#and a nice icy hot boy to rid me of my pain

[user0sb]

i'm deathly sick so let me indulge myself. the bakugou brain rot has been STRONG this week.

bakugou who's tried everything to nurse your headache, but your fever is just too strong. he can't bare to see the tears streaming down your face from the pain, knowing he can do nothing to soothe it.

bakugou who doesn't even hesitate to call todoroki and ask him to come to your room because you need his right side to lower your fever.

bakugou who can't bring himself to feel an ounce of loathing or jealousy, not a single mean word leaving his mouth. he's too relieved to see your tears stop and breathing even out.

he even THANKS todoroki before he leaves. yeah, bakugou hates him, but if he could make you feel better maybe he's not all that bad.

[local-spoon-does-a-thing]

Samuel Hayden x Reader headcanons

A/N: Finally, after the long wait, it's here. I apologize for taking so long and I appreciate your patience with me! Hope you enjoy! The next one is going to be VEGA headcanons!

First meeting

For the sake of the fic, let's just say that you two met through the job. You are newly employed into the UAC. Obviously, seeing a 10 foot robot and realizing that you'll be working with a 10 foot robot would at the very least peak your interest.

Since you two would be working together from now on, you would try to get to know him better. But of course, he'll just treat you like he does with the rest of the workers and either give you boring, short answers or put down the questions. Wow, does he have a stick up his metal ass or something?

Let's just say that your first impression of him left a bitter taste in your mouth. Or maybe you're into that kind of thing, I don't know. But your curiosity for the immortal robot pushes you to continue your attempts. One day, he'll crack and boy, was it going to be worth it.

What your friendship would be like

Okay, he won't admit it but you finally got him to crack. See? Told you that your repetitive attempts would be worth it. All it takes is just A LOT of patience with this robot. Anyway, your determination starts to shine onto him after some time has passed and he admires it. Whenever his other workers tried to do the same thing you did in the past, they would all usually give up. But not you.

You did not give up one bit. Even when you felt like you were about to, you kept pushing forward with each (failed) attempt. And this was for trying to get to know him better. He can only imagine what you're like while you're working. But then again...you work with him so your work ethic doesn't go unnoticed.

Sooner or later, you two are talking and he actually answers your questions instead of giving you short half-assed ones. Though, if it's too personal or out of line, he'll put it down and warn you about it. Again, you're gonna need the patience. At least now, he's beginning to open up.

The friendship starts out very slow. There are times when you aren't able to talk to him at all throughout the whole day since he's a very busy person.

As your bond grows inch by inch, he starts to give you heavy constructive criticism on your work. Yes, this may seem harsh for some or most people, but he wants you to strive to be better. Don't worry, though! With criticism, he gives you a couple compliments here and there. Maybe if you're lucky enough, he'll offer his assistance. You should definitely take this as a form of bonding time.

Once you two get close enough, he'll start to become a bit more talkative around you. Hell, sometimes he even invites you to his office during your break times. You two would either talk about work, ask questions about each other, make some inside jokes, or just enjoy the other's company. He feels comfortable whenever you're around. Again, he won't admit it so don't expect him to admit out any mushy thoughts.

The crush stage

Ohhh boy, he has no idea what's going on. He doesn't have a heart, but why can he feel his non-existent heart beating so fast whenever you're around? Why does he become so restless all of a sudden? Had his gears malfunctioned? Was it the argent energy that was doing this to him? Hayden becomes desperate to figure out what the hell is happening to him.

He doesn't tell anyone about this since he's not that close with anyone, excluding you. He does research on his own and takes notes of himself so you might catch him more distracted whenever you hang out at his office.

If you ask about it, he'll deny it and quickly change the topic to something else. Don't bother bombarding him with more questions because he'll just continue to deny it.

After a short time has passed, he figures out what's wrong with him. And it's worss than he could ever imagine. He likes you in a not-so platonic way. Throughout his long years of living, he has never felt this way before. He was always closed off and was strictly business. But you managed to thaw your way into his icy heart. God, how could he let this happen?

You know something is going on. Before, he was distracted. And now, he's closed off, just like he was during your first encounters with him. Geez, this robot really does run on hot and cold, huh? He rarely invites you to his office now. When you're in his presence, he goes to a different room. He's trying to avoid you. He wants to get rid of these feelings.

Looks like your patience is going to be in good use once again. But you know that you can't hold it for long. If this continues, then you know that you're going to have to confront him about it.

Meanwhile, it seems that simply avoiding you and occupying his thoughts with work isn't going as planned. You still manage to end up in his thoughts. And when he sees you moving around the building, it's like someone just put glitter on his eyes (lens?) and now you look prettier than the last time he saw you.

Confession time

You decide that this whole ordeal has gone on long enough. Whether the feelings are mutual or not, you just want your friend back. Now, you stand in front of his office. As you knock on the door, you wait for an answer. It doesn't come by after a couple of moments. The door slides open and you can see the robot with piling works on his desk. Even you could tell that he was exhausted. Hayden straightens your back and tenses. Without any other word exchanged, you step into the room and cut him off just as he was about to speak.

"Doctor Hayden, do you not enjoy my company anymore? Did something happened? Have...we not been friends at all?" You decide to cut to the chase since you want to know his reasoning behind all of this.

This...wasn't expected from you. He didn't even expect your presence at all. He was going mad with these yucky emotions but sometimes, it felt nice to imagine what could be in the future. But that niceness turned into pain. Not knowing what you'll say or do to him once he confesses hurt him. He doesn't like the unknown. Though it seems like he has no choice now. One thing he wants is to get this off of his chest.

Before he confesses his reasoning for his doings, he hardened himself and braced for the worse. His confession to you is blunt and straightforward. No beating around the bush at all. Samuel stills and awaits for your answer.

If you reject him

He quiets. Nothing is to be heard in his office but his gears turning and working. He braced himself for this, yet he wasn't ready enough, not strong enough. He doesn't know what to feel. Anger? But not towards you. Sorrow? He was mostly at fault. Hayden does nothing else but give you a nod and dismisses you from the office. Maybe...it was better to keep quiet. He won't make the same mistake again.

Your friendship is more cold and lonely now. He copes by burying himself with work, barely giving you any attention. He still wants you as a friend, yes, but it just hurt every time he saw you.

If you accept

Totally caught off guard. Hold on, he just needs a minute. Wait, so you like him too? He asks once more to confirm it, and you did. He felt like all of the weight he's been holding has finally released him and was replaced with a familiar feelings of euphoria. If robots could smile, he would be grinning right now. But you could tell by his voice that he was immensely happy. The feelings are mutual, thankfully. He stands from his desk and walks over to you. He doesn't know what to say or express so he hugs you for the first time and thanks you.

What your relationship would be like

At the beginning stage of the relationship, he will be a tad bit agitated. He already has a hard time showing physical affection when you two were only friends before. Plus, this is his first relationship. He doesn't want this to be all willy nilly, he wants this to be a very serious thing. So for a while, you're going to have to be the one to initiate the affection first. He's a quick learner so soon enough, he gets the hang of it.

Definitely NOT the PDA type. During work, he is strictly all business. No tomfoolery allowed. He won't hold your hand when there's other workers around, no lovely words from him, etc. The most that he'll do is place a hand on your shoulder or on your back. I think that he would rather keep his relationship private instead of letting the whole world know. But behind the doors, oh boy, he can be one smooth motherfucker. He may not be good with physical affection, but he can be smooth with words.

Once you two have built up your relationship, he becomes more comfortable with giving affection and reciprocating it. He'll hug you more often, give you encouragement whenever you're feeling down, or maybe just even hold your hand while he works (but only if it's just the two of you in his office).

Not gonna lie, he gets pretty beaten down every time he realizes that he can't kiss you. He doesn't have lips, after all. So you're the one that's going to have to smooch his face plate. His body overheats a bit every time so be careful.

As for cuddling, he's like your own personal heat rock. This robot doesn't really need to sleep, but you do. He'll let you sleep whenever you sit on his lap and just admire your peaceful expression. At first, he may seem like a cold-hearted metal killjoy, but he really does care. And he really cares about you.

[hatsukeii]

I have another songfic idea and despite the requests in my box I will do this first lmao if I don’t Imma forget tomorrow-

This blog is bnha starved, so let’s go with that:3

Idfc//Soulmate AU! Bakugou x Reader

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: In a world where the name of your soulmate’s quirk is tattooed on your arm when you turn 17, Bakugou got unlucky in the soulmate department.

Despite all his prayers and wishes for the words “Game Over” to appear on his arm, life just didn’t want to go his way.

What’s even worse, is those words ended up on shitty half n’ half’s arm. 

What a way to screw with Bakugou.

He watches as you step out of the school gates, Todoroki’s arm wrapped around your waist. Giving you a tiny wave, he rocks forward and backward, hoping for you to notice him. You glance towards his direction, pursing your lips, before ignoring him and making your way home with your boyfriend. The ash blond’s fake grin falters, shoving his hands down his pockets, head hanging low as he turns around and goes his own way.

He still remembers the moment he realised you weren’t his soulmate. The way his heart dropped when the words on his arm said “Zero Gravity”. His parents were ecstatic, cheering as they celebrated over how their baby boy was growing up, and how he would soon meet the love of his life. What they didn’t know, was that he had already found the one he loved, and it sure as hell wasn’t Uraraka, whose quirk was on his arm. Just that one revelation was enough to make his entire weekend shitty. He definitely did NOT want to be with Uraraka. She was way too bubbly and annoying. Plus, her quirk had a lame name. And she’s way too clingy for his liking. He tried his best to stay optimistic about the situation. Maybe he’ll eventually be able to change his fate if he defied it. Maybe if he was able to make you love him back, the names would change. He racked his brains, searched for answers on every website he could think of, asked on every forum he could find, but still, nothing. He was stuck with Uraraka, and there was nothing he could do but sulk and accept it. That night, he cried himself to sleep, knowing he was never going to get a chance with you. The only person he wanted was snatched away from him and just the thought of being able to win her over was ripped to shreds.

The following Monday back to school was no better. In fact, it was worse. He watched as you excitedly told him about your soulmate, the words “Half Hot Half Cold” imprinted on your skin as you explained how you got it the day before. You were beyond excited, knowing fully well who your soulmate was. The pretty boy of 1-A that all the girls were head over heels for. Thank god you couldn’t tell that the tiny grin plastered on his face and the playful cheering was fake. Those were all just poor attempts to mask all the despair and heartbreak he stored up in his chest. All Bakugou could possibly do was be happy for you. That’s what he should’ve done. However, no matter how hard he tried, it just never worked out. You were always there in the back of his head, lingering around in his mind like an annoying pest that he couldn’t get rid of. Thinking of you became a daily routine. He would stare at you longingly in class, text you every day after school, cry about you every night, and wake up puffy eyed. Waves of depression hit him every single time the sight of you having fun with Todoroki appeared in front of his eyes. He swore that if he heard another person talk about how cute you and Todoroki were together he would punch their face in. People backed away from him whenever he was close to the dual haired boy, not wanting to get on his nerves.

In class, Aizawa started noticing his lack of focus in class. For months, Bakugou had been in a constant state of daydream, staring at you in class as he thought of all the things you two could do if only you were his soulmate. He would spoil you so badly. Take you out on as many dates as he possibly could. Kiss your tears away when you were crying. Pillow fights every weekend. Cuddle you while the two of you watched movies on your bed. Eventually present you with a diamond ring in a tiny velvet box. All those possibilities, flushed right down the drain as he was constantly snapped back to reality by his homeroom teacher every single time, remembering that he was only a best friend to you, nothing more. He wasn’t doing as well in class, and his parents were worried. Since when did their straight A son start flunking English? Mitsuki was anxiety ridden, fearing for her son’s mental state, as she should. Bakugou would rather die than admit he was weak, but at times like these, a motherly hug would be nice. Mitsuki would let her son cry on her lap, instead of sulk on his bed all alone. He may not have told her anything about what was making him seemingly depressed, but all he wanted was some form of emotional support, even if it was from his old hag. Masaru would join in sometimes, giving Bakugou a few pats on the head or ruffling his hair. They didn’t know what had changed his son so drastically, however despite their worries for his academics, they knew that he was not okay, and that it was their job to help him, even if they were in the dark about the situation.

“Bakugou, you’re going home alone again? I thought Kirishima was gonna walk you back!” Mina jogs towards Bakugou, placing and hand on his shoulder and launching herself into the air with a jump. Usually, Bakugou would flick her hand off at the last moment, but instead of doing that, he remains stoic, completely ignoring everything around him. “Haaaah? Hello? Earth to Bakugou?” He rolls his eyes, trying not to blast the pinkette’s fingers off as she pokes his cheek, trying to get a reaction out of him as Kaminari and Sero approached the two.

The Bakusquad were quick to catch up on his issue. Kirishima was the first to point out the difference in his now quiet, negative attitude compared to his usually boisterous and aggressive personality. Being the top tier best friend he was, he tried his hardest to get something out of Bakugou. Anything. He soon informed the rest of the gang about it, much to the blond’s annoyance. Since then, they’ve been trying to get Bakugou out of his heartbroken state and back into the rat he usually is. Everyone was worried for him, fearing that this would affect his mental health. They were there for Bakugou since day one, hyping him up whenever he was about to make a move. Cheering him on when he finally asked you out. Encouraging him to continue fighting for you when he was feeling down. They always thought the two of you were meant to be, but they were mistaken, because obviously fate has a cruel way of messing with people. Out of everyone, Kirishima was the most concerned. He had watched his best friend put himself down time and time again, all because of you. He was always there to give him a punch to the back, reminding him that he still had a chance. He was there to listen when Bakugou wanted to vent his issues out. He was his number one wingman, setting the two of you up in secret as an attempt to help Bakugou get with you. When he eventually found out his soulmate was Uraraka, and that yours was Todoroki, he was shocked, to say the least. However he was also frightened. Scared. He was scared that Bakugou would go back to his cold self. He was scared that the friendship he had bonded with you would break. He was scared his best bro’s heart would be shattered. Despite his efforts to cheer him up, the blond was not improving. The fiery, determined flares in his crimson irises were gone, replaced by a dull, hopeless maroon. 

“Don’t be so down in the dumps about the whole soulmate thing Bakubro! Maybe you’ll eventually move on!” Oh, what a big mistake Kaminari just made. The icy glare sent his way is scary enough to kill, piercing through his skull and shaking every single nerve in his body up. “I don’t fucking care at all. Leave me the fuck alone.” This isn’t his usually grumpy attitude, where he’s just irritated. He’s being dead serious, his tone hinting that if they didn’t get away from him right this instant, they were going to get their asses kicked badly. “Guys, maybe we should just leave him alone for now.” The three teens backed away from their moody friend, waving him off before going their separate ways.

Whenever anyone tried to make an effort to understand his frustration, the only answer they would receive was a forced out “I don’t fucking care.” That was the only thing Bakugou would tell people, including you. Oh how oblivious he was, thinking no one saw through the facade he was putting up. If he had to admit he was a weak bitch that cried over some stupid crush, he would kill everyone in the room and then himself if that’s the last thing he does. No way in hell is he letting his strong, tough, intimidating image down. Time after time, he would tell people he didn’t give a fuck about you. That you were just another extra in his life. Just another stepping stone to his inevitable victory. The time you overheard him telling Kirishima you were just another obstacle in the way of his success made your heart shatter into a million pieces. You slowly started to let him go, not wanting to let yourself get hurt anymore by his words. Everyone acted like they fell for his white lies, as if they were dumb enough to not hear the audible hint of pain in his usually shameless voice. He really did all this, just to convince himself to move on from these useless feelings that ate him up from the inside. His usually unfriendly self became extra hostile, shutting out everyone that tried to help him. He was increasingly aggressive with each passing day, letting out all the pent up anger and bitterness onto his classmates. At that point, Midoriya was so scared that he requested for a seat change from Aizawa. Almost nobody dared approach him. Some even begged for him to be excluded from sparring and training, although it was unsuccessful. It was guaranteed, without question, that whoever was going against him was going to be beaten to a pulp, bloodied and battered, burn marks everywhere on their bodies. In some instances, All Might had to step in, and even he suffered a few nasty blasts from the ash blond. Even you were getting irritated by his irrational actions, occasionally calling him out for it, much to his dismay. This was the last thing he wanted. For you to slowly break away all the bonds you two made. For you to take another person’s side, without even thinking about how he felt.

Walking out from his quick shower, he sat on his bed, grabbing his phone and going through your chat again, as if the ‘seen’ at the bottom of the wall of good morning and goodnight texts will magically disappear and replace itself with your replies. Groaning, he throws his phone onto the wall, letting it fall back onto his mattress as he shoves his face into his hands.

Since the time you heard him call you an obstacle, you started to let go of the friendship you had made with the fiery teen. He held a special place in your heart. He was your first, and best friend. You two shared everything during those late night talks you had through FaceTime. If you had to choose between Todoroki or Bakugou, you would save the latter first. The moment you realised Todoroki was your soulmate, you were ecstatic. Your fat crush on the aloof boy was a known thing around 1-A, and the fact that you were lucky enough to get him as your soulmate made all the girls jealous. However, things took a turn when Bakugou started to go back to his cold self. He stopped calling you after school. He stopped walking you home. He stopped trying to keep a conversation with you, only replying with the driest responses he could muster up. You didn’t know what was up with him, but it was annoying you. The one time you were looking to confront him, you overheard his conversation with Kirishima. “She’s just an obstacle.” “A stepping stone to my victory.” “I don’t fucking care about her.” It was as if everything you have done to befriend him was for nothing. He only thought of you as some extra. Nothing more. You were pissed, definitely. He was acting cold, ignoring you, all because he never cared. You made up your mind, and sent him one last text.

“If you didn’t care about me then we should’ve never became friends.”

And with that, the friendship that you two put so close to heart was erased from your life, never to be seen again as you left his side and joined with Todoroki.

This is the last straw for Bakugou. He yells into his hands. Nobody’s home, and even if somebody were in the house, he doesn’t care. He screams until his lungs give out, his voice reducing to a raspy groan after ten whole minutes of screaming. He was mad at himself. He was mad at his fate. Why did it have to take away the best thing that happened to him? Why did you have to land in the hands of Todoroki? Just the thought of it fills him with anger, sparks emitting from his palms as his sight is clouded by red. Scrambling onto his bed, he sends punch after punch towards his pillow, activating his quirk and letting the fabric burn as he continues the assault on the pillow, feathers now flying all around him as he screams, tasting his own tears. He doesn’t care about his pillow being completely demolished. He has extras at home anyways. Throwing the now tattered pillow onto the floor, he grabs a new one and shoves his head into it, sniffling into the cool material. “Why do I feel like this? How can one person ruin everything for me? Why is this happening? What kind of God does this to people? Why do I care anyways?” His eyes widen as he realises what he just confessed to himself. “No. I don’t care. I don’t fucking care at all. I don’t care. Not a shitty single fucking bit.” His heart aches when he says that, as if it’s mocking him for trying too hard to convince himself to believe something that was completely untrue. The ash blond thrashes wildly on his bed out of frustration, kicking his sheets away and muffling his strained screams into the clean pillow. “Stop, stop, stop, stop, STOP! WHY? CAN’T YOU JUST GET OUT OF MY HEAD FOR A FUCKING DAY? JUST A FUCKING SECOND? PLEASE?” Pulling his sleeve up, he stares at the words “Zero Gravity” in disgust. Bringing his free hand up, he activates his quirk, sending a scorching burn to the words as he hisses in pain, flinching a little bit. The soul mark is now a shade of pink, but the words are still clear as day. He knows he screwed up bad with you, but what could he do about it? You’re happily dating your soulmate, and all ties between you two have been cut off. All his texts have been left on seen. You have stopped talking to him. With that, Bakugou knew what he had to eventually come to terms to.

He cares. He cares too much. 

All the times he’s said “I don’t fucking care” were just pathetic attempts to forget about the cruel truth, even just for a moment.

You’re never going to go back to him.

Todoroki is your boyfriend.

And he was just another classmate to you.

References:

Idfc- Blackbear

Lyrics to said song

A whole lotta brainstorming because oh my god my angsts are becoming more and more predictable and repetitive and I hate it ahahhaha

Tags:

@ewfilthymundane @izzyphantomgamer @artsamber @sunshines-and-tatertots @tiger1719 @inlwlevi @burnt-tomato @just-another-bored-writer @macaronnv @random-fandomlover @kaylacinderella @justachillgirl @for-ests @bokutokoutarou @trashcanweeb @itmekisuu @poppirocks @xonfusedsoul @shoutsukii @estherwritess @talks-a-lot-of-stuff @fullmetalfangirl21​ @mariechan123​ @agentvicinity​ @sakusasgarbage​ @tiredgr3mlin​ @letshaikyuu​ @emsvegetables​

Have fun reading this love ya sorry for not writing anything in days and uh I’m gonna go to sleep now because I have school and I need at least 5 hours:D

[more-miserables]

Ooookay, so my friend @cubeswhump got me into this corner of the whump community, and I’m pretty hooked. So I thought I’d give it a go myself. This is my first time writing for the whump community (mostly anyway, I was in another make-your-OCs-suffer community) so I’d be grateful for feedback and suggestions. Let me know if I get shit wrong.

Also Cube told me I should tag @albino-whumpee (hello, I really love your work and art, and I’m super nervous to post this lol)

Warnings for dehumanizing language, institutionalized slavery, boxboy universe, implications of past self-harm, implications of drugging, lots of messed up stuff, you guys know.

He thought it was an American thing. That’s where all the original stories seemed to come from. He remembered his parents’ fancy dinner parties when he was little, how all the posh folk had nattered on about what a great idea it was. A cheap, lifelong companion who would bow to your every whim. They must’ve been delighted when the idea spread across the globe, making its way across Europe and to England. He didn’t doubt his parents’ friends all had a boxboy/babe now. Maybe his parents did too; he wouldn’t know.

He never thought he’d need to go near the WRU. It wasn’t like he could ever afford one of their “pets.” But it was his only other option now, it was that or gash his wrists. He’d been fired from work, was failing university classes he was too anxious to go to and too depressed to care about, and completely alone in a grotty flat he couldn’t afford, estranged and cut off from his whole family because he was such a bloody pathetic loser. Not that they’d ever been too fond of him, but that hardly mattered now.

He’d seen the WRU adverts. They said they could cure your mental illnesses. They didn’t give much detail, but since his only other solution was death, he figured he didn’t have much to lose. He was longing to get rid of that awful tight feeling in his chest, the heavy fog of numb misery. They’d train you up and send you off to work, and you’d be treated like family in return. Honestly, he wanted a family far more than he wanted his anxiety and depression treated. A real family who hugged and kissed you, not a coldly indifferent, violent one like his own. He wanted to be loved.

He took a deep breath and walked up to the heavy wooden doors of the WRU.

***

“This one is very unstable. Scars all over his arms. That’ll lower his value. Reacting very badly to training so far. We can’t risk sending him off alone.”

“If we train him up as a Domestic, we can bond him to a more docile Companion. We can advertise them as good value if their owner doesn’t want to pay for scar reduction treatment. The Domestic doesn’t necessarily need to be pretty. And they’re both firsthands.”

“Do you have a Companion in mind?”

“Indeed.”

***

“Are you cold?”

“Shh. We can’t talk until our new owner gets here.”

“I’m whispering.” The bigger of the two boys wriggled around again, his back pressed up against the cold wood of the tight little box. The smaller one was squished in, their bare chests touching, shivering in unison in the chilly winter air. The box wasn’t doing much to protect them from the elements. Not that One expected that, of course. And he was lucky to have Two huddled up beside him to keep warm. Most pets travelled alone.

“You’re shivering,” One whispered persistently, trying to wriggle around in the tiny space to wrap his arms around Two. Since they shared a code number (156011) and attempting to remember their before-names hurt, they’d been One and Two ever since they’d met at training, when they’d been chained together by the neck and told they’d remain that way. Using the loo had been terribly embarrassing for the first few days - One winced as his temple throbbed. He wasn’t supposed to remember. That was bad.

He felt Two’s hands at his temples, stroking gently. “You think too much,” he said. “We just have to do as we’re told. That’s all.”

One sighed and thought it better to keep his mouth shut, resting his chin on the top of Two’s head. Two’s curly black hair was newly washed and soft as duck-down.

Time dragged on and on, endless in the darkness. It was freezing cold, but the air in the box was thick and breathing was difficult. One’s limbs twitched restlessly, longing to stretch. He wanted to whisper again, but he didn’t want to worry Two. He knew Two had plenty of worries when it came to him as it was. Their training had been far longer than most because of him. He’d been wilful and stupid and refused to learn. And still Two was never angry, never frustrated. He cried when One cried, held him when the sleeping drugs wore off and the vivid nightmares broke through, helped ease him out of bed when he was too hurt and sedated to stand. One knew he was supposed to be equally loyal to their new master, but deep down One didn’t think anyone could ever match Two for his affections.

PAIN. Bad thought bad thought bad thought...

They must’ve slept for a while, because they woke stiffer and colder than ever, clutching each other in alarm as the box lurched to the side. They could hear a chorus of female-sounding grunts and groans, and a male voice barking irritably at her to hurry up and get the dratted thing inside before he froze. Two squeezed One’s arm meaningfully. “Smile,” he breathed into One’s ear, feather-light and almost inaudible. One stretched his lips apart obediently.

“Open it then, girl!” The man’s voice again. It was old and raspy, but very posh and plummy. It sparked something in One’s memory - a bad memory, because it made his head throb again. He clenched his teeth and fought to hold a smile as the lid was finally lifted off and light flooded inside. It hurt after hours of darkness, but the pets knew it was unattractive to squint.

“Oh my! I didn’t know you ordered a pair!”

“You know I needed two of them. A Combination wouldn’t be able to get everything done around the house while taking care of me. Get them out, Ivy, what’s the matter with you?”

They stood up obediently, still chained at the neck. A middle-aged woman with a straggly ponytail and a very old man in a wheelchair were staring hard at them.

“Ivy, take the chain off, I have their collars for them. I don’t want you two joined together during the day, it’s not practical, but you’re to be chained together at night. I know the Domestic is a flight risk. You’d better call me Mr Stanley,” the old man said. He beckoned to Two as soon as the chains were off. “Come here, you. You’re the Companion?”

“Yes, Mr Stanley,” Two said, going to him obediently. One stiffened. This was the first time he’d been apart from Two in... he didn’t know. As long as he remembered.

Mr Stanley leaned right out of his wheelchair to examine him, nodding approvingly at Two’s smooth full cheeks, large brown eyes and his thatch of black curls. “Lovely little thing, but you’re very small. Will you be able to do the heavy lifting?” Stanley asked, sucking his teeth at Two’s petite frame and dainty 5’2” height.

“I’m stronger than I look, Mr Stanley. And One could help me if needs be.”

“Who? Oh, that one. Very nice. Position one.” Two got into the right placement immediately, feet apart, arms loose. In the background One did the same, just in case. Mr Stanley smirked. “Good. Now, I spent a good deal of money on you two,” he said. “I don’t want any funny business. If I think you’re slacking for a second I can send you back to be refurbished. You don’t want that, do you?”

They shook their heads in perfect unison, as if they’d practised.

“I’m pleased about that,” Mr Stanley said grimly, fixing an extravagant sparkly blue collar onto Two with his own shaky hands. “There you go now. My, you’re a pretty little thing.”

“Thank you, sir. I look forward to assisting you any way I can,” Two said, smiling angelically.

One watched morosely, wishing he could be as good at this as Two. He’d never have thought to say something like that, something the owners just ate up. Everyone had always told One that he held Two back in their training.

Pain again. Stop remembering things.

Mr Stanley continued fussing over Two, telling him all his duties and discussing his health problems at length. He tossed One’s collar to Ivy. “You can do his, Ivy. Fasten it tight.” It was plain brown, made of cheap scratchy nylon.

Ivy approached One warily, like she thought he might bite, sucking her teeth. “Stanley, couldn’t you pay for scar treatments?” she called, fastening One’s collar as quickly as possible. She actually shuddered when her fingers touched the icy skin of his neck, jolting backwards. “It’s turning my stomach.”

One could feel his cheeks starting to burn. No no no! Blushing was bad, any sign that you were feeling embarrassed was insulting to your owner! He had to fight not to hide his arms behind his back. He didn’t really remember how he got those scars. He’d tried to once, back in training, but it made his head hurt so much that he went dizzy and puked all over the floor. Two had held One’s unruly red hair out the way and rubbed his back. He’d be a great Companion.

One hadn’t tried to remember anything about the scars since, but sometimes - when he was really miserable - he suddenly felt like there should be a new one.

Mr Stanley scoffed. “Don’t be so pathetic, Ivy. I clearly didn’t pick that one for his looks, you know I never cared for redheads. He’s going to be holed up in the kitchen, I don’t give a damn what he looks like - and I’m not shelling out even more money to get him sorted. I’m only going to be seeing this one regularly, and he’s perfect.” His wrinkled face creased into a smile, eyes sparkling. He looked so proud of Two - and One suddenly felt something hot and ugly in his chest. He was envious. He didn’t like anyone else being around Two, not when they’d spent so much time together. Literally tethered to one another.

But this was his owner. A much more intense pain shot across One’s forehead, so powerful it was a struggle to remain in position one. The edges of his vision were fuzzy and red when the pain finally subsided, but he managed not to sway.

“I suppose I should give you a name,” Mr Stanley said to Two, tapping his nose like he was playing with a baby.

“We’d be very grateful for names, sir,” Two said eagerly.

“Ah, you’re a sunny little thing! Well, I’ll tell you what. You know what my surname is, boy? Yates. That’s me, Stanley Yates. And to show you’re a part of this family now, as long as you promise to be a good boy, I’d like you to be called Yates. Understood?” Mr Stanley said.

“Yes, sir. Thank you very much. I’d be honoured,” Two - no Yates, don’t quibble with the owner’s name choice - said, smiling. Then he looked over his shoulder. “Will One be Stanley, sir? Or will we both be known as Yates?”

One looked at Tw-Yates adoringly. He wanted him to be included in the family, just like those adverts had said. A family One never had, though he couldn’t remember why now. He couldn’t remember lots of things.

Mr Stanley peered over at One, sniffing disdainfully. He shook his head at the criss-cross of scars on One’s arms, of the thousands of freckles across his cheeks and arms and shoulders, at his baby-faced innocence coupled with a glint of defiance in his eyes, buried deep down after the training, but still present. Stanley’s eyes came to rest on One’s mop of fine red hair, sticking bolt upright and fluffing out all over the place like a dandelion clock. His hair seemed to defy gravity, both sticking upright and flopping in his face all at once.

“You can be Ginger,” Stanley said shortly.

And Ginger had to smile and thank him, because now he had a name and he needed to be grateful. He should always be grateful. Of course Stanley would like Yates best; Yates was perfect. Ginger was the scarred one, the one that reduced their value. The ugly one who stayed in the kitchen. He shouldn’t expect anything more. He shouldn’t ever think about how much easier it would be to not live anymore - he didn’t even remember where he got that idea from.

[vegetasblondehairdye]

Skin Pt.1

A/N: so this is my first ever bnha/MHA fan fic so I apologize if the characters seem to be ooc. I tried my best to make them as close to the original characters as possible.

Summary: (Dabi is a Todoroki theory) During a raid on the city by The League of Villains, Dabi comes face to face with Endeavor and Shouto Todoroki in hopes to bring the truth of his identity crashing down on their heads. There's nothing more he wants than to expose these so called hero's for what they truly are. Fakes who wear capes and pretend that they fight for justice rather than just themselves. The first person on his list to expose is Endeavor. Will his plan work or will it burn in flames?

__________________

A manic laugh left his lips as flames circled around the avenue. The sides of buildings were set aflame as debris tumbled to the ground, nearly crushing the civilians who tried to ran away in horror.

The #1 hero, Endeavor, has been forced to his knees by this fiend with the patch-worked face. The amusement in the man's icy blue eyes said it all. He had Endeavor right where he wanted him. Even better with the fact that he had his golden child fighting along side him.

"Shouto! Get out of here while you still can!" Endeavor shouted, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth. "Get these people to safet-!" A boot then collided swiftly with the side of his jaw, nearly sending him to the other side of the street.

The burned villain smirked as he watched on as an injured Todoroki laid face down on the cement, in shock at how his father was getting his ass handed to him by a member of the league. It wasn't a fair fight considering the villain, that he later learned who went by Dabi, had brought 3 nomu's to destroyed along his side.

Endeavor and Todoroki had held their own for a while, but the numbers game soon caught up to them. "The people?" Dabi laughed dryly, running his hand down his scaly face. "Do you really think I give a damn about the people? I don't give 2 shits about what happens to anybody around us!"

"Why have you been so fixated on us?" Todoroki struggled to push himself off the ground, but his muscles didn't allow him to push himself up anymore than a few inches. He fell back to the ground, still attempting to talk. "You already had us beat." he choked, "Why did you destroy those Nomu's when the League of Villains is clearly trying to take over the city? Why not let us die? What's your agenda?"

"You talk too much for a boy on the brink of death." Dabi stalked over his way, kneeling down and scrunching up a chunk of Todoroki's hair, forcing the boy to look at him. "Look at you. A pro hero in training and you're already lower than the scum on the bottom of my shoe. Do you know why?" he pointed to a bloody Endeavor, "By following in the footsteps of this prick. Listen kid, all this pain and suffering isn't worth it. Hell, look at me! I stopped caring a long time ago and I'm fine!" Dabi shoved the boys head back where it was.

"You don't look fine to me." he gritted.

"Oh? These?" he pointed at his visible burns. "This is what happens when you try to please people who are pieces of shit."

"Get away from him, you animal! Your fight is with me!" Endeavor stood on shaky knees, holding his broken ribs. Those Nomu's really did a number on him. "When I'm finished with you, you'll be sorry that you rid yourself of your only advantage of winning this fight!"

"Oh? You're still alive. Surprisingly, I'm pleased that you hadn't bled out, Enji Todoroki." he held his palms upwards, igniting his signature blue flames. "Stand down, or..." he stood on Todoroki's hand, before mangling the boys wrist with a harsh twist of his boot. He yelped in pain, gripping Dabi's ankle with his free hand to attempt to pry him off. "I break his other wrist and make sure he's out of action for a very long time."

Endeavor stared daggers into Dabi's being, before capturing the site of his injured son. He couldn't risk having his creation be put on the shelf before his hero career even began. How embarrassing would that be? The #1 hero's greatest creation, taken out by some thug who can't fight on his own. "Tch! You're clearly not here for just a fight. So what do you want?"

A twisted grin stretched across Dabi's face, making the staples on his lower jaw pull apart slightly. He finally lifted his foot off of Todoroki's wrist. He winced in pain. His eyes then grew wide, realizing that his injured hand was on his ice side. "No..." his voice shook, "Why did it have to be my ice side..."

"I want you to kneel." he demanded.

"I will never!"

"Such pride." he looked over his shoulder, "I'm sure your golden boy would absolutely love having only one hand, forced to use his damn fire quirk for the rest of his life."

"Leave him out of this, criminal."

"Do what I say and I won't break his entire hand off."

All Endeavor could think about was how hard he tried to make the perfect hybrid child. All of that would go to shit if he didn't obey this parasites demands. How pathetic. He cursed under his breath. This brat better appreciate all that I'm doing in order to secure his future!

Endeavor struggled back onto his knees. Dabi watched, looking pleased with the man's decision. He slowly approached him. The only thing hotter than the flames around, was the white hot fire in Endeavor's eyes. He mentally swore to himself that this villain will suffer a slow and painful punishment. Then make his death look like an accident.

Dabi, then lunged forward. Meeting the hero with a stiff shot to the gut. He hunched over in pain, nearly vomiting from the punch. "How does it feel? Getting knocked off of your pedestal and bowing down to someone like me. Tell me what's going through your mind, Enji." he turned around and spotted Todoroki who had barely made it back to his feet, while cradling his injured hand. "How about you... little Shouto Todoroki? Doesn't seeing your father like this just make your skin crawl?" he lifted Endeavor's chin up with the point of his shoe, "Look at him. He's weak."

Todoroki gazed at the scene, but all he saw was him as a 5 year old. In a pool of his own vomit and blood with his father standing over him with a wretched scowl. He mentally slapped himself for even thinking that his father was finally getting what was coming to him.

"You talk about us.... Like you know us..." Todoroki growled through clenched teeth. "I'll make you pay for all the destruction you've caused." he threatened.

"Like I know you?" Dabi let Endeavor's head drop after he removed his foot from underneath his chin. "For being a high profile student of UA, you sure do have a frail memory." he shoved his hands deep into his pockets like he always did. Now that he had them both wrapped around his finger, he became more comfortable with the direction things were going. "Not to be cliche, but you and I are more alike than you think."

"I'm nothing like you."

Dabi mockingly placed his hand over his eye, "Nice scar."

Todoroki touched his burn patch, "Our appearance doesn't mean a damn thing. I will defeat you, even if I only have to use my left side."

"Stand down. We both know that using your fire to save your Old Man isn't what you really want. Knowing that it's what he wants you to do."

"Stop trying to get into the boys head. It won't work! He's too smart for that!"

Dabi cocked his head, turning his attention to the man on his knees. He gripped him from the throat, "Shut up! You don't get to talk unless I ask you to!" he snapped. "What makes this boy so special? All I see is a brat who thinks he can't be touched." he tackled Todoroki to the ground. "What makes you so special?" he punched him. "Why are you the one seen with the most potential?" Dabi continued his assault. "You're nothing but a spoiled parasite that got everything handed to you!"

"What do you want from us, Dabi?" Todoroki coughed, blood dripping from both corners of his mouth.

He narrowed his eyes at the boy. "I want you all to come face to face with the truth." he pulled him up harshly from the ground. "I'm sick of being an after thought. A ghost in people's minds. Yet the only memory of me they may still hold onto is a frail, weak version of my former self." His hand gripped tighter around Endeavor's throat as he turned his attention back to him. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"I see a failure who will perish in a prison cell."

Dabi clenched his fist, striking him in the face. "Try again! I know you only have one good eye, but try to focus! Look at me! Look past the scars! Look past the hatred in my eyes! Tell me what you see, Enji!"

Endeavor stared deep into Dabi's teal eyes. Doing exactly what he said. Paying the hatred and burns no mind. He focused on the young man's face as best as he could. He imagined the purple burns being erased from his body. But when he looked deeper into his eyes, he didn't see hatred. What he saw was sorrow. Pain.

He continued to alter the villains image in his mind. Even seeing him with red hair for some strange reason. That's when reality hit the hero like a brutal Texas Smash.

"T...Touya?"

_______________

A/N: so this is chapter 1. Chapter 2 will be posted if this chapter gets a lil bit of love 😊

Edit: part 2

[saintsnsinnersbdb]

Shadow Of Blood: Blood Oath (Part 2)

Written by @My_Own_Male

https://www.twitlonger.com/show/n_1sridam

***** TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT *****

My hand shakes as I reach for the bottle of Jameson’s. Another nightmare had torn me from the little sleep I managed to get during the day. Nightmares of Marisol’s death.

Finally managing to pour three fingers of the 18-year-old whiskey into a tumbler, I raise it with trembling hand to my lips as I sit on the edge of the bed. The dreams had become so frequent I had taken to leaving the bottle in my bedside table. The first gulp burns its way into my stomach. Not the languorous burn a sip would of the fine liquor would give me, but an explosion of fire that steadies my hands even if does nothing for my head. Truly, it is a sin to swill this liquor as I am, but I cannot help it. Though I had bought it for sipping as I perused my business ledgers, now it seems the only thing that settles me after the horrors of the day Marisol died tumble through my brain when I am awakened thus.

I cannot forget her eyes as she looked into the camera, knowing I could not get to her in time. Frightened, defiant, and over all else, forgiving. She loved me, and she forgave me as I cannot forgive myself.

My thoughts roam back to the day she had been taken from me a week ago, playing it through my head, dissecting it again.

I had warned Marisol and Mrs. Carvalho against leaving the house unattended by either myself, Ehric or Evale. I did not even trust Markus with their care. Not because he is untrustworthy, but because he is not as we are. Mrs. Carvalho’s attention and care had gone a long way towards healing the damaged male these past two years, but he would never be a warrior. He would not have been even had he not been so badly wounded emotionally by being held as a blood slave. He was simply not built for it.

Marisol had agreed to my edict, though not without argument of late. She had thought the uneventful two years that had passed since she had killed Vitoria had been an indicator that the Beneloise organization was out of business and of no danger to us. I had told her snakes hibernate when the weather is cold but it does not mean they have gone extinct. She had finally acquiesced to my insistence and I had thought the matter settled, but for a reason I have not yet been able to ascertain she and her grandmother left our home mid-morning few days later while the four of us slept. I was awoken from a sound sleep by a text from her phone that said only ‘Check your email.’

I remember having some amusement at it, thinking she must be downstairs and wondering what the minx was up to. After drawing on a pair of slacks and a tee-shirt, I went downstairs to the kitchen for coffee. When I realized she was not in the house I began to become mildly irritated, believing she must have gone outside into the sunlight where I could not follow her, but I still believed she was on the grounds.

I went to my office and opened up my email from my laptop. Again, there was an email from her with a link. It said only ‘click the link.’ I remember muttering, “Really, now this is getting to be too much Marisol. Where are you?”

I don’t know what I expected to see, but whatever it was, it was not what I saw. The link took me to a live video feed. Marisol was in the center of a darkened room. Only the light streaming in from a high window allowed me to see she was gagged and naked, tied spread-eagled on a bed of some sort. On the periphery I could see the Mrs. Carvalho’s body crumpled on the floor.

I screamed out her name, but there must have been some sort of alarm set on the link to notify the sender when I clicked on it, because a masked face appeared on the screen blocking my view. I will never forget his voice.

"So, you’re Assail. Is that a first or last name? Doesn’t matter. I know where you live. If I could have gotten into that fortress I would have taken you as well. I’d always intended to rape your woman in front of you before I killed her. We’ll just do it this way instead of in person. Maybe I’ll let my boys have a go at her after I’m done before I kill her."

I’d heard the muffled laughter and encouragement of male voices and gripped the arms of my chair in an effort to control my terror for her and clenched my jaw.

“Let Marisol and her grandmother go. If it’s me you want, I will come to you.” The low, controlled tone of my voice had belied the icy chill that ran through my body. Stealthily I pressed the panic button that had been installed beneath my desktop. It would awaken the other residents of the house and send them flying to find me. “And if it is money you seek, I have a great deal of it. You only have to fix a number and it is yours.”

As my cousin’s slammed through the door I looked up and gave a near imperceptible shake of my head. Quietly, they had moved to the sides of my desk to be able to hear but remain out of sight. I knew not what this male knew of my defenses, but I would not give anything away to him easily.

The male had barked a laugh. “They’re not going anywhere. At any rate, the old lady is already dead. Bad luck that. I’d intended to use her to get the pretty one to give me the entry codes into the house, but she croaked on me. Heart attack, by the way she grabbed at her chest. And I don’t want your money. By getting rid of Ricard, Eduardo, and Vitoria, you’ve already cleared my path. It will take me some time to re-establish my clientele, but the supply chain still exists. And once you’re gone all other obstacles will disappear.”

“I am no longer in the business you speak of,” I spoke through gritted teeth, barely controlling my rage. “So your path is clear at any rate. Let her go. She is of no worth to you.”

He had let out a snort. “Oh, she’s of worth. See, this isn’t about money. It’s about revenge. I’m a Beneloise. Not by name, but by birth. And the people you killed were my half-brothers and half sister. In order for me to prove to the people at home that I can pick up where they left off I have to prove myself. Avenging them will do that. But out of curiosity, where are my brother’s bodies? They’ve never been found. I found Vitoria’s rotted corpse in the West Point house when I came looking for them, but not the brothers. It would be nice to be able to put them to rest. Would get me some points with the old guard.”

I remember being grateful he didn’t realize Marisol had killed his sister, hoping it would allow me to direct his vengeance solely towards me. I remember thanking the Scribe Virgin that Marisol found allowing me to drink from her erotic and encouraged me to take her vein regularly during our lovemaking. I remember reaching out my senses and locating the building she was being held in. And I remember glancing at the clock and seeing it was only 3:18 PM and my heart clenching. The sun was still up and would be for some time even this time of year. I had tried to stall, forcing all the calm I could muster into my voice...

“Come now, we are businessmen. Let us settle this between us.”

“We’ve talked enough. Now…” he had moved to be beside the table, “It’s time for action. Tell me,” he had run his hand down her naked body, “Is she a good lay? Well, I guess I’ll find out for myself. I think I’ll take off the gag so you can hear her scream.”

My control had deserted me and I had slammed the desk with my fists and rose, looming over the laptop. “You will let her go or you will never again have a moment’s peace for I will hunt you like an animal and then I will kill you like one.”

He’d only laughed again as he removed the gag and then it had been Marisol’s voice I’d heard…

“ASSAIL DON’T COME FOR ME! EHRIC, EVALE, DON’T LET HIM!!!!” she had screamed.

Her thoughts were of worry I would kill myself in the sun trying to get to her. Worry for my safety. Mine…..

He hit her. His fist doubled up and smashed against her noise, blood erupting from it. I’d shouted her name but she hadn’t spoken again. At her scream my cousins had rounded the desk and restrained me, their backs to the screen so they would not see, but securely enough that I could not bolt for a car and the sunlight. Time stood still for me as the bastard lowered his trousers and raped her savagely, holding a knife to her throat, but I scarcely saw anything but her eyes. They fixed on the screen as though she could see through it into mine own. I saw her fear, her pain but most of all I saw her love. And when he finished and severed her jugular vein, I saw the life leave them.

He’d come to the camera removed his mask. “Get a good look at this face. It’s coming for you,” and with that fleeting glimpse he had turned off the camera.

I’d thrown back my head and howled my pain. It had taken Ehric both Evale both to hold me. Markus had keened softly from the doorway. He had been horrified and unable to make himself come closer but now he slumped to the ground in grief. Ehric had murmured in my ear “He’s a dead man walking, Assail. Do you hear me? A dead man. We will ahvenge them.”

The sun had not quite set when I went to her. The rage and grief had gone from hot to cold and I’d been able to dematerialize to her. Ehric, a man whom I had come to respect for more than his muscle and his obedience, had slapped a tracker on me when he’d still had me in his grasp and followed me. We had found ourselves in a dank basement, the assailant long gone. Marisol lay on the bed, her limbs still tied with blood pooled beneath her. I had slashed the ropes and gathered her broken body to me. Part of me noted the indignities that had been done to her body. The bruises and cuts from a beating that told me she’d fought before she had been subdued. Ehric had put his hand on my shoulder and told me he’d texted Evale and Markus where we were. They were bringing the Range Rover. But I could not focus. Not then. But now … oh, now I had nothing but focus.

Coming back to the present I finished the whiskey and poured a second, my hand steadier as I once again compartmentalized my pain and let the cold rage that had been my constant companion rule me once again. My plans to ahvenge my family was coming together. I still did not know the precise identity of Marisol’s and her grandmother’s murderer but I knew he was a Beneloise and I had already contacted their rivals. And in order to utilize them I needed funds. One of my larger accounts in Switzerland had been asked to send cash to me by registered mail. I assume it is in the stack of envelopes that Markus had put on my desk last night that I had been too busy to go through, but as I knew I would sleep no more this day, I set myself to the task of going through them.

The large manila envelope at the bottom of the pile was indeed from them and held what I had asked for. It was a tidy sum, but not what I would need for large purchases of guns and drugs. No, that would be handled differently, but this would help grease some palms along the way. As I set it back on the desk, I browsed through the remaining mail until I froze, seeing one with Marisol’s name on it. It was from a doctor’s office.

Ripping it open, I read the missive then threw my head back and howled. It read,

“Dear Ms. Carvalho,

Congratulations! We are pleased to inform you the results of your pregnancy test were positive. Please contact our office to set up your first prenatal appointment at your earliest convenience. Meanwhile, we have called in a prescription for prenatal vitamins to the pharmacy you indicated on your intake form. Please begin them immediately.

We look forward to seeing you soon.

Dr. Lynn Jeffries, OB-GYN

Caldwell Maternity Clinic.”

[vin-taege]

Can I Move In?

Summary: Life has already been shitty for you, but it all becomes worse when a lonely, snarky ghost boy decides to follow you home one night. Or does it?

Genre: Fluff, ghost! Yoongi au

Words: 3k

The alcohol you consumed during the Halloween party was still making you feel a bit warm. You would’ve carpooled with your friend on the way home, but she got shit-faced ten minutes into the party. So here you were, walking alone past midnight in the cold, lamp-lit streets. The dark never really bothered you. It was actually pretty beautiful and calming. What wasn’t calming was the cold atmosphere you couldn’t wait to get away from. The dress you were wearing didn’t help, seeing that it ended above the knee and was sleeveless. The sheer fabric of your coat was no match against the icy breeze too. But then you start to realize, there was no breeze.

It was really cold, but you were sure it wasn’t the wind. You didn’t feel anything blowing against you, and the trees were still, too. Getting a bit weirded out, you walked faster, your house soon coming into view. You sighed in relief; finally, some warmth and a hot bath for your aching feet. It was three more streetlamps down the road, and you would’ve walked slower to cherish the evening, but then the lamps started flickering. It started out slow, then sped up, making you make a run for it. Just as you were halfway in the house, you heard a loud pop.

‘What the hell,’ you thought. ‘Even if I was drunk, that shit was still creepy.’

Maybe the bulbs were just about die. Yes, that’s it. Who knows when they were last replaced? You certainly haven’t seen any electrician go out and maintain the streetlights, so that explains it. Even with the perfectly logical explanation, you were still freaked out. A hot bath could calm your nerves.

So what if it was three in the morning, the infamous ‘witching hour’? So what if the streetlights suddenly acted crazy? You were tired from all the dancing and being social, and you were getting the bath you deserved. You ran the water, waiting for the tub to fill. 

Thunk, thunk

Unmistakably, those were heavy footsteps. Now, you were really nervous. There was no way it was another stray cat that wandered in. The steps were too lous for that. Whatever was making that noise was no doubt human. You looked around the bathroom, frantically looking for a weapon in case an intruder got in. You spotted a shampoo bottle, knowing very well that it wasn’t tear-free just like what the label suggested. That could momentarily blind someone and give you enough time to call for help. 

Thunk, thunk

It was closer this time, probably even outside the bathroom door. ‘Okay, there is no way I’m going down like this.’ You reached for the knob and threw the door open. “Aha!” you shrieked, squeezing the bottle into nothing. No one was there. “What, where- I’m drunk. I am very drunk, and smelly, and the only thing that’s gonna make this night better is my hot bath.” you said allowed, trying to calm yourself.

Maybe it was just your imagination. A thought of you slowly going insane presented itself, but you waved it off. You already have your rent and your low paycheck to worry about, and adding more problems would just cause a mental breakdown. The warm water against your skin was preventing said breakdown. You thought you heard your bed creak, but you were too lost in relaxation to care.

After 15 minutes of the hot bath, you got out, deciding to call it a night. You dried yourself off with a towel and put on some panties and a large shirt. Sleeping with pants on was too much of a bother. You don’t really get that leg freedom with a pair of slacks. You shut the door to the bathroom, only to slam yourself into it in shock when you see a bulge under your blanket. It was moving, breathing, and you almost had a heart attack.

Walking slowly towards it, you reached your hands out, ready to rip off the sheet. “Dear Lord, I’m sorry for that one time I cheated on my AP exam. I’m also for sorry bailing on my blind date to eat nachos while having a movie marathon by myself.” you muttered under your breath. This definitely wasn’t some drunk hallucination anymore. Not when there was someone in your bed, someone who could probably murder you. You grabbed the blanket and ripped it off, finding an empty bed. You were dumbfounded, staring with a gaping jaw on the spot. You swear there was someone there. 

After a few moments of recollecting yourself, you let out a shaky laugh. What did they spike your drink with? You found yourself screaming again when you hear a groggy voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You looked at the pale boy sitting in the corner of your room. He had a sour expression on his face as he squinted at you, to which you returned the stare. Your chest was rising up and down rapidly, another scream stuck in your throat. His skin was so light, contrasting to the black sweater he wore. His hair was a light blue, matching the aura he had around him. Yes, he had an aura, a light blue tint surrounding his figure. He scowled at your shaking body, standing up and walking towards you. Only then did you find your voice.

“Wait, stay away from me! How did you get in?! If it’s money you want, there’s some spare change in the piggy bank I keep under my bed, just please don’t hurt me.” you cried out. 

The boy rolled his eyes, saying a silent tsk beneath his breath. “I don’t need money, especially in where I’ll end up in. What I do need, however, is a warm bed, so don’t enjoy sleeping next to me much, princess.” he smirked before hopping in your bed and pulling the blanket over him.

You were still frozen in fear, unable to comprehend what was happening. It was three am, and there was a strange boy stealing your bed. “Hey!” you yelled at him, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it repeatedly. “Get off! I don’t even know you.”

He muttered a bunch of ow’s, shielding his face from your pillow attacks. “Here’s the deal, princess, I’m not hitting you or stabbing you with a knife, so why don’t you just let me rest?” he hissed, wrenching the pillow out of your grip.

“You little...” your face was red with anger. To say the night was unusual was a big understatement. You were supposed to be sleeping right now, not trying to get a stranger off your bed. The aura had you wary about him, but at this point, your fear just turned to rage. With all the energy you had left, you pushed him off the bed. 

You expected a thud, followed by pained screaming, but it never happened. Instead, your arms passed through him. You froze in shock again, staring at your hands showing through his transparent torso. Then, you both screamed.

“Ew, what the hell? Did that really- what are you even?! Just please leave me alone.” You stumble back,  vigorously rubbing your arms to get rid off whatever invisible trace of him you had. You breathed heavily, starting to feel light-headed.

“Oh my God, your hands were inside me. Shit, that sounds so wrong out of context. What was that for?! Can’t a ghost have some respect around here?!” He was about to rat you out more, but then he noticed you passed out, half your body hanging off the bed. “Jesus.” he grimaced, hauling the rest of your body onto the bed. He covered you with half the blanket, taking the other half and crawling under it as he slept with his back facing you.

You woke with your head feeling like it was drilled with a hundred jackhammers. You let out a groan and rolled on your side, memories of last night coming back. This made you sat up straight, glancing at the space next to you. The boy was gone. Something told you to look at your bedside drawer, so you did. A glass of water and two pills were sitting next to a torn piece of paper.

“Thanks for the nap -m.yg, the friendly neighborhood ghost boy”

So everything was real. You weren’t one who believed in ghosts, but you sure as hell did now. He had a light blue aura, and your hands passed right through him. He seemed harmless enough, but this was just too much to handle. You made a mental note to call the nearest priest after you had breakfast.

“Good morning, princess.” his monotone voice greeted you. You jolted up, looking around until your eyes rested on the wall mirror hanging in front of your bed. He was there, in the mirror. “You look like you got into a mud fight.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Excuse me?” you stood up, walking in front of the mirror and crossing your arms. “Listen ghost boy, you broke into my house and slept on my bed, without my permission, so you better watch your mouth. Don’t make me call an exorcist.”

His face flickered with an expression of fear, but then quickly changed back to the blank, stoic look he had. “Come on, y/n. Just give me a place to crash for a bit, then I’ll move out in the next blood moon.”

“And when- how do you know my name?” The boy chuckled, before disappearing from the mirror. You were met with your own frustrated reflection. 

“It’s written here.” You whipped around to see him standing by your drawer, holding your ID up. You ran towards him and snatched the ID just as he disappeared again. “Can you stop with the poof thing?” you said, exasperated.

Finally, he materialized on your bed, sitting with a contented smile. “You can’t call a priest on me, sweetheart.” he slyly grinned at you.

“And why is that?” you spat back, tone laced with fake sweetness.

“Me being here means other spirits can’t come in. And trust me, not all of them are as nice as me.”

You considered his statement, flashbacks of based-on-real-life horror movies coming back. You’ve watched enough Paranormal Activity and Anabelle to know how evil some ghosts may be, so maybe letting him stay was not so bad. You reluctantly set the rules for him over a cup of coffee and burnt waffles. Who knew ghosts could semi-cook?

“First of all, I don’t want you going through my stuff. And since you’re transparent, I don’t want the floating through walls and 360 degree headspinning thing. That shit’s creepy.” you said as you wrote the words down. He hummed in approval.

“Quick question, why didn’t the pillow I was hitting you with pass through you?” you stopped writing and looked at him. 

“I can control when a thing passes through. You caught me off guard, so I wasn’t really able to do it until I saw you about to push me off the bed.” He raised an eyebrow at you, then stared at your coffee mug, making it slide off the table, stopping it just as it was about to hit the floor.

You stood up, pushing your chair back. “That isn’t allowed! No ghosts tricks until I say so.” He shrugged again, making you roll your eyes as you sat back down.

“Anyway, do you even eat? Drink? Shower, or something?”

He wrinkled his nose at the last question. “As we’ve established before, I’m a ghost. I do neither of those things. Unless I want to, of course. I don’t even have to sleep-”

“Then why did you barge n my room last night?!” you cut him off. He scowled at you, and you suddenly find your cheeks heating up in embarrassment from your sudden yelling. You whispered a silent sorry before letting him continue.

“Sleeping is basically the only thing I can do to pass the time. When you’re a ghost, you get easily bored of stuff. I hope you understand, and fine, I’m sorry for intruding last night.” he looked away and pouted. You suppressed a smile at the sight.

“Okay, apology accepted. Last thing, if you want to use a something of mine, you should always ask permission first.”

After giving him a mini house tour, you settled on the couch to complete the last requirement in college before semester break. You payed no attention to the ghost boy, who’s name you still didn’t know, and typed away on your laptop. It’s been a whole hour of silence since you last talked. “Y/n~” you heard him call from the kitchen. “Yes?” you hollered back. 

“I’m bored.”

He trudged into the living room, pouting like a child. You chuckle at the sight of him. He immediately glared at you, pout disappearing with him. He just deadass poofed again, breaking rule number two. 

“Ghost boy, we talked about this!” You checked every reflective surface. You knew he was mainly doing it just to piss you off, and it was working really well. 

“Boo.” You jumped up, the laptop falling off your lap as you saw his face on the screen. You heard him laugh, the in the blink of an eye, he was gone again. ‘Shit’ you grabbed the laptop off the floor, checking if there was any serious damage. The space next to you dipped, and you figured he might’ve materialized beside you. 

“If anything happens to me laptop, I’m killing you again, ghost boy.” you hissed at him. He just scoffed, slinging an arm on top of the couch.

“Stop calling me ‘ghost boy’. Contrary to popular belief, I have a name.” He took a couch pillow and curled up on the other end of the sofa. 

“Which is?” you shut the laptop down, finally completing the file. You crossed your legs and faced him. His eyes were closed, about to take another nap. 

“Yoongi. I’m not Casper-nice, but I guess I still am? Yoongi, the semi-friendly ghost.” he yawned, and before you could ask him something again, he was already asleep.

It was crazy how easily you accepted a spirit into your home. You’ve learned to not ask him personal questions, like how he died, or why he was still among the living. You tried once, and each time, you just got a deep sigh and a sad look. Apparently, ghosts like music as much as humans do. He was ecstatic when he saw an Epik High album squeezed between some books. 

“You listen to hip-hop?” he asked you with shining eyes.

That’s how you came to listen to the album on repeat every Friday. He was warming up to you faster after that. There were times when you arrived home and there was freshly cooked dinner on the table, Yoongi acting oblivious about it. He’d be sat in front of the TV, pretending to not see the steaming pork belly meal. If you asked about it, he’d reply with yet another sarcastic response.

“Oh, why don’t you look at that. Food magically appeared, whoop-dee-fucking-doo.”

Sometimes, he followed you out the house too. It often had its perks when you were in some situations only he could help in. Like the time your teacher’s lecture was too boring, so he activated the fire alarm, setting the water sprinklers off. Or that other time you weren’t able to study for an exam and he peeked over Kim Namjoon’s test paper to observe, as he called it. 

“Yah, number eleven’s supposed to be C.”

“Yoongi, this is cheating.” you whispered to him, afraid that someone might hear you in the silent classroom.

“No it’s not. It’s called getting ghost-friend benefits. You owe me a foot massage later.”

The semester break finally rolled in,much to Yoongi’s delight. No school meant you being in the house more, which in turn means he gets to spend more time with you. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, he loves the attention you give him. Any attention was good attention for him, even if you’re screaming your head off after he appeared in the mirror again while you were doing your makeup. 

“Hey ghost boy,” you smirked at the name you always teased him with. He was sitting on the couch as usual, staring at the flickering TV (caused by his presence) timidly. “Since it’s the official start of break, I was thinking of laying the rules off. I’m gonna be here most of the time anyway, so I can supervise you.” 

“Are you implying I’m a child or something?” his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“I’m just saying. I have neighbors too, you know? I don’t want anyone seeing you doing the spooky stuff you do.” you chuckled at him. “The rules are off. You can do whatever you want.”

His eyes lit up, and he gave the widest gummy smile. “You mean it? I can float in the house now?” Of course it was the first thing he’d ask. During the first few weeks of being with him, you got used to the sight of him hovering over the floor, and sometimes even while sleeping on the bed. 

“I guess. But only during the night.”

He pouted a bit at your response. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you can do it during the day too. But we need to buy thicker curtains.”

He let out a small ‘yes!’, then suddenly hugged you. His action took the both of you by surprise and he quickly pulled away. “Thanks by the way.” he said while ruffling his hair.

“No problem. I wouldn’t have to worry about you tracking mud in the house so-”

“No, thank you for letting me stay.” he looked at you, sincerity in his eyes. “The night we met, I was supposed to move on. Into the light, I mean. I just didn’t want to yet. I didn’t have anywhere to stay in, too. I saw you walking alone that night, and the dress you wore looked too revealing. So I thought ‘hey, maybe I should watch-over this girl for a bit’ and I did. Basically, I’m kind of like your guardian angel now, except I’m stuck in purgatory.”

“Awh, I never knew you could be sweet.” you cooed, moving your hand to pinch his cheek, only to scream as it went through. He glared at you while you took your hand back, rubbing it.

“Don’t push it.” he huffed, placing both his legs on your lap. “All this mushy stuff made me hungry. Can we get some pizza?”

“I thought you didn’t need to eat?” you chuckled at his demanding demeanor.

“Ghosts crave too.” he smiled at you before disappearing again. You rolled your eyes as you got your phone to order takeout, already expecting to see Yoongi in the screen. 

[bleedingmagitek]

Tenth entry:

There was a time in my life it wasn´t that bothering, reflecting about it with both hands together and long white fingers together under my nose, slightly pressed over my thin red lips, doing a big effort I was more and less able to remember a young boy with blond curls taking a knife from one of the drawers in dark wood the forniture of the kitchen had. The first time just putting his little self to the test but the next ones aware of his mother´s reaction, as a way of punishment. Mainly because his little experiment had an almost unexplained result as if Mother Goddess would protect him softening the pain until one day his favourite soldier proved it had a logical explanation. When the disappointed blond boy wrinkled his nose, that act made him laugh. But now, opening again my icy blue eyes and looking down, studying in silence the ornate weapon of small golden handle and sharp blade of medium size, the things seemed to have changed more than I myself could expect. Curving his lips colored in strong red, I found some relief in magic but my own mind liked to trick me and the few basic incantations learned to protect myself required twice the amount of time than Miss perfect or my doll would need. Curving them down and frowning, showing a sad grin, stroking the shining blade with a finger I decided I had to prepare my body for pain. Taking it between my fingers, closing anew my eyes as my head was slowly tilted back, having previously removed some layers of gaudy clothing and unbuttoned practically all the gold buttons of the penultimate, I let the dagger touch his cold and soft skin. Even the most subtle of the cuts was unbearable, his body shook with an intensity that only felt when a stab dared to corrupt, like I was aware, now much more than before, there were a lot of grades of pain but that in particular was the worse, the only one that caused tremors in my legs, knocking me to my knees as my own blood flowed dying my pure skin of a darkened red color, so saturated every time He saw it between his fingers. The same way I couldn´t control myself manifesting pleasure, I couldn´t hold back a cry that became a howl achieving high levels of acuity, putting the willies who hear it and toring his vocal cords. Hehe, trully, to hear me scream was worse than hear me laughing hysterically. With irritated eyes and my whole body tense, calm didn´t come until its own defense system spread a nice feeling, those acts only helped my healing magic manifest faster. Breathing deeper, I put both hands to my head. My body had began to relax segregating cold sweat, ugh, deforming my neat makeup. Cleaning the dagger with one of the multiple handkerchief I always had at hand as the little faddish it is said I am, I tried to reflect about the experience. Getting rid of my clothes and plunging into a bath of hot water after, I would write the following in my personal notebook. Pain was as scary as amazing. I must be more careful in battle with knifes.

[laweizhu]

Walk The Line

1/? Cross posted on AO3 but I don’t know how to link in mobile so have fun searching!

Sara Lance just landed a job in Central City Police Department as their newest cop, after a 3 year stint abroad. She didn’t expect to walk the line with the morally ambiguous criminal Leonard Snart, but when he lends a helping hand, she can’t seem to walk away from him.

–

She had only been on the job for 4 months and already her life was going to shit. Sara Lance, newest recruit to Central City Police Department; graduated top of her class and spent 3 years of combat training abroad to get away from her life in Star City. The 5'6" blonde was a force to be reckoned with and she had no qualms about taking down men three times her size.

Her first few weeks in Central were spent reconnecting with her mother, finding an apartment, and making sure she didn’t get on anyone’s bad side at the precinct. Her father always told her that she was not one to shy away from danger, which tended to land her in many pots of hot water over the years, but she wasn’t here to stir up anything, just do her job and catch the bad guys.

The boys at the shop respected her enough, especially with her years of combat training, but she had yet to prove to be one of them. She was closer to Detective West’s daughter than she was with some of her colleagues. She was on her way up though, at least, until she landed her last assignment.

Drugs were not such a commodity in Central like they were in her hometown. More robberies and arson than anything related to an underground drug ring, but here she was, playing arm candy to one of the pushers. Marc Mancini was a thug, through and through, but he knew what he wanted, and that was drugs on the street and beautiful women on his arms.

Sara, though she loathe to admit it in this situation, was just his type, with her head full of blonde and the truest of blue eyes. Her small frame gave her the advantage of looking vulnerable, but she knew she was anything but, especially with the heat she was packing in her small black dress.

There was a deal going though, and Sara had the next to best seat in the house, right next to Mancini himself. She spent weeks sidelining at the strip club Mancini frequented (Thank God for all those years of dance and gymnastics) and finally got a fill in when he wanted some beautiful women to show off.

Sara, as much as she hated playing the simpering damsel, batted her eyes and nudged her way into his crowd. She luckily didn’t have to put out for him, yet, anyways, as she suspects he’ll want something after giving her a show of his power.

“Well gentlemen, are we ready to get started? I’ve got the real deal in these crates and all I’m asking is for a couple mil. Any callers?” Mancini called the attention of the crowd that was in the warehouse. Sara was the only one on assignment that was actually able to pull a legitimate invite to the selling, and she couldn’t risk contacting anyone else on the team, being in such close quarters with Mancini.

The blonde cop spotted quite a few big names in the crowd, some she recognized the faces of in reports she’s read and some that looked a little to green to be buying this high up. She spotted one man in the far back of the warehouse, his fur hood up so his face was shadowed, but tall enough to still catch her eye. He suddenly looked up at her and was internally startled by how piercing his eyes were. Her attention was pulled back when Mancini pulled her with him to start the bidding.

It was essentially a waiting game at this point. She couldn’t make a move because as good a fighter as she was, she wasn’t able to take on the amount of men here. She had to memorize who bid on what, and follow those leads to get the best amount of these criminals off the streets as she could. She wasn’t usually a patient person, but patient she would be.

At least until everything went to hell in a hand basket. The tall hooded man finally made his presence known when he shot his gun in the air and fired out what she saw as a ray of ice.

“What the hell is this?!” Mancini pulled away from Sara and approached the crowd, “who the hell are you to come fucking up my business meeting?!” Sara had read the reports and files before arriving in Central, Leonard Snart was a household name in the criminal underground, and his newly acquired cold gun was no joke. At least, according to sources at S.T.A.R. Labs and the news outlets.

“I go away for a few months and this is what happens to my city?” Snart pulls his fur hood down and waves his gun disapprovingly at Mancini. He slowly walks his way through the crowd, the people parting away like Moses parting the red seas.

“We don’t do drugs here, Mancini , I thought I made that clear when you first moved in.” Snart stepped up to the platform Sara and Mancini were standing on. She pulled her shrug tighter around her to conceal grabbing her gun. Snart side eyes her for a second before returning to stare Mancini down.

At this point, some of the crowd begin slowly leaving, not willing to come in between Leonard Snart and his rule in town. Mancini, himself, was getting flustered and trying to convince Snart that drugs would bring more money into Central.

“C'mon now man, you’re about the money right? More drugs means more buyers, which means more money in our pockets. Don’t ya see the appeal Snart?” Captain Cold gave a smirk as icy as you could get,

“No, drugs mean competition, it means people moving in my city that I don’t want here. It means that the real money makers are gonna leave Central high and dry if they start sniffing the drugs. So, you get these crates outta my city by tomorrow or you can see why they call me Cold.”

The tall man spun around and looked straight at Sara. He gave her a once over that sent shivers down her spine, and approached her as if he hadn’t just threatened to ice someone.

“Birdie, you staying or going?” Sara wasn’t about to become on the receiving end of Mancini’s anger for the deal going south, so she took the arm that was bring offered to her and kept playing her part, at least until she could get away.

—

They had been walking for a few minutes, and no ride or getaway in sight. Sara knew, at least with one person, she had a better chance of escaping but she didn’t get the sense that he was going to harm her.

“So, what’s an armed bird like you, doing on the arms of that idiot Mancini?” He begins to make conversation without any hitch in his stroll. He pulls her along when she pauses to look at him, and she doesn’t respond for a minute to process what he said.

She deflected instead, “Why? Should I be on your arm instead Mr. Snart?”

He chuckled, pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “Well, as nice as you are on my arm, I like to keep my distance from a cop.” Sara froze as he said those words, never having been caught in a situation like this before. She didn’t quite feel threatened by his response, but she wasn’t exactly excited to have her cover blown.

He pulled away from her, and she noticed that they had stopped by the edge of the harbor. She was only wearing her revealing black dress, one that where the hem just teased at the muscle in her leg and showed off an ample amount of cleavage. The thin shaw she wore did nothing to stop the breeze that came from across the water. She had enough self control to stop herself from shivering, but was unable to stop the goosebumps that rose across her arms and legs. She wasn’t quite sure if they were from the air or from the man standing in front of her.

Sara stayed silent, while Snart made his way around her, as if sizing a piece of meat, or in his case, a rare, beautiful, and expensive piece of jewelry.

“Well then, Miss Cop? No answer, is there?” The man in the blue parka came to a stop in front of her and made a move grab a stand of loosened hair. What he wasn’t expecting was the sudden movement from the woman in front of him. She had suddenly grabbed his arm, twisting it inwards to cause a shock of pain while using her other hand to hold the small throwing knife she had concealed in her garter up to his neck.

“Well then, this little bird has some claws does she?” Leonard showed surprise on his face, but only slightly. He gave a smirk towards her, and if she were in any other situation than this one, she might have even found it attractive.

“Tell me why I shouldn’t have you cuffed and brought down to the station.” Sara gripped the arm he brought to hold her hair tighter, and only put a minimal amount of pressure on the knife close to his throat.

“Look, I’m not usually in the line of work to collaborate with the cops, but we both have the same objective here.” Leonard slowly began to hold up his arm that wasn’t held in her grip in the air.

“I want these drugs off the street as much as you, and actually have some evidence to help get rid of it. But you have to make a deal not to take me in. What do ya say, Birdie?”

Sara gave him a hard stare, and maybe in other circumstances, the harbor, the moonlight, it might even be romantic. But what she saw was only truthfulness in his eyes, maybe a hint of something darker, but she didn’t want to think about what it was ot the implications of it.

“Fine,” she whispered. “But you have to tell me what this evidence is first before I remove my knife.”

“Okay, sure. In my back pocket is a thumb drive I grabbed just before leaving the building. It has a video and audio recording of Mancini auctioning off the drugs as well as a nice shot of all the faces in the crowd. How’s that for evidence?” Sara had to admit, that was a hefty sum of evidence for her to get Mancini and even a couple others convicted and jailed.

She bit her lip as she considered her options, not realizing Leonard’s gaze drifted down to her mouth as she did it.

“How can I trust you?” She stared back at him, her heels making her eye-level with his nose, so she still had to glance up slightly.

“You can’t. But if someone is going to ruin this city, it’s because I’ve robbed it blind, not through dirty drugs that only drag people down.” Leonard spoke with passion on this topic and she had no other choice to believe him.

“Fine. But no sudden movements. Your hands stay up in the air and I grab the drive from your pocket.” Sara slowly released his right hand and he brought it up to join his left that was now resting on top of his shaved head.

“It’s in my right back pocket.” Sara nodded her head and reached her left hand around his frame to dig into his pants. The movement caused her to step closer to him than she anticipated and she couldn’t ignore the tension in both their bodies that had nothing to do with the knife that was held to his throat.

She looked straight into his eyes as her hand slowly drifted into his back pocket to grab the thumb drive. She really shouldn’t have, but her fingers caressed his lower back as she brought it back out, his eyes only narrowing and the hint of a dangerous smile sitting on his lips.

Sara pocketed the drive right in the cleavage of her dress, but Leonard made no other movements with his eyes except to keep staring into hers. She didn’t know why she was taking so many chances, but she slowly released the knife from against his neck but trailed her fingers down his collarbone and chest before stepping back from him.

She took a few steps back from him to regain a level head, but he continued to stare straight into her, even as he brought his hands slowly down to his side. He made no move for his cold gun, and she made no move for her concealed gun.

He only began to walk back towards the warehouse, still looking at her, before saying, “Catch you on the flip side, Birdie.”

He spun around and walked briskly back in the direction they came from before pausing when she said, “The name’s Sara, not Birdie.”

He looked back at her, with her arms held around her, looking like an angel of death in the moonlight. “Well then, Sara , hope to see you around sometime.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, before giving him the first hint of a smile he had seen all night that wasn’t fake. As he walked away, all Sara could think was that she was in deep shit.