dragging you up the stairs of the city once more. “that’s right! we have one more thing to do!”

the soft sighs from the wind fluttered into your office as you placed the small gifts on you desk. klee bounded behind you, tugging on your leg. “yes, klee? what is it?”

“i don’t know how to make a valentine, master y/n,” she replied as you let out a short breath of air. “can you teach me?”

“yes, of course, klee. i’ll make one right now,” you said, taking a seat behind your desk and pulling out plain piece of paper and dipped your quill in some ink. folding it, you drew a simple heart with a few other doodles on the front. on the inside, you began writing. “you’d begin with ‘dear valentine’, or something of the sort. then, you tell all of the things that you like about them. you can write as much as you want, and to however many people you want too.”

“really? i’ll make one for my friend, and then i’ll make extra for my other friends too!” she cheered as you continued to write down. “who are you writing to?”

“oh…” you said softly, looking at your open door and to albedo’s own shut one.  somehow, the pile under his door had become even bigger than this morning. “i’ll be giving this one to albedo as a friendly gesture. i suppose that i can also give those desserts and those flowers to him as well.”

“really?! it’s almost like you, like, like-like him!” klee said casually as she began rummaging in your desk for decorations and colorful markers. you took moment to stifle a laugh, thinking it impossible for someone like albedo to hold affection for you. in your frequent, late night conversations when the rest of the knights had gone home, you would hang out with albedo in his laboratory in comfortable silence. he never ceased to amaze you with his genius and intellect as he made notes on his clipboard, tucking his pen behind his ear. the alchemist would also often help you as you babysat klee for a day, and he wasn’t half bad at helping you with your papers. although you were no ordinary knight, equally revered as him, you found it to be wishful thinking that someone as amazing as albedo would hold feelings for you.

looking at the heap of cards, chocolates, and flowers left at his door untouched, you only thought of yourself even more silly. you were but one of the dozens of people who admired albedo, but that did little to stop your ever-growing affection for him.

“hmph,” you huffed out a quiet chuckle. “like-like, huh, klee? it’s...something of the sort.”

as the sun began its descent in the sky, klee began tugging at your arm. you looked away from your boundless paperwork, staring at her rather large pile of cards, decorated in lots of red glitter, bright pink stickers, and messy crayon handwriting. even though you knew it would be a hassle to clean up later, you merely smiled. “are you done with all of your cards, klee?”

“yes!” she cheered, before presenting you a small, sparkly card. “i made one for you too!”

“oh my,” you said, a little taken aback. your hands thumbed through the card, cherishing her kind words and overall effort. “i love it, klee. thank you for giving me a card.”

“now, we have to deliver the rest of them!!” she said, placing all her cards except for one. her tiny hands reach for her bouquet of daisies, and the other for the heart shaped box of cookies. “you have to bring along your gifts too! let’s start with albedo!”

for the third time that day, you allowed the young girl to drag you across the hallway once you had grabbed your gifts. the mountain of gifts against the door had become higher in the afternoon that had passed, a mess of reds, whites, and pinks. leaning over it, you knocked at the door gently, tapping it three times. “albedo? klee’s here to see you,” you announced, tucking your own gifts behind your back.  

it was followed by a squeak of wood against the tile, and the soft padding of his boots. “i’m coming, klee. i’m sorry that you haven’t see much of me today, it’s been quite a busy day at the lab, and i--” as the oak door opened, the mountain of gifts tumbled down to his feet, but he paid no mind. instead, he stared with a curious gaze at you, slight color rushing to his cheeks. “oh, h-hello, to you as well, master y/n. you...you brought quite a few gifts along with you, didn’t you?”

“oh! those aren’t all from me, i’m afraid,” you said in response, grip on your gifts becoming much tighter than before in an act of self-consciousness. albedo seemed to almost pout, eyes filled with a little bit of disappointment. “i suppose it’s because you’ve had your hands full all day in the lab that you may not have noticed--”

“it’s valentine’s day and master y/n and i have a gift for you!” klee cut off, presenting her presents for albedo. immediately, his eyes softened, side stepping the stack of chocolates and flowers to crouch at her height. he took the card first, admiring her almost illegible handwriting and doodles. then, he took the cookies and the daisies. with a breath in, he inhaled the soft scent of the daisies and a whiff of the cookies.

“thank you, klee,” he smiled before hugging her. “i love it, i love it very much. i’ll hang your card so it can be with me forever.”

her eyes almost sparkled at the response as she tightly hugged him. “you’re the best! i’m super happy you enjoy it!”

as you stood to the side, pleased that the two blonds were happy, a voice piped up behind you. “hey, is that klee?” kaeya called from the entrance of the headquarters, letting more of the hues of orange and red seep onto the tile. he stood waving, and albedo let her go. “amber is in charge of you for the rest of the evening. she had baron bunny ready and everything.”

“baron bunny?! well then, i have to go! i’ll deliver these to everyone else with her too!” the young girl skipped away to kaeya’s vicinity. “bye, master y/n! bye albedo! i’ll see you tomorrow!” with a knowing look to you, the cavalry captain also waved good bye before shutting the door behind him.

the fading rays of sunlight, albedo was colored shades of red and orange, and his cheeks were flushed up to his ears. “i was so busy that i didn’t even notice any knocking at my door. it must be such a shame that all these people had not gotten a chance to introduce themselves further beyond these cards. i should begin writing my thanks,” the alchemist chuckled, leaning against doorway with his arms crossed, in a mess of candies and cards. “though, i do believe that klee said something about you having a gift for me. forgive me if i’m wrong, but there’s no need to be shy about it.”

“o-oh, that’s right,” you said before hastily handing over your card, bouquet, and cookies. even as you looked away, face flustered from the anticipation of how he would react, you saw him look a little bit surprised. his right gently opened the card, and the other held the flowers and box with simple delicacy. “cecilias, meaning deep admiration and affection. d-do you have feelings for me? i only think this way because of the cookies and card as well,” he asked, charming voice fragile and soft. with heated cheeks, you nodded, eyes downcast.

“y-yes, i do,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. “i-i understand that you may not feel the same way, but i had to--”

“i’m flattered, truly,” he responded with only flushed cheeks. “i never thought that the person of my affections would feel the same way for me.”

“i-i see,” you said, before the words clicked in your mind. “w-wait, what?!”

“haha,” he laughed, voice a little breathless. “while i may not have a gift prepared for you, i do think it would be adequate to pay your back somehow. how about we organize all of these sweets, and then afterwards, we can go over to good hunter? i heard a while ago that they had a dinner special today.”

“i...i mean, yes! absolutely! i would love to!”

“then, it’s settled,” albedo’s face was graced with a gentle smile, as his lips pressed against your cheek, careful and cautious. both his and your faced burned brighter than the sunset that poured from the windows. “it’s a date.”

[wiypt-writes]

Riding On

Ch 9- A Labour of Love

Summary: Fliss and Frank receive some news from Boston and Bean’s due date, arrives…and passes, with no sign of him making his bid for freedom just yet. Fliss is frustrated and poor Frank doesn’t know what to do for the best. 

Warnings: Bad Language words. Smut (NSFW, NO UNDER 18s!).

Pairing: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N:  Bean is just not playing ball, is he? As always, I hope you enjoy and I love reading all your thoughts.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding On Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 8

Touch me, take me to that other place. Teach me, I know I’m not a hopeless case.

 August 2019

The alarm had become a bit of a pointless feature in the Gallagher-Adler household, certainly over the last 2 weeks or so. As Fliss headed into the final throes of her pregnancy, her sleep patterns were all over the place. So it was no surprise to Frank that he felt her climbing out of bed at little past 5 am. Blinking sleepily he made a noise of protest because, after all, it was a Saturday, and she chuckled and leaned over to gently kiss his head.

“Stay here.” she instructed, “I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t going to listen, he really wasn’t but his eyes dropped shut of their own accord. When they opened again it was almost 10 and he gave a start, because Fliss was due to leave in little over an hour. She was off for a Pre-Baby pamper session with Verity, Roberta and Sian, which included a manicure, pedicure, haircut, facial and fuck knows what else. To be honest, Frank had zoned out when she'd reeled off the list of treatments last night over dinner and just nodded in all the right places because he wasn't interested if all truth be told. As long as she enjoyed herself. With that in mind, he jumped up and after a quick shower he headed downstairs.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” he asked as he wandered into the back of the house. Fliss, who was stood by the bay window seat, her eyes roving over the garden, didn’t answer.

“Lissy?” He spoke again and she jumped slightly and turned to face him as he chuckled and crossed the room to give her a kiss. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. Where’s Mary?”

“She went up to the stables for a lesson with Joanne before it gets too hot.” She replied, taking the peck he offered with a tight smile. Her voice was flat, emotionless and her entire demeanour unnerved him a little as he prided himself on normally being able to read her very well but at that moment he really couldn’t get a lock on her at all.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I had a message from Boston Police…about John.”

Frank made an angry noise in his throat “What about him?”

She looked at him and Frank felt his mind whirring about what there was left that the ass hole could possibly put her through. He was inside, for a long time and he wouldn’t be getting parole this time round either but when she answered, he hadn’t been expecting her to drop the news she did.

“He’s dead.” Fliss said flatly as she looked at Frank. His face contorted into a frown as he looked at her.

“Dead?”

She nodded “Apparently got in a fight with another prisoner and it got a bit nasty. He was stabbed and…” she swallowed “Bled out. Nothing they could do.” Frank watched her carefully as she was clearly pondering something. He wasn’t sure how she was going to be feeling here. She had been married to him after all but, well, Frank was struggling to feel anything other than a sickening sense of satisfaction. If anyone deserved to die it was that fucker.

“You ok?” he asked her as he stepped towards her and pulled her into a hug.

“Yeah. I feel nothing.” she said simply, pulling back to look at him. “Absolutely nothing. I’m not happy he’s dead but I don’t care he is, either, and I’m certainly not upset about it.” She paused, biting her lip “Does that make me a bad person?”

“Bad?” Frank spluttered “Fuck, no honey, of course not” She let out a sigh as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she snuggled her face into his chest.  “If you think feeling nothing makes you bad then me feeling what I do means I’m going straight to hell.” Frank moved and tilted her face to look at him with his finger a thumb gently holding her chin “He was a nasty, vile bastard Lissy, and he put you through so much, not to mention nearly fucking killing you less than a year ago. If anything you have a right to be throwing a damned party now.”

“Not sure you’d find many places with Congratulations Your Piece Of Shit, Wife-Beating Ex-Husband Is Dead banners or balloons.” she quipped.

“The internet is dark and full of terrors.” Frank smiled back and Fliss snorted at the Game of Thrones reference “Never underestimate it.”

She stayed silent for a moment before she pulled back and looked up at him. “You know what else I will never underestimate?” she asked, and Frank was pleased to note that familiar shine had returned to her face and eyes and he arched an eyebrow. “The power of a back massage.”

Frank smiled “Good job you’re heading off for one then isn’t it.”

“Hmmmm…” she teased, her hands tracing his chest through his t-shirt. “Thing is, unlike your back rubs this one won’t have a happy ending.” “It better fucking not do.” He shot back and she grinned.

“I should go get ready.”

“Ok, you want any breakfast before you go?” he asked and she smiled

“We ate, but there’s some pancakes in the oven for you, you just need to warm them up.”

He smiled “You’re too good to me.” “I know” she shrugged, standing on her toes to give him a kiss. With a chuckle he watched her leave, Thor trotting behind her before he let out a deep breath.

“Does that make me bad?”

The fact that she was even asking that, after everything, was enough of an answer in itself. Bad? There was nothing further from the truth and he hated that she had even entertained the idea. But, as Frank realised when he poured himself a coffee, now the bastard was dead, there was nothing else he could do to her. That particular shadow was now well gone.

And Frank didn’t give a shit whether being happy or, dare he say it, amused at the fact the fucker had died in prison, made him a bad person or not.

*****

An hour later Fliss was collected by Bill, the poor bloke was on drop off and pick up duty and Frank didn’t envy him dealing with all 4 of women. Out of courtesy, Frank had offered to run one way but Bill had waved his offer off, pointing out that he had to collect his mother later that afternoon from the aiport.

He walked out to the car with them, taking a side glance at his girl who was dressed in a pale pink and blue maxi dress, which was quite low cut and made her pregnancy boobs look fucking amazing. He smiled as he opened the door for her, Fliss sinking into the front seat- being basically 40 weeks pregnant and ready to pop awarded her certain perks such as her mother surrendering her usual position in the passenger side.

“Have a nice time.” He said, leaning over to give her a peck.

“We will.” She smiled “I left Mary some Mac and Cheese for lunch, she was asking before so I pulled it out of the freezer.”

Frank smiled “I’ll fight her for it.” “No need.” She grinned “I got you some out too.” “You spoil me”

Smiling, she reached up and cupped his cheek before he straightened up and shut the door. Once he was sure it was closed he jerked his head to Bill who was bent giving Thor a pat and signalled for the man to walk with him a little, taking a few steps away.

“Everything ok?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, well, sort of. She’s probably gonna tell you herself but just in case she doesn’t, she had a call this morning. John’s dead.” Bill blinked, before he gave a snort “Good.” “Yeah, that was kind of my reaction too.” Frank scratched at his neck. “Fliss, however, well she says she didn’t feel anything. Not happy, not sad, just complete indifference. Which, to be fair, is probably a good thing for her. I’m just a little worried she’s numb because it hasn’t sunk in yet.” Bill nodded “If she doesn’t mention it herself on the way I’ll tell V on the quiet when we get there.” “Thanks.”  Frank smiled as the two of them headed back to the car. Frank grinned at Bill, as he could hear the chatter from the 4 women even through the closed doors and windows of the car.

“Good luck!” he said, nodding towards the vehicle.

Bill snorted before he frowned a little “How come you haven’t gone with Steve and the boys up to the Water Sports centre?” “Mary didn’t want to.” Frank said “I think she’s still a little, self-conscious, I suppose is the term, around the twins but she’ll come round. You know what she’s like” “Well, when they move over in January she’ll have plenty of time to get to know them properly” Bill shrugged “Right, best get this rabble to the hotel. See you later son.” Frank smiled, nodding at him. As the Range Rover pulled off up the drive he tossed a hand at the tailgate before he looked down at Thor.

“Come on boy, let’s go find Mary.” It didn’t take them long to locate her. Having finished her lesson she’d been busy grooming Monty and then helping Joanne with a few chores, or bugging the shit out of her Frank suspected but Joanne was always so patient with her. The young woman was god-send, having really stepped up over the last 2 months especially. Frank knew why Fliss liked her so much.

He practically dragged Mary home, but it really was getting ridiculously warm and he wanted her to have a few hours inside to keep cool a little. In the end, as always, they haggled reaching a compromise that she could have a little while in the pool provided she sat in the shade quietly to eat lunch. As always he was roped into the pool with her, such a hard life he led, and after 30 minutes of teaching her how to dive they both climbed out and ate before changing and heading to the airport to collect Evelyn who was coming to stay for a while.

He greeted her with the usual nod and smile as Mary gave her a hug, before he took her bag from her and they headed back to his truck, Mary gibbering on about anything and everything, his mother listening and replying when needed. The last time Mary had seen Evelyn she had gone to Boston for the weekend the previous month, something that had set Frank on edge after the last time, but as Fliss had reasoned with him, he knew that he couldn’t allow that to stop him from letting her go. This meant that Evelyn hadn’t seen their house since they had moved in back in June. Mary showed her round, Frank following, and when they got to Bean’s room he saw her stop and look round, smiling softly.

“You’ve done a good job, Frank.” She turned to look at him and he smiled back.

“You sound surprised, mother.” “Not at all.” She shook her head. “I expected nothing less.” “Makes a change.” He couldn’t help the sarcastic shot back and she narrowed her eyes.

“Are we not passed the sniping yet?” she said, tiredly.

Frank held his hands up, “Sorry.” After she’d seen the attic and Mary’s room, they headed back downstairs, Frank showing Evelyn to the Guest Apartment over the Garage which he had put the finishing touches to the week before. Fliss had stocked the fridge fully for her, meaning she had everything she could need for snacks and drinks, and whatever else she needed for a comfortable stay. He left her to unpack, telling her to come over to the main house when she was done, which she did a little over an hour later.

Frank poured her a glass of white wine, and they headed outside, taking a seat at the table as Mary was in and out of the pool freely as the sun wasn’t quite as high as it had been given that it was half four in the afternoon. Evelyn took the opportunity to ask Frank if they were ready for Bean to arrive and he smiled, shrugging.

“As ready as we can be.” He said, “We’ve had all the hospital tours and found the place Fliss prefers so…” “Where have you chosen?” Evelyn asked.

“Bayfront in St Pete’s” Frank said, pulling out his phone “They have a suite called the Baby Place.”

He flicked through his phone’s internet browser to the bookmarked page and handed it to Evelyn who put on her glasses to scan the information.

"The separate family lounge offers some of the amenities of home, such as a game table, bla bla bla and room enough to host celebrations and enjoy time with loved ones." Evelyn read from the website. "It looks like a hotel not a hospital" she mused as she handed the phone back to Frank. "Well, that's kinda the idea mother." He said, tossing his phone onto the table. "It’s actually a state-approved level 3 Regional Perinatal Intensive Care Centre." Mary appeared at the side of them, picking up her towel. "The program is one of only 12 in the state of Florida" Evelyn looked at her, cooking her head to one side as Frank gave a chuckle. "There is that too." He said as Evelyn turned to him. Mary, wrapped herself in the towel and hopped up onto his knee. "We originally discussed a birthing centre with the midwife but Fliss was too worried about what could go wrong or if she decided half way through she wanted an epidural..." he rubbed at Mary’s shoulders slightly, drying her off with the towel. “So when the midwife suggested this it seemed like a perfect compromise. She gets a private recovery area and should make her feel more at ease. She doesn't have fond memories of hospitals." He shrugged "Who does?" Evelyn looked at him, taking a sip of her wine. "Well Fliss has some particularly bad ones what with her back injury and operation, not to mention all the times he put her in one." Frank said, pausing for a second. That reminded him.

“Hey Stack, can you go grab me a can of soda?”

“Only if I can have one.” She bargained.

“Fine, but grab the no sugar. You’re already hyper enough as it is.”

Mary jumped down and headed through the door into the kitchen. As soon as she was out of earshot Frank looked at his mother.

“John’s dead.” He said bluntly “Fliss had a call this morning. He was stabbed in prison.” Evelyn looked at him for a second, before she gave a snort “Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy.” She said sarcastically “How has Fliss taken it?”

“Well she wasn’t leaping for joy but she’s not upset, says she feels nothing.” He shrugged, looking up as Mary came back. She handed him a can as she hopped back on his knee and opened the other one herself.

Evelyn studied Frank for a second as if she was considering something before she smiled "I take it the fact she's due to drop tomorrow is the reason you're on soft drinks and not beer." Frank smiled "Just playing it safe. I mean so are you right? That's why you're here for the next 2 weeks." Evelyn shrugged "is it a problem?" "No." Frank shook his head before he grinned cheekily "Why do you think I finished the apartment above the Garage?" "Bill says in England they would call it a Granny Flat" Mary said as Frank gave a snort. Evelyn chuckled a little. "I’m aware of the terminology, thank you, on account of being from England myself." She looked at Mary "You know, people build them on their property when they want their elderly relatives to move in with them so they can look after them." she turned to Frank, smirking "So I'm honoured, Francis..." "I didn't build it just for you." He rolled his eyes "it was half done when we moved in so it made sense to finish it." He picked up his can "It’s a place for anyone to stay, although I'd be lying if I said you weren't at the forefront of my mind when we did it" Evelyn looked at him, shocked, "me?" "Yeah..." he shrugged, grinning "Fliss told me that I wasn't allowed to let you stay in a hotel or at Bill and V's now we have room so this was the best way of actually keeping you out of the house..." "Oh piss off!" Evelyn looked at him, slapping his arm as he laughed. She shook her head and before she could shoot a sarcastic response back, the sound of an engine coming up the drive hit Frank’s ears and a soft smile crept across his face. His girl was home. Thor gave a loud bark and stood up, running to the gate, Frank following him. He opened it, striding out onto the path through the lawn which led round the side of their house to the front. He smiled as Fliss pushed herself out of her dad's range rover and he instantly spotted that her hair was a lighter colour than it had been that morning and was flowing round her face and shoulders in perfectly styled waves. It was evident she had enjoyed herself, as she looked relaxed for the first time in weeks. "Well I would ask if you had a nice time." He smiled, dropping a kiss to her cheek "but I can tell from the way you're grinning that you did." "Oh it was amazing." She smiled as his hands fell to her hips. “Just what I needed. I feel relaxed and absolutely ready to push a baby out of my vagina.” Frank gave a loud laugh as he shook his head. “Well, your hair looks great." "Aww thanks Frank." Roberta slapped his shoulder as she walked past him into the yard. He rolled his eyes as Fliss laughed, tugging on Frank’s hand as she led him to the trunk of Bill's car. Bill was stood with it open as Verity and Sian were looking in each of the bags before Verity pointed at one and handed it to Fliss, Frank immediately taking it from her. He peered inside.

"Because you don't have enough toiletries" he deadpanned. Fliss shrugged. "The lavender stuff they said would help me sleep, which in case you haven't noticed I've been struggling to do over the last 2 weeks." "Hard not to notice when you wake me up at 3:30 am to tell me" "I did that once because I felt sick. And besides, you did this to me..." she pointed to her now really rather large bump "...you should also be feeling the consequences" Bill snorted as he shut the trunk of his car and looked at Frank as he glanced at the older man, almost pleading for help "Sorry lad." Bill chuckled "You got her pregnant and wanna marry her, she's your problem now." "She is here..." Fliss glared at her father. "Oh, trust me Titch, we are all well aware you are." "Rude" Fliss looked at her parents as they headed into the garden. "Steve and the boys will be here in about 5." Sian looked at Fliss having just got off the phone to him. "Said to tell you he is picking up some real meat on the way over...whatever that means Frank?" Frank laughed "he means fillet steak. I got Sirloin. A man's cut. He's being a pussy" Sian looked at Fliss who simply shook her head. "Meat is a big issue for Francis." She said sombrely, patting his chest.

“I just know what I like.” He shrugged. They made their way through to the back in time to see Verity giving Evelyn a warm hug in greeting. It made Fliss smile softly, noticing how different it all was to the stiff handshakes shared when they met for the first time little over a year ago.

Frank dropped a kiss to her cheek and headed inside to put her bag away before he came back down just as Steve and the boys turned up. Then the usual thing that happened at BBQs went ahead, the men crowding round the grill, the women bustling in and out of the kitchen setting out the sides and accompaniments, the 3 kids bombing in and out of the pool.

“You should have come with us today Mary.” Steve said to the girl as she sauntered past in her bathing suit. She paused to look at him.

“What did you do?”

“We did Kayaking, skiing, the boys went bodyboarding but I sat that one out.” Steve said.

“I didn’t know if I would like it.” She shrugged, dropping her eyes slightly. Frank watched carefully as Steve crouched down.

“Me neither, but you know what? It was fun, and the best thing is, if there’s something you don’t wanna do, you can sit it out and watch.” Frank could see from her face she was mulling this over. She looked at Steve “Are you going again Uncle Steeby?”

“Next Friday.” He nodded.

“Ok, I wanna go next time.” She announced. “Mind your manners.” Frank instructed, gently, pointing the tongues he was holding at her.

“Please.” She added. Charlie and Joel both erupted into noise, demanding that their father allow it and Steve gave a chuckle.

“You’re welcome any time Stack, as long as Frank and Fliss say its ok.” He said, standing up. “Fine by me. In fact you can keep her if you want.” Frank shrugged and Mary rolled her eyes.

“You always say stuff like that, pretend you don’t want me here but we all know the truth. You do, that’s why you’re adopting me.”

“Smart ass.” Frank narrowed his eyes at her as she stuck her tongue out and ran off. Bill and Steve chuckled as Frank shook his head, snorting.

“Thanks Steve.” He looked at the man who waved his thanks away.

“You know, she’s getting more like Fliss was every day.” Bill said “you want to watch that, Frank. She was a sassy little swine as a kid.” “Mary was already a sass bag before she met Fliss.” Frank shrugged, turning over the steaks on the grill. “Lissy just encourages it.” “Have you had any luck with her biological father?” Steve asked and Frank shook his head.

“We’re not expecting to yet. We’ve only given him notification of our intent. I suspect when Greg actually starts the process officially we’ll hear something.”

“But you don’t expect him to object?”

Frank hesitated before he shrugged “I can’t see why he would. He’s never been interested in her, at all. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a slight worry but like Fliss keeps telling me, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.” “No point worrying about something you can’t control.” Bill said wisely, before he drained his beer “Right, I need another drink. Anyone else want one?”

“Yeah, I’ll come with you” Steve said “Frank?”

“I’m good, thanks.” “You can have one or two, surely?” Steve looked at him.

“Leave him alone.” Bill said, shoving his son on the shoulder, “That’s your sister and my little girl he’s looking out for…” “Fuckin’ pussy…” Steve snorted playfully and Frank threw the burger flipper at him.

Bill and Steve walked away, playfully squabbling and a few seconds later Frank felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around him from behind, Fliss pressing her lips to the space between his shoulder blades.

“Hey gorgeous.” He said, moving so she could slide under his arm. He pressed a kiss to her head “You ok?”

“Yeah, fine.” She smiled, looking up at him. “You know I really do I love your hair." He said, taking in the lighter colour even more in the now closing light of day. Over the past two years, her vivid auburn had gradually tone down and was now a light brown, laced with copper and blonde.

“Thanks.” She said, a little shyly and Frank frowned.

“Don’t you like it?”

“No, I love it…it’s just, well, actually it doesn’t matter.” “Lissy.” He looked at her sternly, and she sighed, her hands worrying one another so Frank put the cooking utensils down and took them in his. “Tell me what’s going on.” “John hated me changing it.” She shrugged “Which is why I went so bright red in the first place. Once I left him I just fancied doing something wild. I’ve always liked it a bit lighter. He insisted I kept it dark…”

“Well you can do what the fuck you want with it.” He assured her, “Unless you want to shave it all off. Then I might raise some objections.” “Sorry. She said gently and he frowned.

“What for?” “Raising him again” she shrugged “We’ve been together almost 2 years now and…” “Hey.” He said, “Don’t ever apologise. I’d rather you tell me when you’re feeling like this. You know that.”

“Of course I do, I just wonder sometimes if it’s ever gonna stop.”

“So what if it doesn’t?” Frank looked at her. She blinked and he shrugged “I’ve told you, you can always talk to me. Nothing you say is gonna make me mad.”

She smiled at him as he dropped his head, gently giving her a peck. “I know, I just get fed up sometimes. Stupid little memories and flashbacks.” “I know.” He smiled at her, kissing her head softly “But they don’t rule your life anymore, not like they used to. They’re just…”he hesitated “A minor annoyance, a bit like him really, insignificant.”

“He’s even more insignificant now.” She grinned “He’s fucking dead.”

At that Frank let out a snort “I take it you’re not longer feeling numb then.”

She shrugged “Mum said exactly the same as you before, that we should be throwing a party so…”

Frank chuckled again, pulling her into him even further as he turned back to the grill.

******

Despite it being her due date the following day there was no sign of Bean. And he didn’t make an appearance on the Monday either. On Tuesday they headed in for an assessment at the hospital, and after an examination the Midwife smiled at Fliss as she lay on the bed.

"Well, Miss Gallagher... he is in the right position." The midwife smiled. “Dropped and ready.” "He needs to hurry up." Fliss grumbled "He was due two days ago.” "Your due date is never exact. I wouldn't worry. His heartbeat is strong, he'll arrive when he is ready." "Already taking after his father." Fliss shot a side glance at Frank who raised an eyebrow. "Ok so if there's no sign of him by the morning of the 28th then just call" the woman said and Frank bit back a smirk at the look of utter disgust on Fliss' face "We'll check everything and do a sweep to get things moving." "Is there anything we can do?" Fliss practically whined "Spicy food? Pineapple? Speed bumps?" The Midwife laughed "I'm afraid they're only old wives tales. The only one with a shred of credibility is sex." Frank grinned and Fliss shot him a glare. "Semen contains prostaglandins" the midwife shot Fliss a wink "It can trigger the release of oxytocin which is a hormone that can help contractions." At that it was Fliss' turn to grin. "So all I need is your sperm and a turkey baster Sailor. Unlucky." Frank rolled his eyes and mentally cursed the midwife for her damned scientific explanation. "But in essence if your body isn’t ready to labour, nothing you do will necessarily get you going." She smiled "Sorry, you're just gonna have to ride it out." Despite the joking there was no activity in the bedroom that night other than a lot of tossing and turning as Fliss was really struggling to get comfortable enough to sleep. Frank hated seeing her so tired and fed up but when at 3:30 am he sleepily asked her if she needed anything she simply asked for a cuddle which he was more than happy to provide.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“What for?”

“I know I've been a pain these last 2 weeks.”

“You’re heavily pregnant and fed up.” He said, kissing her head

“I wouldn't be able to do this alone. I don't know how my mum did.” She said softly. Frank sighed and pulled her closer, remembering how upset she had been a week or so back when their conversation one evening with Mary had turned to Frank telling her how he had been with Diane when she was born. Hormones be damned, it had set Fliss off about how nice it was that Frank had been there and stood by Diane and how she wished her own mom had that, but instead Verity’s parents had kicked her out and left her alone and pregnant at the age of 19.

Frank knew Verity had been young when she had Fliss, although he had never expressly asked he had worked it out from the fact she was 9 years Bill's junior. He also knew there was a lot of bad blood on that side of the family and that Fliss had never met her maternal grandparents, even when they reached out to her later down the line. She had rather impolitely told them to fuck off, Verity doing the same. When asked by Mary why she hadn’t forgiven them as they were family, Fliss had shrugged and simply replied that family isn't and never would be about blood, but instead it was about those people who saw you at your absolute worst and wanted you just the same. "You've nothing to be sorry for.” Frank gently soothed her, “And you're not on your own. You never will be." "I know." She looked up at him, smiling as he gave her a soft kiss.

Things continued much the same for the rest of the week. Every so often Fliss would get a twinge, and the pair of them would get excited, thinking this was it, only for nothing to happen. On the Friday, almost a week post her due date, Frank called the midwife who arranged for them to come in the next morning. Evelyn, who was being particularly helpful, even if Frank was loath to admit it cooked for them all that night, but Fliss had struggled to eat her meal, declaring she felt a bit sick. After a profound apology to Evelyn she announced she was heading for a bath and then going to bed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Frank asked and Fliss shook her head.

“It’s not even 7. I might be back down in an hour or so if I feel better.” “Ok, can you manage-“

“Frank!” she said, exasperatedly. “I’m fine.” “Well, you’re-“ he began and Evelyn laid her hand on his arm and shook her head gently. For the first time in, well, as long as he could remember, he obeyed an order from his mother and stopped. “Alright. Just shout me then if you need anything.”

She gave him a kiss on his cheek, her way of apology for snapping and headed off.

“You won’t need that appointment tomorrow.” Evelyn said after a pause and Frank turned to her.

“What makes you say that?” “Because I felt the same the day before I went into labour with you.” Evelyn said “Queasy, tired, just generally off.” “Well, I hope you’re right because she’s fed up.” Frank sighed “He’s fully cooked now, just being a stubborn little bastard.”

“What was it you once said to me about an apple and a tree analogy?” she looked at him, arching an eyebrow and Frank snorted.

“Yeah ok, you got me there” he conceded.

Fliss didn’t come back down after her bath. Frank popped in on her a few times and she was simply led in bed, trying to get comfortable, tearfully complaining that her back ache was particularly bad. Frank led besides her for half an hour or so, gently working at the lower part of her spine that was giving her the trouble before he realised she’d fallen asleep. He left her to it, heading back down to his mother and Mary, before a few hours later, just before 10, they all decided to go to bed as it had been a long day. Fliss didn’t wake up when he slid in besides her, nor when he dropped a kiss to her cheek. He watched her for a moment as she lay, facing him, before he too closed his eyes.

***** His baby was sat on his knee, grinning up at him. He smiled down at the boy, whose hands were wrapped tight around his index fingers. He glanced up, looking around for Fliss but there was no sign of her. Nor Mary for that matter. Hoisting Alex up onto his hip he headed out to the garden and gave a start as he saw both Fliss and Mary floating face down in the pool.

“No, no…” he began to mutter, before his muttering became frantic yells “No, this…not my girls…not…”

With a start, Frank sat bold upright in bed, breathing deeply. He glanced at the clock on the side which read 23:30, damned he hadn’t even been asleep an hour! What the fuck…

He wiped his clammy brow and lay back, feeling Fliss stir besides him.

“Frank?” she asked softly, “Are you ok?” “Bad dream.” He mumbled, turning onto his side and sliding his arm under her neck, pulling her back into his chest.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asked.

He shook his head with the air of a small child, pressing his nose into her neck, breathing in her smell and comfort. As he nuzzled at her, he felt her sigh a little and push back further into him.

“Stop it.” She muttered.

“Stop what?” he asked.

“That, on my neck…”

“Why?” He teased, his nose being replaced by his lips as he gently trailed open mouthed kisses up to her ear.

“You know why…”

“You ready to try what the midwife suggested?” he grinned, his mouth nipping at her ear and she gave a laugh.

“I'm willing to try anything. Just make it quick, I’m not bothered about coming. I only need your sperm.” “Charming…” he snorted as she gave a soft chuckle. His hand that had been resting on her bump softly moved down a little as he shifted, snaking his leg in between hers, opening her up slightly. He hooked her leg up over his hip, his fingers softly trailing up her bare thigh, shifting her sleep shorts to one side as he slipped his hand gently into her folds. She bucked harshly.

“Easy baby.” he muttered.

“Can’t help it.” she let out a soft sigh “Sensitive…” With a smile, he used his other hand to tip her head round so he could catch her mouth with his own, kissing her gently, his tongue softly sliding against hers, swallowing the moans and groans she was eliciting as he worked her with his hand. Had she been a little more with it, she might have been slightly embarrassed at how pathetically short a period of time it was before he had her clamping down around his fingers, shuddering as her release washed over her, but she was too gone to care. She’d hardly even come down from her orgasm when Frank eased her shorts down, then his boxers and with a gently push forward slid into her, the pair of them letting out hushed sighs as he began to slowly slide in and out of her. There was no haste to his movements, no rush, nothing, it was gentle, sweet, loving as he kept her held close to him, his lips lavishing affection on her shoulders and neck. Before long he heard and felt he breathing falling into that tell-tale staccato panting and she let out a low, quiet but downright filthy noise from her throat and Frank’s lips curved into a grin against her neck.

“Come on beautiful…” he mumbled, the heat in his own belly was sending spikes of fire up and down his body as he fought to keep control for a little longer “Come on.” And she did, her head tipped back and with a stuttering whisper of his name he felt her tighten around him, her legs quivering as he himself came, his hips slowing to a stop as he gently bit down on her shoulder. The pair of them lay still for a while, his hand softly curving up and around her bump, over her hip, down her thigh and back again, gently repeating the motion.

“You ok?” he asked and she nodded, humming in contentment. He pulled out of her, righted their items of clothing as Fliss hardly moved. He kept her pressed close to him as he closed his eyes, drifting off again.

He was woken 3 hours later, just before 4 am by Fliss shaking his arm.

“Frank…”

He groaned but didn’t open his eyes.

“Frank…Bean…I think he’s on his way…”

He let out a grin and turned over “My sperms worked then…” he mumbled into the pillow.

Fliss looked at him, waiting for the moment her words registered in his sleep-addled brain, which happened roughly 10 or so seconds later when he suddenly sat straight up, turning to face her.

“Penny dropped?” she asked arching an eyebrow.

He blinked “He’s…” She nodded, “Yeah…” He blinked again before he swallowed, and with a grin stuttered out a single word.

“Shit!”

**** Chapter 10

[skvaderarts]

Apocrypha Chapter Twenty Seven: Retribution

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Twenty Seven: Retribution

Notes: Ah yes. I’ve been waiting for two damn weeks for you all to get to read this one. This is going to be a wild time. Buck up and get ready for turbulence!

(-~-)

The air in the open cavern was practically statically charged as the three descendants of the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda navigated their way through the dense underbrush, their coats catching on every conceivable obstacle and slowing them down slightly. The eldest of the twins was clearly in a hurry for some sudden and unidentified reason, and seemed to be just shy of an actual panic fueled sprint, a fact that didn’t go unnoticed by his youngest son and his younger identical twin. Considering Vergil’s generally calm and collected demeanor that bordered on cold dismissal at times, this sudden uptake in barely concealed panic was actually extremely unnerving to his compatriots, especially Nero.

Although he had not spent his entire life around his father, Nero was keen enough to realize that Vergil shouldn’t be walking at what could be charitably described as a light sprint through an area that they had no familiarity with and that was inhabited by a sinister death cult that apparently served a particularly worrisome demon. He had warned both Nero and V against doing that very thing just before V had explained enough of his plan to them to get them to go along with it. If only they could go back to that more innocent time before all of this had happened. But perhaps it was better this way. At least they knew what they were up against now. That had been V’s intention in the first place.

Nero could practically still see the look on Vergil’s face when V had confidently advised the two of them that he planned to be captured so that he might learn more about the inner-workings of the cult that stalked him so relentlessly. Vergil had immediately objected, something that V seemed to anticipate. But he’d reminded his father that both he and Nero had made it into adulthood by going off of their gut instinct and doing what they thought was right. He’d rightly concluded that learning about their opponents could be invaluable, especially when it came to light that they might be more numerous than they had originally anticipated just a short while ago. And when V had reminded his father that they had agreed to work together in regards to solving this issue, Vergil had hesitantly caved, clearly regretting the statement.

Trusting both of his sons was something that he generally didn’t have too much of an issue with. They both came off to him as honest and deserving of his confidence in their capabilities. But when it came to plans that could get them severely injured or even killed Vergil was much less flexible. Nero could only guess that the eldest Son of Sparda had agreed to do so in the hopes that it might instill something in V. Perhaps to show that he had confidence in his ability to think things through in light of the stern talking to that he’d just give them both about wandering off into unknown situations and areas without a plan? That was all that Nero could glean from it. But regardless, he himself had been willing to do what V thought was right. He’d seen his intellect in action before in Redgrave City, and anyone who could stealth his way thought that forsaken hellscape by themselves with summons that he now knew he’d only just acquired was capable of making an infallible plan.

But how could any of them have planned for the eventuality that a super powerful demon might be bankrolling a den of somewhat capable summoners?

Nero certainly wouldn’t have. He’d never even heard of that type of demon before. A demon prince? Why was there more than one of them? Were they all related to one another, or was it a ranking that they had earned through power and intimidation or something of the like? Nero had no way of knowing outside of asking one of his companions, so he intended to do just that. But he got the distinct feeling that Vergil was in no mood to discuss the finer points of underworld leadership with him at a time like this.

“So this demon… Is he a friend of yours or something? You seem like you’ve met him before.” Nero said as he approached Vergil from behind. The devil slayer had halted his ceaseless march through the thick underbrush in favor of simply cutting through the section they were facing. Why go the long way around when you could go through, especially when so much was at risk and they were seemingly so far from their destination?

Vergil swung the blade once, at least from what Nero could tell. A moment later, the tall pine tree in front of them toppled over noisy and crushed a nearby boulder, cracking it down the middle. One could only assume that the element of surprise was no longer his father’s main concern. That fact alone was enough to put Nero on edge, but the fact that Dante seemed to be waiting for a reply didn’t help. The youngest of the three normally looked to the two oldest members of his family for assistance with matters he didn’t know about. This was one of those matters. The realization that Dante didn’t seem to know either startled him. Having to possibly go up against a demon that only one of them knew anything about wasn’t the kind of bet he liked to take these days, especially after how spectacularly bad things had gone just two months prior.

“... We’ve had occasion to interact with one another. He’s a rare breed, both cunning and capable, with the patience to sit and wait for an opportunity for as long as he deems necessary. But when he decides to strike…” Vergil stopped talking for a moment, seemingly considering something. His lack of comfort with the situation at hand only grew stronger the longer he had to acknowledge the fact that things had come to this.” When I returned from the Underworld, I was in a considerably weakened state. Belial helped put me there. Doing battle against him at that point would’ve been foolish. The wounds he dealt me part of the reason I was so eager to reclaim Yamato upon returning to the human world.”

Dante let out a long, deep sigh, taking in the gravity of his older brother’s sentiment. It was not every day that he had to go up against the kind of demon that could give Vergil a run for his money, even if he was in a vulnerable state. Even at his lowest, the oldest Son of Sparda was far above the pay grade of the vast majority of Hell’s denizens. And the fact that he’d managed to actually wound Vergil to the point where he had to basically make a tactical retreat to the human world to escape him didn’t bode well.

“What do you think he wants with V? Did you throw some of those fancy insults his way and manage to rile him up or something? Because if he holds grudges anything like Mundus did...” Dante started and then trailed off, not even slightly interested in revisiting that chapter of his life. He had enough things to worry about at present without adding his past transgressions to them.

Nero gave them both a sideways look, internally questioning himself as to what the hell they were both talking about. “Who’s Mundus?”

The younger member of the group could practically feel Vergil die inside at the mention of that name. For a moment, he seemed to visibly recoil in discomfort at the prospect of talking about it. That alone was enough of an answer for Nero, at least for the time being. After all, they were going against this Belial and his right hand man Agreus, right? This wasn’t the time to have things get bogged down in the details. All he needed to know for the time being was who to put a bullet in, and how many it would take to put them down for good so that they could leave this place and it’s problems behind them. V didn’t need to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder in anticipation of another attack, and they didn’t need to be constantly worried about him.

“You know what? Nevermind. I have a better question.” Nero said as Dante turned towards him, seemingly about to answer in his older twin’s stead. The demon hunter in red nodded as if to ask him to continue.” How would this demon even know about V? I mean, you said you fought him before, but you didn’t even know about us back then. How could he know V existed without you knowing first?”

Vergil stayed quiet for another moment, felling another thick section of the almost maze-like section of woods that they found themselves in at the end of his razor sharp blade. He looked just about ready to simply fly over the area and search for V that way, but he hadn’t made the decision to do so just yet.

“I knew about him. I didn’t know about you. And I have no theories as to how he found out.” Vergil said in an almost resigned tone. With the revelation that Belial was their opponent, ever passing second felt like an eternity. He needed to know that V was safe, and that was not something that he could achieve from this distance. ”As for a reason for him to do this... I don’t have one. Belial is above things as petty as grudges. He cares little for minor infractions. He only surfaces when he wants something from-”

As if he’d been hit head on in the face by something, Vergil stopped dead in his tracks. In that instant, he figured out what it was that the cult might be after. And the very idea of it was enough to send him into a frantic roulette of negative possibilities, reducing his mind to little more than a revolving door of nightmare scenarios. As if to compliment the hopeless atmosphere, the conduit suddenly let off another shockwave of energy, this one considerable stronger than the last. The trees bend backwards far enough to touch the ground and the cavern shook violently as parts of the cave shook violently in response to the blast, sending the three devil hunters backwards onto the ground with a thud. An audible screech somewhat akin to the sounds that Gilgamesh had made during Nero’s battle with it in Redgrave City rattled the air around them, irritating their ears somewhat.

Just a second later, a second, decidedly different shockwave erupted across the landscape, not so much shaking things as much as it seemed to bathe them in a dark energy. It was thick and fleeting, only lasting a moment before dissipating. The major difference was the effect it had on the descendants of the Dark Knight Sparda. For a brief moment, the three of them triggered before reverting back to their more human forms and leaving the trio as startled as they were disoriented.

Before any of them could climb all the way to their feet, the sound of metal bending against its will followed by a loud, blood curdling scream echoed through the space between them and the conduit, earning a startled look from Nero as he took a moment to consider what might have just happened. Vergil seemed literally frozen in place, be it from disbelief or terror he couldn’t say. His father’s face was literally unreadable. But Dante’s reaction was a bit easier to gauge. The devil hunter in red practically burst into laughter, shaking his head in what had to be disbelief as he clambered to his feet and adjusted his posture before summoning his blade and walking in the direction of the commotion. Vergil slowly adjusted his posture and joined him, although still with a certain degree of hesitation that Nero found unsettling and hard to quantify.

“... What the fuck was that?” Nero asked as he followed along after them, the group now speeding up their pace in silent acknowledgement of the situation and it's possible consequences. The youngest of the three could swear he’d felt something like that before, but couldn't pinpoint the precise moment when he’d experienced it. But regardless, he couldn’t help but notice it. There was a certain uncanny familiarity to it that he’d be remiss to overlook. And he had a feeling he was about to find out what it was.

(-~-)

For a moment, V’s entire brain seemed to lack the ability to process the gravity of the injury that had been dealt to him. He blinked slowly, not so much feeling his heartbeat as he was hearing it. The same went for his breath as he drew in slow, deliberate drags of air in a desperate attempt to not teeter over the edge into unconsciousness. His sight was crystal clear for the first time since he’d been brought down there, and that was mostly due to the fact that he was in such an astounding amount of pain that he was probably staring straight up in the air with an exasperated look on his face that would honestly be quite funny if it wasn’t due to the fact that he had a knife stuck between his trapezius and his clavicle.

And he absolutely did despite every wish that he had otherwise.

In all honesty, he’d expected of the deranged madman to stab him in the chest or cut his throat, but the idea of being stabbed downward in the space between his shoulder blade and his throat had never crossed his mind. And he was now positive that it was his least favorite place to be stabbed, because to say it was excruciating would’ve been an undeniable understatement. His entire chest and throat area on his left side felt like it was on fire, and he was pouring blood from the severed artery that had been severely punctured by the blade. V wouldn’t have been shocked to find out that the blade had narrowly missed his heart or the top of one of his lungs due to the angle and the length of the blade involved, especially since it was still stuck in his shoulder. Should he consider himself lucky or cursed?

Content with his handiwork, Agreus had simply dropped him onto the ground after he’d stabbed him, the aura of pleasure that radiated off of him at the sight of V so near death unmistakable even through a featureless mask. And as he laid there, not entirely sure how he was going to get out of that situation, a low, barreling, and entirely inhuman voice came from within the conduit behind him. And it seemed thoroughly displeased.

“You are entirely too eager to please me, servant. I told you I needed him alive!”

Agreus backpedaled slightly at the statement, clearly rattled. “And he shall be, Master. I simply had to be sure. What are a few wounds to one with the blood of a devil coursing through their veins? Even one as weak as this boy?”

V would’ve vocalized his feelings about such a statement, but he couldn’t find the mental energy to. The only thing he could feel aside from the lethargy that came with the massive blood loss he’d suffered through was the sensation of something powerful welling up from within him. The latent power that he’d felt activate when he’d first been brought near the conduit seemed to trickle down through the rest of his body, and now it was spreading like a wildfire. As Agreus and the disembodied voice spoke to one another, V teetered ever closer to the edge, but what that edge was, he couldn’t say. The murky depths beckoned, and he was tempted to give in to that call if only to quench the all consuming fire that burned within him. And to fulfill his desire for revenge.

“Do not assume to know how my kind function, servant. You are not one of us. Now give me what I came here for and leave before you prematurely deprive me of what little usefulness you still possess.”

The young summoner could practically feel Agreus flinch at his master’s order before he bowed and turned to face him again. V was actually somewhat surprised to see that the demon that the cultist served seemed to actually think less of him than he did. In truth, he didn’t know how that could even be possible. “As you wish, Master. It shall be done.”

V wasn’t sure what caused it to happen, but the moment that cultist in white stepped towards him, something inside of him shifted. The thin line that he’d walked for the last little while practically snapped and crumbled beneath him, sending him plummeting into the darkness that he felt welling up from within him. For a brief moment, V closed his eyes. And as he reopened them, he caught a glimpse of Agreus as he stopped dead in his tracks in stunned terror. And then all hell broke loose.

With a sudden cascade of power that he couldn’t honestly believe had originated from him, a shockwave of black and green energy erupted from within him and shot out across the entire area on a collision path with everything in sight as he was overtaken by the overwhelming force of nature that was his initial transformation. The metal loop that had previously bound him suddenly felt like a cheap toy in comparison to the  rush of strength and adrenaline that he’d been hit with. He had no idea what he was capable of doing in that moment, but one thing was for certain: he knew he could break free of his restraints and give Agreus a taste of his own medicine.

And he planned to do just that.

It took basically no effort for him to snap free from the restraints. The metal pulley strained against his resolve and crumbled shortly after. It had only been strong enough to hold him when he was in a more vulnerable state, but in that moment, it lost the battle and toppled over against the ground, slamming onto the stone surface of the altar with a powerful thud that sent the cultist toppling over. Since V was already on the ground, it took very little effort for him to grab a hold of his aggressor and pin him down with his right arm. Unfortunately, the muscles in his left arm still burned painfully.

As if instinctively, it occurred to V in that moment that he still owed Agreus a parting gift. He had made the decision to give as good as he'd gotten, and he intended to make good on that promise. In an act born purely of his desire to help educate his captor as to what it felt like to be stabbed in the leg with a ceremonial dagger, V used his right hand to grip the handle of the bladed instrument and pulled it from his neck in one swift, painful moment. Regardless of his extreme discomfort with the action, it had to come out one way or another. He then immediately turned the blade on Agreus and stabbed him in the upper thigh in precisely the same spot that he'd inflicted his wound and withdrew the blade, keeping a grip on it. Although he now possessed a set of razor sharp claws and fangs, he was aware that possessing a knife was an advantageous strategy, even if he was far from proficient with one.

The cultist cried out in pain and jumped to his feet, stumbling back towards the edge of the conduit as it split down the middle, black energy still radiating from it. V somehow managed to drag himself to his feet, but found that he was far from steady as he stumbled forward and fell over to one side, making impact with the ground again. He winced at the unwanted contact and attempted to stand back up, intent on finishing off Agreus before he could make his escape. Just as his long, needle-like nails made contact with the cult leader’s exposed neck, the man in white stumbled back and crashed through the rift in the conduit. The collision triggered some sort of adverse reaction that caused the rift to crumble as it sent forth another powerful shockwave, sending V flying backwards into the shallow black waters of the corrupted pool.

Upon landing in the cursed black water, V gasped and jumped back out of it, his strength and triggered state rapidly regressing as he dragged himself over to the edge of the stone tablet and towards what he assumed to be the exit. As he went, he pocketed the blade and caught sight of the book that the cultist had been carrying. Unwilling to pass up an opportunity to examine it if he made it out of the collapsing cavern alive, he slumped over and picked it up, tucking it away for later. He had entrusted his own book to Vergil back at the entrance before they'd enacted the plan, so he had more than enough room to store it on his person.

The cavern crumbled around him in small sections as the conduit continued to shudder and buckle, breaking off into pieces and falling in the pool of water below. V gradually slowed as he went, despite the fact that he was attempting to move quicker in order to escape. Where was everyone? Had they been led astray by the vast network of tunnels that snaked through the earth to reach this place? One could only hope that wasn’t the case. And even if they were with him, would they see him in the pitch black darkness of the cave? He was soaked head to toe in a mixture of the black liquid from the conduit and his own blood, much to the dismay of the non-sentient white shirt Kyrie had talked him into wearing. At least it was now a color more to his liking.

Every cloud.

His injured leg and neck burned as he limped along, more or less unsure as to where he was actually going. Despite the fact that more light was being let in from the holes in the roof of the cavern, his own vision was dimming. Without the extra dose of adrenaline in his system from his involuntary trigger, he was hopelessly low on blood and the energy to carry on much longer. The only upside was that his injuries had ceased bleeding during his transformation, the rush of demonic power more or less acting as a band-aid during the process. His body had patched itself up as much as it possibly could given the circumstances, but he knew that he was still wounded and weak. He couldn't last much longer in such a state, especially lost and alone with nowhere to go.

What he wouldn’t have done for Griffon to be by his side.

Or his cane...

Or for the energy and know how to trigger a second time.

He was almost certain that he’d possessed wings for a moment.

Just as he reached a small open patch in the underbrush, a familiar voice called out to him. V glanced up from the ground he’d been too weak to look up from and shuttered slightly at the sight before him. Standing across the clearing from him were Dante, Vergil, and Nero, more than likely just as surprised to see him as he was to see them. Upon catching sight of the sorry state that he was in, they rushed forward to meet him, and not a moment too soon. Vergil managed to get within an arm's reach of him before he crumbled like wet cardboard in a storm and his legs buckled, sending him crashing face first into his bewildered parent.

Vergil kneeled down to make eye contact with the young summoner, allowing him to simply slump over on him as he caught his breath. Although he was not unconscious, it didn’t take a particularly keen eye to realize that there was no way he was walking out of there. V had long since reached his breaking point, and there was no going any further. The devil slayer in blue took a moment to quietly take in the sight before him, the gravity of the situation not lost on him. Although he didn’t say it (or anything at all) as Vergil quietly placed his hand on the back of V’s injured shoulder to covertly assess the damage, he was quite proud of him for making it as far as he had with so little still left in him. Anyone present could tell that he'd struggled considerably to arrive at the location that he had in such short order, especially without the assistance of his family. V’s true strength came from his willpower and refusal to lay down and die at the hands of his enemies, and Vergil couldn’t help but respect that. It was a similar sentiment.

“... You should rest. Do not try to get up.” Vergil said almost breathlessly, relief settling over him and he turned towards Dante and Nero. The two of them had been standing a few feet behind him, giving them the space that they clearly needed. “Take him for a moment.”

Nero stepped forward without any form of hesitation, no consideration for the heart attack all the blood he'd be soaked in as a result would probably cause Kyrie when they next met passing through his mind. He would worry about that when they were out of there. Dante hovered around the three of them, trying and mostly succeeding in his attempts to hide his concern. His body language gave it away more than anything else. The devil hunter in red was simply relieved to see that V was still breathing, especially considering how bad he looked. There really was something to him, wasn’t there? While he had no idea what had transpired down there, he knew what had just happened to V. All of them did, though the younger of the twin Sons of Sparda wasn't entirely sure if Nero had clued into it just yet. That kind of power was unmistakable.

Vergil took the opportunity to unsheath Yamato and open up a portal to another location before turning towards Nero and Dante. “Go. I’ll take him.”

The two shared a curious look before wordlessly following his lead. This wasn’t the time for questions, and wherever the gate led had to be better than where they were, if only for the fact that it probably wasn't a collapsing cave. As soon as they’d passed through, Vergil kneeled over and brushed off the breathless attempt that V made to offer to stand and simply scooped him up, carrying him bridal style through the portal. The young summoner attempted to protest for a moment before caving to his father's silent demands. V closed his eyes and finally allowed exhaustion to settle over him in earnest, letting out a sigh of relief and discomfort. There was no point in trying to accomplish anything else, not with the state he was in.

As Vergil approached the portal, he paused for a moment. The desire to go and do a quick check of the area to try and assess what they'd been up to was almost overwhelming, but he knew that V couldn't spare that kind of time. He would have to return after he'd seen to it that both of his troublemaking spawn were somewhere less hazardous. A quick glance down confirmed that V was still conscious, though less so than he had been moment's prior. And in that moment, it seemed that the cold irony of the situation settled over the Darkslayer. Vergil had followed through on his prior threat back at the hotel after all.

He’d found something to carry after all.

(-~-)

Oh, boy, this is going to be one hell of a comment section. I’m excited and scared to see what everyone is going to say all at once. It took me so long to write this chapter that I can’t even put it into words. Thanks again for all of you awesome support, and I’ll see you next Wednesday! I’ll keep you posted on my possible upcoming work hours. I’ve been off work since before Soliloquy started, but I’m going to try my hardest to keep the same upload schedule. Wish I could just get paid to stay at home and write for you all!

[joeycupcakerichter]

Zach Dempsey v Cyrus - Crying Lightning

A/N: So I’m going to put this out there, first off. I don’t know exactly how I want this to end. I’m just kinda letting this one flow through my fingers and into existence so this is very much so freeform. That being said, I am very open to input and feedback if anyone would be so interested. 

Pairing: Zach x Reader, Cyrus x Reader

Warnings: Lots of depressed mind imagery, might be kinda heavy as I based actual events from when I was in school for this one. 

Word Count: 1652

Masterlist

Another weekend, another night stuck at home while everyone else frolicked and partied. You missed the long nights at Bryce’s, though admittedly you didn’t miss the painful hangovers that came with it. You’d fallen asleep with Zach Dempsey more times than you could count, after long nights of talking about nothing in particular and lugged Justin Foley back to a bed with a waste basket and a bottle of water after many a heated battle of beer pong, usually becoming more and more extreme with every reset.

But those days were over now. When Hannah’s trial began, it alerted your parents to goings on at the Walker Mansion and sent them into a frenzy, declaring you were relegated to your bedroom every weekend until graduation. They tried to convince you they weren’t mad, that they did the same thing when they were teenagers but the firm foot down approach they regarded the weekend with made it feel more like a punishment than genuine concern for your safety.

Every weekend, you were left to watch your friends party it up, only the less and less detailed play-by-plays to keep you in the loop every Monday as Jessica fixed her makeup in the bathroom before school.

“We really missed you this weekend, (Y/N),” she’d lament the first couple regalings. Justin’s Beer Pong elbow was getting rusty without a proper opponent, apparently and Zach was often found moping around when it died down, with no one to unload the myriad of drunken thoughts that would weigh him down as the night wore on.

As people normally do, they moved on without you. The parties died down without Bryce’s luxurious manor to use as host and you stopped finding Jessica in the bathroom. If you were honest, it broke your heart. You considered these people your friends but it seemed life could just move on as though you’d never been there. Anger welled in your gut at your parents, unfairly blaming them for putting you on lockdown when you hadn’t done anything wrong. Isolated and alone, you found yourself trying to fight off the feelings of hopelessness as life continued to press on.

“Hey, (Y/N), you finished with that?” a voice asked from behind you. You turned to step out of the way of Cyrus, who looked down at the printer expectantly. You nodded distantly, moving away from it and returning to your desk to straighten out the printed off sheets of the essay you had all too much time to work on. Cyrus’s eyes followed you back to your seat, turning to watch as the printer shot out his own work.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he said again, appearing at your side, reading over the paper in his hand, “I think you left these on the printer. Gotta have those sources and citations.” He held out your missing pages, watching you carefully as you took them silently. “You okay?” he asked hesitantly, raising an eyebrow as he surveyed your face.

“I’m fine,” you croaked, unable to meet his gaze as you cleared your throat, embarrassed.

“Where are your friends? Usually don’t see you sitting all alone,” he remarked, his eyes finding Jessica Davis and Zach talking against the wall in hushed tones as their eyes darted around the room.

“They’re not my friends anymore, I guess,” you shrugged, letting your eyes wander over to the two in time to see Zach stand sharply and stalk back over to his desk.

“What do you mean?” Cyrus asked, breaking your gaze as Zach caught your eye.

“I mean, we don’t hang out anymore. I guess they’re still technically my friends, but I don’t see them much anymore since the trial,” you explained, trying to keep the irritation out of your tone.

“So you mean to tell me you’re an outcast now?” Cyrus asked, sitting down at the desk in front of you and turning to face you.

“I guess so.”

“Well then, I have excellent news for you, (Y/N),” he grinned, ”My friends and I would love to have you join us,” he announced proudly. You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion. “We specialize in outcasts, I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”

“N-No, don’t you take pity on me,” you grumble, returning your eyes to the words you’d written and then reread a thousand times.

“I don’t take pity, (Y/N),” he assured you. “Look, offer stands, find me at lunch. I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Without another word, he stood sharply, heading back to his own desk, leaving you to stare at the back of his head in confusion.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” a deep voice asked behind you, making you jump. Turning around you find Zach watching you intently. You groan at the sight of him, turning back to face the front of the classroom.

“I’m fine Dempsey, you really don’t have to worry about me,” you murmur, flipping through your agenda and finding the first page to start doodling on, focusing your anxiety anywhere other than the six foot two walking emotional crutch sitting behind you.

“I-I’m sorry I haven’t been around much, Chloe-”

“Are you guys finally together? It’s about time,” you chuckle a little too enthusiastically to mask the pain rocketing through your stomach.

“T-Together? What? We’re just friends,” he explains indignantly, almost as if he’s confused by the implication. 

“Bryce is gone, I figured you’d finally go after her after moping about her last summer,” you remarked, rolling your eyes as your pen dug into the paper just a little harder.

“I-I wasn’t moping about her?” he shot back, “Bryce ra- Bryce hurt her and I was worried about her,” he hissed, coming mere inches from your ear. The bell ringing was music to your ears and gave you the out you were desperate for.

“Whatever you say Dempsey,” you smiled sweetly at him, “I won’t lie though, I miss talking to you. Too bad you just never had enough time if you weren’t drunk.” Grabbing your bag, you stormed out of the room almost plowing right into Tyler, who looked terrified as you apologized and breezed past him to the library.

The tall shelves offered you the best privacy you’d find in the entire school. Zach had gotten under your skin and every time you thought you were done shedding tears for him, more still surfaced. As you slid down against the back wall, you did your best to be as silent as possible as you sobbed for the heartache that never seemed to dissipate.

“H-Hey, (Y/N), right?” a hesitant voice asked gently. A girl you recognized as Cyrus’s sister Mack stood in front of you, holding her arm awkwardly as she shifted in place. “W-We could hear you- I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Why is everyone so worried about me?” you cried out, frustrated despite yourself. Sniffling as you wiped your tears away, you pulled your knees to your chest. The knowledge that people had heard your emotional breakdown left you feeling exposed and vulnerable and this girl, this absolute stranger checking in on you made you feel like a freak show in the worst way.

“H-Hey, just come out here and sit with us,” she offered gently, holding out her hand to help you up. ”We’ll keep you company and if you want to, you can talk to us. No judgement,”

“I-I’ll be alright, I promise,” you tell her dismissively, shaking your head.

“Look, he’s gonna be mad I told you this, but Cyrus is worried about you,” she confessed as she watched the bookshelves warily. 

“Why in the hell is he worried about me?” you laughed incredulously, “Cyrus doesn’t even know me. Since when does he care about has been popular girls?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Mack prodded gently, holding her hand out again. “Come on, I promise we don’t bite.”

Sighing deeply, you wipe the remaining tears away and push yourself up off the floor. Mack led you back out into the main seating area and you’re grateful to find mostly empty, save for Mack’s friends and Clay Jensen studying with his headphones in.

“(Y/N)! So good of you to join us,” Cyrus welcomed you dramatically. Your entire body tensed as Cyrus’s friends looked you over, “You’ve met Mack, this is Chad, Toby and Eric.” He pointed out his friends as he listed their names off, leaving you to nod politely at each one.

“Come on, sit down,” Chad said, pushing a chair out for you as he continued surveying you.

“Don’t worry about Chad,” Mack assured you, taking her own seat, “He’s as gay as they come, he’s just trying to figure you out.”

“Let me guess. You were abandoned by your friends because you weren’t down with the shit they were into,” he guessed as you finally sat down.

“Chad, seriously, leave her alone,” Cyrus reprimanded him as you squirmed under the intense line of questioning. Chad raised his hands in surrender but the urge to flee back into your corner began overwhelming you.

“It’s okay, Cyrus,” you assure him, turning to Chad, “After Hannah’s trial and the tapes my parents decided it would be best if I didn’t go out on the weekend. I kinda just got left behind.”

“That’s shitty,” Eric interjected leaning over the table, “Friends don’t just abandon friends.”

“Apparently when there’s secrets to be shared and you can’t be involved anymore they do,” you sigh, pulling your phone out of your pocket slowly as a distraction only to find a text from Zach.

“Can we talk later?”

You stare at the phone, ignoring the debate at the table as you tried to steady yourself. Why was it today of all days that everyone had become so interested in your presence? You could feel Cyrus’s eyes on you as you typed out your response.

“Bleachers, after school.”

𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓸

[70swonderpoisonstark]

Wait, you survived? ( V )

// You and Steve survive the plane wreck and end up seventy years in the future. Everything’s different and the only person that understands the confusion and pain of losing your entire world is your now dead husband’s best friend. When the two of you are forced to adapt to the world around you, things can get complicated. //

 “If you love someone, tell them.

                         For hearts are often broken 

   by words left unspoken.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Buildings were falling, crashing onto the streets. Aliens flying everywhere. You and Steve were helping civilians get inside or underground. Trying your hardest to keep everyone safe while also fighting for your lives. Your shots were dead on, head shots killed aliens just as effectively as they killed Nazi's. You went down the streets, rushing people away from the action while aiding the team with killing down the numbers. You'd lost Steve at this point, you'd been running up and down the streets, listening for the sound of Tony's blasters as you vigilantly fought the hoard of creatures that had been released through a giant portal in the sky. You were in the main part of the city, at the center of the action, punching, kicking, flipping through the air as you avoided being dusted by the alien weapons.

Steve watched helplessly as you were cornered time and time again by the horde that was unleashed on the city. He tried to fight his way over to you, but they kept coming, pulling him away from you. There were too many, they'd never make it out of this alive if they kept coming at this rate. Giant centipede-from-hell creatures filling the skies with fury, destroying everything in their path, releasing more aliens onto the ground. It was hopeless, but you kept on fighting, with the rest of them.

Energy blasts were coming from every direction, time itself seem to slow as you dodged blast after blast, shot after shot. Pure adrenaline forcing every move you made. Instinct driving you to fight, kill, survive. A crash a couples miles away lead you towards the rest of the group. You circled up, watching as more of them came out of the giant blue hole.

Steve ran off, helping the local police align their plan with his own. Saving the people was what mattered right now and he had to focus.

You fought alongside Natasha and Clint, dropping alien bodies as quickly as they came. Thor made an electrifying entrance, and Steve finally made his way over to you. He looked you up and down, checking for any obvious injuries and silently panicking about you being non-enhanced and not an assassin. He couldn't stop the fight to physically check you over, but by God that would be the first thing he did when this was all over.

Dr. Banner had finally showed, driving on a beaten down motorcycle. His look of shame had been replaced with strength. He seemed ready to do what needed to be done, and make up for his past mistakes in New York. He was ready to be the hero he had always been.

"That's my secret Cap, I'm always angry." A devastating blow demolished the skull of whatever armored alien whale, causing it to fall literally head over heels onto you guys. Steve covered you and Natasha as it came crumbling down. Igniting a fury in what was left of the aliens as they screamed their battle cries at the top of their lungs. Steve took the lead, shouting out a plan as the group fanned out. You, Steve, and Natasha stayed on the ground, taking out as many aliens as you could, bouncing creatures between the three of you as you tired out, working in unison as you ripped throats out. Natasha bounced, clasping onto one of the hover machines being flown by the aliens, flying off to God knows where. You and Steve stayed behind, throwing each other looks as you fought side by side, fighting memories as you kicked ass. They'd redone both of your original suits, his was more vibrantly star spangled and yours a much more abstract collection of dark navy, maroon and gray. It was hard not to imagine the two of you doing the same thing all across Europe before the fall as your moves synchronized together. Every crippling blow, every strike of the feet and hands, it was impossible not to see the symmetry you possessed on the battlefield; mirroring each others move without even a glance.

Steve focused on his fight, shield, punch, hit, uppercut, roundhouse. Fighting his way through squadron after squadron of evil. How was he reminiscing and battling at the same time? Aliens mirroring HYDRA goons time after time, the howling commandos behind and around him, you and Bucky on either side, taking down foe's with ease. His heart ached for the old days when the whole team was together, he'd have something smart to say to Dum Dum, only to be reminded that you were all he had left. He had to adjust to the times and realize he was fighting aliens, not Nazi's.

"Captain, the bank on 42nd past madison. They've cornered a lot of civilians in there." Clint radioed. He looked at you, torn between leaving for another fight or staying here with you.

You grabbed two aliens by the back of the head, breaking their necks in one swift pull forward as you looked at Steve. "Go! They need you, I can handle myself."

After a brief hesitation, he left to defend the civilians, all the worry for you pushed to the back of his mind as he found another clan of invaders. Silencing a bomb as he resourcefully kicked tables and mantles to take the aliens off their feet. Taking the full force knocked him out the window, and shortly he found his way back to another fight.

You looked up just as Tony had flown into the belly of the beast, shortly blowing himself up and flying out into the street.

"Try not to die, Tony. I haven't had a chance to clown your tech yet." You shouted as you continued to fight. He'd smashed into a few signs, slightly injuring himself but accomplishing the task at hand.

"I can shut the portal down." Natasha yelled throughout the comms.Finally, victory was in sight.

"Do it!"

"No, wait." Tony exclaimed, his voice strained from all the damage he'd taken.

"Stark these things are still coming!"

"I've got a nuke coming in and it's gonna blow in less than a minute." Was the last thing you heard before you saw a hundred pound nuke being flown into the sky by none other than Tony Stark. He barely missed his own building, and you heard the cheers of the city as the nuke passed through the wormhole. You and the team knew it was a one way trip, but they didn't. They hugged their coworkers and their families as you watched Tony sacrifice himself for the world. You couldn't move as you watched the portal collapse with Tony inside, as the opening narrowed slowly, Tony's armor nowhere in sight. You wanted to cry, but forced yourself to have hope that somehow he'd show up. The aliens around you powered down one by-

You inhaled sharply, knowing the intense feeling too well, one of the Chitauri had managed to stay up long enough to sneak attack you, driving a blade clean through your abdomen, the blade sticking out the back, you tried to radio for help, but just as the alien soldier fell, so did you.

Steve and the team moved to corner Loki in the tower, you weren't responding, but your coms may have been damaged in battle so there wasn't anything to worrisome about that. Thor handcuffed him with asgardian cuffs, and shortly after muzzled him. The team was given assignments and handed equipment off to other agents as they slowly cleared out the room. Thor kept Loki guarded, with the magic that was entwined in his cuffs he wasn't going anywhere, but nobody was willing to take their eyes off him regardless. Steve went to coordinate search and rescue making his way down the stairs, starting with the Stark tower to look for any survivors. He wandered around the city in a two block radius from the tower, knowing eventually you'd make your way there even with busted comms. After his check he asked the team if anybody had seen you, told them to scan around and see if they could see you walking around lost. Nobody had seen you since Tony fell the first time. A gut feeling told Steve something was wrong, and he frantically searched the surrounding area, praying you were only mildly injured, even though the voice in his head was telling him otherwise. Clint was the first to speak, and his words froze Steve in his tracks.

"Cap. I found her, but you're not gonna like it." And just like that Steve's heart stopped, his blood chilled as he listened, no details nothing as he sprinted to the nearest window. Clint gave him your location and Steve found you immediately.

"Tony. (Y/N)'s down. I need medics on 40th past the deli." Tony didn't bother radioing back as he quickly armored up and flew to where you were, he collapsed next to you, taking his helmet off as he felt the sting of each of his own injuries. He checked your neck for a pulse, hearing the sirens and knowing Steve was on his way, you had to be alive. He held his two fingers on your neck, praying to feel something, anything bounding around. He was dizzy himself from his fall, so keeping focus on something as simple as seeing if you had a pulse was hard when he could feel his own beating his skull. Tony used all his strength to to focus on you, pressing deep down onto your carotid. His head dropped, nothing. With the puddle of blood around you it didn't shock him, but he knew it would unravel Steve. He'd lost hope knowing the reality of the situation was heartbreaking, and then he felt it. Nothing strong, but he felt a slight pressure against his fingertips. You were holding on, barely, he heard the sirens getting closer but they needed to get there soon.

Steve's knees hitched as he saw you, blade impaling your side. You're unconscious body laying on its unaffected side, the sword holding you up unevenly.

"Is, Tony is she.." Steve couldn't breathe, the sight in front of him made him dizzy, he ran five feet and threw up, staring at your pale body he doubled over, hands on his knees. He couldn't force himself to believe the sight that was so real in front on his eyes. He dropped to his knees, grabbing your hand as he watched your chest with scrutiny. You were struggling, but he could see your breathing, it was definitely not as much as it should have been, and your chest shook with every half breath you took, but it was something, right?

"Tony, tony, she, she's not, she's gonna be." He pushed your hair out of your face, you'd taken a beating and a half and still you were the most beautiful woman in the world. He held back the tears he so desperately wanted to cry.

"Steve, it doesn't look good, but let me handle this, I promise I'll do my best." Steve couldn't let go, you were all he had, you were everything, and now you were dying in his arms. He was helpless yet again, watching another person he loved die before him.

Cheeks stained with silent tears, you used what was left of your strength to squeeze Steve's hand, he knew you loved him, he was your best friend, but you couldn't leave him, not like this. Stark pulled you from him and disappeared into the sky. Blasters the last thing Steve saw before he broke. Sight going black, the last thing he see's is Natasha running his way.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

//There goes Tony being the most selfless person on the planet like ALWAYS(Tony Anti’s will be blocked SNS) You’re kind of a badass huh? Who knew, oh wait, YOU DID BECAUSE YOU’RE FUCKING AMAZING AND I LOVE YOU SO NEVER DOUBT YOUR SELF WORTH BECAUSE YOU ARE ALWAYS IMPORTANT, ALWAYS LOVED, AND ALWAYS HAVE A PURPOSE AND A REASON TO BE HERE AND ALIVE NO MATTER WHAT. FIGHT LIKE HELL, BECAUSE AFTER YOU SURFACE AGAIN NOTHING AND NOBODY CAN FUCK WITH YOU. BE PROUD OF YOUR SMALL VICTORIES AND NEVER DOWNPLAY YOUR EMOTIONS. YOU. ARE. VALUABLE. AND NOT BECAUSE OF WHAT YOU CAN DO, JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE HERE, ALIVE, AND BREATHING IN AIR. YOU MATTER, ALWAYS, AND FOREVER. Sorry for the all caps rant but my own personal anxiety/depression has been kicking my ass so I know there’s others who may need to hear that. If anybody reading this needs to talk to somebody, or just vent to an unbiased person I am MORE than willing to be your sounding board. No issue is too big or small. Message me, please. I know what it’s like to have all these feelings and emotions and not have nobody to tell them too because they wouldn’t understand or you don’t wanna be a bother or it’ll go away eventually. SO TALK TO ME, if I can’t help you’ll at least be able to get it out.//

//You guys are going to love this! This is such a fun story for me to write, and all the positive feedback is really helping, so thank you all for your likes and reblogs, every one of them brings a smile to my face and makes my day. Let me know what you guys think, what you’d like to see, what you don’t wanna see, and some crazy vocab words and I’ll write accordingly, thanks for the read, and HAPPY SPOOKY SEASON!!//

[borisbubbles]

ESC2019 Preshow #02

02. ICELAND  Hatari - “Hatrið mun sigra” SemiFinal 1, #13

The general sentiment towards Hatari appears to be polarized and I think this is a good development: Opinions on Hatari should never come without controversy! “Hatrið mun sigra” is loud and aggressive and taking an utter piss at the contest. 😍

Even I wasn’t fully onboard for a while. Mind, I have always liked “Hatrið mun sigra”, but it was a default favourite, since Friðrik and Hera were both terrible (seriously, how does one, let alone TWO, downgrade from Iconic Europulp to boring (and in Hera’s case, thin)!!! GTFO out, NOW!!!) and it being Iceland, I had resigned myself that one of them would win. Once I saw the live performance at the finale, my Hatari love hit full throttle and there rest is herstory.

ENTRY ANALYSIS

OOOOOOBVIOUSLY I love Hatari um HELLO??? Like, industrial punk BDSM extravanganza with a *KILLER* key change 😍  by nihilistic men who wander around aimlessly in mullets and blue tracksuits 😍 whose main goal is to bring forth of the end of capitalism and plunge the world into an utter dystopia 😍

 “Hatrið mun sigra” is a SPECTACLE. The visuals, the yelling, the key change (Klemens’s voice is  E V E R Y T H I N G), the casually manhandling each other in front of thousands of people <3 Naturally, a lot of people do not like it but I mean, weakness won’t be tolerated. Capitalism and Hatred won’t be defeated by tossing flowers at them!!! 

Of course Hatari are the subject of many a misconception. “God they’re so fake, it’s a constructed persona!!” well, d’uh? What did you expect? That they spend their daily lives manhandling each other, dressed up in leather & chains or monotonously droning about how supermarkets are direct portals into hell? “They will ruin the integrity of the music contest and make everything political again” wait, WHAT??? A) of all when is Eurovision NOT fucking political, and B) of all, their *song* is the protest, you fucking moron. There is no better way of protesting than to get those you protest AGAINST to cheer for you!!! (Better than harassing people on Social Media, take note Roger Waters). 

“Hatrið mun sigra” is not spreading hatred, it is the harbinger of what will happen IF hate is spread:

HATRED WILL WIN

AS LOVE DIES,

AND JOY ENDS,

FOR THEY ARE ILLUSIONS,

 A HOPELESS PIPE DREAM

HATRED SHALL PREVAIL!!!

And I mean why not, in this post-brexit, post-trump, post-bolsonaro, post-isil dystopia of a world!! It’s a relevant message!!! Their intent is good, back up off them!!!

This is normally where I would place and NF corner, but I’m going to going to bother lmfao. Let me instead take you on the ~Entire Hatari Experience~ train, which matches (and trancends) the song in epicness. Every Hatari interview we get is a delight in its own right, so I’ll spend my bandwith on those instead. Challenging Bibi to a wrestling match, winner gets to set up a BDSM colony in the loser’s land 😍  Irritating the shit of their fellow Söngvakeppnin finalists by doing hammy shit like this

(Annoying Hera SO much she cannot resist mockingthem <3)

Or like the time they spent an entire VT matter-of-factly dismantling everything wrong with western society over an indifferent slice of cake (featuring my future ex husband (um he doesn’t know it yet (well he does *now* I guess)) Fannar Sveinsson)

Or fuck it, just this entire fucking interview lmfao

“We feel that the echoes of populism are growing ever more loudly” lmfao . Every Hatari moment is like watching a satiral sitcom unfold before our very eyes. They’re full of shit. They know it, you know it, I know it. And nobody (of relevance) gives a fuck that they are <3 It’s important to note here that Hatari have genuine respect for Eurovision though, unlike a certain someone. Hatari aren’t here to destroy Eurovision, but to enrichen it with their delightfully abrasive presence. I guess at the end of the day, Love truly is Forever And Everyone, y’all.

Qualification Odds: Guaranteed Qualifier.

The curse will finally be broken <3 I mean, it’s well deserved too, Hatari are probably the best Icelandic entrant since Yohanna (or since ‘Never Forget’if you purely count the studio versions of songs).

But first, a digression :o

Nomally, the fan community is divisible into distinct fanbases. You have:

- The Shippers who spin entire erotic fanfics about their fave contestants in the darkest dungeons of the innerwebs, 

- The Fangirls who flick their beans at any conventionally attractive male,

- The Basics who love their bangers pre-packaged and ready-made 

- The Fraus/Husbando’s for whom Eurovision is a family experience, 

- The Eurosnobs who claim to watch Eurovision for music but are secretly the most shallow of them all 

- The Casuals who tune in on Saturday night out of habit, mostly because their parents are Fraus

- The Silent Introverts, the young people who do not comment but lurk by the sidelines reading any articile they can get their hands on

- The Geriatrics, basically the older version of the introverts (usually due to technological impairment, rather than shyiness) 

- The Junkies who live and breather Eurovision and talk about it hours on end (guess which demograph I fit in) 

Bringing this up because most entries can be shoehorned into 2-4 demographs that will love it and usually one demograph which will not care about it. 

Now, back on track with the actual analysis:

Hatari aren’t like most entries because because they both appeal and turn off members of every demograph, which I think is a fantastic quality in a Eurovision song. It’s good to be polarizing, because it creates an intense following that will result in a lot of televotes (and haters are irrelevant because you cannot vote against entries you hate). 

I’ve mentioned in Duncan’s write-up that I’m not ~entirely~ feeling him as the winner and now I can reveal why: I have always had Hatari as my predicted winner, ever since they won Söngvakeppinin. Those who say they can’t are closing their eyes to the truth. Hatari follow the recent winners trend the closest of any entrant in this year: strong concept, stronger execution, colourful personalities, memorable gimmick and quickly turning in the social media darling of the season: just like every winner from Loreen onwards has. They can still get screwed out of the win by juries, but... Jamala and Netta aren’t exactly jury-friiendly entries and they were top 3 anyway? lol. Hatari *are* the natural favourite to win ESC. Mark my words, sheeple. Hatred SHALL prevail. 

Projected placement: 1st-3rd in the semifinal. When they qualify, Hatari will finish 1st-6th  CONGRATZ TO THE WINNER OF MY PRESHOW RANKING

Dropping the entry later today~

Link to the masterpost

[carrdas]

( @rutalonidir )

IT WASN’T OFTEN THAT HE  smuggled for the upper echelons of a planetary government; most of his business in the seven or so years since he’d gotten started had been for smaller, more marginal groups. Independent contractors, refugees, perhaps a larger contract with one of the mining guilds or a Separatist world but -------- to be employed directly by the ruler of an entire planet?       War, it seemed, made it possible for all rules to be shot out the access hatch.       Mandalore was an interesting place, to be sure. The people were proud, & more often than not aggressive. They didn’t ask for help, & they certainly would never admit they might possibly need it. Yet here he was, smuggling in items that were hard to come by on the usual markets. Items that would have been bought with no problems not so much as a year ago.       Whatever else it did, war certainly disrupted lives. And planetary economies.       He supervised the final unloading of this particular shipment, nodding in acknowledgment as Mila gave him the all clear. He took a moment to check in with the three other ships, all at different ports in the capital city of Sundari, & make certain that they’d also completed their drop, then turned off his comlink & walked over to the regal figure standing at the edge of the landing pad.       His own personal ship had made the delivery here -- at the palace. It was, again, unusual. But as long as he & his people were getting paid, he couldn’t really be asked to dictate what his clients wanted.       “Your Grace,” he called, waving a hand to indicate that he was coming over, “it’s all accounted for, all across the city.” 

[sweetcatminteareblog]

Wip tag game

Thanks for the tag @rosemarymilktea​!

I’m going to go with A Hare’s Worth because, despite being the newer of my Wips, I’ve done more actual writing for it <u<;;

Describe the plot in one sentence?

Marcos is doing his best despite his anxiousness and having to deal with his well-meaning but depressed and alcoholic mother, but every time he thinks things can’t possibly get any worse, they do. 

1. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic for your novel.

Sight: The first beams of sunlight after a natural disaster. 

Smell: The scent of home that you never notice until it’s not your home anymore.

Sound: Your heart beating in your ears as you lay awake at night.

Feel: Thick fur blankets on a very cold day. 

Taste: Baked sweet potato and cinnamon.  

2. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

Rockabye - Clean Bandit 

Brother - Kodaline (It’s more the vibes than the literal lyrics. The video might make you cry.)

Carry on - Fun

Relax, Take It Easy - Mika 

Float on - Modest Mouse

I Do Adore - Mindy Gledhill

Hopeless Wanderer - Mumford and sons 

That pretty much sums up the whole plot :3

3. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place?

It’s in a low fantasy country Yonder. It’s more western in culture and the time period is not very defined. Technology varies from 1960s-esk to modern depending on how close you are to the capital. 

4. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

I was originally thinking Hare-Hearted Man but prefer A Hare’s Worth. 

5. What’s the first line of your novel?

Ever since he could remember, Marcos had been worried. He worried about anything and everything and nothing at all. 

6. What’s a line of dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

“Will! Will! This is Marcos! He’s very very quiet and he likes foxes and I’m a fox! It’s great! And this is Miss Marcos’s Mum, Bridget! I think she’s nice! This is Will! He’s my big brother! He got to pick his own name! Isn’t that awesome! I like Xavier though so I’m keeping it! Sometimes he works a lot and-” Not going to lie, I love working with Xavier. He’s an earnest chatterbox who loves connecting with others. 

7. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this. You’re just a boy.”

8. Who are your characters’ faceclaims?

I don’t really do face claims. My characters just look like themselves, y’know. Although, if you want to see what they look like, search their names in the tags in @sweetcatmintea :)

9. Sort your characters into Hogwarts houses.

Gryffindor: Xavier, Will, Xavier’s Mumzie (Doesn’t have a name yet) 

Slytherin: Mary (I guess?) 

Hufflepuff: Marcos, Hazel, Bridget 

Ravenclaw: Whitney, Frederick, Xavier’s Mama (Doesn’t have a name yet) 

10. Which character’s name do you like the most?

Xavier is one of my favourite names

11. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

I’m only doing the main pair because it’s getting late. 

Marcos - He wears long baggy pants often, along with wide necked tshirts and ponchos. He sticks to warm browns and tans as his main colours palette. 

Xavier - He likes wearing shorts and hoodies but will mix it up as he sees fit. Sometimes Mary will loan him one of her skirts if he promises not to ruin it. He likes to wear green because it’s Will’s favourite colour. 

12. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Xavier and Marcos both end up with facial scars. Whitney has three dark freckles/moles on the left side of her face, one on her cheek, one near her nose, and one above her eyebrow. Xavier’s hands are a darker pigment than the rest of his skin thanks to his fox taint. 

13. Which character most fits a character trope?

Xavier is an energetic side-kick I guess.

14. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Frederick secretly writes romance novels and has the most practice writing. Xavier has a lot of stories but has no time for actually writing them.

15. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

The worst is Hazel, simply because it doesn’t occur to her to do so. The best is probably Marcos.

16. Which character swears the most? Least?

None of my characters swear :v

17. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

Xavier’s is the worst, Marcos’ is the best. 

18. Which character is the most like you? Least like you?

I’m pretty hesitant like Marcos, but that’s as far as it goes. Probably least like Xavier.

19. Which character would you most like to be?

Oh gosh, considering I know how their lives turn out, probably Whitney. Working in a tea shop sounds nice :)

Tagging ->  @morenerdthanperson, @zakurujayimagine, @kainablue, @inkovert, and @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword

[sterlingsilverarchive]

◣ F I V E   T H I N G S !!  ◥

fill in the categories with 5 things that your character can be identified by. repost, do not reblog !!

TAGGED BY. @queenofsinnoh​ TAGGING. Who likes gray-scale- 

✖   I. EMOTIONS / FEELINGS.

01. Confident 02. Upfront 03. Calm 04. Competitive 05. Amiable

✖   II. GREETINGS.

01. More than likely no matter who you are, he will shamelessly ramble unless you actually try to stop him / tune him out, then he’ll shut up.  02. With greetings with strangers he’s a lot more relaxed if he’s by himself away from Devon Corporation. A lot more casual. In business mode though he’s a lot more prompt and ‘matter of fact’.  03. He won’t acknowledge people that have hurt him with anything more than a cold glare, as if expecting them to go on with what they want to say. Other than that he would rather spend his time somewhere else. It’s either that or he uses the business manipulative style of talking to get them to kindly ‘fuck off’.  04. In battle Steven gets a lot more talkative if he’s surprised. If he isn’t surprised or feeling the battle, he’ll mainly stay silent unless given a reason to talk. Reason for this depends on concentration levels and focusing on different battle tactics.  05. With someone he loves, Steven’s a lot more softer toned / mindful. He knows how to bring forth the ‘i’m here and I care’ tone and he’s a lot more attentive with them compared to other people. 

✖  III. COLORS.

01. Cyan blue 02. Silver / silver blue 03. Steel  04. Royal purple 05. White

✖   IV. SCENTS.

01. Outdoor Pine 02. Coffee 03. Subtle Cologne  04. Cold metallic  05. Probably rocks 

✖   VII. VICES / BAD HABITS.

01. Easily can fall off the face of the Earth without a trace and pop up suddenly in a matter of minutes.  02. Smoking; once in a blue moon but is more prone to smoking if under a great deal of stress and anxiety.  03. Wary; More towards people he doesn’t know, he doesn’t trust easily (but will put on a face if he has to) 04. Dark humor; more if he’s in a grave mindset where everything is hopeless. Very rare, but it’s still there.  05. Depression; Something he keeps to himself. It can cause him to push people away, recoil into himself, and avoid anything except tasks. More or less becomes self absorbed into his grief until he snaps out of it. This makes it hard for him to open up to anyone, he doesn’t like to be viewed as weak. Refuses to eat. 

✖   VIII. BODY LANGUAGE.

01. Standing up straight, hands behind back.  02. Chest puffed out in pride. 03. Touching his chin, head tilting in thought most of the time. He’s a thinker.  04. Hands in pockets and weight shifting, he’s becoming annoyed or impatient.  05. Direct eye contact- unless he’s lying, then he doesn’t bother. 

✖   IX. AESTHETICS.

01. Gems and Stones  02. Sleek Sharp Steel  03. Advanced Technology   04. Luxury 05.  Endless Wandering through Terrain

✖   X. SONGS.

01. Interstellar - Main Theme - Hans Zimmer   02. Feeling Good - Michael Buble  03. Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling 04. Destiny - Vanessa Mae 05. That’s What I Like - Bruno Mars

[phgq]

A ‘vaccine’ for illiteracy: Fighting an invisible epidemic

#PHnews: A ‘vaccine’ for illiteracy: Fighting an invisible epidemic

MANILA – Ryan V. Uy is a wanderer, public speaking coach, illiteracy terminator. His advocacy to put an end to illiteracy in the country is an inspiring story in these challenging times.

Ryan left his hometown in South Cotabato when he was a teenager. Back then, he was already a DJ at a local FM station and worked part-time as a professional emcee and a trainer in public speaking.

He roamed several cities in the country, taking up different jobs and confronted different challenges, but ended up in Manila in search of a better life, only to be mugged the moment he arrived.

Since then, Ryan’s life in the big city has been extremely difficult. He was jobless and lived on the streets with other people with the same plight, facing constant hunger and grappling with hopelessness.

“I witnessed with my own eyes how some of my good friends on the streets started losing their sanity,” he said.

Ryan somehow survived.

Spending what little amount he earned for food, Ryan, who was fond of reading, once saw a book sale and stumbled upon Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist.

“I was never the same after I finished reading that book,” he said.

Encountering the Filipino literacy problem

With his resilience, Ryan, who has a bachelor’s degree in political science and English that he earned from the Notre Dame of Marbel University in Koronadal City in 2006, was able to build his life back up and continue working as a professional speaker.

Based on his life experiences, he became a speaker in seminars that covered a wide range of topics, among them personal development, program implementation efficiency, language and communication skills, and career development.

He was also behind the establishment of several public speaking and debate clubs of many schools in Cavite province. This led to the first Cavite-Wide Asian Parliamentary Debate Championships.

Eventually, Ryan was able to establish his brand of reading and communication skills development to Filipinos nationwide, through his organization called New Horizoom Academy.

While working in New Horizoom Academy, Ryan was shocked when he encountered Grades 3 and 4 students in a private school in one of the cities in Cavite who still had difficulty reading.

When he asked the teachers to bring in their “worst cases” and apply all the programs, methods, and interventions, they were all unsuccessful.

Ryan visited numerous schools and found out that the country’s education system needs a generally prescribed, comprehensive, and sustainable reading program.

The illiteracy terminator, Ryan V. Uy teaches day care teachers how to teach basic reading in Bongabon, Nueva Ecija on Oct. 15, 2020. (Contributed photo)

While teachers are passionate about what they do, they suffer from their excessive workload and need more support. And without the right tools, Ryan said teachers would not get their desired results, no matter how hard they tried.

“Hiring consultants who have diplomas from schools in America won’t help solve the reading problem in the Philippines. Learning institutions, including the Department of Education, must hire curriculum developers who have worked widely and closely with real students who are considered as worst cases. Proposed solutions must be (a) reflection of the real situations on the ground,” he said.

When it comes to solving problems and making real change happen, Ryan said one must first identify the problems and come up with solutions, through trial and error.

“So, I decided to take the bull by the horns. We tossed the usual reading books aside and decided to build our reading program from scratch,” he said.

The illiteracy terminator

And so, Ryan set out to work on his program.

Instead of helping out the usual “average students”, he went out of his comfort zone to focus on struggling students and worked with them for hours.

“I decided to create one that can deal with worst cases of non-readers. I figured that if the program we were creating back then could help learners who were classified as ‘worst cases’, teaching the rest of the learners will be a much easier feat. As it turned out, we were 100-percent correct,” he said.

Ryan was able to see one of the major problems behind the failure of the old and existing programs.

Many of the current reading strategies, he noted, do not effectively pave the way for language development, including the use of the Dolch word list.

It is good that the Dolch list uses sight words, but because it was based on American teaching styles and language phonetics, it does not come naturally to Filipino kids. Most of these words and sounds have no practical connection to a Filipino child’s understanding of their world, so it becomes mere memorization of words and sounds.

Because of this teaching style, even when the students are able to read and write, they would still struggle in comprehension and expression.

Without real understanding of the words and syllables, there is no retention, and it is thus not sustainable.

A reading session with a 16-year-old differently-abled second-grader at 7-11 in Barangay Sungay East, Tagaytay City. (Contributed photo)

Based on these insights and observations, Ryan developed his reading program.

Initially, it was a success but as he encountered more students with different problems and needs, he also tweaked his program based on his experiences with them.

Luckily, Ryan was also able to receive significant help from one of the Department of Education (DepEd) coordinators, who knew the situation on the ground.

She shared her observations and recommended a unique approach to solving the monstrous illiteracy problem.

With her help, Ryan refined his program, aka the “Illiteracy Terminator”, as he incorporated all her suggestions.

“The thing that came out after we stirred all our insights together was nothing short of magic. We knew back then that we’ve discovered something of great significance. It wasn’t a walk in the park. We had to go beyond the extra mile. We had to burn the midnight oil. But, as they say, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory,” he said.

Eventually, it got to the point where the success rate of the program during trials was already exceeding expectations.

The Illiteracy Terminator is ready and it is about to terminate the invisible epidemic that is illiteracy.

While other programs produce results that would take several months, or in some cases, even years, Ryan’s Illiteracy Terminator unbelievably produced significant results in just a few days!

The main difference between the Illiteracy Terminator and other programs is that it helps Filipino students crack the literacy code within days. In a few weeks, they become independent readers.

It is a full-circle literacy program that deals with the practical difficulties in reading, and it numerically and objectively quantifies each student’s progress.

This way, both teacher and student could easily keep track of their obstacles and successes, having more control and insight in their learning experience.

Light of literacy

Ryan never stopped modifying and fortifying his program.

Instead of sitting in an air-conditioned room and strategizing how to improve his program, he spent countless hours working with countless students considered as the “worst cases” or the “hopeless” ones.

“In spite of the extraordinary results we’ve had, we look at the program still as a work in progress. For us, our program is a masterpiece in the making – not just another job requirement with a deadline,” he said.

Using this ingenious program, Ryan and his team started in public schools in the cities of Cavite.

One of their most memorable experiences happened in Alfonso, Cavite in September 2019.

One of the school district supervisors in the province asked all school heads in their municipality to bring their non-readers to the district office.

When they got there, Ryan and his team taught the teachers how to operate the Illiteracy Terminator. This was to ensure that they apply the process correctly.

However, before the session, Ryan asked details about the students the teachers decided to bring in. They had one thing in common – for various reasons, they were all regarded as irremediable and the worst.

“As if it just happened yesterday, I could still remember a kid who was too scared that she was shaking pitifully. While waiting for the impending results, the apprehensions were so strong that we could almost touch them,” he said.

Despite the uncertainty and tension, the anxious little girl and the other students quietly went through the entire process, as the teachers patiently applied Ryan’s prescribed steps.

Suddenly, the onlookers went into joyous applause when the anxious little girl began to read her first set of words.

Ryan V. Uy, founder of Horizoom Learning Solutions and author of JOYRIDE TAYO SA PAG-BASA and SPEARS (Speech & Pronunciation Enhanced Accelerated Reading System), pose with Mayor Corie Poblete of Silang, Cavite, district supervisors, and reading coordinators after the turnover of reading materials for 6,000 struggling readers and non-readers at the Silang Central Elementary School on Sept. 15, 2020. (Contributed photo)

Her teacher teared up in joy as she embraced her. She went up to Ryan in gratitude and said, “Sir, I thought she was hopeless.”

“The spark in their eyes and the smiles on their fragile faces never fail to make my eyes well with tears. At first, on our part, it was really a nerve-racking experience. But the experience of seeing those kids step into the light of literacy for the first time is just surreal,” he recalled.

Ryan said this was just one of the countless beautiful stories of children experiencing the light of literacy for the first time.

From the dark to the world out there and beyond

With this discovery, Ryan was able to help countless children see the light of literacy and communication.

“Illiteracy is a dream killer. It dooms people into a life of poverty and crime. Education, employment, and business opportunities around the globe are language-intensive,” he said.

Today, he said, the English language is the formal and professional language used in most institutions in the country and worldwide.

But many Filipinos struggle to read, write, comprehend, and express themselves using this language.

With Ryan’s reading program, which highlights the practical language value of words, students and young learners will start developing their proficiency in English early.

He explained how the decoding process in reading is the most important step for a child to develop good comprehension and expression skills later on.

“Now, if we want learners to develop better comprehension, they have to get out of the decoding stage as soon as possible – the earlier, the better. Efficiency in comprehension can be compared to efficiency in boxing. The earlier you get into something, the better you become at it,” he said.

As many students from private schools also struggle in these areas when entering college, Ryan has set the groundwork for the illiteracy termination in the country, hoping that many would rally his cause as a true service to Filipinos.

“Illiteracy doesn't stand even the slightest chance against our program. With God's help, we can get rid of this invisible epidemic within a few years,” he said.

Ryan said his group is now in talks with several local government and education officials who similarly value early childhood reading as an important part of educating students, particularly young learners.

“If we want our country’s future to be bright, we have to start leveling the playing field. We have to start early and give everybody equal opportunities to succeed in life. Acquiring literacy is the first best step towards a better Philippines,” he said. (PNA)

(NOTE: The writer, Louis P. Morente, is a psychology graduate and former vice president and president of the student council of Kalayaan College in Quezon City. He has worked with the Philippine News Agency for several months as a correspondent before entering college.)

  ***

References:

* Philippine News Agency. "A ‘vaccine’ for illiteracy: Fighting an invisible epidemic." Philippine News Agency. https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1133390 (accessed March 14, 2021 at 04:45PM UTC+14).

* Philippine News Agency. "A ‘vaccine’ for illiteracy: Fighting an invisible epidemic." Archive Today. https://archive.ph/?run=1&url=https://www.pna.gov.ph/articles/1133390 (archived).

[dennou-translations]

Violet Evergaden: Chapter 9

Please feel free to message me about possible corrections. If you can, support the creators by buying the official releases here.

← Previous || Index || Next →

The Groom and the Auto-Memories Doll

The Morning Moon ascended in azure. Its faint form was not enough to overwhelm those who lived under the light of the night sky’s Moon. However, just as the full moon, the moon of a gentler color that melted into the sky had a charm that would stop time and make people contemplate it. Combined with the pastoral poem-like landscape of prairies and small flowers that spread beneath it as far as the eyes could see, it was like an illustration out of a fairy tale book.

“Mom.”

Amidst such a heavenly scenery, without so much as batting a lash at the moon, a young man ran about intently. In his extreme hurry, he had dressed himself in a pair of pants and a shirt. He wore nothing but that.

The area was named Eucalypt Basin and had plenty of undeveloped land, with the distance from town to town and village to village being of about half a day. Regular service vehicles passed by only once a day, and if missed, local residents and travelers had no choice but to rely on their own feet or other means of transportation. Looking for a person in that world of rice fields seemed easy considering the small number of obstacles, but in reality, it was not.

“Mom!”

The amplitude itself was the main hindrance when pursuing someone. Thorough searches took too much time. It was difficult to notice even if a target moved from the place being looked through to another.

“Dammit, why did things turn out like this...?” the young man impatiently wiped the sweat trailing down his forehead with his shirt’s sleeve.

The feet that had been running in the fields until then had slowed down, only walking, and eventually stopped. Perhaps as he did not have time to put on shoes, he was barefoot. His feet bled, maybe from having stepped on twigs or rocks. Was the one he looked for worth a chase obsessive enough for him to acquire such injuries? The youth himself incidentally wound up reflecting on it.

In spite of the question that had been born within him and the lack of a precise answer to it, the young man resumed running. The small white flowers he stepped on were dyed in blood. The dismal pain braked his thought process.

“Call... my name, Mom.”

Should he go back or not? Abandon the one he searched for or not?

“My... name...”

If he were to choose not to, he simply had no choice but continue looking. In such circumstances, indecision was the biggest waste. For instance, perhaps a clue could be found those infinite fields.

“Ah.”

A dark red ribbon suddenly flew into the youth’s vision. The red fluttered into a world of nothing but greens, blues and whites. In front of him, a red unlike the one from the blood he had shed gently flowed in the breeze. Instinctively, he stretched his hand out to it. He slowly took into his palm what seemed like a present from the heavens.

The young man turned his head towards the direction of the wind. He could see silhouettes. They were the figures of a few people surrounding a motorcycle. One of them had left the spot and was running towards him. Once closer, he could tell it was a woman. On top of that, she had a captivating beauty. Her golden hair hovering amongst scattering flower petals, she stopped before the youth and stared intensely at his face.

“Hum...”

Her blue orbs held a mysterious charm and made him feel as if they stripped him naked.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance. I rush anywhere my customer desires. I am from the automated dolls service, Violet Evergarden.” Like a puppet, she bowed gracefully.

Much like her appearance, the sound that came out of her finely shaped crimson lips was lovable and pure, but the contents of her words were mismatched for such a place. The young man was no customer of hers either, nothing but a stranger.

Perhaps thinking the same as him, she corrected herself, “I made a mistake. Pardon me. This is like an occupational disease; I end up automatically saying my introduction speech to whomever I meet for the first time...”

“No... it’s okay. Erm... I’m Silene. Could this be yours?”

As she nodded mutely, Silene handed her the ribbon. He himself was surprised at how much he trembled as their fingertips touched. Although covered by gloves, her fingers felt stiff and were obviously not human.

“Here you go. Also, there’s something I want to ask. I’m looking for someone...”

“A silver-haired woman in her 60’s who specializes in hairdressing?”

“Y-Yes. My mother used to work as a hairdresser in the past... How did you...?”

The girl held down her hair, unraveling in the wind due to being untied, and pointed at the direction she had come from. Despite hardly visible because of the distance, a short person that he believed to be his mother was there.

“We were looking for you as well.”

No matter what she did, she was a woman beautiful enough to become a painting, Silene thought.

The ones who had taken care of Silene’s mother were an Auto-Memories Doll and a postman in the middle of a journey. It seemed they were on standstill as their motorcycle had malfunctioned, and had sighted his mother wandering around the meadows.

“She said she was going up to the mountains to look for her husband and son. It’s weird for someone to be walking around wearing rolls at early morning, right? We were already having problems, but when people see someone even more troubled than themselves, they stay composed. V.” while fumbling with the defective motorcycle, the man opened a hand towards the young woman.

“My name is not ‘V’. It is ‘Violet’.” Placing her side-locks behind her ear, she squatted down. Taking a tool from a bag lying on the ground, she handed it to the man.

Ignoring her remark, he resumed working silently. “Take a look at V’s hair. She said it was pretty and asked ‘please let me touch it’, so we let her play with it just like that. I was caught up over here. V was entertaining the Granny. And then you showed up.”

“My mother... is a little... wrong in the head... We’ve caused you trouble.”

“Seems so... well, fellows like that aren’t rare. It’s easy for thoughts and memories to become confusing on their own. You don’t even have to be old for that to happen... It’s not working... Enough. Gimme a hand towel.” Easily wiping off black oil stains, he stood up.

He was a bit taller than Violet. His light blond hair was of a shade that resembled sand. His hairline was short, yet a part of his forelocks hung lengthier on one side. His cool, sky blue orbs bore thorns within their softness.

Just by looking at the curves of his body, one could tell he was wearing tight laser pants. In contrast, his upper part was clad in a loose spring-green shirt and suspenders. The heels of his boots were too tall. Said heels were cross-shaped. It was quite a flashy get-up. However, even if he took off all of it, he had the looks of someone that could effortlessly lead a woman or two by the nose.

“This... is completely hopeless. Out of all things, for it to break in the middle of this countryside that has nothing but grassland is just...” The man roughly wiped off a bead of sweat with his arm. He seemed rather fatigued.

“Benedict, I really should run to the city we parted from and request help. It is faster to go back than go forth.”

“Hum, then...”

Not hearing Silene’s attempted statement, the man – Benedict – scowled at Violet’s words. “Even if you possess a strength so ridiculous that it’s almost like a joke, there’s no way I could let a woman do that alone. Even if you say that way is closer, it’s still pretty distant. Also, the outcome would be that I’d be scolded by the Old Man.”

Violet slightly tilted her neck. “Is that so? Benedict, you are already clearly exhausted by the everyday postal deliveries and take on the additional duty of picking me up along the way, so in this situation, is it not better for the one with more stamina to make a move? Being male or female is unrelated. This decision is for the sake of our survival.”

“Hum, like I said...”

“Nope, I can already see it. Old Man going like, ‘Benedict... you... why did you make Little Violet do something like that? You made her run?’ and then criticize me about the manners of a gentleman that he’s so good at.”

What he impersonated with so much emotion was most likely an imitation of a certain postal company’s boss.

“You... will answer anything when asked, right? You can’t lie.”

“I do not lie to President. There are only truths in my reports.”

“Then, isn’t it no good after all?”

“I will tell the truth but I will give you cover, Benedict. I will say that I was the one who proposed it.”

“Your covering fire is the best when it comes to actual ammo but it’s fruitless effort when it comes to everyday conversations, so stop that.”

“Hum!” As Silene spoke loudly, the two finally looked his way.

Perhaps tired from walking so much, his mother was asleep as he carried her on his back. Violet brought her index finger next to her lips.

Silene smiled bitterly. “If you’re having a hard time, I’ll guide you to my village as thanks for taking care of my mother. Can you push the motorcycle? If you can go on pushing, it might take a little while, but I’ll show you to someone who can fix it.”

“You’d do that?”

Silene nodded. “The village is a bit crowded at the moment, so it will take some time... that’s right. If you could... stay there for a day, we could work it out. We do receptions as well. To tell the truth, a wedding is going to happen. In this region, whenever someone is getting married, the entire village gathers to open banquets. During them, we invite and welcome anyone. It’s coincidentally the best time to entertain guests.”

“Do you have drinks?”

“Of course.”

“What about dancer girls and good food? Also, places to sleep.”

“About women, erm... Mister Benedict. It would depend on you, but we’ve got everything else ready.”

After balling his fists and revering the heavens, Benedict turned to Violet and offered both hands. Violet stared at them fixatedly.

“You do it like this. Like this.” Benedict vehemently took Violet’s hand and made her raise it together with his. “We did it.”

“‘We did it’?”

“You don’t have to do that much.” Benedict laughed. “This is part of that thing called fate. I have no idea who they are, but let’s join the toast of this happy couple.”

Silene also laughed at Benedict’s words. Upon looking once at his mother on his back, his smile soon disappeared, but he forced himself to muster out a cheerful voice, “Yes, I’m from the household of this happy couple.”

The place Silene led them to was a village named Kisara. Its houses had been built as to form a semicircle. In its center was a hall with a stone pavilion and a well. Most likely, they were the only things in that space at first, but currently, a crowd crammed around the pavilion. It was filled with women to the point that one could ponder whether every woman in the village had assembled there. They were vigorously cooking and decorating the hall with ornaments.

Violet and Benedict observed the scene as if it were something unusual. As Benedict asked Silene where the men were, the latter pointed at a set of tents located just a little apart from the village. The lined-up tents made of colorful cloths shone outstandingly against the blue skies and green land. It appeared they were being put up to serve as temporary bedding for guests. By the looks of it, those people truly meant to warmly welcome whoever came by without rebuffing anyone.

For the time being, the group was headed to Silene’s home. The village’s only roadway was narrow and full of things – flowers blooming all over wooden vats placed by the front doors, dried crops, cats slipping past their legs. From somewhere in that midst, the sound of bells rang. Silene explained how several chimes that produced sound by colliding with each other upon being blown by the wind were the village’s specialty articles of folk craft.

Looking upwards, they could see cords passed through the houses’ windows across the street, from which their residents’ laundry hung. Chimes hung from them as well. Young girls chatting with one another pulled in the cords as though having fun. While they did so, the chimes simultaneously rang. When Benedict turned his gaze towards them, they let out a laughter akin to a scream and closed the windows.

The village had a tranquility that did not exist in big cities, characteristic of small communities.

Once they had passed the narrow road, it broadened at once, and beyond it was an isolated house that was bigger than the rest. Although not so well tended to, bushes of roses grew in its garden. Two anxious-looking women stood in front of the entrance.

“Aah, so she was all right?!” The one who rushed over as fast as she could was a middle-aged lady clad in an apron dress.

After a deep sigh, Silene spoke to her in a low tone, “Don’t ‘she was all right’ me. Are you okay with this? Don’t tell me this always happens...”

“Yesterday night, I had properly locked Madame’s room. Master, could it be you went there afterwards? Did you lock it? It only opens from outside.”

“That’s…”

“For the few years that everything has been entrusted to Master, I haven’t gone looking for Madame like that.”

“My bad. That was my bad...”

The air of their exchange could not be described as pleasant.

The other woman walked to Silene’s side. She had brown skin and gracious facial features. She bowed her head to Violet and Benedict, who wordlessly watched everything. It was then that Silene finally realized there was someone other than his relative beside him.

“S-Sorry... I’ll introduce you. This is... erm... the one who will become my wife tomorrow, Misha. And my mother’s servant, Delit. I don’t live with my mother. Misha, Delit. Those two took care of Mom.”

They understood how much the last statement meant they were supposed to show gratitude towards the duo with the expression he showed right after. Both Delit and Misha let them into the house as if dealing with saints. Following that, they had a busy time. The bride and groom, who were about to marry the next day, seemed to have greetings to give in various places, and so had gone out by themselves. They apologized for being unable to entertain the guests appropriately, yet Violet and Benedict were satisfied enough just by having a place with a roof to cool down at and saw them off without minding it.

As it was close to midday, the servant Delit treated the travelers to a meal out of consideration. Perhaps due to being significantly tired, Benedict wound up falling asleep immediately after eating, as if his battery had run out. At first, he had started nodding off, and soon, unable to withstand it, he rested his body against the sofa and closed his eyes.

The work of a postman consisted of all-day delivery duties. Moreover, he had driven to pick up Violet on the way of his trip, and as his motorcycle had broken, he had worried about the repairs, therefore becoming completely exhausted.

Seated on the same sofa, Violet silently allowed him to sleep by her side as he leaned against her, and once everything became quiet, she finally observed the environment. There were chimes on the house’s window as well. They rang in jingles. The sounds of Delit washing dishes could be heard from the kitchen. Along with Benedict’s sleeping breath, the afternoon of an extremely peaceful summer day ensued.

Albeit not feeling sleepy, Violet closed her eyes. It was as if she had come to know the gentleness of the sounds of everyday life composed her surroundings for the first time. Her new home, the Evergarden household, was a mansion which size could not be matched unless so many of the village’s houses were put together, and therefore, it was strange for her to be in a house where she could merely exist and relax without having to do any work. However, as soon as she heard a clatter coming from the front door, she reached for the handgun inside her jacket.

“My, my. Might it be the person that will fix the motorcycle?” her footsteps echoing, Delit walked up to the entrance.

Looking at her side, Violet could see Benedict thinly opening his eyes. He also had his fingers on his handgun. “It is all right to continue sleeping.” She told him, and he closed his eyes again as if relieved.

The two of them were slightly alike. Due to their hair and irises being of similar colors, they almost looked like siblings when next to one another.

Wondering if there were anything she could do to offer assistance, Violet was about to head to the entrance as well, but upon noticing that someone was calling amidst the everyday life sounds, her feet halted. She had heard it coming from the second floor. She then remembered that Silene’s mother had been taken to it as though being pushed back when they had arrived at that house. Climbing the wooden stairs, Violet stood at the corridor of the second floor and stayed put to listen once more.

“Darling...?” The voice of an elderly woman resounded. “Or could it be Jonah?”

She was most likely mistaking Violet for a family member.

“It is Violet. You tied my hair this morning.” As if replying to her, Violet whispered by the room’s door.

It was a small village, yet the banquet would gather all of it. One by one, they bowed their heads in gratitude to everybody. It was by the time the Sun had set that Silene and Misha had gone home.

“My, the bride is not from around here?”

“She understands our language. But her speech is broken. It’s cute.”

“Silene, treat her well. Doesn’t it feel like she can only rely on you?”

Giving greetings had not made him feel particularly disturbed, but after them, he was pryingly interrogated by older women about his fiancée, Misha. As Silene had done most of the talking on behalf of the timid Misha, who was not too good at conversations, his throat was parched.

“It’s gotten dark, huh?” Misha muttered curtly and Silene nodded.

The village would normally be calm at sunset, but today, it had been rather noisy. Everyone is was on festive spirits. Just when he was thinking that everything was for his and Misha’s sake, Silene had come to understand that a wedding ceremony was not only for two people. He then took hold of Misha’s hand in a natural manner.

“Fufu.” She let out a shy giggle. “The people of this village... are kind.” Perhaps feeling at ease when speaking only to Silene, she started talking. “My brother, who had raised me in place of our parents, passed away in the Great War. I’m glad I’m able to marry you. I was able to... have a family again.” She smiled bashfully. “Miss Delit is great at cooking. She has taught me what foods you like. Mother’s house... is big. It’s grandiose, and makes me think... that everyone can live in it.”

Although it was a peaceful chatter, Silene wound up coldly spitting out, “You don’t have to be so cautious.”

Misha’s stopped walking. Her hand, still connected with his, was pulled as he continued going ahead, causing her to stumble. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m... sorry too.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry... I said something... uncalled for. I... even... know... that you left that house because you hate it and your mother.”

What Silene had become enamored with in Misha was exactly that. She was honest, caring and kind.

“But, I haven’t properly asked why you hate them. It’s better to cherish your parents.”

And she had principles.

Sweat beaded in the hand he was using to hold hers. Silene wanted to let go to wipe it but did not do so, instead tightening his grip even more. He did not wish to instigate disgust in the person that would always be by his side from then on.

“Nothing... gets through Mom.”

Unlike Silene, who would not meet her eyes, Misha directed her gaze straight at him. “Yes.”

“It’s been that way since I was little. She isn’t like that because of her age. I used to have a father too, and... an older brother... but one day, my father took my brother and left.”

"Why...?”

“I was too small so I don’t remember it well. It was probably... the usual... their relationship as a married couple was bad. They... fought very often. I had seen either of them stomp out of home a lot. That’s why I thought he would surely be back soon that time too...”

But he had not returned.

——Back then, why did Dad take Brother and not me?

Was it because his brother was the firstborn? Their age gap was of only three years, yet he had always felt that his father would prioritize his brother in whatever he did. For instance, in the order of giving away presents, frequency with which he would pat their heads, or the difference of the words he used to praise them. From others’ point of view, none those would be a big deal, but children are sensitive to such things.

——I’m sure... he took the one he was most attached to. That’s what I feel.

“From that point on, Mom started getting weird. Slowly, slowly... she broke, like a screw falling off a machine. First, she started calling me by my brother’s name. Whenever I would say, ‘no, I’m not Jonah, I’m Silene’, she’d apologize and correct herself. But it didn’t stop at just saying the wrong name.”

Misha placed her other hand along the one that was joined with his. She was attempting to smolder the hardships that her lover had faced during his life. It was but a simple gesture, yet it made Silene unbearably contented. He was able to strongly reconfirm that it was something he had yearned for.

“Mom started to hallucinate that I’m either Dad or big brother Jonah.”

His past self did not have such joys.

“When she thinks I’m Dad, she scolds me while crying and hits me. When she thinks I’m Brother, she simply hugs me and asks where I’d been. This has continued on for several years.”

Silene did not think of himself as pitiful.

“But, see, when I got my growth spurt, I became taller. I actually don’t resemble Brother or Dad at all. I really... think that was... a good thing.”

However, he also did not think of himself as a happy one. In retrospect to his childhood, there was never anything enjoyable. He had to start working as his mother became unable to, and would be feeling miserable when coming home.

“I was free from being mistaken with someone else.”

It was a succession of occurrences.

“But then a new curse was cast on me.”

A sorrowful succession of occurrences.

“Now I’m the one that doesn’t know who I am.”

In order to put an end to them, he had to be apart from her.

“Mom also doesn’t know who I am. She only remembers the me from my childhood. Delit told me... that she’s been looking for me lately. Isn’t it... kinda laughable? I had always, always, always...”

Precisely because they were family, he had to be apart from her.

“...always been by her side.”

Although it could be considered heartless, that was the last thing Silene wanted to give up on. The villagers already knew, but it was his first time discussing it with an outsider. He had grown up, learned how to work, launched himself into the outside world, fallen in love with a girl he had found there and was at last freed from his sadness. He would not let anyone interfere with that.

“That’s why I won’t live with Mom.”

Silene was desperate to haul the happiness that he had finally managed to grasp onto with his own hands.

As they got home, Delit came to greet them outside with a, “I’ve been waiting for you.” She was holding several letters in her hands. They had brought about a huge incident in the absence of the two. Congratulatory telegrams from far-away friends and relatives who would not be able to make it to the ceremony had arrived.

The town Silene and Delit lived in was at a short distance from the village. He had actually wanted to hold the ceremony there and leave his mother out, but Misha had not agreed to it. “If you have at least one parent, you should show it to her,” she had told him. For that reason, the people they were currently associated with had become unable to attend.

“What should we do about these... according to marriage etiquette?” Silene coyly asked the old Delit.

“Well, they must be wholeheartedly recited. Haven’t you requested anyone to do that?”

Silene turned to face Misha. The couple had not been taught by the nearby elderly one about situations in which they would have to make requests and were unfamiliar with nuptial protocol.

“We’re in trouble... if it has to be someone from this area... maybe the lady from the general store?”

“No way... we can’t ask so suddenly. The ceremony is tomorrow.”

“Then, Master, this means you also haven’t thought about your love poem for the bride. You have to do that too.”

It was a traditional custom for the bridegroom reciting a poem written by himself containing his feelings towards his loved one in the middle of the ceremony.

“I was thinking about not making one since it’s embarrassing...”

“That’s no good! A wedding ceremony without that... would be a disappointment to the people invited.”

Upon being admonished with an incredibly threatening attitude, Silene shrank back.

“Holding a ceremony in our land means getting ready and spending efforts so that we can share a wonderful moment in exchange of being congratulated by many people. We cannot discard traditions. Everyone... is volunteering for a lot of things, aren’t they? That’s due to mutual support and encouragement. You’ll be damned if you don’t earnestly correspond to that sincerity.”

“B-But...”

Who in the world were they supposed to seek for help?

Perhaps as they were having a heated debate, one of their guests opened the window and poked her head out as if inquiring what was going on. She held a letter in her hand as well.

“Aah, isn’t there someone who’s just perfect for the job?!”

“No, but... they’re guests.”

“But she’s an Auto-Memories Doll, right? Isn’t recitation and writing their forte? Master, you can leave it to her.”

Despite Delit’s optimistic words, Silene’s constraint was more prominent, rendering him unable to say anything.

“I accept.”

“Eh?”

“I accept. I will take on the reciting and writing... as a one-night favor.”

Unexpectedly, Violet was the one to assume the responsibility. Not even a full day had passed since they had met, yet he somehow felt he would not be able to say such things himself. Silene thought she was a modest woman.

“It is an important ceremony, after all.”

The words of Violet Evergarden weighted heavily on Silene’s heart.

The bridal costume from the outskirts of Eucalypt Basin consisted of a red robe with detailed goldthread embroidery. On the bride’s head lay a flower crown, and a rose-colored make-up was applied on her eyelids and lips. In contrast, the groom was clad in a white robe. He carried a shield that represented the protection of their household and a small sword painted in gold, as it was a symbol of wealth.

The groom and bride walked receiving blessings from the people in the street that morning. Afterwards, a banquet was held in the village’s hall. The stage of the ceremony, which the female villagers had been preparing since the day before, turned out splendid. The hall’s pavilion was decorated with white and red roses and two seats made of vines were set up. A long tables and chairs had been lined up as to surround the pavilion and guests were already seated on them. They greeted the arrival of the young couple with applause.

Only on such day, those who would usually be working assiduously were also dressed up and participating. Gorgeous ornamental hats, vividly colorful dresses. And adults are not the only ones dressed up. The figures of children running and walking around with angel feather ornaments on their backs were adorable.

Once the ceremony began, an orchestra started playing and the food was served. Next, it was time to dance for a while. Initially, the women that received dance lessons displayed a group choreography. People gradually mixed up with it, but when the blond postman made his entrance, the cheers from female villagers rose. Benedict danced about brilliantly in boots much like the ones women wore, and, once he was done, rather than pulling him by both arms, young lady villagers as pretty as flowers cornered him from all sides and caused an uproar.

Violet Evergarden, who had offered to do the recitation, did not do anything as flashy as Benedict. She simply stood still and awaited her cue in silence. Perhaps because of her almost mystical beauty, she did not become a target of the men’s flirting, and not even a single person with enough courage to as much as talk to her had come by.

By the time it was finally her turn, she caused the attendees’ eyes to glue on her with the conglomerate of telegrams. There was not even any need to say “quiet down” in order to silence those who were causing a ruckus. So long as there was something that they wished to hear, people would fall silent on their own.

Regardless of the anxious couple, the ceremony went on free from disturbances for the villagers who were already used to it. Misha quietly whispered into Silene’s ear, “It seems this will end well, right?”

Although she was his own bride, she looked so beautiful that he was slightly startled when her face drew closer. “Yeah, really... this is thanks to the people of the village.”

“Your love poem... was wonderful.” After saying so, Misha laughed a bit. It was probably because his figure had looked funny in her eyes as he ended up mumbling the love poem he had dedicated to her, due to becoming stiff as a statue out of nervousness.

“Miss Violet wrote most of it, though...”

“That’s right. I had never... been told such things.”

“Don’t tease me so much... I’m no good with embarrassing stuff.”

“It’s great that we were able to meet such wonderful travelers. Mother also seemed to have enjoyed herself.”

“It’ll be good if that’s true.” Silene’s voice was a little down.

He had constantly prayed that she would stay put at least on that day, yet she had started aimlessly loitering around by the middle of the ceremony and begun looking for him by the latter half of it, so as per his request, Delit had taken her back home. As the villagers knew of the circumstances, there was no commotion on their part – rather, the one that had become disconcerted was Silene.

——So embarrassing.

He felt as if the most important day of his life had been ruined by his heartbroken mother.

——I’m glad that the one I married was Misha.

There were surely people who would have become irate had the same happened to them. Just as himself.

——I’m glad... that it was Misha.

Silene took Misha’s hand, tracing the wedding ring he had put on it with a finger. It was a proof that he was no longer alone. The way that very ring felt gave him a sense of reality.

“Lastly, here is a letter by the precious mother of the groom, containing her blessings for the marriage of her son, Sir Silene, who has chanced upon the marvelous day that is today.”

An incessant clapping outburst at Violet’s words. Silene confusedly turned his head to every direction. Misha seemed to think it were yet another program of the event and accepted it, but Silene had not been told about such a thing by anyone.

“Lady Fran, I humbly thank you for allowing us to be sitting in such an honorable place along with all of you.” Violet took out a letter similar to the one she had been holding the evening before and opened its envelope. “By your respectable mother’s request, I shall vocally deliver to Sir Silene the letter of marital blessings that is packed with feelings.”

——I haven’t heard about it. I haven’t... heard about any of this.

Was it not better for him to stop her? There was no way the words said by a heartbroken person could be of any decency. The place would merely become disheveled by her strange manner of speech and conduct. Silene attempted to rise from his seat.

However, the blue orbs of the Auto-Memories Doll seemed to sew his own shadow onto him as she entreated for restraint on the spot, “It might become a little abstract, but please do listen to it.” A sigh escaped Violet’s rose-like lips. As if reciting, she read out the blessing poem, “‘I know that the most beautiful version of myself is the one reflected in your eyes. That is because I cherish you as if I were admiring a flower. I can see the gleam of stars in your pupils. That is because I think of you as dazzling. You did not know how to speak when you were small. I taught you words so that you would be able to, right? The color of the sky, the coldness of night dew, the lines you would spout when doing bad things... if only I could convey to you the joy I felt when talking with you about them. I wonder if you have realized that any harsh words I ever directed at you were out of love too. Similarly, no matter how much you may have hurt me, the fact that you were born erases all of it. You do not know that, do you? My son. Do you know the beauty in the eyes of the person you will be together with for the rest of your life from now on? Can you remember what color they are even after closing your own eyes? Do they shine? If you look beautiful when reflected in her orbs, you are loved by her. You must never let that become lax. You must not neglect love. A light can keep on shining precisely when it is polished. That jewel is in only your care. Do not neglect love. My son. Have you ever peeked into my eyes? If not, then by all means, try doing so. They are already enveloped in a world of night, but stars twinkle in the night sky. Please, just quietly peek into them. If you think that what surfaces in my eyes – what is reflected in them – is beautiful, that means you love me. I cannot speak much. That is why, please, take a peek. Please do that whenever you become restless. Wherever you go, my eyes should be able to become one of the beautiful things that exist in this world for you. This is the truth of a promise between you and me. My son, this is my love towards you. So, please, do not forget the color of my eyes.’”

The applause started out as a noiseless ripple and gradually morphed into the great swirl of a wave. After bowing beautifully in an Auto-Memories Doll-like way, Violet stepped aside.

Silene could not remember his mother’s eye color. He had been with her today and the day before.

“Silene? Are you okay?”

Nevertheless, he could not recall it. He had avoided looking at her face. And he had done so on purpose.

“Silene.”

Being called by someone else’s name whenever they locked eyes was too hard for him. It was painful that he did not have what his mother sought after. No matter what he did, he was unable to correspond her expectations.

“Hey, Silene.”

If the one his father had taken away had been Silene himself instead of his brother, perhaps his mother’s heart would not have been damaged to that extent.

“Hey, Darling.”

If she were not with a son that would make his father and mother think of him as unnecessary, but a better one...

——So embarrassing.

The reason why he was no good with embarrassing things...

——So embarrassing.

...was that they would cause him to become aware...

——So embarrassing.

...that he was an embarrassing existence to someone else.

“Darling, don’t cry.”

As Misha wiped his tears, he realized that he was crying. He hurried to turn backwards. More tears poured.

——So embarrassing. So embarrassing. I am... so embarrassing.

The Auto-Memories Doll’s letter made his chest ache. He was embarrassed of having dragged with him the past he was unable to love until the present moment and running away from the person he was supposed to protect. His mother, despite thinking he was gone, and despite being broken, had gone out to look for him.

“Sorry, I’ll leave the seat for a bit.” He informed Misha and walked away from the ceremony.

“Are you headed to where Mother is?”

As he kept his eyelids still and nodded at the question, she pushed his back.

“Off you go.”

While thinking he was the worst groom ever for abandoning the ceremony, he paced past the guests. Even with him leaving, the attendees had become exalted as the time to dance had come once again.

He went past the narrow road, towards the house he had lived in with his mother. Silene’s legs hurried to the house that he had left as if running away. As he arrived by its front, Violet Evergarden, who was supposed to be at the ceremonial hall, was there. He could not see Benedict’s motorcycle anywhere. The repairs had most likely been completed.

“We are much obliged.”

It seemed they planned to depart without seeing the end of the ceremony.

“Same here. Hum... thank you very much. I took notice of my failures... with the words I received. Mom told you some sort of nonsense... and you... wrote it beautifully into a letter just like that, right? She made you do something so troubling... She... often makes selfish requests. It was like that even back when we lived together. Even today, when she was told that it was the day of the wedding ceremony, she was adamant that we gave her a white hat that had already been sold ages ago...”

“I am sorry for having done this on my own accord.”

“No, it’s fine...”

“While Sir Silene and Lady Misha were out, I accepted a job offer from your mother. The offer was only for me to deliver the letter, but I ended up doing something intrusive. Your mother said that you might not have read the letter if she had given it to you, Sir Silene... I, too, chose a method of definitively transmitting her words to you. Since there is no letter... that needn’t be delivered.” Violet said.

Silene’s brows furrowed. He could picture his mother making the request. However, he thought it was odd for her to say he might not have read it.

“I wonder why my mother would say this... that I might not read the letter.”

“She said it was because she was always causing problems to Sir Silene. Since, due to losing part of the family, she wound up hammering you with lonely memories.”

——That’s a lie.

“No, that’s weird.”

“What is?”

——That’s a lie, that’s a lie.

“She’s... not supposed to say anything so reasonable. She says things like ‘I want to do this’ or ‘I want to do that’. But... that’s weird. It’s almost like... I mean...”

——There’s no way.

“It is not weird. All the while when talking to me, your mother was lucid. When we first met, too, she was like that for a moment. She talked about you.”

——There’s no way.

Silene staggered to pass by Violet’s side and opened the house’s entrance.

From behind him, Violet’s voice resounded, “Well, then, we will take our leave.”

Without bothering to even turn around, he climbed up the stairs and headed to the front of a room in the second floor. What was his mother currently doing in that room which could only be locked from the outside? Taking off the padlock, he spun the doorknob. The window was probably open. Wind was circulating in the room.

His mother was by said window, observing the center of the village where the ceremony was taking place.

“M-Mom.” He called. “Mom.” He called for her countless times in that manner.

His mother stirred her head towards him, but her gaze immediately returned to the window. “Hey, quiet down... Jonah.”

She rarely ever turned to look at him.

“Mom... Mom... M-Mom...”

Ever since their family fell apart, there had not been a single occasion in which she had looked at him soberly.

“I’m onto something very important right now.”

Not even one.

“I wonder where Silene is.”

“Mom, I’m... right here.” He let out a childish voice.

As he did so, his mother’s body twitched once as if startled, and she slowly turned around. She eyed Silene from head to toe with apparent interest. Her gaze was not the same as ever.

Silene stared back into his mother’s orbs. They were of a stunning amber hue.

——Aah, that’s right. That was their color.

He remembered that her irises were of the same color as his own.

His mother walked to his side, and with a hand of increasing brown spots, she touched his cheek. All along, he was shedding tears.

“My... don’t cry.” She seemed happy. “You’ve grown so much, huh, Silene.”

Only Silene dwelled within her amber eyes.

“Congratulations... on your marriage.” She smiled.

During that instant, his mother undoubtedly had sanity. It was lost by the moment Silene embraced her.

“Hey, where’s Silene?”

“I’m... not going anywhere anymore.”

However, her love definitely existed.

[staple-soap-blog]

Oh My Baby - V

Oh My Baby Masterlist ||

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Word Count: 1867

“What!?” bellowed Chanyeol in shock. “What do you mean you can’t find him!?”

Jongdae ran his hand through his hair, his eyes quickly scanning the room for any sign of Eunwoo. He looked back up at Chanyeol, “Someone came in here to check on him but he’s not here, they’ve been looking for him for about an hour.”

“Well where else would he be?!” breathed Chanyeol, panicked.

“I don’t know!” spluttered Jongdae.

Chanyeol felt his heartbeat quicken and his chest tighten. If something happened to Eunwoo, it would be his fault. He could never live with that, especially after how he had treated Eunwoo ever since he arrived on his doorstep.

Chanyeol needed to find him.

He pushed past Jongdae and ran out into the narrow hallway, calling out the young boy’s name. “Eunwoo?!” he cried repeatedly, each call becoming increasingly distressed. The walls seemed to close in around him, it was a physical manifestation of the increasing feeling of hopelessness that was encasing his entire body, crushing his heart.

Chanyeol glanced around at the stage managers and directors that were scattered about the backstage area, each packing away a piece of equipment or talking amongst one another. He ran up to a makeup artist and anxiously asked, “Have you seen a toddler? HIs name is Eunwoo, he’s about this tall,” he explained, lowering his palm half a metre above the ground. The makeup artist shook her head and apologised before continuing to pack away her items into a large suitcase.

Chanyeol groaned in frustration and quickly spun on his heels. He looked towards another hallway and instantly bolted down, consequently running into two rigid bodies.

“Sorry,” blurted Chanyeol before continuing to run.

“Chanyeol, wait,” called a familiar voice. Chanyeol turned around faced the two men who turned out to be Sehun and Kyungsoo.

“What?” growled Chanyeol.

“The manager said that we’re leaving now, why are you going down there?” asked Sehun.

“Eunwoo’s missing!”

“What?” said Kyungsoo in slight disbelief.

“Oh so now you care about him? That’s a first,” quipped Sehun.

“Shut up,” snapped Chanyeol. “Have you seen him anywhere?”

“No,” replied Sehun and Kyungsoo simultaneously.

Chanyeol groaned. “Where could he be?!” whined Chanyeol running a hand through his hair.

“You know, maybe if you had treated him better, this wouldn’t have happened,” remarked Sehun condescendingly. That hit Chanyeol hard, Sehun was telling the truth and the truth hurt. Kyungsoo scolded the youngest member before calmly saying “We’ll help find him”. He and Sehun both walked away promptly.

Chanyeol sighed deeply and allowed time to recollect himself before continuing down the hallway until he reached the first unlocked room. He almost kicked down the door in his rush and scanned the room, repeatedly calling out the toddler’s name. The room was empty.

He proceeded to the next room, and the next, but they were all empty as well. Chanyeol’s heart sunk further, and each empty room anchored his feelings of regret and dejection.

“Chanyeol, we have a flight to catch,” remarked the group’s manager, interruption Chanyeol’s self-loathing. “We can get the security team to find him but we need to make this flight.”

“I’m not leaving without my son!” rasped Chanyeol, his voice cracking from his heightened emotions. Tears began to brim at his eyes as he verbally admitted what he had been denying for months.

As he made his way back into the main backstage area, he saw the rest of the members darting around, asking the staff if they had seen the child. Jongin sent Chanyeol an unconvincing smile of reassurance as Baekhyun could be heard belting out Eunwoo’s name from another section of the backstage area.

Chanyeol felt all hope drain from his body. What if Eunwoo had found his way out of the building and he was wandering the streets alone? What if a piece of equipment had fallen onto him and injured him? “Please,” begged Chanyeol under his breath. “Please God, no.”

Chanyeol made his way into a different section of the backstage area, one that wasn’t being used during the concert. He found an ajar door that opened to a staircase, supposedly leading up to the offices within the building. Chanyeol, who was now desperate, quickly bolted up the stairs, even though it was unlikely Eunwoo could’ve found his way to this area.

Tears began to cloud Chanyeol’s vision and his nose began to run. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and continued to glance into each dark room. The office at the furthest end had its lights on, and Chanyeol followed it like a disembodied soul chasing after The Light.

The door was ajar, and he reached for the handle, but the sound of a small voice stopped him. The voice was familiar, and it seemed to pry Chanyeol’s sunken heart from the depths of hopelessness. He remained quiet as he inched open the door, listening to what the voice was saying.

“…didn’t mean it. I’m sorry for stopping you from your dancing. You’re a really good dancer by the way. And a good singer.”

A tremendous wave of relief washed over Chanyeol’s shaken body as he spotted Eunwoo seated on the floor in front of a cardboard standee of himself. This office probably took care of all the promotional aspects of the concert as several standees of the other members were scattered throughout the room.

Chanyeol silently stepped closer to Eunwoo, who was still rambling.

“Mummy never sang any songs for me. She said that if I wanted someone to sing for me, then I should go find hyung. She also said that you weren’t handsome, but I think hyung is very handsome.” Eunwoo said that last part with a slight giggle.

Chanyeol felt his chest flood with endearment as he silently stood behind the toddler, listening to his every word.

“Even though you don’t like me, I still love you. I think hyung is a nice person, even though you get mad at me sometimes.” There was another long silence. “I should go now,” said Eunwoo to the Chanyeol standee. “Everyone will be wondering where I’ve been.” The child stood up to his feet and gave the standee a wave before turning around.

A sharp gasp sounded from Eunwoo as he saw the real Chanyeol standing behind him. There was a tense silence before Eunwoo spoke, “Hyung, you’re here?”

Chanyeol’s throat seemed to collapse. He was completely lost for words as he stared at the boy he had tried his best to ignore for months now. He wished he could take back every moment of it.

“Yah,” cracked Chanyeol, thinking of nothing better to say. “Do you know how many people are looking for you?”

Eunwoo shifted his eyes downward and jutted out his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Chanyeol winced in pain at the sight of Eunwoo’s saddened face. The toddler’s cheeks were glossy, a clear indication that he had been crying. Eunwoo was a sweet and innocent child who meant no one harm. He was unfortunate enough to have been born into a broken family and having both parents reject him must’ve been unimaginably painful. Chanyeol scolded himself for not realising earlier, and for treating such an innocent being so poorly.

“It’s alright Eunwoo,” said Chanyeol. “No one’s mad at you.” The toddler didn’t look up, he instead shuffled his feet and nodded.

“Hey,” Chanyeol spoke softly. He crouched down onto his knees and levelled himself with Eunwoo. Chanyeol ground his teeth and swallowed, trying to piece together what he was going to say. Eunwoo finally looked up at him curiously.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” mumbled Chanyeol in a depressed voice. “And I’m sorry for treating you so badly.”

Chanyeol stopped thinking and simply spoke from the heart.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first so I just ignored you. I don’t know, I guess I was just scared, scared of the past. You’re mother, she…she broke my heart.” Tears pooled at his waterline and began to glide down his face. “I’m so sorry for everything Eunwoo, I was stupid. You’re a good kid and I shouldn’t have treated you like I did, even if you weren’t my…” he trailed off at the last word.

Chanyeol coughed and inhaled sharply, trying to form coherent sentences through his sobbing. He suddenly felt Eunwoo’s small hand on top of his head, gently stroking his hair. Eunwoo spoke up, his words piercing straight through Chanyeol’s swollen heart.

“Appa.”

Chanyeol froze, his crying momentarily ceasing.

“It’s ok Appa, don’t cry.”

Chanyeol glanced up at Eunwoo, and he smiled back at him. Chanyeol lost all control as he quickly pulled his son into an embrace, hugging him like there was no tomorrow. “My son,” sobbed Chanyeol into the boy’s shoulder as he held him tight. Eunwoo wrapped his own smaller arms around Chanyeol’s neck and squeezed back equally as hard. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” repeated Chanyeol.

“I love you,” mumbled Eunwoo into his chest.

“I love you too,” replied Chanyeol with the most genuine emotion he could muster.

A solid five minute passed before Chanyeol released Eunwoo from his embrace. He stood up and took the child’s hand into his. “Come on,” he said. “We’re going home.”

***

1 month later…

The joyous squeals of Eunwoo echoed through the house as Chanyeol playfully spun his around through the air. Uncontrollable laughter escaped from both of them as they finally stopped spinning.

“Again!” demanded Eunwoo excitedly.

Chanyeol sighed. “Appa is too dizzy, we should stop for a minute.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” teased Eunwoo.

The sound of the front door opening was the next thing to be heard, followed by Baekhyun’s voice and the sound of eight pairs of feet entering Chanyeol’s house.

Eunwoo leapt up in joy and quickly ran towards the doorway just as Baekhyun appeared, quickly whisking the toddler up and into his own arms. “You missed me?” cooed Baekhyun, lightly pinching the smiling boy’s cheeks.

Chanyeol beamed at his son and the affection the rest of the members had for him. He spotted Junmyeon in the doorway, beckoning him. Chanyeol stood and followed him into the kitchen.

“You missed practice again this morning, the manager isn’t going to be happy,” said Junmyeon, although, his tone didn’t indicate any sort of disappointment. “You know, Eunwoo has a nanny for a reason. She can look after him.”

“Yeah but, I feel like I need to make up for lost time,” he explained.

“Fair enough. Eunwoo seems a lot happier nowadays.” Chanyeol grinned at that statement. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do about his mother?”

Chanyeol scrunched his eyebrows together. “Hwayoung doesn’t deserve him. She sent Eunwoo to me, and I intend to love him and care for him.”

“She could ask for custody if she wants him back.”

“Then she’ll have to go through me.”

Junmyeon smiled and nodded approvingly. “I’m proud of you Chanyeol. You’ll make a great dad.”

Chanyeol thanked Junmyeon, and for the first time, he truly felt like his life was complete as he looked at his son and his pseudo brothers surrounding him and supporting him. His family was now complete.

A/N: Another series complete! Hope you all enjoyed. Thank you to the person who requested this, I had a lot of fun writing it!