#but imagine the looks on the faces of passersby when they hear the reactions coming from the presbytery
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Touchstarved Love Interest on a Hike
You and the touchstarved gang go on a forest hike. What could possibly go wrong? (I know this is really OOC, realistically they wouldn’t go on a hike together because the drama is crazy, but hey, it’s fun to imagine)
AIS
Doesn’t say much, but is enjoying the quality time. He lets the others take the reins because he trusts them.
Looks good wearing a T-shirt and shorts and lots of passersby check him out. Leander is not pleased.
The most physically built out of the five and doesn’t break a sweat even on the steep areas.
Can probably carry all the backpacks and still be fine, but won’t offer unless you beg him what a dick. Oh you want me to carry some of your stuff? No. Why? I don’t want to. In the end he would carry them for you.
Very unprepared. He just wore casual clothes and hiking shoes. Asking Kuras every 10 minutes if he can get a sip of his water or use his sunscreen.
Shows that he cares about the others when he slows his pace to match the slowest person in the group. It’s Vere. He listens to his complaining.
(More characters under the cut)
Looking out for any signs of danger.
Won’t take any pictures on the hike. If you try to take a picture with him he’ll either smile wickedly or lick your face for a reaction.
He’d get hungry and eats a poisonous mushroom even after Mhin pointed out that it was poisonous. Shrugs and throws away the mushroom cuz there was no flavor.
When he reaches the destination, he’d be impressed by the view and peacefully sit while drinking some oolong tea. Vere stole it from a hiker and gave it to him. How kind of him.
KURAS
Kuras likes to wander and discover new places so he said yes. He wasn’t pleased there would be other members Vere joining them. He tries to hide his distaste and focuses on the trail.
Is taken in by the nature and how the sun casts light between the trees and making a beautiful scenery. When a cool breeze passes and his hair flutters, it almost looks like their a forest fairy.
He brought extra water because he knew there would be somebody that would forget.
If he noticed you’re tired, he’d suggest that they’d take a break. Also brought a First Aid Kit if there was an accident. He’s a doctor; it would be embarrassing if he didn’t bring one.
The most elegant hiker. It’s very peculiar seeing him hiking because it looks like he’s gliding. He doesn’t break a sweat and has an amused look on his face the entire time. What is he thinking?
Walks beside Mhin and listens to them talking about random biology facts. Is very interested in what they have to say and will even point out at herbs as they pass by them.
Ignores Vere who keeps making backhanded comments about him from behind. Will keep quiet about a ditch, root, or a spider up ahead. Smiles when he hears Vere scream behind him.
He’d probably come back again by himself or with one extra person, either Mhin or MC.
LEANDER
99% chance that this whole thing was his idea. He’s an active guy and likes to spend time with others. He’d probably done the hike a number of times before.
The one leading. He’s prepared and has all the basic necessities, even things you wouldn’t think of. He caters to your needs the most. If you ask if anyone has x y and z, he’d be the first to offer it. He wants to be relied on and show he’s a competent man!
Acts as the “trail leader” of the group. Has a map in hand.
He whistles when he isn’t talking.
Highly susceptible to bug bites.
Notices that the group is functioning in pairs, Mhin with Kuras and Vere with Ais. He’d feel like a third wheel and will talk to you the most. Will get mopey if you talk to somebody else. If you notice he’s been quiet, join him at the front and talk to him and he’d be overwhelmed with joy.
Puts on a lot of deodorant and the others try not to cringe at the smell. Mhin or Vere would point it out and he’d laugh, but he’s dying inside.
Gets competitive when a bunch of hikers giggle to themselves over Ais. Oh wow is it getting hot out here, let me just take off my shirt and show off my sculpted abs. Ais knows exactly what he’s doing and side-eyes him.
When he reaches the destination, he tries to makes a speech about how proud he is of everyone and yada yada, nobody is listening and doing their own thing. He’s distraught. At least the view is nice.
MHIN
Doesn’t like anyone there except for Kuras and MC (Leander is tolerable).
Gets fed up really quickly with Vere’s complaining and Leander’s nonsensical chatter.
The one covered up the most because they get easily sunburnt.
Brought a gallon full of ice cold water and would not share.
Surprisingly agile and has high endurance.
Super unlucky, would step on the weirdest sh*t on the hike.
Enjoys the wildlife around them. Points out at things they’ve read in books. Will get really deep into it if you reciprocate the interest.
Keeping track of the map because they don’t trust Leander. Has caught him going the wrong direction a few times.
Looking out for danger #2.
Munches on plain crackers when they get hungry and looks like a hamster. If you point it out you’ll get stabbed.
Once at the destination, they try to find a souvenir rock. If you ask them what they’re doing they’ll shoo you away. If you give them a nice rock you found, they’d carefully analyze it before thanking you with a small blush.
VERE
He is not happy to be here. And he will make it clear from the very start.
High chance that he said yes cuz Ais was going.
Can’t stand listening to Kuras and Mhin being nerds and Leander talking about the time he almost got married to a middle-aged nun. HUH?! HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THAT-
Complains and super snarky at the very beginning, but gradually starts to quieten down due to fatigue.
Stealing stuff from fellow hikers just for the heck of it.
The best dressed hiker. Many people are in awe how sexy he looks. And yes, he made one of his admirers buy it for him. He will wear it once and then throw it away.
Sweat gives him that natural glow :0
Vere WON’T forget about the sunscreen and bug spray. He won’t let a hike ruin his skin for the rest of the week.
Does not look out for danger, IS the danger.
Rare sight of Vere with a high ponytail. Ais grabs him by the pony tail when he wants his attention.
Once he reaches the site, he’s going to take a quick nap under a shade. You can join him, but be wary.
#touchstarved game#touchstarved#touchstarved leander#touchstarved mhin#touchstarved kuras#touchstarved Ais#touchstarved Vere#ts ais#ts vere#ts mhin#ts kuras#ts leander#touchstarved headcanons#Ais headcanons#Vere headcanon#Leander headcanon#Mhin headcanon#Ais headcanon#Kuras headcanon
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Pretty sure that modern AU Sid absolutely introduces Sullivan and the Father to BattleBots, and it's now A Thing that they all watch together and get ridiculously excited over. 😂
#father brown#sid x sullivan#sid carter#inspector sullivan#battlebots#modern au#ultimate modern headcanon#but imagine the looks on the faces of passersby when they hear the reactions coming from the presbytery#robot vs. robot is not a sin#nor is it a crime#all three of them huddled around Sid's phone
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not sure if this is what you had in mind but i was thinking maybe kdj and hsy meeting briefly earlier in life (at 20/22 years old or sth)? maybe having a misunderstanding or an argument over something trivial (like interpretation of a book or who should take the last lemon flavored popsicle in the store) and somehow still managing to reach some recognition or understanding of each other. years later they would forget about each other but still remember that bizarre situation sometimes. i have no idea if that makes any sense but i believe in your writing and massive brain and powerful swag. xoxo
Aaaaah, Exe I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you asked for... I was just like... what if that time Han Sooyoung and Kim Dokja almost met in the epilogue went a little differently and like... haha...
The first part is basically copied and pasted from that chapter before the twist, so go read that first if you haven't!
Han Su-Yeong staggered and walked closer to Kim Dok-Ja. Several passersby brushing past her looked back in suspicion.
Kim Dok-Ja was now walking down the subway’s steps.
Kim Dok-Ja, with earphones stuck in his ears and reading something on his phone while walking downstairs.
She knew what he was currently reading.
“—!!”
She barely managed to shout, but her voice still didn’t come out. So, she desperately chased after him.
Because of the story you wrote, author-nim, I was able to survive until now.
Han Su-Yeong was also able to survive while reading the sole reader’s words.
She managed to write the next part of Yu Jung-Hyeok’s life through them.
She was able to endure her boring and stuffy teen years, the days she never wanted to go back to, thanks to those words.
This train is bound for…
She spotted Kim Dok-Ja standing on the platform, waiting for the next train to arrive. A person hiding within the small world crafted out of letters to protect himself was standing right there.
Kim Dok-Ja, who didn’t know anything about the apocalypse about to happen.
Kim Dok-Ja, who’d get to live on the expansive world of the ‘Ways of Survival’.
Kim Dok-Ja, who’d get to meet the protagonist he so longed to become.
Kim Dok-Ja, who’d become the ‘Demon King of Salvation’.
Kim Dok-Ja, who’d sacrifice himself multiple times for the sake of his companions, and as a result, came to the 1863rd turn and met her.
Kim Dok-Ja, who was destined to become the ‘Most Ancient Dream’, the price he paid for loving a certain story too much.
[Your mental state is crumbling!]
[The main body’s ego is regaining its control.]
[Your Fable is being extinguished.]
Her legs grew heavy, and her arms didn’t want to move anymore. Her body was gradually becoming not hers.
Even then, Han Su-Yeong wanted to tell him.
⸢To tell him that he was definitely not at fault for this story being born. And to tell him that the things he was about to experience were not his sins.⸥
Because, her past 13 years existed solely to say those words to him.
⸢To say that, though you have grown up while reading this story, there’s no need for you to become it.⸥
She barely managed to muster up her strength, her arm coiling in on itself and preparing for her one last willful action.
[Your ego will convert into the ‘subconsciousness’.]
As she set her weak, pre-scenario body into that final decisive movement...
The twenty six year old Han Su-yeong who knew nothing of the soon to come apocalypse, woke up thrusting her fist forward into the face of some guy on the subway.
She would've thought she was still dreaming, if it hadn't been for the feeling of his soft cheek slamming against the hard bone of his teeth under the force of her balled up hand.
'What the hell? Why am I doing this?'
Han Su-yeong most likely would have asked herself these things if she had any more time to think before her punch had landed.
She got her answer, though. Despite never asking her question, that reason she was looking for became clear as the man staggered off his balance.
He made a futile attempt to right himself before being knocked to the ground. The phone that he had been holding so close to his face clattering screen-side up onto the concrete of the subway floor.
That was when she saw it.
She only had to read a snippet of the words on that phone screen to come up with an explanation for her own actions at that very moment.
[There are three ways to survive in a ruined world. Now, I have forgotten a few, but one thing is certain. The fact that you who are reading this now will survive.
-Three ways to survive in a ruined world
Author’s words: Thank you so much for reading ‘Ways of Survival’ up to here. I will come back to you with an epilogue!]
'Ways of Survival.' 'Three ways to survive in a ruined world.'
...
Yes, there was no doubt that this guy sat on the subway floor rubbing at his cheek deserved it.
Some latent evil of the world must be working to Han Su-yeong's advantage, because none of the commuter passing by spared her a second glance as she sorted out her own motives. They simply dodged around her and the man she had assaulted moments ago.
If Han Su-yeong had to write some train of thought into their actions, she might imagine these negligent bystanders saw something like an overly dramatic lover's spat. Something personal that they ought not get involved in.
Were it not for the pervasiveness of such a cliche recurrent in physical altercations between men and women, maybe they would see it for what it was. A question of honor between authors.
Because Han Su-yeong was certain that was who this man was. An author who was so shitty that he had created an alt to try and hype up his terrible novel.
That was right... It was years ago now, but Han Su-yeong remembered that unsubstantiated accusation of plagiarism on her first published webnovel, SSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor.
This shitty guy had made an alt account that was so obvious... it was something 'Dok-ja,' like he wasn't even trying to pretend he didn't make it just to pretend to 'read' his own webnovel...
If that didn't prove it, then it was also clear from the comments that he had left on every single chapter. When she was reading them, Han Su-yeong had known that if she were such a bad author that she would have to have just one reader, the words that he wrote represented that perfect amount of reader to author engagement that she would have desired.
But that sort of relationship... it was unrealistic. Han Su-yeong had been an author for something like 13 years now, and she had never had such a relationship in her entire career.
So it was obvious that a reader like that could only be written by an author with those same desires that she held.
And then he even had the nerve to wander out of his self contained fantasy, accusing her superior work of plagiarizing his shitty one just to draw in more views and commenters.
So of course he had a lot of nerve to be rereading his own damn author's note right where she could see hi-
"Can I help you?"
Han Su-yeong felt all of the hot air she had been blowing herself up with to justify her current situation deflate upon hearing that voice of his.
The man she'd injured looked up at her with hollow black eyes. Eyes that perhaps had only seemed bright while being illuminated by a screen.
His voice was mild, too. As if getting punched in the face were something that was merely tiresome to him, instead of something to stir anger or indignity. The reactions that Han Su-yeong had been mentally preparing herself to butt heads with.
Nothing about his reaction seemed to ask Han Su-yeong for her motives. There was no race to find an explanation behind those hollow eyes. No bit lip, straining to come up with a turn of phrase to become an appropriately biting retort.
This guy wasn't an author.
...
Hey...
Why had she punched this guy again?
"Sorry." Han Su-yeong found herself saying, as her body deflated, extended arm going back to her side. "From the behind, you looked like my shitty ex."
She let herself fall into the cliche.
"Ah. I see."
Han Su-yeong hated the guy's expression, just then.
It was one that said, 'Well isn't that just my luck?'
But she couldn't help but watch, as this unlucky guy stood up and picked up his phone, brushing it off instead of himself, as if it were more precious to him than his own body.
And when that Dok-ja turned around, Han Su-yeong only saw his back for a second, before the sight of him was once more swallowed up by the uncaring world of the subway station crowd.
#exe i know you're kind of lowkey evil and didn't read the epilogue all the way through and its ok i love you but im coercing you now ok <3#Parts that are from the original are in italics they're from 535#orv spoilers#also i know i usually do the names from the Rainbow Turtle translation but I decided to style match for this one#not beta'd#writing#ficlet#han sooyoung#han suyeong#kim dokja#hsy#kdj#orv#omniscient reader#also xoxoxo exe
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penpals // s. aizawa
A/N: My take on the pen pals collab! Hope you all enjoy! This one was fun to write since it was such a relaxed prompt.
CHARACTER PAIRING: Aizawa Shouta x Reader
WORD COUNT: 2,122
WARNINGS: unprotected sex, semi-public sex
SYNOPSIS: who knew making a new friend through post it notes could lead to so much more?
Want to read more smutty goodness? Click here !
the teacher’s lounge at UA high was nothing short of nice and fancy. low seated couches, plenty of table space with comfy chairs, all the amenities of a home kitchen, including a double wide refrigerator that often stacked lunches and various snacks. it was common knowledge that the earlier you went into the lounge that day, the better the lunch options were. you put your name on what lunch you want and have the satisfaction of a good meal in the afternoon.
on one particular day, you arrived early, wanting to get some grading in before the day started. it was only natural that you took a peek in the fridge, and found the most delectable little meal sitting front and center. you quickly wrote your name on the post-it note with glee and then sat down to start your morning grind.
when you arrived back in the lounge later that day, you had a bounce in your step, excited to get a break and eat something good, only to find out that someone had broken the sacred rule and stole the lunch from right under your nose. you huffed in frustration, eyeing the other teachers and faculty with a glare, trying to figure out who might’ve taken your food to no avail. you dug through your bag, finding a pen and your own pack of post-it notes, and wrote:
to whom it may concern,
i thought it was common knowledge
to not eat each other’s meals, but i
guess i was mistaken. hope you
enjoyed the food, because i
certainly didn’t.
-(l/n) (y/n)
you slapped the note angrily on the front of the fridge and stormed out of the lounge, gaining quizzical stares from the passersbys.
when you returned to the room the next day, you were surprised to find the note had been taken off the fridge and a new one replacing it. the note was written in small, fine scrawl, but looked sloppy, as if they were in a rush.
(l/n)
apologies for taking your lunch.
i have no excuse other than it
was my favorite food. hope you
can forgive me. check the fridge.
-your friend
you cocked your head before opening the door, finding a container with soba in it. you shrugged your shoulders, having already forgotten the transgression the night before, and dug into the noodles cold. instantly, you moaned, flavors exploding on your tongue like fireworks.
after that incident, little notes would pop up on your office door here and there, chatting about school activities, school drama and rumors about both teachers and students. you thought it was endearing, having someone to chat with without the pressures of long conversations or proper social etiquette. they were funny, charming, complimentary without being creepy and overall someone you felt comfortable with, which was why you were dying to know who they really were.
you begged and begged in your notes, wanting them to tell you who they were, but they held out, only offering vague hints here and there about stuff that you couldn’t possibly know.
it was only by absolute accident that you found out who your pen pal was. you had left your office to go to a class, and forgot your laptop, so you turned around, only to catch a glimpse of dark flowing hair and a white scarf.
your heart pounded in your chest as you read the note:
(y/n)
you looked especially beautiful today.
-your friend
Aizawa was my pen pal?
every man and woman with a pair of eyes could see how exceptionally attractive the teacher was. despite his gruff appearance and baggy clothes, he was extremely well built, with a toned chest and thick thighs, lean muscles and long, slender fingers. his quiet yet endearing love for his current class, his dedication to their learning and well being, while also still being a dangerous hero capable of damage, had heat pooling between your thighs just thinking about it.
unbeknownst to you, Aizawa watched your reaction from across the hall, watched the way your eyes blew wide, how your thighs rubbed together, how a blush crept up your neck to your cheeks, how your breathing quickened just slightly. it was enough for him to deduce that you were, without a doubt, affected by his note, and a smirk crept up the side of his face. oh how fun this will be.
the post it notes and letters kept coming, but this time they were more and more lewd, from simply describing how good you looked that day, to how good your skirt would look bunched up as his cock was stuffed inside of you. the notes never failed to make you dripping wet, and more times than not you had to relieve that ache between your legs the second you got home, fingers dipping in your juices, spreading them up to your clit, imagining how his long fingers would feel inside of you.
after a particularly long letter in which he wrote out in great detail how he would like to tie you up and fuck you senseless, you had enough, rushing to his office in a great hurry, ready to put an end to his constant tormet.
you knocked on his door, a loud resounding thud echoing down the barren hallways. a few moments went by, and you had thought that he might not be in there, when the door slowly opened up, a relaxed Aizawa glancing at you through the crack he had created.
you pushed past him into the office, turning around with a stomp of your foot at looking up at him as he slowly closed the door and turned to face you.
“what do you think you are doing?” you questioned, voice firm and unwavering.
“what do you think you are doing? you did just storm into my office.”
“you know what i mean!”
“no, i don’t…” he deadpanned, moving to sit down in his chair, brushing past you ever so softly.
“the notes? they’re you, aren’t they?” you squeaked out, suddenly unsure of whether he was actually the culprit despite seeing him stick the note on your door with your own eyes.
“oh, yeah, those, what about them?”
“what about them? what about them?! th-they’re inappropriate! this is a school environment and y-you should not be writing things like that.”
“i liked seeing your reactions, liked seeing you thinking about my fingers deep inside your cunt, about my hands around your throat, how that sweet little blush would spread across your face.”
“you knew i knew… you knew i knew that you were the one writing me the letters. why didn’t you say anything? when did you figure it out?” you sputtered out, cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
he crooked one finger, motioning for you to come to him, and when you complied, he reached forward and whispered, “because it was fun.”
without warning, he pulled you haphazardly into his lap, capturing your lips in his own. you squealed against his lips, attempting to pull away out of sheer confusion, but he persisted, deepening the kiss and taking advantage of the situation to push his tongue into your mouth, allowing the wet muscle to explore every inch of your orifice.
when you finally began responding, he hummed in approval, grasping your ass with his hand, squeezing tight and then slapping one cheek, rubbing it and then slapping again, this time harder, drinking in every moan and squeal that left your throat.
“Aizawa, we shouldn’t be doing this here. there are students, teachers, the principal could walk right in at any moment and see what we are doing,” you reasoned, pulling away with swollen lips and drool running down your chin.
“you’d like that, wouldn’t you? letting someone like All Might seen me ramming into you, watching your pretty little tits bounce up and down as i fuck you over this desk,” he teased, nibbling on your ear and moving his other hand not supporting your ass to dance between your thighs, rubbing circles and swirly motions up and down, moving dangerously closer to your aching pussy.
“we can’t get caught,” you pleaded again, trying but not really to get out of his grasp.
“sure we can’t,” he agreed, smirking your way before he helped you stand up, only to push your chest flat against the cool wooden desk, using his knee to spread your legs apart.
“you’ll just have to be quiet.”
his fingers made their way to your clit, rubbing circles through the soaked material of your panties, chuckling to himself at how vulnerable you looked, face down and spread out for him. his fingers continued their ministrations against your aching bud before he snapped the fabric taught against you, then began pulling the lacy material down your body, commanding you to step out of them.
you heard the rustling of fabric behind you as he worked himself out of his pants, the material pooling around his ankles, his cock hitting his soft shirt. fingers made their way back to your now exposed pussy, and he ran them up and down your folds before gently plunging one into your wet hole, the soft squelching sound being the only thing you could hear over your own beating heart.
you tried to be quiet, you really did, but when he curled his finger in just the right way, you moaned against the desk. a swift slap to your ass left a stinging feeling, a harsh reminder to stay silent or else.
he inserted another finger, and then another, relishing in the way you felt, so soft and sweet, panting and drooling against the dark timber of his desk. your body began trembling from your impending orgasm, but before you got a chance to enjoy enjoy the feeling of euphoria rushing over you, Aizawa pulled his fingers out and stuffed his cock inside of you, groaning at the feeling of your walls fluttering around his cock as your body rode out your first orgasm.
he started a quick pace, pounding in and out of you, holding onto your hips, silent but deadly as the steady piece of furniture kept you in place. soft pants and moans, the sloshing of your juices, accompanied by the groaning of the lumber, were the only things that could be heard in the room.
he watched you with blown eyes as your body rocked against the counter, tits pressed deep into the wood, body rocking back and forth, your essence dripping down your legs, shaky and unsteady but oh so pretty. how your tongue peeked out from your mouth, your hair wrecked and clothes disheveled, skirt bunched up around your hips like he had written about only a few weeks before. it was pure bliss.
the anticipation of fucking you had been too much and he felt his release coming quickly, so he moved one hand down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on your sensisitve nub.
with one particularly hard thrust, combined with the feeling of his fingers, you came with a cry, forgetting all about being quiet as you rode out your second orgasm of the day. he followed suit quickly, pulling out and blowing his load all over your ass, the white cream dripping down and slowly mixing with your own juices.
he allowed himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then pulled a few tissues from his desk, wiping your ass thighs off, helping you to stand up and even bringing you some water.
when you finally came to your senses, your face grew bright red, realizing that you just fucked a coworker in his office during school hours where anyone could’ve walked in.
a knock startled you from your thoughts, and you both looked at each other, you in panic and him in amusement. you began fixing your hair and smoothing out your clothes, grabbing your bag and getting ready to rush out of the room, when you realized something was missing.
“Aizawa, where are my panties?” you hissed, clenching your legs in embarrassment.
he slyly pulled them out of his pocket and then stuffed them back in, going to the door and allowing the student, Iida Tenya, inside and then walked back to your side, gently escorting you out of the door.
“i’m keeping these so that you’ll have to come back to me and get them. oh, and call me Shouta. talk soon, kitten,” he whispered in your ear, pressing a discreet kiss to your forehead before closing the door.
“Mr. Aizawa, sir, why does it smell like sweat in here?”
“oh, just working out. got to keep in shape somehow.”
“makes sense! oh sir… your fly is down.”
Tags: @redbeanteax @softforshigi @katsuki-bakugous-lady @katsukisprincess@secondhand-trash
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From the archives: Margaret Berger's "Robot Song," December 2006
Margaret Berger has created an entire sci-fi universe in this song; it unfolds how I imagine a Philip K. Dick story might if I ever bothered to read Philip K. Dick.
Notice how Berger immediately establishes a familiar parallel universe, very much like our own, where her unspeakable love has very specific implications depending on her the intimacy of her family relationship: Mom and sisters hear that she's in love with someone (not a robot, never a robot), while Dad can't even know that much. The conversational lightness of this first verse is crucial; it's kind of a bait and switch on first listen, since "Dad can't find out I love a robot" doesn't exactly scream TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY. But, like any good melodrama, Berger knows exactly when to hit the right "serious" notes.
Then she establishes the sci-fi framework:
(1) Her love of a robot is forbidden in her society and
(2) As such, she has finally decided to leave the robot.
I imagine them meeting in a park, self-conscious at first, their eyesdarting around looking for judgmental passersby, and when the coast is clear they just hold each other as the world around them dissolves, like Gatsby's final contact with Daisy Buchanan during their first affair.
And there’s new resonance when you realize that "Robot Song" is a duet. The first verse is directed at "you," i.e. the robot. The only thing not directed to the robot is the phrase “I’m in love with a robot” itself, which is more of an existential aside -- why, why, why?
But she returns to the robot in the very next line: "Come to get me when the stars die." Such precise phrasing, "come to get me" over the more colloquial "come and get me." It's little touches like this that sell the drama almost unconsciously, along with Berger’s performance. Presumably, the robot will be alive and ticking when the stars have died and all prejudiced humans have been wiped off the face of the earth, at which point he will find her, also dead, and finally shut down his own microprocessors, since, duh, this is the greatest robo Romeo and Juliet ever told.
Anyway, important to the duet idea -- and this is something I didn’t get on the first few listens -- is that the robot answers her! "You're the only one who makes me feel a thing" is first sung not by Berger herself, but Berger with heavy vocal processing. When she swallows her words on the repetition ("You're the only one that makes me feel a thing, you're the only [one who] ohhhhh") you could hear it (as I sort of hear it) as the closest reaction an android might have to weeping, getting its circuits crossed and skipping like a record. Berger herself, sans robo-filter, sings this line again in the final chorus.
Its meaning changes when she sings it, since the experience of being made to "feel a thing" probably differs from human to robot -- the robot literally can’t feel anything except for this miraculous, forbidden love, whereas Berger means it in the more traditional humanoid sense of hard-heartedness. Another detail in the expanding universe of this song.
The robot gets the parting shot, a haunting epitaph: "Another time, another place, another world..."
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Tickling! Plus Ultra! 5 (End)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
The class of 1-A was quickly transported over to Momo Yaoyorozu’s mansion after both Bakugo and Deku were taken from the villains. They all had bags with their clothes and other items with them, standing in the middle of the foyer awkwardly. Even Momo seemed to be awkwardly standing around, even though this was her house. Sure, he had a few of the students over before, but never in a situation like this. Bakugo was being more distant than usual, not even standing near Kirishima like he usually did. Deku was smiling, but it was strained. Even Kirishima who was usually their spot of light in darkness, seemed to have a cloud over his head.
“Alright, everyone, let’s get everyone settled and…uh…” Momo said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. She took a deep breath before leading everyone to their rooms.
“We should try and play a game to get everyone’s spirits up before we fall asleep.” Iida said, though the steam had left his voice. All of that running around had really taken the wind out of him.
“I…I think I’m a little too tired for our kinds of games tonight, guys.” Deku said, rubbing at his sides absently. All of the tickling from both their games and…especially since Toga had really done a number on his ticklish nerve endings. He wasn’t exactly ready for another round.
“‘Night.” Bakugo said curtly. He stepped into a room and closed the door behind him. The other students of 1-A heard the lock click and that was about it.
“Guess he’s tired.” Kirishima hummed to himself. He stared at the door a moment longer, wanting to go in and help Kacchan. It couldn’t feel good being attacked and kidnapped so many times by the league of villains. He couldn’t even imagine what those villains must have done and said to him.
“Well, everyone else is going to have to share bedrooms. I’ll take the couch in the main room since Bakugo took a room to himself.” Momo said with a small sigh. Not that she could blame him, but it still wasn’t entirely fair for him to just lock himself in some random house.
“Don’t worry about it, Momo! Since you were so nice to let us stay in your house, I’ll take the couch.” Kirishima said with a charming smile. Momo thought about it for a moment before shrugging. She was absolutely exhausted after making so many things on such a short notice earlier tonight.
“Alrighty then. The rest of you can follow me.” Momo said, waving for the rest of the class to shuffle behind her.
On the couch, Kirishima checked his phone for just about the millionth time. He was waiting for Bakugo to finally tell him that he was alright. A meme. A link to a Youtube channel. Anything. When nothing came across, he decided to put matters into his own hands. In the Bakugo Squad Group chat (Chaos Crew), he decided to share the code for the game that Bakugo couldn’t say no to.
QWTRZ - Among us code.
Kirishima’s red character ran around the lobby as he waited for his friends to join.
A pink character with a flower named SlimePrincess joined.
A yellow character with the dum sticker named ChargeBolt joined.
A white character with the floppy brown hat named 0 joined.
A purple character with a red beanie named EarJackD joined.
Kirishima chewed on his bottom lip as he waited. If they waited much longer, then they would be kicked for inactivity. Damn…Bakugo must really be in a bad mood if he didn’t want to play a game where he could slaughter his friends.
An orange character with an egg on top named ExplosionMrdr joined.
Kirishima smiled at his screen and began the game. The little sprites began running around the map and Kiri’s character stuck with Bakugo’s. He wished that there was a way he could chat with him within the game, but just sticking with him was good enough.
Well, that was until the little orange guy turned around and stabbed him in the back. Kirishima pouted at his screen. Just like Bakugo to kill him first thing in the game.
As a ghost, Kirishima’s character followed Bakugo’s around the map as he jumped in and out of vents and slashed at passersby. It was a short game and an absolute slaughterhouse. The very last crewmate who was left alive as the game ended had been Sero.
The next game, it was Kirishima who was the Imposter. He followed Bakugo around, ready to kill at a moment’s notice. As he did, Bakugo’s character ran to the button and pressed it.
What the hell?
ExplosionMrdr: it’s ****** hair.
SlimePrincess: Proof?
0: Proof?
ChargeBolt: Where?
EarJackD: No one died, Denki.
EarJackD: Kinda sus.
ExplosionMrdr: u idiots its literally **** hair
ExplosionMrdr voted.
0: Anyone wanna follow me to Medbay? I gotta get scanned.
RedR10t: Ill go with u
ChargeBolt: How do I vent like pink did?
EarJackD: im voting denki. Sus af.
EarJackD voted.
ChargeBolt voted.
RedR10t voted.
SlimePrincess voted.
0 voted.
No One was Ejected. (1) Imposter remains.
The game continued. Kirishima followed Bakugo again, but this time decided to turn off the lights and then kill Bakugo’s character in front of the medbay. No one saw because of the lowered lights.
There was a frustrated yell that the entire mansion could hear. Bakugo stormed out of his room and the sound of his pounding footsteps grew louder and louder. Kirishima stared at his phone screen as he heard his impending doom get closer and closer to him.
Bakugo grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet.
“Is it you? Are you the imposter?” Bakugo yelled in his face.
Wait, what?
“U-uh, it’s just a game, dude and I didn’t mean to kill you–” Kirishima stammered. This was definitely not the reaction he had wanted. Sure, the frustrated scream and the storming out of the room was something he wanted, but this seemed like something more.
“Did you sell us out, shitty hair? Did you tell that stupid group of low lives what we were up to?” Bakugo yelled, almost as if he didn’t even hear anything that Kirishima had said.
“Dude, what are you talking about?” Kirishima asked, putting his hand on Bakugo’s wrist. It was a small gesture, but Bakugo retracted his hand. Bakugo ran his hands through his hair in stress.
“Just fucking tell me if it’s you. You can’t keep lying to my fucking face.” Bakugo continued, his voice trembling. Small sounds of footsteps could be heard as the others in the class peeked out of their rooms to see what all of the commotion was about. Kirishima frowned and took Bakugo’s wrist and led him into a different room.
“Alright, dude. What is going on? I’m sorry for killing you in the game, but this is a little much.” Kirishima said. He reached out and placed a hand on Bakugo’s shoulder, but he pulled away.
“There’s someone here, shitty hair. Someone here that could have sold us out. Could still be selling us out! It could be you for all I fucking know!” Bakugo yelled, pointing an accusatory finger in Kirishima’s direction.
The red head sighed, a look of pity crossing his face. Whatever those villains had said to him…they made him think that there was some kind of traitor among the UA students. With how many times they had been caught and Bakugo had been kidnapped…it would make sense to a degree.
“Kacchan…look at me.” Kirishima said, stepping closer to Bakugo.
“Don’t get close to me!” Bakugo said, flinching away from his friend. He looked away from the red head, his body shaking all over. Kirishima took the risk of getting burned and wrapped his arms around Bakugo, hugging him as tightly as he could.
“Katuski…please. Take a deep breath, man.” Kirishima said softly.
Ever so slowly, Bakugo melted into the embrace. He wrapped his arms around Kirishima’s waist and buried his head in Kirishima’s neck.
“That bastard…whoever it is in this dumbass class…I’ll kill them.” Bakugo grumbled. Kirishima shook his head, squeezing Bakugo closer to him.
Having been taken hostage so many times has really gotten to him. After being beaten around and taken away from his friends so many times, it was perfectly reasonable that some trust issues towards his friends would start to surface.
“None of us would do that to you, man. Seriously. You may be loud and obnoxious, but everyone in this class thinks of you as a friend.” Kirishima said, resting his hand on the back of Bakugo’s head. He could feel something wet against the shoulder of his shirt and he just knew that Bakugo was…crying. It broke his heart.
“There’s…someone here, Kiri. They’re going to take us down from the inside. It’s so damn stupid.” Bakugo wheezed, clawing at the back of Kirishima’s shirt. Kirishima sighed heavily, feeling tears of his own in his eyes as he held his friend. It really broke his heart to see Kacchan like this. This hurt.
“No one is out to get you, Bakugo. Even if they are, I-I’ll protect you, okay?” Kirishima told him. He meant every word of it too. He pat his hand against Bakugo’s back and pulled away ever so slightly.
“Come on, let’s go to bed, okay?” He said.
Bakugo pulled away and wiped his face wildly with his shirt.
“Whatever. Yeah, sure. You should probably sleep in a bed, dumbass.” He grumbled and turned to walk back up to the room that he had stormed out of. Kirishima sniffled and wiped his own tears from his face. He snatched up his phone and his bag of stuff as he walked up to the bedroom. Once inside, Bakugo threw himself on the bed with very little grace. Kirishima set his stuff down on a nearby bedside and crawled into the bed as well. Once he did, Bakugo slowly pulled himself by Kirishima’s side. He rested his head on Kirishima’s shoulder, threw an arm around his waist, and tangled their legs together. Kirishima couldn’t help but smile as the blonde got himself comfortable.
“Despite everything, I’m glad the class got to know your special weakness. Now I can tickle you out in the open,” Kirishima said, sliding his fingertips up and down Bakugo’s back. Bakugo squirmed slightly, but he didn’t remove himself from Kirishima’s side.
“Bet your ass that I’ll kill you tomorrow. You won’t escape my wrath.” Bakugo grumbled, pushing his face further against Kirishima’s shoulder.
“Plus ultra?” Kirishima teased and tweaked a couple of Bakugo’s ribs.
“Pluhus Ultra.” Bakugo chuckled.
Kirishima hummed softly and pressed his lips against the top of Bakugo’s head in a soft kiss.
“Shut up and go to sleep, shitty hair.” Bakugo said. Kirishima let his fingers drag up and down Bakugo’s back just a few strokes longer before he slowly drifted off to sleep.
12/25
-Ga!babe
#25 Days of Fics#GA!babe#submission#Tickling Plus Ultra#12/25#a lil bit of among us in there#some traitor/imposter angst#NICE#still love that horikoshi just forgot that completely#that's the end of the my hero fics for this baby!#nicely done babe always love your writing#and the bakusquad is just so good#and now I'm caught up enjoy the double post since I suuuuuuuuck
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(Hazbin 1920s Drabble)
Dust and soot clouded my vision as I stepped off the train and into the crowded station. The smell of smoke surpassed that of anything else. The chatter of the passersby was loud and lively, and the sharp sound of the train’s steam whistle pierced my ears. Never had I been in such a noisy place. I hadn’t expected a perfect sight upon arriving in New Orleans. A lot of noise and people was all you could ever expect at a train station. But I had hoped that my arrival would be a little more picturesque. But it was just loud and dirty. Exceedingly so.
I went over to the other end of the station to collect my luggage. Other travelers ran about; boarding, unboarding, waving goodbye, waiting for an arrival. They all formed one mass that was difficult to get through. No one even seemed to notice one another as they made their way through the area. It was completely unlike the station that I had initially boarded at, and I wanted nothing more than to get my bags and leave.
To my relief, my luggage was brought to me quickly and I hurried out though the sea of people. I forced my way past everyone until I walked out into the fresh, open air. The station was a quite a distance away from the center of town, where I intended to stay. But to my relief there were a few motorcars and small carriages waiting outside to whisk people into the city.
“Carriage, cher?” A boisterous man asked, his voice laced with a heavy accent.
“Can you take me to the Hotel New Orleans?”
He gave a slight smile and opened the side door of the coach. “Of course! Just a little into the city center on rue du canal.”
My excitement got the better of me, and I hardly listened to his response. I stepped lightly in, smoothing out my dress as the cabbie threw my luggage into the back. He closed the door and hopped in front of me, giving the horse a gentle tap with the reins. We hurried along the small streets, passing by buildings that grew taller the further we went into the city. People of all kinds were about the town, some dressed in their absolute finest, and others in second-hand rags. Street musicians played their brass for onlookers; the smell of magnolia and tobacco filled the air. I couldn’t help but stop the driver when he notified me of our impending arrival.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way, if you don’t mind.” I wanted to go about the street and be enveloped in its liveliness. To see, and hear, and experience it as closely as possible.
The cabbie’s response carried a worried tone “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Thank you, sir. It’s just down the street, right?”
He shook his head and pointed in the direction I was to head in. I paid him his due and rushed excitedly away with a bag in each hand. Never in my life had I seen so many motorcars, or so many people walking down a street. The heat of the sun was upon me now as it began to make its way lower into the sky. But it only seemed to bring more people out into the late afternoon. Back home, everyone would have been starting to head back to their houses after a long day of work in the sun. But it appeared as though Orleans was only starting to wake up at this hour. Couples stepped out of buildings taller than I had ever imagined. Flappers trotted down the street in their heels, only barely caring to cover their knees. Workingmen trudged along the sidewalk in groups, seeking out places to eat and drink during their off time. Children ran past, laughing and screaming all the way. I had never seen a place so full of life and activity. It was everything I had hoped it was. Just the way the advertisements and books depicted it. New Orleans.
I was grinning to myself in a state of blissfulness when a man approached me on the pathway. He was bony and tanned, with an unkept beard and ragged clothes.
“Excuse me, miss. Would you like to purchase some curiosities? Some good luck charms, potions to ward off evil spirits? Or perhaps you’d be interested in this here voodoo doll? Why, with just this doll you can bring about your wrath on your enemies! Just poke it or burn it, and your victim will suffer the same fate. It’s my guarantee!” He continued to speak in a fast and excited manner, erratically waving his products in front of me. It was all so interesting, all these bits and bobs supposedly holding supernatural power. My attention was only dragged away by a man standing closely on the edge of the street. I at first thought that he intended to cross the roadway. But he stalled at every opportunity to do so. Even as he was looking away, I could tell that his focus was upon the salesman and I.
The barker pulled my attention back just as he had finished showing his wares. “What about any of those? Anything catch your eye, missy?”
“Well, um. These are all such nice things, but I don’t have too much money to spend. Not on stuff like this. I just need to get to the Hotel New Orleans, perhaps you could-“
The exuberant man interrupted me before I could get another word out. “But you must want something! I’m just a poor man, trying to sell his genuine goods to folks like yourself.”
At this, the lingering man turned on his heel, his pretense of waiting now completely gone. He stood beside me and placed a hand lightly on my shoulder, staring solely at the shaggy merchant. He was in every way the opposite of the hawker; well-dressed and formal in the way he carried himself. He was tall and lean, with thick dark brown hair and olive skin. His smile was bright and wide, but his eyes had a hint of hostility in them, as did his words.
“Oh dear, don’t listen to this charlatan. When he’s not peddling nonsense, he’s being a dewdropper. Isn’t that right, Sam?”
“Why I-“
The more formal man stood upright quickly, now facing me. “But not to worry! He exclaimed, raising a finger in the air. “I’ll help you to your lodging, my dear. It’s not too far of a walk from here.”
And with that, he stepped aside and motioned me to the other side of the street with his arm outstretched. I took his implication and walked briskly to the opposite side as the hustler began cursing under his breath. I rolled my eyes. A quack, already? The tall man quickly followed but we stopped at the side of the road. I wanted to give my gratitude for being saved from a sham. “Thank you for that, I suppose.”
“No need to.” He put an open hand in front of him in protest. “It’s always a pleasure to expose his little ruses.” His voice was warm and welcoming, and he had a strange accent that I couldn’t place. “The name’s Alastor”. What’s yours, sweetheart?” He bent over somewhat and offered me his hand.
“Lily.” I said timidly, taking it as he shook my arm excitedly.
“Ah, a lovely name! Well, Lily I’m so very glad that you took my offer to help! I would certainly hate to leave a little thing like you alone on the streets.“
I had often heard that cities had more crime than the smaller towns and homesteads that I was used to. But his tone indicated that the problem was more pervasive than I had thought. “Should I really be that worried?”
“Why, yes!” His head spun toward me as he walked, his brown eyes wide behind his thin-rimmed glasses. “There are dangers lurking around every corner here. Swindlers, thieves, gangsters….and worse.”
“Worse?!” Shock was apparent in my expression.
“Yes, dear. Far worse. He looked forward as he continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke. ”The most a thief can take is your money. But there are people here that want to take more than that.” His ever-present smile faltered for just a moment.
I caught his meaning and looked away, but an anxiety came over me upon hearing his words. Alastor must’ve noticed this, as he immediately raised the back his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated manner, tilting his head back as he did so. “And I can just imagine how terrible I would feel, if you were to fall into the clutches of someone like that!”
I raised an eyebrow at his overacted tone. “And how do I know that you’re not someone like that?”
“You don’t.” He smiled, giving me a sidelong glance, likely eager to see my reaction. I said nothing but slowed my pace, almost coming to a complete stop. Alastor’s smile grew wider, and he let out a short laugh.
“Don’t fret, my dear! I mean you no harm. I just wish to safely escort a newly-arrived visitor. That’s all!”
“That’s very kind of you...but….” I avoided his eyes, trying to make my skepticism less evident.
“Is my behavior suspicious to you?” He raised his eyebrows but kept a slight grin.
My whole life I had learned that nothing was free. Everyone always wanted something in return, from goods to simple gestures. Everything came with a cost. Even back home, with the simplest of courtesies, many people always expected something in return. Food, money, a favor to be asked later. “Well, I’m just not use to people doing nice things for nothing.”
“Oh, but you are offering something in return, dear!”
“I am?” Of course he would want something. But I hardly had anything to give.
“Why, yes! I always enjoy conversing with strangers, especially ones from out of town. They tend to tell the most interesting stories…” Alastor’s voice lowered as spoke those last words, yet he seemed very satisfied with himself.
“I’m afraid I don’t have many stories to tell.” And in all honestly, I didn’t. I came from a relatively isolated area, with lots of farmland and simple people trying to make a living. But that hardly ever lent itself to good stories.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow inquisitively.
“I’m from a small town. There never seems to be much going on. Sometimes there’s hardly anyone to talk to, and there’s certainly no travelers. Just old folks and animals.”
He perked up even more at my response, as if it was exactly what he wanted to hear. “Well that’ll change while you’re here, sweetheart! I’m sure you’ll have lots of interesting tales to take back home with you.”
I smiled awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. What was there to go back to? I tried to make my case as best as I could. “Oh…I’m-uh…not going back. My hometown has nothing to offer me anymore. Just old-fashioned ways, some rude people, and….well..sad faces.” All of which was true.
A satisfied expression settled on his face. He seemed to delight in my poor and simple background. “Then I’m glad to offer you a welcoming introduction and a friendly smile!” Alastor’s voice was soft and warm, and my faint caution began to withdraw. He was certainly charming. I had never seen anyone smile as much as he did. He was theatrical in his mannerisms and carried himself more confidently than anyone around him. Even walking down the street appeared to be a performance for him, even as no one was looking. Eventually we came upon a grand brick building in the middle of town. It was old and somewhat small compared to the structures that surrounded it, yet it was bustling with activity.
“Ah! Here’s your hotel! You’re only staying here temporarily I presume?” Alastor turned towards me and awaited my response, despite the obvious answer.
I only intended to stay until I found more affordable and stable accommodations. While the hotel was advertised to be on the more luxurious side of things, I knew I couldn’t stay long. My finances would not allow it, and I knew I couldn’t get to use to the lavish atmosphere. I would inevitably have to settle for something less so. “Yes, just until I can find something permanent.”
“Well, I wish you all the best, my dear.” He began to turn away as he spoke, as if he had somewhere important to be. But something stopped him and he glanced back at me, wide-eyed, like he had forgotten something.
“And one more thing! Est-ce que tu parles français?”
Oh, right. They speak French here too, I thought, chastising myself for not remembering such an important detail. Though what he said, I didn’t know. I had rarely ever heard a word of the language. …”I beg your pardon?”
He just grinned, and waved his hand. “Never mind, I’m sure you’ll get along fine either way!” I certainly hope he’s right about that. “Until we meet again, my dear!” And with that he left, strolling down the street at a quick pace. But how could we ever meet again? In such a big city, you could hardly ever meet the same person twice, right?
#yes i did pull that title out of my ass#its a placeholder#this is just a drabble for now#i needed some catharsis#just gonna throw this out there#read if you want#i've never written fiction before so#this is not great#but ehhhhhhhhhhh#hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fanfic#hazbin fanfic#hazbin hotel fanfic#my fanfic#eeeeeee#don't judge me
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Seventeen
It’s the third day in a row that Tim wakes up to a pounding in his head, phone clutched loosely in his hand.
He gazes blearily at the open door to his closet; suits and ties thrown hastily on hangers, shoes half falling out onto the floor of his bedroom, a single sock mysteriously poking out from underneath his suitcase and he begins to wonder when he let himself fall so far.
Tim drops his phone and turns onto his back, pulling the duvet over his head and pretending he doesn’t actually have to get out of bed, Bruce can handle it, right–
His phone buzzes from the floor. Tim chooses to ignore it, knowing that if he can’t have this one day to himself then he might as well quit. It takes all of his willpower to leave the device alone but after ten seconds the buzzing stops and Thank god, it’s so loud against the wood floor–
He jumps the second time his phone buzzes. Tim’s a one-and-done kind of guy, so if someone’s calling twice he figures it must be important.
Practically falling off the bed, Tim snatches the phone from off the floor.
“Hello?” he answers and cringes at how his voices breaks.
There’s a pause from the other end, then “Tim?”
And he can’t help the sigh that escapes, wishing he could hang up, turn the phone off, and force himself back asleep like it would solve something. He lays back down, blinks the rest of the sleep out of his eyes.
“Dick? Why are you calling me at–” he holds the device in front of him to check the time, “–three on a Monday morning?”
The line goes silent, long enough Tim thinks he was hung-up on when he hears a muffled swear and… running?
“Sorry, currently ah– working,” Dick responds, and Tim hates the way he can tell the other man’s smiling. A siren, far below Tim’s window, passes by, and he’s distracted so he only catches the end of what Dick’s saying. “–thinking I could stop by, if that’s fine?”
Tim scrambles out of his bed, suddenly recognizing why he hears the same siren through the phone. He whips around to the balcony outside of his bedroom and half expects to see the shadow of a person.
“Now?” he hisses, lowering his voice. “Are you– are you actually crazy?”
Dick laughs, “You know, you’re not the first person to ask me that. Be there in 5,” and hangs up. Running a hand through his hair, Tim tosses the phone onto his bed. He’d usually run to the bathroom and make himself into some semblance of put together-ness, but this is three-in-the-morning Tim and this Tim has zero expectations for himself, caped crusaders be damned.
He only jumps a little when there’s a soft thud coming from outside; he squeezes his eyes shut, thankful he lives in the part of town where billboard lights don’t shine down every alley, allowing certain persons to slip down fire escapes without so much a glance from passersby.
A light tapping on his window forces him to get up, making sure each movement looks as sluggish as he feels. Before he even has the chance to dig his fingers under the decaying window, Dick– now Nightwing– forces it open and slips in alongside a cool breeze. Tim blinks slowly, huffs and tries to force the panes back down before giving up and deciding the night air feels nice.
He turns back, surprised when he finds the door to his bedroom open, light from the kitchen spilling down the hallway. Taking a deep breath for what feels like too many deep breaths for one night, he stalks out of his room.
There’s a clinking sound that Tim can only imagine is the sound of Dick rummaging through his refrigerator.
“You know,” he starts, rounding the corner to his kitchen, “you’re all starting to become the reason why I have to grocery shopping three times a week. Three. The cashier thinks I dump it all into the river.”
“Oh?” Dick keeps his back to him. “Tell Bruce. You know he’s itching to give you a raise.”
Tim rolls his eyes. “That’s not the point. Like, at all.”
“Or–” Dick looks back at Tim smirking, his hands still working on whatever food he’d grabbed. “–you could tell us to stop.”
“And would that work?”
Dick laughs but doesn’t say anything else.
Tim notices a discarded mask on his counter. Dick doesn’t– hasn’t ever taken off his mask when in costume. Not in front of Tim, at least. Figuring Dick would explain, Tim sluggishly moves to sit at his kitchen table; he picks the metal folding chair he’d found on the side of the road when he first moved in.
Grabbing two glasses from a cupboard above the sink, Dick moves throughout Tim’s kitchen like it’s his own (they all do, really. Tim doesn’t mind). He sets one by Tim and sits down across from him in the only other chair at the table.
Tim, absentmindedly playing with the condensation on the glass, yawns.
“So,” he starts, watching Dick stretch his arms behind his head, “to what do I owe the honor of your presence?”
Dick smiles back. “Aww, must a guy need a reason to see a good friend?”
“If he’s visiting that friend at three in the morning, then yeah, I think he does.” And Dick laughs again as he runs a hand through his hair; if Tim didn’t feel like he could pass out right there at the table, he’d probably laugh too. He settles for an amused look, waiting for the other man to say something else. After a couple of seconds pass, Dick raises his hands as if in surrender.
“Alright, alright, this isn’t just a social visit,” and he pauses, winks at Tim, “But you are funny when you’re tired. You should see your face.”
Tim rolls his eyes again but thinks he probably wouldn’t be mad even if it was. Probably.
Dick sighs, and suddenly looks at Tim with a kind of pity; it’s the kind of look Tim’s been getting used to over the past year. The change in mood puts him on edge, and if it were anyone besides Dick he wouldn’t be suspicious. Tim can’t help the twitch in his eye but doesn’t say anything. He lowers his gaze to his glass, suddenly ashamed.
“We’re… worried about you, all of us,” Dick says, head cocked to the side as if unsure where to start. “You know.”
It dawns on Tim why he’s here. He curls in on himself and feels a flush arise on his cheeks. Not now. Please, not now. The other man never gives up on a mission, though, so Tim waits.
The silence doesn’t last long– Dick breaks it first. “Bruce told me things have been… busy. With the holidays, and all. He asked if I’d spoken with you recently.”
Tim looks up at that, annoyed at himself for being surprised. The somber look Dick gives him doesn’t help. He raises an eyebrow, “And?”
“And,” Dick draws it out, looking away from Tim, “I told him no. But he wanted me to. Come here, I mean.” He leans his chin on his hand, gaze awkward but steady as he meets Tim’s. “To extend an invitation.”
And now Tim’s confused. “A what?”
A small smile appears on Dick’s face, a little sad.
“An invitation. For you. To come spend the holidays with us.”
Tim frowns, grasping at straws as to why Dick would come just to ask him that.
“We see each other at work every day. Why wouldn’t Bruce just ask me then?” He scowls, slumps further into his chair. It’s… not the first time he’s been asked, actually. But to Tim, it’s always been a sort of formality, done more out of politeness than sincerity.
“He thinks you don’t take him seriously.”
He huffs, giving Dick a look that says, Really?
“Bruce Wayne asks me to spend Christmas with his family and I’m supposed to take him seriously?”
“Yes!” Dick nearly shouts, holding his hands out like he wants to shake Tim.
The reaction throws Tim off; he stares back at Dick, eyebrows furrowed, as the other man leans back in his chair and rubs his face.
Another siren comes blasting along one of Gotham’s streets and Tim flinches, grateful Dick had been too distracted looking out the window to see it. The two sit without saying a word as more red and blue lights swing their way across the apartment.
Dick, still not looking at him, says, “I’m sorry.”
Counting the cars that pass, Tim startles when a gentle hand on his wrist breaks him from his train of thought; he realizes his hand is cramping from his vice-like grip on his glass. He breathes, pulls each finger slowly away from the moisture that’s built up.
“You’ve been through a lot his past year,” Tim meets Dick’s eyes. “And I would never want to make this decision for you.”
It’s been nearly a year since his father passed and Tim did everything in his power to keep the thought out of his head. He was still working on how to prove himself a capable adult; he just… hasn’t had the time to think about anything else.
The implications of Dick’s request aren’t lost on him.
“Dick, I–” and Tim doesn’t know where he’s going with this. “You all have done so much for me. More than I could’ve ever expected, really.” He rubs a hand through his hair now, too, realizes he’s picked up Dick’s habit. “I don’t think I could– I mean, really, I couldn’t–” Stupid, stupid, stupid
“Tim,” Dick softly interjects, reaching across and grabs his hand, and suddenly it’s hard for Tim to look at him so he turns away.
He’s briefly aware of Dick crossing the table, bending to hold him, and wishes he couldn’t feel the warm streaks of tears down his face. It’s too much, he thinks, everything, all at once. He’s well-versed in the world of pity– he’s going on six years of living in it. But this… Too much.
It’s been a few minutes, and Tim knows it must be uncomfortable for Dick, standing the way he is, but neither move. He sniffles– hates it, but he can’t help it– and he’s being squeezed tighter before Dick sits back on his heels and holds him at arm’s length.
“It’s your choice.”
Tim nods.
“I won’t force you into anything. But we will always have a space for you, if you want it,” the sincerity in Dick’s voice makes something in Tim hurt. “And Alfred’s cookies might just be the best on the planet, so.”
Tim looks up at him and laughs, even with the few remaining tears sliding out.
Dick stands and smiles back, the kind of smile Tim thinks he’s the only one capable of giving. He offers his hand to Tim, who takes it, confused, and is promptly pulled into another one of Dick Grayson’s signature bear-hugs.
“Call me, Tim,” Tim hears from above him. “Or text. Whatever. Just talk to me, okay?”
Tim nods again, taking in as much of the hug as he can before they let go.
Dick grabs his mask off the counter, making his way over to one of the windows and pulling it open.
“Oh!” Dick says, startling Tim, “Almost forgot something!” and makes his way back to the kitchen. He grabs the uneaten sandwich he’d made and quickly pinches one of Tim’s cheeks, who swats the hand away with mock annoyance.
Halfway out the window, Dick looks back at Tim.
“Take care, Tim. I hope to see you soon.”
And Tim… thinks that he will.
#posting this in a way that i think is a little easier to read on tumblr#at least it is for me#WHO CARES lol#my writing#my posts#dc#dc comics#batman#batfam#tim drake#dick grayson#red robin#nightwing#robin#fan fic#fanfic#fan fiction#fanfiction#writing#assistant#alternate universe#au- assistant
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Bewildered Heart - Chapter Seven: Childhood Innocence
Series Summary: What happens when Sam and Dean Winchester love the same woman?
Word Count: 2048
Warnings: angst, pissed off Sam, mentions of angry Dean, pregnancy, swearing
Pairing: Dean x Remi Leverett (OC), Sam x Remi Leverett (OC)
Winchester Fantasies’ Masterlist
When Remi awoke in the morning, Dean still had not come home, and when she checked her phone she found that he had not sent any texts either. Tears sprang to her eyes as her mind returned to his outburst the night before. She had not meant for it to slip out that way. She had wanted to make it special. Why she had been so stupid to lose herself in him like that she did not know.
She had not anticipated that kind of reaction from Dean either. Sure, she had imagined he would be shocked, but not like that. That was a side Dean only reserved for when he was outright livid. He had never raised his voice like that to her; had never given such a harsh dose of coldness. Remi had never expected him to not want this baby – it had not even crossed her mind. But her heart felt heavy at the realization that perhaps he did not.
Remi slid out of bed, her body weak and tired from having stayed up into the early morning crying and berating herself for having fucked up so epically. Her stomach growled and as much as she wanted to just stay in bed, she realized she had to stay healthy. Especially now that she had a tiny human growing inside her.
When Remi reached the kitchen, she found Sam already up. He was on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen, a cup of coffee in his hand. He glanced in her direction when she entered but did not return her smile, instead turning back to his screen. Remi’s heart sank just a little that even he was giving her the cold shoulder, but she ignored it and went to pour herself some coffee.
When she turned around, Sam was watching her, a steely look in his normally kind eyes. Remi swallowed the coffee before plastering on an uncertain smile. “Is…everything okay?” she asked hesitantly.
Sam’s jaw was set and he stared at her a few more moments before speaking, his voice cold. “I’m going to ask you something. And I want you to be completely honest with me.” Remi swallowed hard as she waited for his next words. “Is there something going on between you and Dean?”
Remi’s breath caught in her throat and her hands trembled causing her to turn away from Sam hurriedly and place her mug on the counter before she could drop it. Tears sprung up when she glanced back at Sam who sat rigidly in his chair, waiting for her answer. “Sam,” Remi breathed out, her voice catching, her eyes begging him to let it go.
Sam shut his eyes and his mouth twitched. When he opened them again, Remi nearly shriveled up at the anger blazing in them. “No!” he snapped. “Tell me the truth. Now!”
A tear rolled down her cheek, her eyes locked on his with dread. “Y…yes,” Remi whispered. Sam’s expression changed into one of shock, as if he had not fully expected her to answer positively. That is when she saw what she feared most – his eyes filled with anguish as the gravity of her words finally settled over him. But in an instant, his anger was back as he shoved back his chair and stalked over to her, his large frame towering, fists at his side. She saw his hands shaking, and she realized this went beyond anger; this was rage. “Sam, we were going to tell you. We were just waiting for the right time….”
“Oh, yeah, it was perfect timing!” Sam said sarcastically. “I had to find out by hearing my brother fucking my girlfriend.”
Remi blanched at his words. “Y…you heard that?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed and he gave her a harsh smile. “Oh, yeah. I heard it. All those fucking pornographic sounds you were making. I’d know those sounds anywhere,” he growled.
“Sam…I’m…so, so sorry,” Remi breathed, unable to find any other words.
“Oh, sure,” Sam rolled his eyes. “I can tell you’re real sorry. So what? I leave and you just jump on the first dick that comes your way?”
Remi’s trepidation fled as her blood boiled. She stood up as straight as possible, her own hands forming into fists. She felt her fingernails biting into her palms, but the pain only spurred her on as she squared off with Sam. “It wasn’t like that,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Then how was it?” Sam challenged.
“I thought. You. Were. Dead,” she said, emphasizing each word.
“Well, maybe I’d be better off that way,” he snarled, his gaze raking over her in disgust. His words pricked at her heart, and for a moment her anger faltered. She had not meant to push him that far.
“Is everything alright?” Cas asked, coming into the room. He looked between Sam and Remi questioningly.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Sam muttered, pushing past Cas and stomping to the garage. Remi heard his Charger roar to life, tires squealing as he peeled off down the road.
Remi’s shoulders slumped in defeat as Cas came to stand beside her. He placed a rigid but comforting hand on her shoulder. “What happened, Remi?”
“Oh, Cas,” Remi sighed. “I’ve messed up everything.”
Remi glanced up into Cas’ blue eyes, gentle and caring, waiting for her to continue. “Sam found out…about me and Dean. We were going to tell him together, when the time was right.” Remi huffed out an angry chuckle. “But that was a fucking disaster.”
Cas frowned for a moment as he glanced around the kitchen. “Where is Dean?”
“He left yesterday and hasn’t been back since.” Remi glanced at the floor. “Cas, I’m…I’m pregnant,” she stuttered, daring a look at the angel.
His eyes were wide at her revelation, but a slight smile was on his lips. “Dean’s,” he said matter-of-factly.
Remi nodded. “I totally fucked that up, too. When he found out he was furious, Cas. He just stormed off and I haven’t heard from him since.” She paused for a moment as she closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. When she opened them again, her eyes were swimming with tears. “Cas…what do I do?”
Cas smiled gently at her. “I wish I had an easy answer. That I could tell you what to do. But I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “This is something that you have to decide yourself.”
Remi nodded slowly. “I know you’re right. It’s just…my heart loves both of them. I’m carrying Dean’s child, but I don’t want to hurt Sam either. It’s all just such a cluster fuck.”
Cas turned and pulled her into his arms, his body stiff but warm. Remi melted into his embrace as fresh tears fell. She sniffed and wiped her eyes as she pulled away. “I have to leave, Cas. I can’t stay here right now. Not with everything the way it is. I need some time away to figure everything out. Plus, I don’t think Sam and Dean want me around right now,” she huffed.
Cas frowned. “But where will you go?”
“I have a friend in my hometown. Her door’s always been open. I can stay there for a few weeks until the dust settles.” Cas nodded. “But, Cas, you can’t tell Sam and Dean where I’m at. Please.” The angel stared at her, his expression nearly impossible to read. Finally he nodded.
“Thank you, Cas,” Remi said. “I’m going to go pack.”
**********
Half an hour later she was headed toward Gentry, a little bedroom community in Arkansas that she had called home for nearly her entire childhood. It was a town where everyone knew everyone; where strangers were neighbors; and you were considered rude if you didn’t send a friendly wave to passersby.
She drove for nearly seven hours, only stopping once for lunch and a few bathroom and gas breaks, arriving in Gentry just as the sun began dipping behind the horizon. She drove down Main Street, taking in her childhood. Everything was the same despite her not being there in almost four years. She smiled as she watched people strolling down the sidewalks, mostly elderly couples, arms linked as they enjoyed the cool evening.
She made her way down a little farther passing by the old church and run down laundromat across from it before she made her way to the park. Even though it was set off from Main Street, in many ways it was the town center, where everyone gathered on special occasions. Remi remembered festivals and parties from her childhood when she and her friends would saunter throughout, playing games, eating greasy food from trucks, and taking makeshift hayrides. She grinned as she passed the skate park where kids from the local high school would gather after school and throughout the summer, the boys showing off and the girls drooling.
Remi drove a couple of miles out of town before she reached a dirt road. She made her way slowly, avoiding the many potholes that dotted the dusty path. She traveled another seven miles before she turned off, pulling up into a gravel driveway. She parked and alighted, taking her duffle bag from the trunk and covering her eyes against the sun as she surveyed the house in front of her. This was her childhood home. The two-story house stood away from the road, tall and boxy. One window faced the road while the front door stood on the side of the house, facing the tall grove of pine trees that her grandfather had planted long before she was born.
The house had been bright yellow when she was little, contrasting with the azure metal roof. But now it was a dull bluish-gray, melding nicely into the greenery around it. She glanced around, taking in the foliage around her and listening to the wind as it moved through the pines, their tall trunks swaying in the wind, and their branches rubbing together in an almost eerie squeak. Remi smiled. These were the sounds of her childhood and nostalgia enveloped her as she heard the front door open. “Remi?” a voice questioned. She turned to see her friend, Lauren, standing in the doorway a surprised look on her face.
“Hey, Ren,” Remi greeted as she made her way up to the wooden stairs, her duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. “Can I stay here for a few days?”
“Um, yeah, of course,” Lauren answered with a smile. She glanced around in confusion. “Where’re Sam and Dean?” Lauren knew that Remi was a hunter, her and the Winchesters having saved her four years before from a vamp nest.
“Uh, they…they aren’t here,” Remi mumbled making her way into the house as Lauren stepped aside.
“Is…everything okay?” Lauren asked suspiciously, her eyes filled with concern.
Remi sighed and rubbed her hands across her eyes. “It’s a long story, Ren. I just needed to get away.”
Lauren smiled. “I understand,” she said, pulling Remi into a hug. “You can stay as long as you need to.”
Remi smiled and nodded appreciatively before Lauren led her upstairs. “You can stay in here,” her friend said, motioning her into the bedroom on their left. “I figured you might want to sleep in your old room.”
Remi set her duffle on the bed before she turned and took in the room. Everything had been rearranged and her things had long since been replaced, but the room was still painted the same baby blue that she had loved. She smiled as she remembered the times she had spent hanging out with Lauren while they obsessed over boy bands and had private dance parties into the early morning hours. “Thanks, Ren,” Remi said.
Lauren smiled. “I’ll let you settle in. It’ll be a while before Zach gets home so feel free to shower and freshen up.”
Remi smiled and nodded as her friend closed the door and retreated down the stairs, leaving Remi alone. She sat down on the bed, the silence enveloping her. The heaviness she had felt for the last two days settled over her once more, the diversion of her friend now gone. She swiped at an unbidden tear as emptiness filled her stomach and her heart ached for her childhood innocence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thank you for reading! If you liked what you read, let me know!! ❤❤
***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#dean winchester x ofc#sam winchester x ofc#dean x ofc#sam x ofc#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester angst#sam winchester angst#dean winchester#sam winchester#supernatural#spn#supernatural fanfiction series#bewildered heart
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The Hours
“Each had its past locked within itself, like the leaves of a book learned by them from memory, and their friends could only read the title.”
-Virginia Woolf.
Single Chapter
Stanley decided that he would buy the flowers himself. They were for the party. For their party. Maybe, after school he could get them. Maybe not fresh enough, but they are in good condition.
Among the corridors of the Concrete Hills Institute, the lively voices of the students who were already starting the student day, one of many, on any given day in June. Never mind. Stan advanced, thinking. Thinking about his life. Thinking about what it would be in a few years. He was fifteen, and there was little left to call himself an adult. He didn't know why but this day was less cheerful than he could have imagined. He began to ask what would be the following. What will happen to their destinations? Why do he now feel so empty in your life, in that instant? Look at the ground, dodging passersby. Listen to some boos on his left, but that does not interest him at all: he could not care less on that day, in those hours (Hey, Pines! Where do ‘ya keep your nerd clone?). In addition to thinking about himself, he only thinks of Ford. He was advanced on the way to the institute, so he should look for him. He hasn't even seen him at the entrance. "-Where is he? -".
He arrives at his locker, red, metallic and with a password to enter. He put the code and opened. Among his books, was a red letter. Stan was surprised by that fact: no one had ever left him a letter. Curious, Stan grabbed the letter. He examined it, and could not witness a possible sender. The other students left, because the bell rang. The odd word, and more mocking comments behind his back -surely said by Crampelter. Stan felt paralyzed, not knowing too well whether to open the letter now, or later. But, he felt called by her. I had to open it. With nervous fingers, he took out the message. And immediately, he recognized his brother's letter.
youtube
-Mr. Pines, the classes have already begun.- Master Young stared at her most ominous student standing like an asshole in the middle of an empty hallway. The boy did not answer, hypnotized by the letter. The teacher, to impose herself on the pupil, spoke louder from the arch of her classroom. –Mr. Pines, enter immediately.- Same answer. Some of Stanley's classmates realized that the teacher was there, calling for a lost case. One or another began to murmur. Others only talked about the superficiality of makeup, sports, or the death of this or another singer at a young age. -Mr. Pines; if you don't go to class, I'll call the principal! - The woman started to get angry. I was not noticing Stan's evolutionary expression, which was transformed from one of confusion, and after absolute concern. Now, all the students noticed the teacher, some joking and teasing Stanley when she entered the classroom.
From one second to another, the teacher threatened again: - If you do not stop reading that and it does not come, Mr. Pines, you’ll be suspended! - The teacher at that moment took out all the courage the boy had given her. Stan looked up from the letter, but not to see his teacher. He dropped it to the floor, like his backpack. And he ran to the main entrance. -Mr. PINES, RETURN HERE IMMEDIATELY! - The students, who were stressed by the situation, could no longer endure their exacerbated curiosity and quickly crowded to the door to see Stan's terrified escape. The teacher went after him. The students, a few stared at her, running with twitchy movements. Others, they noticed the letter.
Suddenly, Crampelter, the parasite, who always got what he wanted came forward to them. Being as pretentious as he could only get to do it, he grabbed the letter, mocking and freaking out when he had the message in his hands. -Oh, look: Romeo went behind his deformed Juliet!- The blond boy displayed the letter better, and examined it. When he finished, his gesture suddenly ceased to be a simple sly smile, a lost look and complete anguish.
Stan ran off, leaving his teacher completely behind. Gradually he stopped listening Young, making her threats a simple allegation in the distance. He did not stop, although his lungs hurt. He didn't stop, even if his body asked him to do it. He didn't stop, no matter what. His will was what prevailed at the time, and it was all he needed. Meanwhile, Professor Young could barely travel about fifteen meters from the door. He saw Stan disappear, down the small hill that led to the beach. At about two hundred meters, maybe more, or maybe a little less, there was a blurry accumulation, with lights, near the nearest dock.
-Hey, dude, ‘ya’ve a face as if you had seen a ghost.- One of Crampelter's friends spoke to him. His description could not have been more reliable. In response, he gave the letter. The boy read the first lines.
-Please, no, no, he can’t be ... - Stanley murmured, running and constantly bumping into the people on the street shouting "Be careful boy!". All were a simple groove of disfigured colors that didn't matter, that faded behind his back. Between sweat and tears, Stanley was missing a hundred or twenty or one hundred and ten meters to reach. His instinct to run was what drove him, it was the spark that made him react. As long as one knows, love has always acted in unlikely, unintelligible and mysterious ways, one does things incomprehensible by those feelings. You do what you can best to hold them high.
Among the murmurs of Stan's classmates, some saw that the bullies were petrified, with reactions of vivid dread, with faces and expressions whiter than paper. "Hey, what's up with those guys?" Crampelter's friend said nothing, just rereading, once again. It was a sensation he had never felt. Or rather, he never thought he was going to experiment with something related to the situation that was going on. Not with this scenario. Swallowing, he read once more ...
I can't keep fighting anymore, Stan. I'm already "throwing out the gloves," as Pa would say. But it is that I failed to continue fighting. They've already given me a good knock out. I can’t anymore. I can't write this properly, as you can see. I have never been able to recover from this sinuous sensation, this enormous weight that I must carry on my back day and night, even when I try to dream to the fullest. I’ve never been someone happy. I have no idea what I’m for this gray life. The only thing I know for sure is your undeniable goodness. I know that with this, I’m ruining your life. But I know you will continue. You'll make it. Do you see that I can’t write this properly? I constantly suffocate in these suburbs. I have never been able to feel such a great jolt, like that of your undeniable kindness and affection. I give you all the happiness of my life. I feel that every day I drag you more to my downfall. I can't keep ruining your life. Not for longer.
I don't think two people could have been happier than we have been. Sixer.
"Let me pass, to a damn side!" Stan thrust the crowd around the ambulance with tares. He was trying to break through. Stan's soul fell to his feet when he saw his twin on a stretcher, with some tubes in his nose, and completely soaked. "No ... please, no ..." Stan tried to move forward, but some paramedics intervened to keep him from approaching. "Lemme... lemme go!" Stanley tried to fight uselessly. Stan needed to be with him. He needed to be with Stan. He couldn't let him go alone. -I'm his brother, let me go with him!-
-Please ... - The paramedics, hearing this, stopped struggling to keep it away. Stan approached the stretcher. His brother was breathing. Weakly, heavy, with difficulties, with an almost imperceptible sound. Stan was about to collapse when he felt helpless in this situation. They asked him to get on the ambulance with them. He didn't think about it once.
#young stanley pines#young stanford pines#STAN TWINS#my writing#virginia woolf#the hours#anniversary#gravity falls#i know this is not an amazing work#but i want to celebrate the finale of gf
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Remember to Hate You
A story written by its3am
Original on Ao3
Notes:
Slight AsraxJulian, Slight ValdemarxOC, LucioxMC, the third chapter contains explicit content
italics are flashbacks
Summary:
Athenia is from a Southern tribe that was overrun by another warring one. She was held a slave until the tribe that destroyed her own decided to take on the Scourge of the South and fell. She began working at a herbalist for them, doing what she needed to do to survive. Morga never paid attention to her, and she couldn’t stand Montag, so she was glad to never have attracted their attention. She managed to flee one fateful night and traveled alongside some of the best doctors in the country, working her way up in the ranks and learning every skill she could. She was strong, spirited, could hold her own, but at the same time, knew when to remain quiet, depending on what the situation warranted. She knew how to benefit from any situation.
This story begins when Athenia first came to Vesuvia and started working for Dr. Devorak. She attended a party and ran into the very last person on this planet that she wanted to see, the only person who could ruin her chance at this fresh new life.
Chapter One:
Athenia sighed as she made her way silently through the trees. Snow fell and coated the ground, the branches of the trees, the fur that protected her neckline from the bitter cold of the coming season. Her eyes scanned the cold ground, unsure if anything would be left for her to gather. She knew the caraway was crucial to surviving the illness that had fallen upon the tribe, and she knew she would forever be revered if she were able to bring it back at this critical time. She ran her hands over her wet hair before pulling it up into a bun, shivering as snowflakes melted on her exposed neck.
The telltale white blooms came into view as she emerged into an open field, she followed the slope of the earth as it valleyed downwards, losing her footing as she descended. She let out a soft cry as she landed on her bottom, the back of her legs now soaked through from the wet snow that had fallen. She opened her satchel and made her way to the wild caraway blossoms.
The dirt was cold and stiff beneath her fingertips as she dug away at the plant, seeking the root that nestled beneath the earth. Cursing as she went, she gathered what she could before the sun began to set behind the tree line, branches still and bare as ghosts waiting to be reborn.
As she rose to her feet, the cold wet snow on her pants seemed to seep into her very bones, sending an unpleasant tremor through her body. A branch snapped in the distance. She froze, unable to move. With bated breath, she waited to ensure silence once again surrounded her, the setting sun fading as darkness cloaked the world in unseen danger. Another snap to her left, and another. And another. Until the sound surrounded her rising as if it were a cursed choir choking the serenity from her world. The valley floor turned red, rolling and churning as it neared her boots. Water? No, she realized. The clicking of thousands of beetles rose to an ear shattering crescendo, drowning out her horrified screams until she was dragged under, falling through the tiny shelled bodies of the blood red bugs.
Sweat gleamed on her brow as she sat up abruptly, unable to catch her breath. It was this same dream, every year to the day, a cruel reminder of her past. It was the day that damn coward ran away, only it didn’t end like her dream always did. She remembered the forest, the snow falling silently as if it actually were a dream. The caraway. The cold wet of her clothes as she trudged back with her herbs, the ones that would prove her as indispensable. She would prove that they needed her, she would keep them alive this season and in turn they would forever be grateful. She remembered emerging from the forest, walking into camp and froze as she saw a man on the cold ground, Morga in front of him with her spear pressing into him. His telltale blonde hair confirmed it was Montag, without a doubt. She held her breath as she saw Morga muttering something to him, before he quickly rose and turned, locking eyes with her for but a moment before disappearing forever into the forest.
“Athenia?” She heard a soft voice call, “Athenia, are you awake in there?” Julian’s sweet face came into view as he peeked his head into her room. “I thought I heard you crying.”
“I’m alright, are we late?” She asked, wiping her forehead as she sat up, eyes wide.
“Not yet!” Julian grinned, and left her alone, shutting the door behind him.
Athenia groaned as she climbed out of bed, there was a celebration party that the city was expected to attend the next evening in recognition of the Count’s birthday, and she rolled her eyes imagining what a bore it was going to be. All the proper people, in their proper clothes while the poor suffered and starved.
The sun shone brightly in the bluest sky she’d ever seen, not a cloud in sight. The air around her warm, as if she were wrapped in safety’s embrace, finally away from the world she left behind. Her satchel jangled at her side, her medical tools meticulously placed into side pockets and wrapped in cloths to keep them from scratching one another. She smiled as she walked through the cobblestone streets, merchants and bakers lined up in the early light to sell their wares to smiling customers, the streets filled with bright linens and flowing silks. The first day of the rest of her life.
Once dressed, she met Julian outside where he was looking up at the sky. The clouds had begun to roll in, and they were headed to the Palace on their day off. Julian had taken the liberty to volunteer them both to help set up for the festivities since they happened to both be free from clinic duties that day. She didn’t argue, as it would certainly help her be seen by Palace staff, and any opportunity to impress was one that she would seize if it meant possible advancement.
They were quiet on the way to the Palace, the shops bustling as they danced their way through the crowds, avoiding collision in the hustle and bustle of a pre storm morning. The sweet smell of fresh breads filled the air, swirling with the scent of kicked up dirt and perfumes of the passersby. Once out of the crowd, Athenia focused on her feet, watching each footfall and imagining a life as a healer employed by the Palace. A life of luxury and comfort, warm foods and cozy beds.
By the time they finally made it to the Palace, rain began misting down from the sky above. She frowned thinking about their walk home, brow furrowing as Julian greeted the guards before they passed through the wrought iron gates.
Warmth and golden light enveloped them as they entered through the golden double doors. The air smelled of lily of the valley, frankincense. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the delicate, clean aroma, listening to the sound of her footsteps tap on the flawless marble floor that stretched out in all directions.
“You coming?” Julian called out playfully, several strides ahead of her. “It’s nice, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s amazing…” She breathed, eyes widening as if to take in as much of the beauty that surrounded her as possible. She hadn’t been through this part of the palace before, and had only been inside once for the autumn masquerade. Carved statuettes seemed to gaze at her from every hall’s end, angelic faces and halos, full lips and chiseled muscles etched flawlessly into marbles and clays. Curtains of red and gold lay elegantly over large paned windows topped with stained glass displaying roses, animals and yet more angelic forms. The floors glittered as they made their way through the Palace, specks of gold inlay just beneath the glossy finish under her feet.
“Welcome!” A warm voice called out, she looked up to see the Countess beaming at them, taking long, elegant strides to meet them.
“Countess…” Julian hummed, bowing. Athenia’s face flushed pink as she tried to awkwardly curtsy at the Countess, eliciting a sweet laugh from her pretty lips.
“Is this Athenia?” The countess asked, eyes glittering as she looked her up and down smiling all the while. Athenia nodded, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, but could sense that the Countess was kind. She smiled up at her, Julian glancing over to gauge her reaction. She held in her excitement as the Countess beckoned them to follow her through the halls and out onto a veranda overlooking the gardens. They were magnificent. The rain pitter pattered on the rooftop sheltering them, the scent of petrichor filling her senses as the earth swirled and churned under the falling raindrops. The air held a slight chill this January day as they sat at a table covered in papers and lists. The Countess had certainly been working hard already this morning.
“So here are the ideas I’ve come up with, the servants will begin after lunch this afternoon. I’d like you to lead them, the Count seems to be quite fond of you and he would be pleased if you took care of things.” She stated, ending with a less than pleased tone.
“Interesting.” Julian said flatly, no sign of emotion in his response.
Athenia looked over the lists and diagrams as Julian and Countess Nadia conversed, her tone bordering on melancholy and annoyance, his seemed more cautious, receptive. Her ears perked up as to take in some of the conversation, confused by the seemingly displeased tone on a day to prepare for an upcoming celebration.
“Red wine, make sure the fountains over here are red wine. Buffet table over here.” She pointed to a rectangle on a map and sighed, her lips tilted downward into a slight frown. This was more work than fun for her. Where was the Count? Shouldn’t he be helping? She leaned back in her chair, listening to the sounds of the rain and the Countess planning, Julian “mm-hmm”ing along.
She could hear the increasing chatter through the busy city streets as the days passed by. In the market as she purchased sweet bread, at the Rowdy Raven when she went for a late night brew, down by the docks as she took a morning stroll before heading into the clinic, eager to get the head doctor, Dr. Julian Devorak’s attention in her thirst for success. This is where she would build a life for herself. She would do whatever it took.
The excitement and anticipation was growing, as the new Count that some seemed to love, some seemed to despise, was giving a speech tonight before the gladiator’s match.
Cruel, wicked, arrogant. Beautiful, charismatic, unmatched love for celebration and fun. These were the things she heard about him. By that week’s end, she couldn’t decide if she dreaded finally seeing this man, or if she were excited to find out what all the fuss was about. But tonight was the night, and she would be there in the crowd.
After each and every room was explained, after Julian had filled each and every margin with notes of plans, locations of this and that, this flavor that scent, they rose to their feet as a knock sounded on the door.
The Countess seemed to glide over to the closed door, opening it to invite the visitor in. White hair, dark skin, a beautiful smile “Asra!” The Countess exclaimed softly, “You’ve made it just in time!” The city’s magician came approached, appearing to glow even in this gloomy weather.
Athenia looked over to Julian just in time to see his face flush red, eyes averting and landing firmly on his feet.
“I was just finishing up here with Julian and Athenia, she is Julian’s assistant, they are graciously helping with the preparations.” She explained.
“We’d better get started on that, let’s go now, come!” Julian exclaimed in a strange theatric voice, grasping Athenia’s arm and tugging her toward the doorway. She followed, glancing back at the two beautiful people settling into their seats on the veranda, the colors they wore cutting through the bleak day like an oasis in the desert. Almost mesmerizing. Julian pulled her through the door and promptly shut it behind them before he began walking quickly down the hall, leaving Athenia to sprint to catch up to him.
The day went as planned, Julian assigned servants to rooms and tasks, his height an advantage when it came time to hang sparkling decorations overhead. The tables were set up, the glittering ribbon hung, the places set and ready for the following evening. It almost seemed as if something were missing, but Athenia couldn’t quite put her finger on it. ‘Ah!’ she thought to herself, ‘must be missing all the people.’ She was sure it would all come together once everyone had arrived.
The Countess had arranged for a carriage to bring them home in the morning, as the storm had picked up and it was too dangerous to leave the safety of cover at that time of night. They had been given guest chambers in which to stay, and were pointed to the baths in case they wished to wash off the stresses of the long day.
Athenia shut the door to her room and flopped onto the bed, inhaling the sweet aroma of the soaps used to wash the quilt that lay on the bed, pressing her cheek against the soft fabric. She counted the stitches to one hundred until she looked up and around her, gazing at the silken canopy above her, the plush carpets below her feet, the gold foil pattern on the hand carved ceiling above her. Everything in that room was as elegant as the rest of the Palace.
Her daze was broken as a knock sounded at her door, startled, she jumped up and ran to open it. A girl with bright red hair was on the other side with a tray of food, beaming up at Athenia as she held it out like an offering.
“Here’s your dinner Miss Athenia! My name is Portia, if you need anything just holler!”
“T-thank you Portia-“ Athenia stuttered out, wide eyed at the array of delicious foods that lay on the tray.
“Your friend the next door down is snoring. I put the tray by the door” she stated simply, pointing toward Julian’s room. Athenia nodded and smiled.
“Thank you for dinner-!” Athenia shouted after the vibrant girl as she bounced away down the hallway.
Closing the door, she set the tray on a nearby dresser, unsure of what to have first.
After the tray was nearly empty and the hour had grown late, she felt decidedly restless in her quiet room all alone. She opened the door and peeked out into the hallway, Julian’s tray rested outside the door, still adorned with all manner of delicacies. She chuckled and shook her head, deciding to check out the baths.
She softly padded down the hall toward the bath room, lost in thought. She imagined what It would be like to work here, spend every day surrounded by such beauty. As she approached the door, it slowly opened, causing her to jump back. Who would be bathing at this hour? Her question was answered as the occupant exited, thankfully fully clothed, but their unnaturally wide grin displayed dangerously sharp teeth that were not at all friendly. Their eyes shone red, skin a pale green as they exited wordlessly, hand in hand with a small, dark haired girl, clad only in a towel. She smiled sweetly, face flushed a bright pink as she made eye contact with Athenia, not a sound escaping her plump pink lips.
Athenia stood for a moment, realizing if she came any sooner she probably would have seen something she didn’t want to. Shuddering, she peeked inside to ensure she was alone before slipping through the doorway and into the steaming room.
Athenia slipped out of her clothing, setting the pile neatly on a nearby chair that was glistening with the dampness from the air. She untied her dark ponytail, the silver ends fanning out wildly around her pretty face, in desperate need of a good soak. She dipped one foot in the hot water, two, sighing as she lowered herself into the fragrant depths, soaking her tired body all the way to her shoulders, her neck, her chin until the waterline lay right below her nose.
She floated backwards, leaning against the edge and reaching for a perfumed bar of soap. Rubbing it between her hands, a decadent lather spilled out from her fingertips, dropping bubbles into the heated water. Placing the soap back where it belonged, she lathered her hair, her neck, shoulders, scrubbed her arms, lathered her full breasts, her soft stomach, legs and feet. She slowly indulged in the rare scents, making sure to lather every part of herself as to somehow capture the fragrance to keep forever.
She sighed, breathing in, breathing out, as her shoulders relaxed, her back releasing all of the tension she didn’t realize she was carrying until now.
She could have stayed there forever, she thought this to herself as she begrudgingly opened her eyes, her gaze landing on a pile of soft towels, appearing as pillows on the shelves lining the wall.
The air seemed cooler now as she emerged from the bath. She wrapped her long hair, twisting it up into a towel, and used another to dry her body before wrapping herself up for the trek back to her room. Certainly no one would be out and about at this hour. Except perhaps Portia, who seemed as if she had just awoken, full of energy as she brought by dinner.
Athenia smiled as she made her way down the hall, thinking about how wonderful everything here was. She silently placed one bare foot in front of the other, clutching her clothes, her boots. The fuzz lining her shirt collar tickled her nose and she let out an involuntary giggle before her blood ran cold.
Eyes. There were eyes on her. She could feel it.
———————————————————————————————————–
You can read the other chapters here:
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Please check out the writers AO3 account. All of their stories are incredibly well written and thought-through. Leave Kudos and most importantly: feel free to comment below their works. I couldn’t be happier with this stunning gift I recieved from them.
Athenia belongs to me
#julian#dr. julian devorak#julian x asra#lucio#the arcana#the arcane game#the arcana lucio#lucio x apprentice#lucio x mc#portia#nadia satrinava#apprentice oc#athenia#valdemar#valdemar x mc#lucio x reader#fanfiction#nyx hydra#asra alnazar#asra x julian#Montag Morgasson#morga#the arcana fic#the arcana fanfic#lucio fanfic#friendship#ilyushka devorak
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you had me at hydrangea
Chapter 1/6 - i hope thistle cheer you up
“I want him to see the flowers in my eyes and hear the songs in my hands.”
― Francesca Lia Block, Dangerous Angels
a phan flower shop/video editor au
(read on ao3) - beta’ed by zara! all remaining mistakes are mine.
next chapter
~~~
“Hello!” Phil said to the empty counter.
There was a thunk and a round of colourful swears. Wild curls came into view as the person behind the counter stood up, his eyes clenched shut with pain and rubbing the back of his head. “What the fuck,” he said, not opening his eyes but greeting Phil with a rather backward spew of words. “I mean. How can I help you? How many flowers do you want? Welcome.”
“Hi, Dan,” said Phil, unbearably fond.
“Oh!” Dan’s eyes flew open. His dimples appeared. “Oh. Hi, Phil! Flowers.”
Phil wondered if the bump had affected Dan more seriously than it had seemed. “Hi,” he said again, not knowing what else to say.
Dan was grinning sheepishly. “Er, sorry. I was trying to - I mean, I’d dropped the tape on the floor, so. I was kind of just sitting down there for a moment.”
“Oh.” Phil could understand that. The floor had to be more comfortable than the single narrow stool behind the counter that Dan was afforded. “That’s fine. It’s just me.”
Dan ducked his head. The silver hoop in his ear caught the light from the wide windows by the door, and Phil was suddenly, hopelessly endeared by the pink splotch of embarrassment that crept onto Dan’s cheek. “Yeah,” Dan said. “Can I...what can I get for you?”
Phil wished he had the courage to say ‘your number.’ Instead, he gestured to the stout table in the corner of the little shop, surrounded by long-leafed potted plants. “I just wanted to let you know I was here. I’ll get some flowers later, but you said you didn’t mind if I sit here and work?”
“No, no, not at all,” Dan assured him, hastily. “That’s what the table’s there for.”
Phil asked almost every time he came in to work on his computer at the table, but Dan consistently said it wasn’t a problem. It helped Phil feel much less awkward. “Thanks,” Phil said. “It just makes me feel more, like, productive if I’m -”
“- surrounded by plants, yes,” Dan finished for him, a smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, you’ve mentioned. Go ahead.”
Phil noticed that he was beaming back at Dan, an unhesitant reaction to the dimples that caved in Dan’s cheeks. Dan should have looked ridiculous in this tiny flower shop, with his perpetually dark clothing, incredibly long legs, and slumped shoulders, but instead, the bright colours only made him look more at place amongst them. It was as if he’d drained the colours from himself and given them to the flowers surrounding him, making them all the more vibrant for it.
Phil also noticed that he hadn’t said anything for a very long moment and Dan’s smile was starting to slip.
“Door!” said Phil, panicking. He gestured widely at it. “You should get a bell.” He felt like maybe he’d been the one who’d hit his head when he came in.
“Oh,” said Dan.
“To tell you when customers arrive,” Phil clarified.
“Oh!” said Dan again. “Yes. I mean, I’ve asked Louise, but she said the loud sounds would bother the plants.” His face twisted. “Whatever that means.”
“No, I get it,” Phil assured him. He thought that maybe he did. The tiny cactus on his bedstand did seem to perk up whenever he played soft music near it. “My plant Susan likes nice sounds. She always looks greener after I’ve played classical music.”
Dan’s expression was warm. “You should work here, not me,” he said. “I don’t actually know anything about flowers. Or plants.”
“Neither do I,” Phil admitted. “Most of mine end up dying. That’s why I’m in here so often. I’m hoping to absorb some knowledge from the leaves, like...photosynthesis.”
“That’s for light,” said Dan, his mouth wide in a silent laugh.
“See!” said Phil. “You do know things about plants.”
“If you say so.” Dan was still laughing at him, a quiet, insubstantial thing.
“Hush,” Phil ordered, but he didn’t mean it, and his unhesitant smile betrayed it. He wondered briefly what it would be like to press his thumbs into Dan’s dimples, the deep, shadowed ones that only appeared when Dan was beaming at him like this. He wondered how Dan would react if he did that.
“Go work,” Dan told him, swallowing his laughter with visible effort. “That’s what you came here to do.”
Phil was so very tempted to tell Dan that he actually came here for him, but he didn’t have the heart to do it, and so he just stuck out his tongue in a completely mature reply and readjusted his bag over his shoulder to trudge to the table. He was just fighting with getting his laptop charger into the stubborn wall outlet when Dan’s voice drifted to him.
“What are you working on today?”
Phil wrestled with the outlet and barely managed to fit his plug into it. “Er,” he said absent-mindedly, “a project.” The outlet’s obstinacy has been passed onto the charger and now it didn’t want to attach to his computer. He tried to fit the metal into the opening in his laptop, twisting it this way and that as if it might make a difference. The difficulty in his task might be because hadn’t gotten a new laptop in three years, but Phil preferred to believe that it just hated him.
“Oh, a project?” said Dan, sounding amused.
“Yes.” Phil finally got his laptop fully plugged in and he opened it, typing in his password with slow fingers. He finally glanced over at Dan. “I’ve got this commercial for a game that I have two more weeks to finish. It’s going very slowly.”
“What game?” Dan asked.
Phil was disappointed that he couldn’t tell him. He felt like Dan might actually be interested in the answer. “I can’t say,” he confessed. “Client confidentiality and whatever. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine, I get it.”
Phil remembered that about three weeks ago in a brief discussion about the news, Dan had admitted that he had once been to law school. He could recall with vivid detail the embarrassed flush on Dan’s cheeks when he mentioned it, as if it was something he was ashamed of doing, and Phil had gotten the feeling that he didn’t want to talk about it. Phil thought that Dan had probably dropped out but wasn’t going to admit it, but Phil certainly wasn’t going to bring it up. It didn’t matter. But Dan would doubtlessly understand client confidentiality.
“How much do you have left to do?” Dan asked.
Phil opened the project and winced at the chunks of unedited files. “A lot,” he said reluctantly. “I’ve been procrastinating. It’s a little harder when I have to set my own schedule.”
“I definitely get that,” Dan said.
Phil grinned at him. “You seem to do fine here.”
Dan was balancing on the rickety stool by the till. Phil couldn’t see his legs from this angle, but he imagined they were wrapped awkwardly around the stool. He was leaning on the counter at an almost dangerous angle. “Sure,” Dan faux-agreed with Phil,
A thought occurred to Phil, something he had read a few days ago. He snorted a laugh and turned to Dan. “Hey, what’s a cactus’ favourite song?”
Dan frowned warily, and he had every right to do so. Phil enjoyed terrible puns and didn’t hesitate to wield them like a weapon of mass destruction. “What?”
Phil grinned. “‘Can’t Touch This.’”
“Oh god.” But he was clearly trying to fight a smile. “I’m in physical pain. Why are you like this?”
Phil just laughed.
Dan groaned and leaned on his elbows. His phone buzzed and he glanced down at it, then his eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”
“What?”
Dan dropped his face into his hands in exasperation swaying treacherously on his seat. “I have an order I’m supposed to be working on. I completely forgot about it.”
Phil glanced past drooping ferns at the door. He could see the sidewalk through the glass, decorated with potted plants, but devoid of any passersby. “I can watch the door for you if you want to go ahead and do it,” he suggested.
Dan’s head came up, hopeful. “You don’t mind?”
“No, of course not,” Phil reassured him. “You let me sit here for hours, so I might as well help out a little, right?”
“I’m going to take you up on that,” Dan said. He jumped to his feet and the stool creaked angrily at the mistreatment. “Just yell at me if anyone comes in?”
Phil nodded and Dan was gone in an instant, vanishing between the racks of flowers behind the counter and into the back room. Phil could hear faint cursing and he surmised from the words that Dan had a fairly large order of bouquets to prepare. It would probably take him a little while, then.
His computer beeped at him, offended at his lack of attention, and Phil turned back to it instead of listening to Dan slam things around in the back. He had no idea how Dan could bang flowers together, but apparently it was a talent. Phil opened the notification that had appeared on his laptop screen. It was an email from his supervisor, so he decided it probably wasn’t the best idea to ignore it as he did with most of his messages.
It was a politely stern reminder that he had to turn in part of his work by tomorrow night. Phil sighed heavily, typing out a quick reply. Sometimes he wished he’d gone with a stable, nine-to-five job that didn’t involve a paranoid boss constantly checking up on him. Other times, he remembered that the freedom of having his own schedule and being able to do what he actually liked was well worth the irritation. The paycheck, when he finally finished his work, wasn’t too bad either. He definitely would need his payment for this project soon, too. His diet of pizza and half-hearted scrambled eggs was draining his bank account, not to mention the flowers he bought every few days for usually no reason other than coming in to see Dan.
“Shit fuck mother duckling,” Dan swore creatively as he dropped something in the back, easily audible with the passion of his curses, and Phil had to remind himself that he had work to do and that laughing loudly would not help Dan at all.
His cell rang at that very moment, which helpfully stifled his chuckles. He tugged it out of his pocket to see the caller ID, which was only the picture of his manic-looking best friend. Phil answered it immediately, lifting it to one ear and listening distractedly for any more sounds from Dan with the other. “Hey, PJ.”
“Hey!” came a cheerful voice, tinny through the speaker. “What are you doing right now?”
Phil glanced down at the still-open email. He felt very judged all of a sudden, the blunt words staring back at him, and so he closed the tab. “Working, kind of.”
“Cool, so not important,” PJ said breezily. Phil felt rather offended, but PJ barrelled on without pause, “So you’re going to be here tomorrow night, right? Seven o’clock.”
“Yes, I’ll be there,” Phil promised. “You’ve only reminded me every day for the past two weeks.”
“I’m just excited!” said PJ. “It’s my first official day living with Sophie! And I have good reason to be worried that you’re not going to show up. You’ve forgotten my birthday. Twice.”
Phil winced. PJ would never let him forget that.
“Be there or be square!” PJ bellowed. Phil had been expecting it and pulled his phone away from his ear just in time, otherwise, he’d be nursing a throbbing eardrum right about now. “Bring a date!” PJ added.
Phil sighed. “I wish.”
PJ laughed at him. “You’re an idiot. Ask that flower boy out; you’ve been pining over him for, what, three months now?”
Phil glanced around, suddenly afraid that Dan could somehow overhear his conversation. “Shh!” he hissed. “It’s not like that.”
“You’re there at the shop right now, aren’t you?” PJ sounded delighted, and Phil’s silence only proved his guess. “I knew it! Come on, Phil. You’re both wimps. Just ask him out.”
“I can’t,” Phil protested, still in a desperately low voice. “He...he already has a girlfriend.”
PJ howled with laughter. “You’re fucking with me! I’ve stopped in there and believe me, that boy does not have a girlfriend.”
“First of all,” said Phil, feeling the urgent need to defend Dan, “assuming someone’s sexuality based off their appearance or actions or whatever is not okay. Second, yes he does. She owns the shop. I’ve seen her. They’re definitely together.”
“You’re an idiot,” PJ said fondly, but at least he’d stopped laughing. “A delusional idiot.”
Phil felt rather like he wanted to punch PJ. Or maybe just stare at him very harshly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t do either through the phone, so he settled for sighing very weightily and hoping that got his point across.
It did. Having a ten-year friendship had some perks, after all. But PJ just sighed back at him. His tone was gentler when he spoke next. “Take your time figuring that out, then. No date tomorrow. But still, show up.” He then added pointedly, “If you’re at the shop anyway, Sophie has an empty vase.”
“What’s her favourite flower?” Phil asked, grateful for the change of subject.
PJ paused. Silence stretched for a few long moments.
Phil pulled the phone away from his ear and regarded it with disbelief as if PJ could sense the emotion through the phone. He probably could, knowing him. He returned it to his ear. “You don’t know what her favourite flower is?”
“She never told me!” PJ said defensively. “Anyways, do you know your flower boy’s favourite flower?”
Phil scoffed. “That’s entirely different. You’ve been dating Sophie for a year now. I’ve barely known him for three months.”
“Yeah,” said PJ. “But he works in a flower shop.”
“I’m not moving in with him tomorrow,” Phil pointed out. “You have no excuse.”
PJ sounded pitiful when he asked, “Well, how do I ask her now? She’ll just think I’m a twat for not knowing.”
“Not my problem,” said Phil cheerily.
PJ whined at him.
“Nope,” said Phil. He felt much better being able to get back at PJ for the constant comments about Dan. “Bye! Have to work. See you tomorrow!”
“You’re mean,” said PJ. “Fine. Bye.”
As Phil hung up, he was already reluctantly making plans in the back of his mind to help PJ figure out his newest crisis. It shouldn’t be that hard. He figured that tomorrow evening if he brought flowers to their flat, he would casually inquire if he’d gotten her favourites - or actually, what was her favourite?
A shrill tone rang out in the quiet shop, and Phil thought for a startled moment that PJ was calling him back. But no, his ringtone didn’t sound like that. It was coming from the counter.
“Dan!” he called, his voice almost drowned out by the loud tones. The moment he’d said it, he felt ridiculous. Dan could definitely hear it himself.
“Coming!” Dan yelled back at him. The ringtone stopped for a moment, then screamed demandingly again, and Dan came stumbling through the open doorway. His hair was dusted with pollen, and he looked out-of-breath from the brief sprint. “Hello?” he said desperately as he answered it. Phil watched his expression shift from tense, furrowed lines to a softer, gentle look as he recognized whoever’s voice it was. “Hi,” he said. It had to be his girlfriend.
Phil felt despairingly awful for wanting Dan to look at only him like that.
Dan had turned away from Phil, the phone balanced between his shoulder and ear as he wandered back into the room he’d just sprinted from. “Yeah, I’ve just started it, don’t worry,” he was saying, and then his voice faded away and Phil was left in the room with perky, bright flowers lining the walls and a chair that creaked heavily under him when he shifted his weight.
The fern that was tucked between his chair and the window leaned over him as he sighed, a frond brushing against his cheek. He batted it away and regarded it with a frown. “Stop pitying me,” he told it.
It, obviously, did not respond, but Phil imagined that if it could, it would tell him to stop being worthy of pity.
“You’re worthy of pity,” he retorted and then felt abruptly absurd for talking to a plant, no matter how sassy the fern looked. Fortunately, there was no one human in the room to judge him.
“I have work to do,” he reminded himself. He returned to his computer, ignoring the quiet ache that nudged at him every time he heard Dan’s murmurs in the back room.
He didn’t like Dan like that, anyway.
next chapter
#phan#phanfiction#phanfic au#flower shop au#pining#fluff#au#this is completed#i'll update it every week#this took ages to finish#i think i started it last year#my eyes burn reading it now
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for the I love you prompts, stucky x reader 28?
A/N: Here’s something a little sad and angsty. It doesn’t involve the description of actual death. I missed writing short drabbles. Italics are flashbacks.
# 28: When I am dead
“Steve, leave her alone man!” You hear Bucky shout from the other end of the lawn to your defense. Tears of laughter slide down your cheeks as Steve proceeds with his vicious attack. Luckily, the park is nearly empty. Your screams would have earned a prompt visit from the police. Some passersby eye you down as you’re wiggling in his tight embrace.
“Not in a million years!” He’s towering over you even with his frail figure, tickling your sides like a madman - a part of your body you know is now covered in bruises. An unexpected kick of your knee hits him right in the nuts, which has him convulsing next to you.
“Shit shit. I’m sorry Stevie!” Your hands come to cover your mouth as you kneel next to him not knowing what to do. He’s spinning over like firemen had taught you to do at a school safety assembly, his hands on his crotch and his groans loud as if he was actually on fire.
“He can walk it off, Y/N. He deserved it quite frankly,” Bucky adds with a laugh as he walks closer to examine his best friend. He has no trouble turning him around and pulling him up to his feet. The poor boy is still crouching with pain. “See, ts’all good!” Bucky pulls you by your shoulders and sets a sweet kiss to the top of your head as you keep your eyes on Steve’s wincing face.
“Steve I’m so-”
“Leave it, Y/N. I’m fine,” he says as he tries to hold himself straight, waving his hand your way to stop whatever you where trying to do with yours. You can hear the hurt in his voice, and you’re sure it wasn’t just from the roaring ache you had physically caused him. Bucky’s still next to you, giving you a sheepish smile that says you should drop trying to comfort him.
Steve had always been stubborn when it came to whatever you did with him. Whether it was something fun, loving or even something people did naturally towards their friends. Anything physical had him wanting to disappear. As soon as you and Bucky had caught on to the hidden feelings you had for each other, he had slowly pushed himself aside, even after the numerous discussions of a possible polyamorous relationship you had. You blamed yourself for ‘stealing’ him away from his first love, but then again, he was the one trying so hard to stay away.
“Come on now, let’s grab something to eat. It’s Drive-in night, and their shit is expensive. Better fill our stomachs first.” With one hand now tangled with yours and the other rubbing circles over his chest, Bucky begins to walk towards the nearest rail line. You reach back, offering your free hand to Steve, which he accepts with a groan. You smile back at him, but he turns his gaze to the street, unable to look you in the eyes as a red hue creeps on his cheeks at the thought of three people holding hands publically. What felt right was wrong, and Steve was not one to mess with the unknown.
–
“Can you imagine just how bad things were? And we thought we had it all…” Steve remanaces as he’s unpacking some of his old boxes in his and Bucky’s private living room. A picture of the three of you at Stark Expo almost cripples in his big hand.
“Can you imagine what a dumbass you were?” They both chuckle at Bucky’s remark, Steve sets the picture aside so he can frame it later. With a sigh of annoyance, Bucky stands up and heads towards the hall to the common kitchen. “Want me to bring you anything?”
Steve simply shakes his head ‘no’ as his mind begins to delve into a stack of old, war-era envelopes. Bucky shrugs in return and swiftly exits the room.
Most of them are still sealed with pretty coloured wax, which is one more clue to how far back these dated. “Letters from Brooklyn?” He’s whispers to himself as he tries to remember why these would be addressed to him, with the address of the head of the New York department. His mom had died much before he even started to lie his way into the 107th. His dad would have never done such a sappy thing.
He sits back, resting against the leg of the couch as he begins to tear open the top of the letters, not wanting to break the pretty wax stamps. The room becomes small, warm, as his mind slowly suffocates when he begins to read the first line.
/ To my dearest Steven,
I still find it hard to wake up these days, when I know that you are out there, lost perhaps, alone. /
Steve feebly sets the letter away and tears another as his eyes begin to blur.
/ To Steven Rogers, my hero
It has been over three months now since I last saw you. Bucky’s letters say he has not seen or heard from you. I hope you’re safe and well taken care of. /
He cannot bring himself to read the entirety of the notes, unable to bare with the fact that you had been writing to him all those years, while he was out there becoming the world’s biggest experiment. He opens the last few ones and places them side by side on the ground. His hands want to dig holes in his thighs as he reads parts of them quickly. Tears fall onto the old paper, spoiling the ink as the droplets spread easily in the dry material.
/ Please, I need to hear from you./
/ If you won’t talk to me, at least let Bucky know you’re okay./
/ I hope I can see you again./
All of the letters end with you hoping to see him again. Wishing he wasn’t trapped in some alley, getting beat up by some bullies. Steve hadn’t noticed, until now, how deeply you loved him and how you never even have to say the sacred words.
“How did these get in my box?” Steve screams although he doesn’t mean wrong. His emotions are skyrocketing as he’s burdened with too much information. The process would be hard and long and for now his basic instincts wanted him to be defensive.
Bucky shoots his hands in the air, taken aback by the sudden accusation as he barely made it into the room. He squints as he tried to make out what Steve had in his hand. “They’re letters Steve. I’ve never seen those before…”
“No shit they’re letters!” He takes a deep breath when Bucky’s reaction to his sudden arrogance makes him feel abashed. He closes his eyes, pushing some more tears out. “Y/N wrote these. To me, Buck.” He sits on the couch, defeated, as if someone had thrown a bus at him - and he was usually okay with that.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, man” Bucky tries his best to reassure his friend. His hard frame drops next to him, his hand comes to soothe his back.
“She was out there, right in front of me, and all I cared about was to fight something much bigger than myself. When you left, she was finally all mine for a while. Not that she had made it clear before that I could also be with her. With you, actually.” He takes a pause as his head comes to rest on the shoulder next to him. “But I kept telling myself she was just waiting for you to come back from the war. Her tall and strong and handsome man. Not a tiny kid she was afraid to break.”
“You wanna know what she kept telling me?” Bucky kisses Steve’s forehead. He felt him motion an agreement. “She always wanted to see the future, what people would be like and if they would change their opinion on love. She wanted us, all of us, to be happy. She knew we had a thing for each other, and it broke her heart to see you resile on that. She would’ve given us the world, Stevie.” His own eyes become watery. “Y/N had enough love to go around, but you wanted nothing to do with that back then. I’m lucky enough to call you mine today.” Bucky’s voice is soft as he comforts Steve with the little bit of tough love he has come to find effective.
“She’ll never know that I adored her man. I fucking messed this up,” he adds with a shake of his head.
“Language,” Bucky notes jokingly, earning himself a faint chuckle. Finally, Steve looks up into his eyes, he leans forward to kiss the dark-haired man’s lips. “You always said I reminded you of her somehow. So I guess as long as you have me…”
“Yeah, but you don’t come with amazing boobs and sinful white panties, Buck,” he replies with a smirk, his soul seems to mend under the hand on his thigh.
“Well, half of that is true,” he whispers in the shell of Steve’s ear as a proposition.
Everything tag
@buckmesideways22 @stanclub @buckysbrat @eyesfixedonthesun22 @captainrogerrsbeard @loricameback @freshwoods @onehotgreasymechanic @wintersoldier1989 @mybloodtypeiscoffee @msruchita @katiew1973 @badassbaker @its-forevermore @its-a-pretty-interesting-wall @musette22
Chris tag
@mrs-captain-evans @princess-evans-addict @patzammit @omnomsauruswrites
Sebastian tag
@if-n0t-l8ter-when
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Book 0: The Fool
Full AO3 Fic // Previous | Next
Chapter 13: Ousted - if MC is trans femme (Go back to chapter 11)
The dusty straws of the broom scrape your face, causing you to fall over. Coughing from the dust and debris, you try to clear your system, preparing yourself.
“I can’t believe this. No won’er your parents lef’ you behind with me. Unbelievable…”
You feel tears sting the scratches on your cheeks. You want to fight back, to say something...but you’re at a loss. You can only hear yourself stutter meaningless sounds before your aunt raises the broom again, a threat.
“Ah ah, not another word out of yer mouth. I don’t want you under this roof - you find your own place to sleep.”
Biting your lip, you manage to squeak, “W-what about work?” Surely you wouldn’t just be thrown onto the street, without a home or pay.
Your aunt merely tsks disapprovingly. “I ain’t about’ta waist all that training I did on ya. You come in for work every morning, same time as usual. But if yer ever late, I’m gonna reconsider, ya hear?!”
Tears then overflow. “O-ok…” you manage to say, holding back hiccups.
With one final grunt, your aunt turns and slams the back door close.
Laying in the dust, you clench your fist as you finally let out the sobs you were holding in. What was so wrong with what you had said? Was it wrong? Were you a mistake?
Through your tears, you hear your name. Already knowing who’s voice it was, you feel relief briefly wash over you, before terror and embarrassment do.
Asra runs over, concern etched on his face. Dread just fills your stomach. Your aunt had all but went berserk after what you said - what would Asra say? Would he be disgusted? Would he laugh? You couldn’t bear it if he did.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, kneeling beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.
Sniffling back the rest of your tears, you muster the energy to sit up right. You want to tell him how happy you are to see him, to ask him about his journey, his training with the Magician, but you can’t seem to find any words. Oberon crawls up to your shoulder and tries to groom away the blood and tears. Faust, meanwhile, peaks up through Asra’s scarf, worried.
When you couldn’t find the energy to speak, you hear Asra repeat gently, “What’s wrong?”
Feeling another wave of hot tears threatening to overflow, you bite the inside of your cheek. “My...my aunt just kicked me out…” you whisper, not meeting his eyes.
You hear Asra take in a sharp breath. “Why?” he asks. You hear anger mixed with his concern in his voice.
You pause for a moment to sniff back more tears. “I...I said something I shouldn’t have.”
In the pregnant pause between the two of you, you suddenly feel the rays of the setting sun and the dust of the street. You’re aware of passersby eyeing the two of you strangely, some almost tripping over the two of you.
As if sensing your thoughts, Asra wordlessly helps you get up and tenderly guides you over to his rug in the shade.
Grateful that he hadn’t pried too much, you take another shaky breath before speaking. “My...my aunt made some sort of comment on my clothes...and I told her that...that I don’t--I’m not a boy...”
You physically braced yourself, anticipating a similar horrified reaction from Asra as your aunt had. Fearful of his rejection, you hear yourself babbling half sentences of excuses and desperate explanations that you aren’t a girl or a boy. But to your surprise, there was no slap, no pain, no appalled yelling. Instead, you feel warm hands embrace you. Asra quiets you by gently saying your name.
“Hey, it’s ok...it’s ok...I’m the same.”
Your eyes widen. You had always felt alone in feeling like you were regarded as someone different than what you identified as. Never in your wildest dreams would you imagine that the boy on the street beside your shop would feel this way.
You gently break the hug to finally look at Asra properly. The amount of compassion and understanding in his face causes a faint pink blush to color your cheeks.
“People regard me as a boy...but that’s not really how I feel. I don’t know the word for it, but the words ‘girl’ or ‘boy’ doesn’t really fit it…”
You simply nod before giving Asra a gripping hug, more tears spilling onto his shoulder. So many emotions are flooding your being. You feel hurt, but comforted, elated and touches that Asra could share this with you, but the gnawing feeling of being an outsider still resides. But it subsides the smallest bit when your friend returns the hug. The two of you stay like this for some time; it could have been a few seconds or a few hours. But both of you savor the shared moment.
As time passes, your tears dwindle, and your breath evens. Releasing your clutch on Asra and look at him. You’re taken a bit off guard to see his eyes are also a bit misty eyed. Emotions tumble through you, and you wonder what you did to deserve such a person in your life.
Gradually coming back to reality, you realize that the street lights have turned on, and that the sun is leaving its last traces in the sky. Turning your head to the shop, fear takes hold of you. Would you have to sleep in the streets? You didn’t know much about Asra, but he’s told a couple of tales of his former life without a roof over his head. It wasn’t pleasant.
“Asra...what am I going to do? I...I don’t have anywhere to go,” you say, voice desolate.
He simply lifts a finger under your chin, as if silently saying to perk up. “You’re not sleeping out in the streets if that’s what you’re thinking. Come on,” he says, rising to pack his things. “You’re coming with me tonight. I’m sure Muriel won’t mind.”
Your mouth simply falls open, silently watching Asra pack his things. “A-are you sure?” you ask, stumbling to stand.
Turning to look at you, he chuckles. “I would never want my friend to experience what Muriel and I did in the streets of this city. Muriel isn’t fond of people, but I’m sure he can be empathetic to your situation. Now,” he says, securing his things onto his person. He offers his hand to hold on the journey to the forest. “Let’s get going before it gets too dark out.”
Still not believing your ears, you take his hand. As the two of you walk, Asra turns to you. “So, do you have preferred pronouns?”
~ ~ ~
You and Asra walk through the quieting streets of Vesuvia. Tears all dried up, you tell Asra your preferred pronouns, among other anecdotes of your confused feelings. Asra in turn tells you about his mental and spiritual journey to understanding his gender identity. You feel overwhelmed with gratitude and happiness that your closest friend not only accepts you, but also trusts you to tell all of this. You almost don’t notice that the entire time you’ve been walking, your hand has been gently wrapped in his.
Eventually, the streets dwindle into dirt roads that fade into the entrance of the forest. The sun is setting beyond the horizon, leaving a pink glow in its wake. There’s just enough light for you to make out the steps in front of you.
“We’re almost there. Don’t worry, I won’t let you get lost,” Asra reassures, giving your hand a soft squeeze.
You nod, certain that he wouldn’t do that to you.
As you begin the walk into the forest, Asra’s careful to warn you of sneaky roots and hidden holes that you could trip on. You feel like it should have been getting darker, but the forest canopy is thick enough to obscure any light that’s left in the sky. But Asra seems to know his way well enough.
Soon, you recognize a small protection charm that you had made for Asra some time ago.
“Is...that the charm I gave you?” you ask.
“Yep, we’re almost there now. I put these up around to help Muriel feel protected, and to keep our little abode hidden.”
Then you see another, and another, then a string of charms and herbs. They all lead to a lightly beaten path that ends with a small hut mashed into the base of a tree.
“Alright, we’re here. Let me go get Muriel. I wish you two could meet under better circumstances,” he sighs ruefully. He gives one light squeeze of your hand before letting it go to open the hut’s door.
“Muriel, could you come outside for a minute?” he calls.
Suddenly, you feel nervous and timid. What if Muriel doesn’t like you? What if he won’t let you stay? This is your first time meeting him, surely strangers don’t just let people stay in their houses? But you two aren’t total strangers either…
As you fidget, the door opens wider to reveal a rather large figure. You can’t help your eyes going wide as your gaze rises to meet his. You could have sworn Asra said he’s the same age as the two of you!
But upon closer look, you see weary, but young, eyes meet yours briefly, before looking away. Asra kindly smiles and stands beside his friend, patting his arm.
“Muriel, this is the friend who I’ve told you about, the one who let me stay in their shop,” Asra says, before officially introducing the two of you. The whole time, Muriel is silent, expression ambiguous.
“It’s getting dark, and the shop isn’t really too safe for them anymore...I was thinking we could offer our place here,” Asra gently explains.
Muriel dwells on it for a minute, before he seems to make up his mind.
“No. Leave.”
Shock and fear crashes onto you like an icy cold bucket of water. Your eyes go wide as your chest constricts with panic.
Asra mirrors your shock and looks up at his friend. “Muriel--wha--wait, no, they need somewhere to stay. We can’t just let them on the streets, think about what that was like for us,” he insists.
Your panic twists your fear into guilt and shame. Of course it would be too much for Asra and Muriel to house you. Looking at the hut, it seems barely big enough for Muriel, let alone him and Asra.
“A-Asra, it’s ok...I can-I can figure something out,” you stammer, breaking through him convincing his quiet friend.
“What? No, you can’t, it’s much too dark now,” Asra argues, hints of desperation in his eyes. He comes to your side and brings your hand into his, as if to keep you near him. “And I won’t let you go through what we did. Muriel, please, be reasonable.”
Hopelessness returning, you look up to meet Muriel’s gaze. “I-I won’t take up much room, I promise. I just...need somewhere to sleep…” you plead, while your thoughts anxiously wonder what you’re going to do if he says no again.
Muriel closes his eyes, brows furrowed. When he opens them, he answers. “Fine…” He then simply goes back to the door and opens it, silently letting us in.
Relief makes your legs weak; you’re glad Asra’s there to support you. You give a small smile before the two of you enter the hut.
There are minimal furnishings, just enough to get by. But the strong fire warms the entire place, and fills you with warmth. It feels like a home.
“Ah, the two of us usually share a bed, but I think there’s an extra blanket or cloak somewhere….” Asra mutters. He leaves your side, trying to get you accomodated.
You look up at Muriel, who seems only mildly annoyed now. “Thank you, Muriel. I know this is all pretty sudden...but thank you.”
He subtly pouts his lips, whether in annoyance or discomfort you don’t know. “What happened to your old place…?” he asks under his breath. You aren’t sure if you’re meant to hear the question, but you decide to answer anyway.
“Uh, my...aunt just kicked me out...I guess she finally had enough of me. She and I...didn’t really get along.”
Muriel’s irritation lessens, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “What happened?”
You’re about to answer when Asra comes back to you. “Does this look ok?” You turn your attention to the makeshift bed he made for you on the floor. Graciously smiling, you thank him. “It’s perfect.”
He seems relieved. “Thank you, Muriel.”
Cheeks turning red from the attention, the tall boy averts his gaze. “I-It’s fine. Now let’s just sleep.”
Weariness makes your eyelids feel heavy at the mention of sleep. After an overwhelming day, you’d love nothing but to surrender yourself to a night of rest.
“Yeah, I think everyone’s had an exciting day,” Asra agrees, watching you as you stifle a small yawn.
Muriel wordlessly goes to the hearth to dim the flames, filling the cottage with its scarlet light. You shuffle over to your spot on the floor, while Asra sheds his outerwear to get comfortable for the night.
“Do you need anything?” you hear him ask as you also get comfortable.
“No, I think I’ll be good for the night. Thank you so much, Asra. I...I don’t know how I can repay you.”
He reaches out and takes a hold of your hand. He opens his mouth to say something, but Muriel deliberately flops onto the bed, cutting off Asra’s words. Asra turns to look at him, but is only met with Muriel’s back.
“Alright, alright, we get it, Muriel. We’ll go to bed,” Asra giggles. He turns to you and smiles apologetically. “Looks like someone’s a bit jealous.”
You let out a brief chuckle, which makes Asra smile. “Good night,” he says, giving your hand one last squeeze.
“Good night, Asra. Sleep well.”
Good night, friend! Faust pipes in. Asra smiles and gives her chin scritches. With one last glance, he goes over and slips into bed.
“Good night, Muriel,” Asra sighs, settling in.
“Good night, Muriel,” you echo.
“Go. To. Sleep.”
You and Asra stifle a laugh before slipping into slumber.
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The Vacation part 6
“Are you sure you don’t just want to go out in the trench coat and hat?” Bushroot asked.
“No need!” Liquidator stepped into the flower pot and fell into it in a splash that left him looking nearly indistinguishable from ordinary water. “For a casual stroll there’s no need for me to navigate on my own. Besides the Liquidator now comes in convenient travel size!”
“Well I guess I’ll get some use out of this then,” Bushroot said, picking up the pot. “Though, no offense, but it’s not exactly a great flower pot since it has no drainage holes.”
“Oh sorry,” Quackerjack said, rolling his eyes. “I didn’t know you needed such specific requirements in a flower pot.”
“Oh of course you need drainage holes!” Bushroot said. “If you don’t have holes in it, there’s no place for the water to go.”
“Reggie…”
“And,” Bushroot continued. “If there’s no place for the water to go, then on top of being stuck in stagnant water, then the roots won’t get air and the-“
“Reggie?” Liquidator said, causing the plant to look at him. “I think they get the idea.”
Bushroot turned Quackerjack and Megavolt who were looking at him quizzically. Quackerjack looked slightly amused.
“Right!” Bushroot flushed. “Oh, w-well my point was, it’s much better suited for this th-than for a plant.”
“No, no, go ahead,” Quackerjack teased,grinning. “Sounded like a fascinating topic of conversation. Tell me, Bushy, do you do research before you go shopping for gardening equipment?”
“Believe me, Doctor Bushroot has no shortage of information on proper plant maintenance!” Liquidator said, a hint of pride in his voice. “A lot of which is actually quite interesting! But since we have other plans for this evening I wouldn’t advise it.”
“Yeah,” Quackerjack agreed, gesturing to Megavolt. “I’m sure it’d be like asking Sparky about Tesla coils.”
“Yeah.” Megavolt furrowed his eyebrows. “Wait, what does that mean?”
“Anyway, we were just about to get going weren’t we?” Quackerjack said, linking his arms in Megavolt’s.
“Right!” Megavolt said, forgetting his previous confusion.
In a few minutes the group left, Quackerjack pulling Megavolt along, and Bushroot carrying Liquidator. It didn’t take long after that for Bud to notice that Bushroot was to starting getting visibly uncomfortable. A quick glance out of his container showed nothing out of the ordinary.
“Is there something bothering you?” He asked, his voice low enough that passersby couldn't hear him.
Bushroot grimaced. “I didn’t think about the fact this outfit would be so hot,” he said. He tugged at the neck of the sweater he was wearing. “I wish I could wear less, but I’ve seen what happens when I go in public without a proper disguise.”
“You do realize that even in your disguise, you look like a weirdo talking to a flower pot right?” Megavolt said, butting into the conversation.
“Says the guy who talk to lightbulbs,” Bushroot replied.
“Yeah? What’s your point?”
Bushroot sighed. “Oh nothing. I’m not sure you can understand the irony.”
“Y’know speaking of lightbulbs,” Megavolt said. “I haven’t actually seen a ton around. No big flashy signs, not a lot of street lights, this place may actually treat lightbulbs somewhat humanely!”
“Well, you know there’s still lightbulbs inside the buildings, right?” Quackerjack said.
“Yeah, I said ‘somewhat,’” Megavolt replied. “I’m still definitely going to have to free a lot of them. Just y’know, nice to not see their enslavement out in the middle of the street.”
It was true that there weren’t as many light fixtures in this city as there were in Saint Canard. There were actually a few things that the four noticed as they navigated the streets of the city.
The first was that, yes, it did draw a bit of attention to them when Bushroot talked to Liquidator out loud. Fortunately, no one really got a good look at the contents of the flower pot, and the watery felon only really emerged when Bushroot told him he wouldn’t be noticed.
While Bushroot was more interested in his surroundings, the plants and people, Quackerjack, Megavolt, and Liquidator seemed focused on the content of the buildings. Being the odd one out, Bushroot allowed himself to be dragged into various places.
The second thing they noticed was that there seemed to be a good deal of old buildings in the area. Intricate architecture was scattered around the area, creating some interesting sights. Some of these seemed to be a big draw for tourists. Tourists who…
Third thing, were very wealthy.
It seemed that some higher class tourists favored this city as a destination. The level of wealth Quackerjack and Megavolt saw on their ride here, was the same as the average tourist.
The group couldn’t help but stare at some of the people who passed, decked out in accessories that cost as much money as any one of them could snatch in a small robbery.
They couldn’t wait until they could openly commit crimes.
It was a few hours later when the group finally thought about having to head back to the hotel. For the fifth time that afternoon, Quackerjack had dragged the group into a food establishment, only for them to leave without buying anything. This time however the group was discussing doubling back the way they came.
“But I’m hungry!” Quackerjack whined. “What's the point of going to a place that has good places to eat, and then not getting anything!”
Liquidator emerged slightly from the flower pot. “Though the Liquidator needs no nutrients to keep himself going, remember that additional food will be required for both of you during our entire stay here. We need to keep our prices low, and our criminal activity even lower! I wouldn’t say that eating there would have been a great deal, the food there wasn’t exactly cheap.”
“Besides, since when did you care about quality food?” Megavolt asked. “From what I’ve seen, you’ll eat anything, even my cooking!”
“You cook?” Bushroot asked.
“I burn things,” Megavolt replied. “Which is how I like it.”
“Just because I can eat anything doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate actual good food.” Quackerjack folded his arms. “But fine, if you wanna eat junk then that’s fine.”
“Well…” Megavolt sighed. “If you really want to eat our or y’know...something, we should probably do it on our own, since those two can’t actually eat.”
“Oh! A play date! That’d be nice,” Quackerjack practically purred. “It’s not as fun without some kind of police chase, but still.”
“Uh, I’m going to go check something out,” Bushroot said, slowly stepping away from the pair. “But if you two want to stay there and keep flirting, go ahead.”
“Oh you’re one to talk!” Megavolt said.
“Yeah.” Quackerjack followed Bushroot, tugging his partner along with him. “We were talking about this earlier, you give us weird looks when we do anything, but you and Liqui can be sooo sappy sometimes.”
Bushroot grew dead silent.
“At least we don’t spend ten minutes coming up with compliments for each other,” Megavolt said. “Have you ever heard how that wet dog talks about you when you’re not around? I think you can put up with a little bit from us if we have to hear that.”
Liquidator poked his head out a little. “The Liquidator will not take heed of criticisms concerning how I talk about my own superb partner. I have no complaints with how you handle your relationship, don’t bring my methods of affection into this.”
“Okay!” Bushroot’s face was red and his voice was a slight bit too loud. “A-anyway, did anyone else notice that-that crowd? I wonder wh-what that’s about, why don’t we check it out?”
The other three exchanged a look. Quackerjack and Megavolt both looked slightly pleased at the flustered reaction they had elicited from the plant. Then the group turned their attention to where Bushroot was pointing.
It seemed there was a decent crowd gathered loosely around what looked to be a fountain. The four moved closer to check it out. When they approached they saw a few informational signs around it.
“Says it’s just an old fountain,” Quackerjack said, reading one of the signs. “And no one’s allowed to touch it? Ugh, then where’s the fun in that?”
“I mean, there are some interesting things about it,” Bushroot said. “Like it says here that-”
“Weren’t we going to head home anyway?” Quackerjack said.
Bushroot frowned. “Yeah, I guess we were.”
“Wait a second,” Megavolt said.
“What?” Quackerjack asked. “You’re interested in a boring old fountain? I thought you didn’t like water?”
Megavolt squinted at the fountain, then a horrified look crossed his face. “Do you see that??”
“See what?” Bushroot asked.
Megavolt grabbed ahold of the plant’s face, and turned it so it was facing the fountain. “Look at that!”
“I don’t see anything,” Bushroot said. “There’s just a bunch of water and lights.”
“Oh no���” Quackerjack’s eyes widened.
“Exactly!” Megavolt said, now very loud. The rest of the group gave him looks imploring him to be a bit quieter. “Some monster stuck those lights there underwater! Imagine those poor things spending all their time in that awful thing!”
“But Megsy, babe, you couldn’t even get them out of there without short-circuiting yourself,” Quackerjack said.
“I know that Quacky, dear,” Megavolt said, giving his partner a huge pair of puppy-dog eyes. “But maybe you could-”
“Oh no!” Quackerjack shook his head. “I’m not helping you just because you give me that look. Besides, what part of stealing a bunch of lightbulbs from a public fountain that no one’s allowed to touch works with keeping a low profile? I’m pretty sure I’d be spotted immediately!”
“There may be a solution to both problems!” Liquidator said.
Megavolt looked at the flower pot container the watery canine with hope in his eyes.
“The Liquidator can create a distraction and relocate the water, while you liberate your lightbulb pals!” Liquidator said.
“You’d really do that?” Megavolt asked, grinning widely. “That’d be great!”
“No problem! The Liquidator specializes in water-based trickery and manipulation!”
With that, Liquidator jumped out of the pot and into the fountain. Across from where Megavolt and the others stood, small jets of water began to arise from the fountain. Then it began to really move, jumping up, swirling, and bubbling in visually pleasing patterns. Slowly, the crowd started taking notice, and moving away from where the three criminals stood.
When almost all of the surrounding people were on the other side of the fountain, a wave of water rose up, causing the crowd to make noises of appreciation, and blocking the three from their view. The water in front of the lights pulled back, leaving it open for Megavolt to start removing them.
After all the lightbulbs were removed and stuffed into various bags and clothing articles, the water settled back down and Liquidator hopped back into the flower pot.
“Let’s get out of here before anyone else notices they’re gone,” Bushroot said.
The others agreed and they quickly absconded with the lightbulbs, heading back towards the hotel.
“Well I’d say that was a good first day of vacation,” Megavolt said, looking very pleased.
“The Liquidator would have to agree!” Liquidator said. “Because the lightbulbs weren’t the only things I helped ‘liberate’ from that fountain.”
“What do you-” Bushroot’s eyes widened as he looked in the flower pot. “Holy cow!”
It seemed that when Liquidator had removed himself from the fountain he had taken a huge amount of coins with him. In fact, he was now taking up much less room in the pot, since much of it was filled with pennies, nickels, dime, and lot, and lots of quarters.
“Seems like the tourists are fond of the whole ‘wishing fountain’ idea,” Liquidator said with a smug grin. “Personally I think they’re going to a better cause now.”
“You mean helping us fund the rest of this vacation?”
“Yep. Like I said, better cause.”
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Turquoise
Today was a rather busy day, people were coming in out of the shop in hopes of buying a nice hot cup of tea. Especially now that winter had just arrived which meant heavy jackets and cozy mittens. People entered the shop and smiled as they felt the warmth engulf them. A wonderful feeling that reached everyone who entered the tea shop. I of course have felt it myself, but that’s due to the fact that I work here.
“Good morning, what can I get for you today?” I asked a couple who were chatting away. One of them saw me and flashed me a welcoming smile.
“Oh hello, umm I’ll have some green tea and you sweetie?” The guy asked whom I was assuming was his girlfriend.
“I’ll like a cup of hot chocolate and a chocolate chip muffin please” She replied cheerfully, I smile at her cheerfulness and write down their orders. I excuse myself and make my way to the kitchen to prepare some of the orders I had written down while the waiters and waitresses were taking other orders,
“Today is so packed again! I hate this, why can’t it be quiet like during the summer?” I hear someone say from behind me. I chuckle as I notice Saeran taking out a fresh batch of muffins out of the oven. He didn’t enjoy the tea shop being filled with people, I guess he preferred a quieter environment.
“You’re gonna have to get used to it, we just started winter” I chirped which only caused Saeran to groan in frustration. I laugh at him and make my way out of the kitchen with a couple of orders in my hands. I walk toward the the young couple who had order earlier and hand them their beverages.
“Here is your cup of green tea, a cup hot chocolate and finally your chocolate chip muffin which actually just came out of the oven.” I said
“Oooooh really? Yay thank you so much!” The girl replied before taking a sip of the drink and smiled in satisfaction. I excuse myself and walk toward the kitchen to prepare more orders. As I was about to reach the kitchen counter I notice a rather strange color, turquoise to be exact, stood out from all the people in the shop. I stop when I notice a man sitting at a table alone. He sat by the large windows that were close to the entrance of the tea shop. It had a clear view of the street and you could see the passersby walking on the sidewalk. The thing that caught my attention was the way he was looking out the window. He seemed lost and sad, I didn’t want to seem like a complete creep by staring at him so I continued my way toward the kitchen.
“Hey Yoosung? Hm quick question, do you happened to know that guy over there?” I asked, Yoosung poked his head out from behind the kitchen counter and shakes his head.
“Nope, no clue, but I’ve noticed that he does come often. Why?” Yoosung asked
“Oh, its nothing. I just noticed he seems sad. I wonder if something is bothering him” I said bringing my gaze back to the man.
“How about asking him?” Both Yoosung and I yelp when Saeyoung suddenly appears from underneath the counter.
“Saeyoung what the heck are you doing under there? You’re supposed to be working!” I exclaimed
“I know but Jaehee wanted me to do bathroom duty and I hate it. So I hid under the counter. So about this guy you’re talking about, is it the guy over there? The one with the bluish hair?” Saeyoung points at the man and both Yoosung and I nod our heads.
“His names Jihyun Kim but close friends call him V. He’s 27 years old, He’s a freelance photographer so he travels a lot. He also likes art collecting! Has a eye condition that can cause him to go blind if not treated properly.-” I quickly cut him off
“Wait wait- how do you know all this information?” I asked surprised
“Don’t you remember MC, Saeyoung used to be a hacker for big companies.” Yoosung replied, oh yeah now that I think about it I remember Saeyoung mentioning something about that.
“Well duh. But I didn’t do any hacking on this guy. He happens to be the best friend of one of my ex bosses. He’s a really good guy, but had bad relationship break up with this girl, things ended pretty badly” Saeyoung continued.
“Maybe that’s why he’s so gloomy” Yoosung said. I shrug my shoulders as I make my way to wash a couple of cups and continue my day as usual.
The day was finally coming to an end and we were finishing up with cleaning and preparing the menu for the following day. Once that was done, everyone said their goodbyes and headed home. I lived closed by, probably 10 to 15 minutes away but depending on my mood. It was around 8:30 pm so it was pretty dark and the cold was really affecting my energy levels. Saeyoung and Saeran had offered me a ride but I declined their offer since to be honest I didn’t really trust Saeyoung driving. He’s good I’ll admit but could be reckless if it met to scare me.
“Jeez it is freezing, maybe I should of accepted that ride home” I whined as I continued to walk. Not even my big jacket could prevent the cold freezing air to pass right through causing me to shiver.
“ I don’t think a young woman like you should be out alone this late” I hear a voice say from behind me. I quickly turn around ready to scream at the man but calm down when I notice the strange turquoise color.
“Oh god, I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to startled you. I just wanted to tell you it’s not really safe for you to be walking by yourself. I deeply apologize” He said sincerely.
“What, oh it’s ok. It’s just you really did scared me, you almost gave me a heart attack.I thought I was about to be kidnapped” I finally said, he chuckles at my reaction and smiles
“Don’t worry I’m not going to kidnap you. Hahaha My name is Jihyun by the way, but people call me V” V said before extended his hand out
“MC, nice to meet you V” I take his hand and shake it but stay still, I was trying to process everything that was happening.
“Is it ok if I walk you home, I completely understand if you don’t want to, but to be honest it doesn’t seem safe. V said
“Yeah sure, I don’t see why not” I said softly. We didn’t talk much but I didn’t find it uncomfortable, for some reason he had a calming type of aura.
“You work at the tea shop don’t you?” V suddenly ask
“Yeah how did you know?”
“Well I was there earlier today and don’t want to seem like some of creep but I notice that you were looking at me” V chuckled lightly and my cheeks heated up. Oh god this is extremely embarrassing, he noticed me staring at him!? I bury my face into my scarf thinking that this would probably ease my embarrassment but it was no use.
“Sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable. Please allow me to hide in a pit of shame” I responded and V immediately started shaking his head
“Oh no no no, it’s ok! No need to hide, hahaha” V laughed and couldn’t help but blush. What was up with this guy? He didn’t find it creepy that Yoosung, Saeyoung and I were staring at him at the tea shop? Wait a minute he only mentioned me, but why not the others? Maybe he didn’t noticed them perhaps.
“It’s just you have a really nice hair color, I’ve never seen someone with the same color as yours. So you stood out from everyone else in the shop. It’s unique.” I finally said as we continued to walk. I could swear that I saw him blush but it could of been my imagination.
“You think so, thank you. I never thought much about my hair color” V replied while running his hand through his hair. I didn’t really want to bring up the real reason as to why I was staring at him which was his lost expression. At the tea shop he seem depressed but right now he was a completely different person. Off the bat he was a sweet and kind hearted guy maybe even a gentlemen at most. But I soon remember Saeyoung mention something about V, a past relationship which ended badly.
“Well it suits you nicely, so don’t change it” I said. He didn’t say anything but smile. For the rest of the walk we didn’t exchange words instead we enjoyed the silence. Once we arrived to my place, I held my hand out in front of V.
“Thank you for walking me here, it wasn’t necessary but I really appreciate it” I said politely, V smiles again and shakes my hand, My cheeks heat up at his touch and I swear I saw a tint of blush on his cheeks but again that could of been my imagination. He wasn’t wearing any mittens yet his hands were warm. He released his hold and I wave goodbye before walking into my house.
V
“Sir you can’t walk out of the car like that” My driver informed me
“I know, I know. But you really expect me to let a young lady walk home alone in the dark?” I said as I walk back to the car.
“Of course not” My driver said before opening the car door.
I sit silently as we continued our way back to my father’s home. He had a dinner arranged for our family. I didn’t have the motivation to go but it would seem rude if I didn’t attend.
“If you don’t mind me asking sir, but who was this young lady you were talking to?” The driver asked. I smile at the thought of MC, to be honest I didn’t expect to actually talk to her. But when I was at the tea shop I notice her looking at me. At first I didn’t think much about it, well that was until before I left the shop, Saeyoung stopped me to explain about how MC seem concerned about how I looked sad about something. At first I was embarrassed but as well felt bad that I had worried her.
“It’s just someone I met at the tea shop” I replied simply.
“Oh I see, will you be seeing her again anytime soon?” He asked
I wonder...will I see her again? Probably at the tea shop but I knew clearly what the driver was trying to ask. I bring my gaze toward the window as we drive pass by MC’s house and smiled.
“I hope so”
This is for @jihyunscompass I hope you enjoyed it \(^w^)/
#mystic messenger#mm#mymes#jihyun kim#V#MC#mystic messenger fanfic#mystic messenger secret sant#v x mc
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