#do i need a tw?? i mean it’s very mildly suggestive

[queenpanpan]

HELP THIS IS LIKE MY THIRD POST ABT THEM TODAY DFHXFHGSDH

[theredofoctober]

Runt: an Omni-Man x Gender Neutral Reader Darkfic

TW: noncon, violence, blood, humiliation/verbal degredation

Synopsis: Reader's mother, the superhero Firebright, has gone into hiding. Omni-Man brutally interrogates Reader as to her whereabouts.

Reader is a Young Adult, Gender Neutral, appearance not specified

Read after the cut

✂️ ✂️ ✂️

"Where is your mother?"

There is something wrong with Omni-Man, frigidity in the barrens of his pale eyes. He stands at the door like an omen of shadows to come, his bulk filling its narrow confines immovably.

You gaze up at him, and the ice of his derision glares back.

“I asked you a question,” says Omni-Man. “Where is Firebright?”

His air of perpetual and mildly pompous congeniality has fallen away from him, perhaps had never truly been.

He's a stranger, now, come to your house with some hard purpose.

"My Mom?" you repeat, faintly. "She's out cleaning up after some crime, I think. I don't really know."

A lie, which you had promised you’d keep, come what may.

Your mother, a heroine of fire-wielding prowess, has informed you that she must go into hiding, from who or what threat she wouldn't say. You’d believed—without knowing its source—in that danger.

Now Omni-Man is at your door, and you think again of your mother's hands, how they had trembled. How thin she’d looked, and how afraid.

"I'm sorry, Nolan," you mumble. "I don't know when Mom’ll be back. She didn’t tell me."

"I don't believe that's true," says Omni-Man, and he steps forward, extending an arm to prevent you from closing the door against him. "I need you to tell me where she is immediately."

His face is handsome and severe, the jaw like a pane of white glass. The tension in it speaks of unshed violence and disdain, of loathing kept like a spider in an upturned jar, poised on release.

Fear draws you down in its dizzying pulse, and suddenly you're quite glad that your mother kept her location from you, that you can’t spit it out even under duress.

"I have no idea, really, I don’t," you say, and Omni-Man steers you back across the living room, his cloak whisking the backs of his thighs like a wind of blood. "Nolan, please. I swear I can't help you. What’s happening right now?"

You’re up against a wall, vulnerable and so very human. Unlike your parents, you’ve never developed powers of any kind to protect you or those you love, and Omni-Man knows it.

He’s been good friends with your mother since you were young, and has long comforted her with the suggestion that your abilities might one day arise. You’ve been no more a threat to this man than a moth to the devil, and yet you’d never once feared him, till now.

"Ellen must have given you some way to contact her," says Omni-Man, his mouth a joyless line beneath his moustache. "Call her immediately. Stop wasting my time with your blabber."

"I don't understand,” you say, avoiding the order. “Is something wrong?"

A gloved fist strikes the wall above your head, shaking down fragments of plaster upon you. Thinking how simply your skull might have bowed into a cave of bone beneath such pressure you cry out, a sound entirely too feeble to be called a scream.

Omni-Man looms over you, his eyes the blue of long dead flesh.

"Stop asking questions about things that have nothing to do with you. Either you hand Firebright over, or I show you what happens to those that get in my way."

There is, in a drawer in the house, a remote you could press, for the times in which your mother is otherwise unreachable. You could go to it, call her back from whatever bunker protects her from harm.

But as Omni-Man's stare bores through your anguished expression you understand, with a chilling clarity, that he means to kill your mother, and that only your stance against him preserves her life.

Gulping, you say, "Whatever you think my Mom did, she couldn't have done it. You know her, you're her friend, Nolan—"

Omni-Man’s fist grinds into the wall, his arm cutting through it to the shoulder.

"Don't use my name as though you mean anything to me, you pathetic, powerless runt. Look at the way you turned out: a snivelling weakling, not even a spark at your fingertips. No wonder your father left. You’re a disgrace to him and your mother. I'd be ashamed to have you as my child.”

Only shock halts the tears that burn behind your eyes, a wounded magma.

"Please don't say that to me,” you whisper. “I— I've always looked up to you. I love you, Nolan."

For a moment you think you see a flash of the old, kind feeling across Omni-Man’s chiselled features.

Almost at once it dies away.

"Too bad,” he says. “I don't love you, brat. Now tell me how to find your mother before I rip you into pieces."

Putting your hands on Omni-Man’s chest, you gaze up at him with beseeching eyes.

"Nolan, Nolan, tell me what happened. I’ll help you figure it out. Whatever it is, I know Mom had nothing to do with it."

Something of your gentle touch, your cringing innocence, provokes him.

"Alright,” snaps Omni-Man. “You had your chance."

In a spurt of nauseating speed he drags you upstairs by a sudden grip on your throat, your breath smacked from your lungs as you hit your bed and roll across it, head over heels, like a fallen acrobat.

Omni-Man looks about him, scoffing at your room’s dated, childish decor, the tattered stuffed animals still poised in glassy-eyed rows on your dresser.

"No wonder you don't have any powers,” he sneers. “You're stunted in every way."

His hand makes a lariat of your shirt collar, briefly throttling you until your feet kick out in twitching throes. Then he rends the cloth down the middle, repeating the act on your lower garments before you’ve enough air to protest.

You’re so stunned that you don’t think to cover yourself, only stare, jaws parted, hot from cheek to toe with shame, with horror.

A beating was the furthest you’d expected from the interrogation: the intent behind the night cliffs of eyes upon you seems, even now, quite impossible, an absurdity plucked from some sticky summer dream.

"No,” you say— you speak in a low, flat sort of murmur, as you’d address a beloved dog that turns and shows its teeth. “Omni-Man, please, please, you're like family. You can't do this to me.”

"Of course I can,” he snaps. “And I'm going to do it over and over until you tell me where Firebright is. Daily, if I have to. I'll break you down until you're no better than a drooling animal. Not that you're so far from that now."

A devastated moan spills from your tight throat as Omni-Man leans over you, his pale suit straining across his bulk. He pauses with his face close to yours, every vein in his eyes standing out like streaks of flame.

"Now, talk,” he says. “I don’t want to waste any more time here than I have to.”

Tears make glazed glass of your cheeks as you turn your face aside, unable to look at him any longer.

"This isn't like you, Nolan."

Omni-Man’s mouth is a razor’s wound across his white teeth when he answers.

"This is more me than you'll ever know."

He pins you to the bed with an abrupt and frightening strength, opening the groin of his suit with his other hand to jerk the flesh that rises through it.

"What about Debbie?" you blurt out, and Omni-Man stills, a red glove closed over the throbbing evidence of his anger.

"Don't talk about my wife!" he barks. “You’re not worthy.”

Your eyes return to his face, drawn to its savage rictus in wretched fascination. How long has Omni-Man—the husband, the father, the friend—been so twisted with this private hatred for you?

Interpreting the question from your fearful look, he answers, his hand still at work on his cock.

"I always knew you had an embarrassing crush on me. Following me around every event with puppy dog eyes, always asking if there was anything you could do for me. Degrading yourself at every turn. Laughable.

“And I ignored you. Debbie made jokes about you. Even then I knew you were just a fragile, weak-willed child, craving the adoration your father never gave you."

"Stop it,” you say, inching back across the bed on the heels of your palms. “Stop it!"

A hand traps your ankle, snatching you back under the colossus of your new enemy. His body is a cage of rigid musculature, even the smallest tendon able to kill.

"You brought this on yourself by defying me,” says Omni-Man. “Did you think I'd just walk away when you refused me information? Take pity on you?"

"Nolan—"

He cuts you off with a blow that near claims your sight in its ferocity.

"You whine like an infant. Why didn’t you ever grow up?”

You’re still attempting to process the pain across your eye socket as Omni-Man forces your legs apart around him, handling the joints with scornful disregard of their mortal delicacy.

“Where is Firebright?” asks Omni-Man again, and you can only shake your head, mumbling in a breathless stream of false denial.

“I don’t know, I don’t remember where she said she was going—”

Omni-Man’s lip curls in bald disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Well, let’s see how much you remember now.”

Your attacker opens you to him with rough, clothed fingers, tearing tight flesh ajar up to the knuckles, three of them deep. He draws them in and out of your hole like a blade across a whetstone, watching you flail and gibber beneath his merciless use with a stern and unflinching malice.

Then, as you scream Omni-Man’s name in abandoned repetition, he rallies his member to its furthest solidity and runs you through, all agony and annihilation, and you think as he does it that you may well die of his rage.

The floorboards moan with his rutting, its obscenity a crime of war. This is as much a degradation of Earth’s piteous race as a whole as of your person, your naked flesh symbolic of that which many alien societies covet to rule or else destroy.

That any human being has borne this and lived seems miraculous, yet you know it has been done and enjoyed for Debbie Grayson to stand by him. To love him.

You cry out, aware as you do so that you’ll only invite further pain.

“Really,” mocks Omni-Man. “I’m barely trying to hurt you. If I did, I'd rip you in half.”

In a jolt of violence he drags you up against a wall, the friction skimming a leaf of skin from your back as he stabs deeper in. Your breath comes in asthmatic chokes, punched from your chest by very force of his fucking.

Some wet stream warms your thigh, of what matter you don’t care to know.

“Give me the name of your mother’s location or I keep on going,” says Omni-Man. “You’re already bleeding. Your feeble body surely can’t take much more.”

His cock is a farrier’s tool, cutting with its every wrenching motion. Its length and girth alone would make you weep, but it is his wielding of it that is a thing of horror to you.

You feel Omni-Man’s hands shut about your wrists, testing the fragility of the bone.

“Aren’t you even going to fight me?” he taunts. “Go on. Show me what you’ve got in you, if anything at all.”

Closing your eyes, you try with all the force of strength and concentration in you to summon the flame you’ve long envied in your mother, and have never once achieved.

There is nothing, nothing, still, only an icicle of sweat down your brow.

Omni-Man laughs shortly, pulling you further up across the wall in another volley of thrusts.

“Just as I thought,” he comments. “Wasted genes.”

As he lets go of your arms you throw one of them forward in a weak strike across your attacker’s cheek. A mite star of fire bolts from your palm, and you yelp in both fear and surprise at the sight of it, at the thought of retribution to come.

Omni-Man rubs his face, which remains, as expected, quite unmarked.

“Is that it?” he asks. “You’re barely warm.”

“I’m not a superhero,” you cry out, as he returns to his mean handling of your body. “I’m just a human, okay? There’s nothing wrong with that.”

The blue eyes, once so lovely to you, roll in disgust.

“Of course there is. You could have been so much more. Take a look at yourself.”

Omni-Man flies you to your floor-length mirror, yanking your head back so that you might see yourself split apart on his atrocity.

How small you look, a flailing rag against the beast's taut muscle. His cock works in and out of you with the efficiency of some extra-terrestrial vehicle on a jaunt that will not end.

The sound of it is slick, explicit.

“You’re lucky that this is what I’m doing to you when I’m capable of so much worse," says Omni-Man, watching you arrogantly in your reflection.

“This is wrong,” you insist. “This isn’t you, Nolan.”

“I’m a Viltrumite,” snaps Omni-Man, and he flattens you to the bed again with a force that snaps the frame beneath it. “This is what my people are. You should be on your knees, thanking me for sparing your life.”

He turns you onto your belly, snarling as he stabs through your form from behind.

“This is the last time I’ll ask before I really injure you,” he says. “Where's Firebright?”

Only the lasting thought that you must save your mother from something more awful than this prevents you from delivering his answer.

Omni-Man grips you by the throat until your eyes stream and your pain barks from between your lips in a coughing spume of blood.

In frantic hope you turn one hand backwards, thinking to strap his hips in a band of fire.

“You think you can hurt me?” asks Omni-Man, squeezing your forearm until you sob and relent. “I don’t feel a thing. This is more humiliating than if you were entirely without powers. What use are you to your planet?”

“Nolan,” you croak. “I’m begging you to stop this.”

Somewhere in the catastrophe of sensation there is the start of pleasure, your body’s weary attempt to salve its bullied entrance. You lie quite stiff and still, praying that in doing so you won’t provoke that last ruination into being.

“You know how to end this,” says Omni-Man. “But perhaps this is what you prefer: to be shown your place by your superior. If I’d done this a year ago you would have presented yourself to me, ready and willing to be of use.”

To your despair his hand ventures to your tortured sex and makes full display of his knowledge. His strokes are coarse, efficient, in time to his cock’s quick barbarity. You smell cologne, and the fabric of his suit, and hair oil; your nose, your throat, is full of him.

Perhaps your soul will absorb his evil too, through osmosis.

Clenching your teeth across your tongue you steer back the piteous little whines his taunting abuse of your weakness brings.

“Part of you is still willing, I see,” Omni-Man comments. “Let’s see how long it can hold out against me.”

You cry, and hiss, and squeeze shut your fists until the stench of smoke greys the air between you. Still your orgasm is wrenched out on hand and cock like an eldritch birth, another plundered reward for his collection.

“Barely a minute,” jeers Omni-Man. “And all that mess. How humiliating.”

He ponders, hips grinding against yours with the approaching threat of his own end.

One of his fists arcs back your skull, forcing your tear-raw eyes to his again. What was handsome in him now seems only the frightful visage of a warlord, all pillage and pursuit of valour.

“I’m responsible for you finally developing your abilities,” says Omni-Man. “Why don’t you thank me for it?”

You stare up at him in terror and distress, your tongue swollen to near uselessness at the roof of your mouth. Omni-Man’s hand slams beneath your chin, pinching some nerve there until your vision blisters into an abomination of light.

Through blood-stringed teeth you answer.

“Thank you, Omni-Man.”

“You’re welcome, runt,” he leers, and with a gloved palm against your gut he flattens you to him, having you feel every pulse of his triumphant finish within you.

He holds you there for some time, your bare, bloody back staining the white of his suit and complimenting the red. You daren’t roll out from under him, remain, panting shallowly, adhered to your attacker by his spend.

His moustached lips scuff the back of your neck, more threatening than intimate.

“I’ll find Firebright,” he says, “whether you tell me where she is or not. But next time I drop by I expect you to be more talkative. Do you understand?”

---

Tagging @hewwokitti3 so you can find this 😇

[dollxmania]

ㅤㅤㅤ ❝ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄.❞

no tws, very mildly suggestive, gn reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ with idia shroud. not proofread.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎love is a funny thing, sometimes it hits you out of nowhere. after falling for idia, you determine you need to make the first moves or things would never progress.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ❝ 𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐗 𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑.❞

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“am comfy.” you huffed, snuggling further into the pillow, inhaling it’s scent. the bed was nice and warm, you much preferred laying in it over the cold floors and halls of the rest of the Ignihyde dorm. flopping around to the other side, you peek your face out behind the pillow to see Idia staring at you, only to quickly avert his gaze.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎swallowing, he picked up his controller and begun clicking away at the buttons too fast for you to process what he was doing. “how much longer do you intend to stay, prefect?” he asked as you propped yourself up with your elbow, palm under your chin. he was too cute not to tease, you thought. “i dunno, i feel so comfy with you. am i bothering you, I-di-a?” you respond, watching his cheeks dust with pink as his tapping became more aggressive, the sound of gunshots from his computer ringing out.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎“no, i mean yes, i mean no!” he stuttered out, eyes briefly looking at you only to look away from you again with a small squeak, his character getting shot and killed. “can i play? i like you a lot so i want to like the things you like.” you innocently ask, sitting up and putting the pillow aside, a smile widening on your face as he dropped his controller, staring at you nervously.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎this wasn’t anything new, you’d always visit Idia when you could and told him you’d like him, today was no different. at this point most Ignihyde members knew you, and even Ortho was happy to see you talking with his brother and being nice to him. it’d always end the same with Idia too nervous to say much to you, but you were happy to just talk to him on your own or with Ortho while sitting in silence in his room.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎putting a finger to your lips, you acted as though you were thinking. “you don’t have any extra seats,” you commented, snapping your fingers as you crawled into his lap, face inches from him as you grinned. “i guess i’ll sit here if you don’t mind, then. it’s warm and comfy.” his brain was short circuiting but he made no attempt to move you away or tell you off as he lowered his arms, you between them. he ended up lending you a controller he’d let Ortho play with as you nuzzled closer against him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎he never rejected your feelings every time you told him you liked him, unless self deprecating comments counted towards rejection, but nonetheless he made no real effort to move it forward. you knew since the start that if you wanted to date him, it would be a long process. you’d almost always would have to make the first move. “how do i play? what’s the best option?” you asked as he loaded the game, hoping he’d reciprocate.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sweatdropping, Idia explained and somehow soon he begun ranting. “you use b to jump and hold this to run, you want to use this weapon right here since it has good range but since you’re a normie you should probably use this, i’ll carry lolol, you can pick your character right here you should probably just stick to medic.” a small laugh escaped your lips as you listened fully.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎there was never a moment around him you didn’t enjoy. his rants were always adorable, especially the way he gets absorbed and passionate about what he loves. snapping out of his long explanation, he stared at you like a deer in headlights as you look up at him like a lovestruck fool. “what are you staring at me for, prefect?!” smiling, you turn back to the screen and choose your character and weapon, leaning back into him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎you couldn’t wait to tell him again tomorrow that you liked him, just thinking of the progress you’ve made. from normie to prefect, and from avoiding you with a ten foot pole to allowing you in his room to sitting in his lap, now talking to you much more comfortably. with your favorite dps, you urged him to start the round as you began blasting the enemies on screen letting out a tiny snicker.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎keeping up with you, Idia’s mouth was agape. “you…you?!” he tried to ask flabbergasted as you stuck your tongue out, getting the final kill as your character was displayed as top killer. “i look forward to playing with you from now on.” you smiled. you really never needed any help, but you couldn’t help it when he sounded so cute when explaining.

ended up posting this fic. gimme more flustered idia x reader fics w flirty reader, please, thanks. i kinda wanna change my aesthetic but don’t because haha im committed and already switch once but damn what if…

[fentrashcat]

Instinct or tic? My least favorite game.

This won't be a fun post, so I plan to follow it with a positive one. I don't like posting only negatives, but living with a neurological disorder is going to have negatives.

⚠️TW- Mental health, talking about fender bender and unsafe driving, some strong language

A reminder- everyone with tic disorders will have a different experience, I can only speak to mine.

There's been a lot building up this week, and today was a breaking point. I had a tic attack that resulted in a migraine, nausea, quite a bit o neck/back pain, and concerns about if something was a tic or not.

All because some asshole thought he'd be funny and swerve towards the parked car I was in.

I have SEVERE anxiety about cars and driving already, to the point that a simple fender bender (no injuries, minimal damage thankfully) almost had me in an ambulance bc I couldn't stop ticcing and the responding officer was concerned.

I was waiting for someone in the store, parked on the left side of the lane (important bc I'm in the US, so he should've been on the right side). He swerved directly towards the car I was in, coming within a foot of the hood, and just laughing like it was the best joke ever told.

That got me started ticcing when his piece of shit car squealed sway like a pig caught by the tail. My tics got worse, and I cussed at him. I yelled out "fucking asshole". Now that's not unusual, I cuss a lot and especially cuss unsafe drivers, but normally when my tics are that severe I can't think to put together 2+2. So now I get to play the gods awful game of "instinct or new tic".

Normally I can immediately say instinct but bc my tics were so severe and non stop, I had a constant "prompt" feeling. And I got a mildly different prompt before I said it.

My current hope is that it was instinct, but it was a very similar feeling to my Rando prompt. My Rando tics have not made me cuss that I can remember, even with the song lyrics.

All I can do now is wait and see, and hope I never see that asshole and his shitty car again.

I feel like it shouldn't need to be said but cars are dangerous and shit like what that guy did is just reckless and stupid. My issues aside, if he hadn't turned in time (like the busted front of his car suggested has happened before), he could have seriously hurt me, himself, or the people in the car with him.

I hope this made sense to read as I have not slept since the tic attack, which is normally the very first thing I do after them, but being tired means my anxiety is supressable enough to actually post this 😅. Also I tried to keep my language about this guy toned down, but I can't do much better than I have here.

Thanks for reading, and please drive safely. Happy post about a good person to counter this bs coming as soon as I can type it.

[neonacity]

LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.6

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, possible kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

“EVERYONE HAS A DARKER NATURE. EVERYONE. GOOD MEN FEAR IT, AND EVIL MEN EMBRACE IT.” - JAMES ISLINGTON

The silent hum of the air conditioning filled the space like a foreboding chant. Nothing else but the sound of the hospital machinery and random noises outside pierced the stillness of the room as you stared, unseeing, at the green and orange numbers that blinked on the monitor above the bed. 

You barely have any recollection of how you managed to find yourself in the hospital, but you do remember brief memories of Taeyong picking you up from the floor you found yourself crumpled on after you got the call. You remember seeing Jaehyun's parents at a brightly lit corridor and his mother pulling you into a hug as she broke down and his father telling you how his son hasn't woken up since he was brought to the emergency room.

You remember your heart breaking in shock, mind too numb from the godforsaken pills you have been taking and your own injury. So many times you wondered to yourself if you were still caught in one of your nightmares, but every time you tried to break free from it, you're slapped back with the reality of how all of this is real.

Your fingers gently tightened on Jaehyun's hands now as your gaze landed on his face. He looked so peaceful, like he's just sleeping, that you almost wanted to bend over and try to kiss him awake. You don't even have any idea what time and day it is already, but you have barely left his side since you were brought to him. The nightmares and sleeplessness? They're barely a problem for you anymore because right now, you're entirely not resting at all unless your body forces you to crash from physical exhaustion. Even then, you usually only sleep for about two to three hours at best to make sure that you never miss a moment with your fiance.

"Severe traumatic head injury. He was lucky enough that the airbag shielded him from the worst of the impact."

The words of his attending doctor echoed in your head again like a faraway voice. You could only remember bits and pieces of what he said to his parents back then as he reported his findings, but you caught enough context for you to draw a picture of the situation. You remember Jaehyun's mother asking the chances of her son waking up again, her voice barely holding up from her emotions. 

"I cannot promise anything, Ma'm. I'd say he has a 60 percent chance. He's fighting."

And he is. You know Jaehyun inside out. He might be unconscious now, but there is no way he is giving up. Not from something like this. 

"Keep fighting baby…" you whispered in the stillness of the room as you lifted his hand gently to your lips to kiss. "I'll wait for you. We still have a wedding to do."

The slight creaking of the door barely made you look away from his sleeping face. You only did at the gentle sound of a throat clearing, your eyes slightly widening as you recognized the man who just walked inside the room. Taeil had the same mildly shocked look on him as he stopped on the  other side of the bed across from you. 

"You…"

"Are you a relative of the patient?" He asked now as he tucked his clipboard under his arm. You simply nodded, watching him quickly glance at the numbers on the monitor before his eyes settled on you again.

"I'm his fiancee."

That made him raise his brows slightly. He pulled a pen now from the pocket of his coat to quickly write something on his file. "What a coincidence. Not a good one obviously. I'm sorry to hear about him. Mr. Jung, right?"

You swallowed. You didn't want to acknowledge anything that he just said so you tried to divert the conversation instead.

"You're not his doctor. Why are you…"

"Oh. He was turned over to me today. I am one of the resident neurologists here but he had to be moved to me because his first doctor has too much in his plate already. Don't worry, I was briefed properly about his case."

Your gaze followed Taeil as he bent over to check Jaehyun's oxygen level as well as the other wires attached to him. You don't know what to feel about him taking over, but at least you already know him previously.

"Are there any changes? Positive ones?" You asked in a frail voice that Taeil definitely didn't miss. You told yourself to not act silly and ask questions that probably do not have answers yet, but you couldn't help yourself now. The man seemed to think over his words first, noticing your state, before calmly giving his reply.

"No particular ones, but the fact that there are no negative developments is… something. I will have to request for some tests to be done on him again tomorrow so we can see if there are positive changes in his brain."

Neutral. Not good, but at least it's not bad either.

"How are you? I was about to check on you again. Is your head okay?"

You were still thinking over his words that you barely caught his question. Looking up, you tried to scramble for an answer to give. To be honest, you haven't given proper attention to your own injury since this happened. You would even only remember to take your medications on your clearest, less anxious moments, which, honestly, isn’t a lot. 

"I'm uh… the wound has closed. But the headaches. They're still there."

He simply nodded. "Any other side effects?"

You didn't immediately answer. You didn't want to sound whiny, but it's not like you're going to lose anything by telling him the uglier parts of your recovery. You swallowed to try and dislodge the slight blockage in your throat.

"Nightmares…" you said now, voice soft. You briefly remembered the last one you had back in the manor before you woke up to the bad news and you felt your stomach turn again. "Lots of them. Hallucinations sometimes…"

The doctor watched you carefully and you know he is trying to compute things in his mind despite his face remaining calm.

"Have you been keeping to your schedule with your medications? Are you taking too much?"

You firmly shook your head no to his last question.

"No, I haven't been overdosing. But… I've been skipping my pills the last few days because of...because of this."

"How have you been feeling since you started missing your dosages then? Do you remember?"

That made you actually stop and think about it for a moment. Now that you are paying attention, you did notice how the nightmares have calmed down slightly. Even the hallucinations are almost gone. You frowned slightly to yourself.

"A bit… better actually."

Taeil took his time to observe you a bit more before writing something on a new page of his clipboard.

"You must have had severe reactions to the mixture of pills I gave you. I'm going to prescribe you new ones and ask the nurses to pick them up and bring them to you here. Can you promise that you'll try and take them though? You really need them to fully heal."

You nodded and gave him a slightly sheepish look.

"I will, thank you very much."

Taeil dug his hands into the pockets of his coat and gave you a gentle smile.

"Well, that's it for today. I'll come back tomorrow to give you updates about Mr. Jung." He had already turned and started walking away when he suddenly stopped to look at you again.

"Oh, and another thing. Please try and get some sleep. Recover… and then focus on helping your fiance."

******* You didn't really know what woke you up. Stirring from your sleep, the first thing that registered to you was the sound of distant traffic mixed with the gentle chirping of the morning birds from outside the window. A warm feeling radiated on your cheek and made the back of your eyelids glow red.

You flickered your eyes open and immediately rolled away to escape the ray of sunshine that slipped from the open curtains and shone directly at your face. You easily evaded it as you moved over to the other side of the bed which was empty and cold from the night before.

That was when you finally remembered that you were back in your home, in the same bedroom you share with Jaehyun. The day before, his mother offered to take the responsibility of watching over him so there was a sudden change of plans that finally gave you the reason to check back into your apartment after so long. If it were you, you would have preferred not leaving your boyfriend’s side until he wakes up, but you also knew that your future mother-in-law wanted to spend time with him so you relented. 

Of course you weren't thrilled to be home alone, especially with Jaehyun not being there, but the comfort that a real mattress provided—over the small couch you used to sleep in back at the hospital—is definitely a welcome change for your body. You even tried to take your medicine properly, the new ones that Taeil had provided, in the hopes of getting knocked down fast. Your adrenaline and anxiety had been fueling you in the past days, but you know from the way your heart thumped and your hands shook that you need a solid rest.

And you got it. You still feel a little groggy now but your body is definitely lighter and your head clearer. The nightmares didn't even come, and while they were replaced by total darkness or dreams in white that still made you anxious, you are willing to take those anytime over the graphic ones that you used to have.

You gently sat back against the headrest of the bed now and reached out for your phone to check the time. It's barely 7AM but as expected, Jaehyun's mom has already provided you with updates from the hospital. He’ll have some tests taken today as Taeil advised and then they’ll hear more about his progress. From the looks of it, she seems still set on watching over her son, which means you still have at least today free to yourself.

You quickly typed a reply to her and sighed. You’re thankful that even though you weren’t related by blood, his parents have always treated you as if you were their own. Having a family is not something you’ve really experienced in your childhood, so that’s something you’ve always appreciated about them. That is also the reason why you wish for the best out of this situation, because you also couldn’t bear seeing your fiance’s mother and father heartbroken. He’s their only son, after all.

A quick look around your room left you feeling empty. The last week has been so hard that it felt longer and now you’re struggling to find your normal pace again. In an effort to bring yourself to focus, you decided to pick up your phone once more and started flipping through your calendar to check your schedule. It didn’t take long for you to frown when you realized the upcoming dates there. You’ve plotted important academic schedules in advance and one quick look at it told you how much you’ve obviously missed in the past week. You’ve been so lost in the mess of everything that has happened that you’ve entirely forgotten about your job at the manor. You realized that they didn’t even call you once to ask about your absence, probably because they also know about the situation, but even that is not enough excuse for you to entirely fall off the radar.  

Biting your lip, you quickly scrolled through your contacts now to look for the number you need. Your thumb hovered over the call button momentarily, but you eventually pressed it anyway. Your eyes wandered towards the clock on the wall, hoping silently to yourself that it wasn’t too early for you to call.

“Rosewood Manor, how can I help you?”

You straightened on your seat.

“Hey, Taeyong. It’s me. Sorry if I called so early.”

The other boy seemed to have been taken slightly by surprise by the way he fell silent at the other end of the line. You tapped your finger against your knee, waiting for him to speak again.

“Hi. No, it’s fine. Work started for me about an hour ago. Are you okay? How’s things on your end?”

You nibbled guiltily on your lower lip and finally got off your bed to walk over to the window. You pushed the curtains open and stared at the slight snowfall that had started falling on the ground. You’ve missed so many days of reporting to them but the first thing he does is to check if you’re fine.

“I um—things are still the same. My boyfriend’s still at the hospital.”

“Oh… I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Look, I want to apologize. I haven’t really reported to work and I didn’t even call about it. It’s just that—things have been so crazy lately, but still that isn’t an excuse for me to just not show up.”

Taeyong, however, was understanding as always. You were about to go off for another round of apologies when he gently cut you off. 

“Hey, it’s fine. We know you’ve been dealing with a lot lately so we also weren't expecting anything. Don’t worry too much about it.”

“But, the boys’ examinations and portfolio review is happening in three days and I haven’t really checked in with them. How are they doing now?”

“Oh...that. Well, we actually tried looking for a temporary tutor to help out but I...uh… I think he isn't really cutting it. Maybe because he isn’t the one who started the program with them. But he’s a big help still.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry about that. I should have at least—look, I can drop by today and just try to fix things.”

“Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Don’t you need to be at the hospital?”

You started going around your room now, trying to gather the scattered papers and files that you’ll need. It’s a good thing you woke up early so you still have time to prepare for work. “My boyfriend’s mother is the one watching over him today so I have the day off.”

“And your injury? How is it?”

Your eyes landed on the new bottles of medicine sitting on your bedside table.

“Better. I’m feeling so much better.”

You heard Taeyong sigh in relief over the phone. “Thank god. We were so worried about that. Well, you really don’t need to go, but if you have time, I guess doing it today won’t hurt. It will help us a lot.”

A small smile tugged at your lips now and you switched the phone over to your other ear as you started arranging your bag. “Thank you so much for being understanding. I need a distraction anyway. I’d rather work than stay home alone… Thanks for not firing me.”

That made him laugh a little. “I’ll tell the boys that you’re coming over. Oh, and be careful on your drive here. The roads are a little bit slippery today because of the snow.”

“I will, thank you. I’ll be there by 9.”

******* “Noona!”

You have barely finished arranging your materials on your desk when the door to the room burst open and ushered an anxious-looking Jisung inside. You looked up quickly at him, only barely catching Chenle wobbling with his crutch before your vision of the entrance was blocked by Jisung’s tall frame. His hair looked swept up as if he ran and there was a slight flush staining his cheeks. He stopped right in front of you, stopping just in time for him not to topple you over.

“Hey, Jisung how are—” You tried to give him a smile but he was quick enough to grab your hands between his.  

“Are you back? Are you really back for real?” He pressed now, eyes wide as he tried to bend over to look closely at you. He looked like a puppy, the only missing thing being a wagging tail to complete the look. You couldn’t help the brief laugh that passed over you as you tried to calm him down.

“I am. For the day, yes. Sorry I missed so many of your sessions.”

“We thought you left us,” Jisung continued, his lower lip protruding just a bit. Just then, Chenle had finally reached the two of you, a slightly embarrassed look on his face. This is actually the first time you saw him again since the day the two of you had your accident and you’re glad to see him healthy despite his broken leg.

“Hi, Chenle. How are you?”

The boy scratched the back of his head and looked away slightly. “Fine… I’m sorry, noona. I wasn’t able to visit you when you stayed with us. I’m really really sorry about what happened in the forest.”

You tried to give him a reassuring smile and freed one of your hands from Jisung’s hold to ruffle his hair. The action seemed to have calmed him down a little because he finally looked at you again, a small apologetic smile on his own lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault. But be careful next time, okay?”

“Are you going to be our tutor again, noona?” Jisung pressed once more and you turned your attention back to him. To be honest, you’re still not sure how your schedule will turn out after this, but you couldn’t really bear to break the poor boy’s heart at the moment.

“Yes… I’m here to teach your big brothers today for their tests though. We’ll have to schedule you and Chenle’s lessons again. Is that alright?”

A brief look of disappointment flashed on his face but he was quick enough to pick it up. Jisung smiled and gave your hand a squeeze.

“Okay. We can wait. It’s good you are back, Jaemin-hyung was so—”

“Yah, don’t hog her by yourself. You’ll scare her away.”

A new voice made the three of you look back to the doorway. Haechan smiled at your little group as he strolled casually into the room followed by Jeno and Jaemin. The three of them joined your crowd and you felt Jisung finally let go of your hand as he stepped away to go over to his brothers’ side.

“Hi. Sorry, I only returned now. Taeyong told me that you—”

You weren’t able to finish what you wanted to say as Haechan gently stopped you mid-sentence. He leaned his head to the side, eyes briefly scanning you from head to toe. Unlike Jisung, he looked calm and only barely excited.

“It’s fine. We knew you’ll come back. How are you?”

“Oh… I’m good. My head is better. I haven’t had the chance to thank all of you for taking care of me when I was here.”

“How about your boyfriend?” It was Jeno who asked this time and you quickly turned to him to address his question. Your eyes briefly slipped to Jaemin who was standing behind him before you could even speak though, and for a moment you had the impression that Jeno was shielding him—or blocking him from you. You blinked a little bit in confusion, wondering if it was just your imagination that was making you think that way.

“He’s still… still unconscious,” your smile dropped a little but you tried your best to keep your voice casual. “We’re getting more tests for him. His doctor said that he isn’t showing bad signs at least.”

“I’m so sorry to hear about him,” Haechan said with compassion and you gave him a grateful look. Your gaze settled on Jaemin again, however, who for some reason had barely looked at you since he came into the room. You know that he can be quiet and reserved at times, but there is something in the air around him that makes you slightly worried. He’s so still, but the way he carries himself makes it seem like he’s so strung up at the same time. It also doesn’t help that Jeno seems to be almost pushing him back from view.

“Hi Jaemin… How are you?” You tried to gently ask him to make sure that he is okay. He didn’t look at you at first, but when he finally did, you felt yourself freeze a little. His eyes looked dark and almost emotionless when he met yours and there were shadows under them as if he hadn't slept properly for days. He didn’t even answer and just simply stared, his gaze blank and accusing at the same time.

Haechan casually glanced over his brother and chuckled. “Our Jaeminie here has been sick for the past couple of days so he’s a little out of it. But he’s going to be fine now,” he put a hand over the other’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze as if to calm him down. “Right, Jaemin? We’ll try our best to go to class today since noona is finally back, hmm?”

Jaemin, however, didn’t even seem to hear him. He continued staring at you the same way that kept you pinned on your spot.

“Are you leaving again?” he finally asked and you almost felt goosebumps rise on your skin. It didn’t sound like a question… but more of a threat. You swallowed.

“I’m going to have to arrange my schedule till things get better…” you answered carefully, as if you’re navigating dark waters. That didn’t seem to cut it for him, unfortunately.

“So you’re not leaving. Forever?”

You blinked. To be honest, you’ve been thinking of quitting and just finishing the rest of the month if things didn’t improve, but you don’t think that’s the right answer to give at the moment.

“No… not for now,” you finally managed to say. You watched as Jaemin seemed to visibly relax, his stiff shoulders loosening under Haechan’s grip. He didn’t say anything after that, but he at least looked away, seemingly more satisfied with your words.

“Great. I think we should get to work,” Haechan broke the silence and looked around the room as if the tension you were feeling was just something only you could feel. He nodded towards Chenle and Jisung then. “You guys go back to your own classes. You’ll have your share of noona once it’s your turn.” He then glanced at you, smile still in place. “Should we start then?”

You nodded. “Is Renjun still not back?”

“Not yet. He’s going to be here tomorrow though,” Jeno answered as he took his seat on one of the desks.

“I see…”

Haechan also found his spot, but not before you’ve noticed him urging Jaemin to do the same. Playfully, he took the pencil you’ve arranged on the desk and started tapping it against the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry. We’ll tell him you’re back. I’m sure he can’t wait to have his lessons again~”

******* You looked over the window for the third time in the last fifteen minutes and sighed. The day had been busy with you trying to catch up on the boys’ lessons that you barely even noticed the state of the weather outside. When you finally did, it took you by surprise when you saw how much of the ground was covered by snow—one look at it told you that it is at least a feet deep by now. Your first instinct was to try and maneuver your car out of the lot before your tires get entirely buried in it, but then you remembered that you promised to wait for Taeyong to come back before leaving the manor. The butler requested for you to temporarily watch over the manor while he tries to do some last minute errands back in the city, but it’s been two hours since he originally promised to come back. You eyes glanced at your watch now, then back at the quickly darkening view outside. 

“...severe snowstorm has blocked some of the main roads in the city at the moment. Expect heavy traffic and don’t forget to drive safely.”

You turned to the television now to catch the last of the rambling dialogue of the reporter about the weather. You’ve been debating on whether to call Taeyong or not to check on him, but you didn’t want to seem impatient to go home when you only really wanted to make sure if he’s safe. From the looks of it, he’s stuck somewhere because of the hale, too.

You were on your way to get your phone from your bag to at least try to shoot him a message when you suddenly heard it ring. Getting it just in time, you almost sighed in relief when you saw his number there. You quickly took it and went over to the window to answer it to make sure you get some proper signal.

“Hello? Taeyong?”

“Hey. Finally. I’ve been trying to call you for the last hour, thank god it finally connected.”

“Oh, sorry, my phone’s in my bag. I think the signal’s getting bad because of the snowstorm. Where are you? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, about that, I’m still stuck in town. The traffic’s so bad here because a section of the main road is blocked. Road maintenance is supposed to come thirty minutes ago but I think there’s a delay because there are other roads they are working on.”

Your gaze drifted back to the television where scenes of the same blocked avenues were being flashed. “Yeah… the news says the same.  Are you safe though?”

“I am. I’m really sorry for making you wait. I’d tell you to drive back and not wait for me anymore but I don’t think you’ll also make it home in time with all this traffic going on. I don’t think it’s going to be safe. Do you mind waiting for a little bit more? I’ll tell you once the roads are better.”

You thought it over quickly, a frown settling on your face. You really want to go home, but he’s right. There’s no point in trying to drive back if you’ll only find yourself stuck in the roads for hours. Not being a big fan of night driving yourself, you can already imagine the stress waiting for you if you add a snowstorm to the mix. As much as you wanted to leave, you’re left with no choice, at least for the moment.

 “I can… I’ll just wait for you, I guess. Do you want me to do anything here while you’re gone? Dinner for the boys?”

“Oh no, no, you don’t need to do that, that’s not part of your job,” Taeyong sounded abashed when he said that. You stepped away from the window then and took a seat by the fireplace that Jeno started earlier. Half of your concentration was on the news which has now shifted to a different set of reports also caused by the snowstorm. “They’ll know when to go down and eat. Don’t worry about them. Where are they right now?”

“Ah, I think they went back to their rooms? I did tell them earlier that I’ll try to wait for you.”

“I see. Yes, I think that’s better. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated. If things don’t get better, I think I’ll have no other choice but find a hostel here and wait for the weather to calm down. You can stay there and just ask for help from any of them. You can stay in the same room just in case.”

You didn’t quickly react to the offer. Instead, your eyes flickered to the doorway of the room before refocusing your attention back to the conversation. It’s not like you have anything against spending the night again at the manor—you’ve done it before, after all—but it’s honestly not really something you’re comfortable to do again. Maybe it’s because you’ve never really been okay with overstaying at strangers’ houses but your gut feel is also telling you right now that it shouldn’t be your top option regardless of the situation you are in.

Still, you didn’t want to come off rude to Taeyong, not when he is only being kind to offer you temporary shelter while being stuck in the middle of nowhere himself. So instead, you went against your initial doubts and offered him your thanks in return. It’s just Plan B that he’s proposing after all. 

“I will. Keep me updated though if you need anything you think I can help with.”

“Thank you and I will. I have to go now though. Please make yourself at home. I’ll try to call again after an hour.”

“Okay. Take care.”

You put your phone down now with a worried frown as you heard the line drop. You couldn’t believe this is happening the first day you got back to work but it’s not like you can really blame anyone for it. The only good thing is that you’re sure Jaehyun is being taken care of right now so that is at least one thing off your shoulders. You didn’t really need to rush anywhere, not especially to a vacant home. Leaning back against your seat, you tried your best to relax as your gaze travelled around the room once again. You deliberated on sending a text to your mother-in-law to tell her about your situation but decided against it, not wanting to worry her more. You sighed. For now, you guess you didn’t have any other choice but to wait.

You did try to distract yourself by watching the news for a few more minutes before finally giving up on it. With resignation, you picked yourself up from your seat again and turned the television off. For a moment you simply stood in the middle of the room, trying to figure out what to do with your time when your gaze settled on the door again. Everyone retreated to their own rooms after they finished with their lessons so it means the house is pretty much yours for exploring if you wanted to. You toyed with the idea for a little bit, before finally resigning yourself to it. It’s not like there really is anything else left for you to do, and Taeyong did say you can make yourself feel at home if you wanted to. With a sigh, you finally turned on your heels to leave the room and peered silently into the hallway. It was deserted as expected, but still your eyes travelled left and right to check if there’s anyone out and about at this hour. It was only after you made sure that you were alone when you finally allowed yourself to step into the corridor.

Of course, you have a plan. You’re pretty much sure that checking out the rooms on the first floor is acceptable since it’s where you’ve been rotating your classes so you’re going to stick to those areas. You remember finding a library there once and you focused on finding your way to it to maybe check out some of the books in the collection. 

It did take you about five minutes to finally find the place you were looking for. For some reason, the sections in the manor always confuse you no matter how many times you try to memorize each one, probably because of how big and similar-looking they are on the outside. You’ve already tried four doors when you were finally welcomed by the familiar-looking bookshelves at the fifth one. You sighed and gave one quick look around the room before slipping yourself inside after making sure that you’re alone.

There will probably never be a time when you won’t find yourself fascinated by anything in this grand home. If the architecture of the mansion is not enough to convince anyone how rich the family is, their book collection is enough to assure that at the very least. You’ve only ever taken a quick glimpse of it once during one of your lessons with the boys, but one look of the titles in their shelves is enough to make any literature major excited. You looked at the floor to ceiling collection now, your fingers gently running over the spines of the books you could reach with a small smile on your face.

You were about to check out the rest of the collection on the other side of the wall when something in the middle of the room caught your attention. You didn’t really catch it at first because of the shadows that concealed it when you first came in, but you could pretty much discern the outline of a blanket covered standee now from where you stood. You frowned. Taking careful steps, you closed the distance towards it to try and figure out what exactly it is that you’re seeing.

A closer look revealed it to be an easel covered with white cloth. You could see the outline of the canvas where the blanket falls over it while shadows of colors peeked out into the thin fabric from the surface it was covering. How odd… you knew that Renjun had a different art room for his paintings so to see this now here in the middle of the library seems uncanny.

You didn’t know how long you remained standing in front of it, too. You know you should have walked away—after all, the white cloth hiding it away from plain view means whatever is on that canvas is not meant for everyone’s eyes to see, but you simply couldn’t tear yourself away from it. It’s as if there was a silent force asking you to pull that cloth to reveal what’s underneath, the inclination so strong that you could almost hear its voice breathing down next to your ear, unrelenting until you do what it says.

The next thing you know, you had your hand attached to one end of the fabric. You stared at it now, wondering last minute if you should go ahead or not. You swallowed and glanced around one last time around the room. If you’re alone… it wouldn’t hurt if you could take a peek, right? Nobody will know. You just have to see, then cover it back again. Before you could even think about it too much, your arm was finally moving on its own as it gently tugged at the covering. You watched as it fell gently on the floor, like a bodiless ghost melting into the shadows on the ground.

Your eyes couldn’t make out what you were seeing at first. The dim lighting of the room wasn’t helping at all, but you were sure that it was a woman’s silhouette that was staring back at you from the canvas. Colors swirled around her, like some unknown mass trying to drag her back into unknown depths. Shapes and tones jumped from the picture, but her form stood out from the rest, gracefully twisted as if she was in the middle of trying to fight and succumb to it at the same time. You frowned. Taking a step closer towards it, you tried to study its details under what little illumination the lamps above afforded you.

That’s when it all happened simultaneously. Your heart stopped beating the same time your eyes widened as they finally focused on what’s in front of them. It’s as if the ground suddenly vanished from underneath your feet and you were falling, falling, deep into the abyss despite your body being frozen in fear and shock.

You know this painting. You’ve seen it before. It was the same one by Renjun, the one that you saw on your first day working in the manor.

But it was different now. Instead of the unfinished state that caught your attention before, everything about the picture now is in sharp focus. The lines on the woman’s nude body, the hands—which you thought were simply dark swirls dragging her back—and her face twisted beautifully in pleasure and madness stared back at you like a nightmare.

But it was not those which truly shook you to your core. It’s the realization that it was your own face in the portrait that was staring back at you, silently screaming for you to run away.

You stumbled back in shock. Your chest felt tight as you tried to grasp for air while your hands fumbled to find something to hold on to keep you from crashing on the ground. Before you could even take another step, however, something hard hit your back and you felt strong arms wrap around your waist like a vice. You have barely realized what was happening when you felt someone lean over your shoulder, lips pressing against the shell of your ear.

“Isn’t it beautiful? You’re the perfect muse, don’t you think?” Renjun asked softly as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

******* You didn’t know how long you stayed frozen in his embrace. For a brief moment you thought you were dreaming again until you felt his arms slowly tighten around your waist. As if a jolt of electricity shocked you, you immediately turned to push him away as you scrambled to put some distance between the two of you.

Renjun didn’t seem the least bothered when your eyes finally focused on him. He remained on his spot, his gaze on you unwavering. You, meanwhile, were shaking from head to toe, the vision of the painting still branded vividly in your head.

“Renjun—what’s this?” you managed to stutter as you pointed at the artwork in the middle of the room. You couldn’t even spare to look at it again while he merely gave it a casual glance.

“It’s you. I’ve been working on it for a long time. I was about to show it to you but it seems like you couldn’t wait for it yourself.”

You felt nauseous. A part of your rational mind was slowly losing it as you tried to process his answer. Something's not right. Something is so terribly wrong.

“Why—why did you do this?”

Renjun simply stared at you and leaned his head a little bit to the side as if he was only mildly curious of your reaction. Your stomach turned even before hearing his answer.

“You said it’s beautiful.”

“This is not right—!”

“I came home because they said you were leaving for good,” he continued speaking softly, effectively cutting you from what you were about to say. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end and you took another step back as you watched him get close to his artwork. You watched in horror as his thin fingers lovingly ran over the corners of the canvas. “Jaemin almost lost it… It’s a good thing I got here on time.”

And just like that, everything seemed to have clicked into place. The glances, the touches, the words that seemed to have a different undercurrent under them… they weren’t just fragments of your imagination. Every little thing that has gnawed at you from the inside came into crystal clear focus and you felt your knees go weak from the weight of it all. It took every fiber of your being to try and keep yourself steady now, your legs moving on their own as they took small backward steps away from the boy staring at you now with dead eyes. You couldn’t breathe, but it was the last words he told you that finally snapped you to run.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet. But no, you cannot leave. Ever.”

You didn’t know where you got the energy for it but in seconds you were flying out of that room and running blindly down the darkened corridors. Your blood pumped noisily in your ears and your chest felt like it was going to split from the sudden exertion you put on it, but you didn’t stop, not even looking back as you tried to put as much distance between you and the library. You didn’t even know where you were going. All you’re focused on is to find the exit and leave the house as soon as possible.

A loud bang that sounded off to your right startled you and you screamed, the force of your shock making you whip around and almost lose your balance. Before you could even hit the floor, however, a pair of hands caught you and you immediately turned, grasping at the chest of your rescuer.

You froze. Haechan smiled down at you as he tried to steady you on your feet.

“Haechan,” you gasped as you took fistfuls of his shirt and tried to shake him in your panic. “Renjun—he’s—please, help me. He’s after me—” you gasped out, almost out of your wits. You’re on the verge of a total breakdown that it almost escaped you, the way he simply smiled down on your shaking form. It was only when you felt one of his hands gently caress the top of your head that reality slapped you in the face again. You suddenly stopped struggling in his hold, pupils shaking as you watched him study your features lovingly.

“Shh… it’s fine. I got you,” he whispered and you could swear ice pricked you from the inside. A slight movement to the right made you turn your head and you saw Jaemin lean casually against the banister of the stairs, his face serene. He gave you one quick look before a gentle smile finally lit up his features.

“Has it started?” he asked and you felt Haechan’s hold on you tighten.

“It has.”

You didn’t struggle. It was as if any trace of fight you had left you in that moment and you let your hands fall limply on your sides. Haechan also loosened his grip on you and you stared at the two boys blankly, your chest heaving as if fighting for air. They didn’t move from their spots and simply followed you with their eyes as if relishing the fear and realization flashing in your face.

Trapped.

You’re trapped.

You’ve always been.

You didn’t even realize that your legs had started moving again on their own as the pieces of the puzzle started to fall together in your mind. You were only shaken from it when your back finally hit the front door, the cold metal of the knob pressing against your spine. Jaemin and Haechan remained on their spots still, even as you blindly reached out for it from behind.

You were expecting it to be locked, so you were a little bit surprised when you felt it give way under your hand when you tried to turn it open. Just before you could even entertain the idea of escaping, however, any trace of hope you had quickly died as you turned and came face to face with Jeno standing right in front of the entrance. He didn’t look the least surprised seeing you there, as if he was waiting for you in the first place.

You eyes took in his calm countenance before slowly moving to stare downwards at what he was holding by his side. Your gaze locked on it in fear, and that’s when the flight response in you flared up again.

Jeno’s hunting rifle shone dully in the light of the entryway, his pale fingers wrapped on its handle.

“There’s really only one place you can run, noona, but I won’t advise it,” he said evenly and you felt your blood freeze in your veins.

“After all, no matter where you hide, I’ll still find you in that forest.”

It happened all at once. You broke into a run, your body screaming at you to go faster as you heard gunshots pierce the air.

---

CHAPTER 7

A/N: Good lord, I wasn’t expecting I’d finish this today but I got one large iced coffee and well... things happened. Anyway, enjoy! Let’s hope the format won’t mess up this time. T.T Finally, all hell broke loose~ <3

Tag list! 

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore​, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat​, @yutasnabi​

[lovethisletters]

Poly MC! hc for the: Demon Brothers!

This is my first time writing anything about poly relationships! So I'm a bit nervous! I took the time to do a bit of research about the subject...however I still have a lot to learn; if you find anything that might be offensive please let me know! Just know I didn't do it with any ill intentions and I'll make sure to correct my mistakes!

Also I didn't knew if you refered to a poly MC who is in a relationship with all of the brothers or how each individual brother would react to MC coming out as poly to them and later starting a poly relationship and how they behave in said relationship...so I did the latter bc I found it to be a bit more easy to write and the first option would have been way too long and I was worried it might come off as boring because of it :c (but maybe I'll try to edit it and then upload it...some day...idk)

so...here it is!

Keys: MC = your main character name

Summary: MC comes out as poly to the Demon Brothers and how they behave in a poly relationship!

Additional notes: MC is gender neutral!

TW: small mentions or implications of jealous/possessive behavior (they're very minimal, but still...just in case)

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Lucifer

Lucifer is probably the one you're the most nervous to talk to.

But when you finally find the courage to do so it goes...to put it mildly, a bit... weird.

He stares blankly at you like you just said to him that water is a liquid or something, he's not very...responsive.

His reaction might come off as rude, considering you spend all this time trying to figure out the "best" way to come out and talk about the possibility of starting a poly relationship.

But the reason why he's not talking much is because he's trying to avoid saying anything he might regret later, you see... he's trying to process his own feelings towards the matter.

Lucifer is someone who has lived for a long, looooooong time, so it's more likely than not that he's already experienced being in a poly relationship.

thing is...such relationship was more experimentation rather than something serious.

And now he has you...someone for who he'll be willing to die for...

He won't say it but deep down he feels like his pride has been bruised.

He just doesn't want to "share" you, you're his and his alone!

But when he looks up at you, and see just how nervous you are, waiting patiently for any kind of reaction from him.

He realizes he's thinking of you as an object and not a person and mentally kicks himself in the face for it.

Lucifer reaches for your hand and offers you a small smile.

After a long conversation where you two express your own desires and worries, you two agree and decide to give it a try.

At first... I'm not gonna lie...it would be quite... difficult...

The man is possessive and struggles to see you giving any kind of affection to any of his brothers.

However I think he genuinely wants this to work, he wants to see you happy and knows that just because you also love his brothers doesn't mean you love him any less.

So he'll sit down and talk to you whenever he feels jealous, he knows communication is key and it honestly makes him feel a bit better.

With time Lucifer comes to accept it; He loves you and he loves his brothers and it makes him happy that they all can share such bond with you.

Mammon

I think he's the one who'll have a harder time adapting to a poly relationship.

I'll even go as far to say Lucifer's jealousy pales in comparison to Mammon's and I think this is due to his low self-esteem.

He won't accept it but he's jealous af when he sees you "getting cozy" with any of his brothers.

He'll even interrupt the moment by placing himself in the middle of whoever you were getting close to or think about some lame excuse to take you away.

This makes things more difficult and tense for everyone, so if Mammon continues his shenanigans expect a LOT more arguing from the brothers...(yes...more than normal...)

You'll have to sit him down and talk to him about his insecurities.

The first times he won't be very open with you, I think he might even get a bit angry if you even imply he's jealous and act all offended and walk out of the room.

Surprisingly the one who makes him understand how toxic he's being and how much this affects you is Asmo!

He'll have a serious talk with him, and just the fact of seeing his often bubbly and cheerful young bro being all serious is enough for Mammon to realize that what he's been doing and how he's been acting hurts you and his brothers.

He'll apologize...the Mammon way...

But ultimately he now makes an effort to respect whenever you're close to one of his brothers.

Just like Lucifer. Mammon will come to accept you love him and his brothers all the same.

He'll sometimes even suggest places you all can go together for a date.

Please, be patient with the avatar of greed with time he will come to accept that love exist in more than one way or form.

Leviathan

Surprisingly, unlike his older brothers, your favorite shut-in-otaku has an easier time adapting to a poly relationship.

Easier, however does not mean problems are inexistent...

He has a low self-esteem and sometimes might get the feeling that you're ""picking favorites""

However he won't tell you anything about it, and he'll just try to pretend like nothing is wrong.

Fortunately for you, Levi is quite easy to read so you immediately notice whenever he's feeling sad.

But all you have to do is have a little gaming session with him, and as the two of you "game" the night away he'll eventually open up to you about whatever is bothering him.

All it takes is a little reassurance and saying "I love you" to the avatar of envy from time to time and he'll be all good with you showing affection to the rest of his brothers.

Satan

Uhhhh...this is a tricky one...

You see...Satan is probably the second brother you came out to and perhaps you didn't even realized that you did because it just happened so natural.

The two of you were talking and it just slipped out of your mouth and he was like "hahaha, right?" And continued the conversation as normal.

He genuinely doesn't care, (don't get me wrong I don't mean that in a bad way) but all he knows is that he loves you and he wants you to be happy, and if expanding the love that the two of you have to his brothers makes you happy, then so be it!

However... remember I said this was tricky?

Satan has no issue with you being affectionate with his brothers...all of them except for Lucifer...

When he sees you getting close to Lucifer he won't say anything, he won't make a scene or a passive-agressive remark, he'll just excuse himself and exit the room. (Neither he will confront you about it later when the two of you are alone)He won't say anything at all; he'll just stay silent and pretend like nothing is wrong.

However you'll be able to notice Satan's true feelings whenever Lucifer has a small present or gesture with you.

Oh? Lucifer gifted you a $300,000 coat? Well, Satan will give you another coat but this one is $600,000.

Lucifer treated you to dinner at ristorante six? Well, darling... guess what? Satan will reserve the entire building just for you!

At some point he will notice how bad this makes you feel, since he's turning a relationship into a competition and that's no good...

He'll eventually take a step back and realize how childish he's being, how his behavior hurts your feelings and might have even made you feel guilty or responsible for his beef with his older brother.

Before you even decide to talk to him about it, he already knows what you're trying to say, so he'll be the one to sit you down and apologize for his wrongdoings.

You're someone who he values dearly and all that he wants is for you to be happy, so he'll be willing to make the effort to get along or at least be a little more tolerant of Lucifer.

There might be times where they still fight and stop talking to each other for long periods of time, but the two of them will take the time to let you know that this has nothing to do with you and that there's no reason for you tu feel guilty.

Because if there's something in wich both, the avatar of pride and wrath agree in... Is in how much they love you.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus (definitely) was the first one to know about you being polyamorous.

He probably knew before you even said anything, let's be honest here...

He's probably the one who you're more comfortable talking about it.

The brothers accept you, yes...but Asmo understands you!

He knows that the world can be quite cruel to people who love differently to what our society stablish as "normal".

Whenever he expressed his liking for more than one person he was shamed or labeled as someone promiscuous who'll never be deserving of "true" love.

It happened in the celestial realm, in the human realm, and even sometimes here in the devildom.

Angels where expected to only focus in the lord and nothing else, some humans are close minded and shame whoever is different from them, and demon's often confuse love with obsession and get easily tangled up in possessive behavior, often viewing their partners as objects rather than individuals with their own goals and desires. (his brothers are the perfect example of that)

So he just knows how difficult it might have been for you to find acceptance.

So he gives it to you; acceptance, reassurance, however many times you need to.

He'll be the one to encourage you to talk with his brothers, he'll be there to support you if you ever feel nervous, and he'll be the one to call his brothers out on their bs whenever they start to show any signs of toxic behavior.

He knows in all relationships communication and trust in your partners is key to a successful relationship, so he reminds this to everyone and even goes as far as to make plans where everyone feels included.

Overall the avatar of lust is the voice of reason in this relationship, because he knows better than anyone else that love is something that can't and should never be limited by what others believe or expect "true love" should look like.

Beelzebub

You weren't sure how Beel would react once you told him.

But still you were pleasantly surprised by Beel's reaction!

He was so accepting from the beginning and even thanked you for trusting him enough to share this with him.

He's happy that you want him to form part of this relationship.

He knows his brothers love you as much as he does and that you love them back, so he sees this as the perfect option for everyone.

He even thinks this relationship has brought everyone closer together.

Over all the avatar of gluttony is more than happy to be with you and share your affection with people he holds equally as dearly.

Belphegor

Belphie, much like Lucifer struggles to understand why would you want such a thing?

Is his love not enough for you?

It takes little more time for him to understand you, and learn that love doesn't just limits to one person.

He can be a bit insensitive some times, so he might accidentally say something hurtful to you about it.

And that's when Asmo has to intervene...

He'll have a talk with his younger brother and make him realize that there's more than one form of love and how his words might have hurt you.

He'll apologize...(much like Mammon) in his own way...

After thinking about it for a while, he realizes he's happy whenever you show affection to Beel, and wonders if it would be the same with the rest of his brothers.

Slowly but surely, Belphie it's more open to this new relationship.

There'll be times where he might try to monopolize your love, but he'll stop once you, Beel or Asmo call him out on it.

His favorite thing of this new relationship is whenever you spend time with him and Beel.

Please be patient with the avatar of sloth.

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If you find any grammatical errors let me know! I'm trying to improve my english and that would help me so so much!

I will forever thank you if you go check out my other profile: @aileysmirnov  where I post things about my OC: edits, one-shots, imagines, art, etc. If you like Greek mythology and the bat family maybe you would get to be as fond of her as much as I am!

Anyway, thank you for reading!

[dreamkidddream]

I really enjoyed your writing on the ADA members with a younger sibling like partner <33 I was wondering if you could write the same scenario but with Chuuya and Fyodor? Except the younger partner in question has a rough past and cheery/joking personality similar to Dazai(?) I'm super excited to see more of your writing!! c:

Hi anon! Thank you for the compliment and for reading (here’s the scenario for those that want to read it)! The only difference is that instead of this reader being pure, they’re going to be like a mini Dazai (or at least similar to him). One change that I did make was that Reader isn’t as suicidal as Dazai (ie. constantly trying to find a way to end their life), but Reader is ready to go whenever and wherever, whether it’s on their terms or not. Reader is gender neutral and hope you enjoy!

Also ayyyeeee my first time writing for Fyodor! Hope I did him justice cause his part took a while lol

TW: Mentions of suicide, dark moments (Reader is a bit sadistic, but nothing graphic is mentioned) small spoilers for Dark Era arc and Season 3

Acting as a Younger Sibling with a Rough Past and Personality Similar to Dazai with: Chuuya and Fyodor

Chuuya

Well he was extremely disturbed to say the least. Okay extremely may be over exaggerating, but the way you acted got underneath his skin bad

You reminded him too much of Dazai, minus the suicide attempts and the animosity towards him. Although that didn’t stop the morbid jokes from happening

“Hey Chu-Chu, what did the librarian say to the guy that wanted to check out a book on how to commit suicide?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that!-“

“Go away, you’re not going to bring it back. HA! A knee slapper, am I right?”

He wondered if Dazai got to you first like he did Akutagawa, and if he did, that was just another reason to strangle him

You were his partner, and you were young. So seeing the way you interacted with everyone and everything with such a pessimistic attitude while still being cheery was alarming

Not to mention how easy it is for you to just readily accept death at every turn. You’re the literal embodiment of “guess I’ll die” and it drives Chuuya up the wall every time

He remembers the one time an enemy held you hostage how you were so cheerful to finally be rid of this joke you called a life, and that you told the guy who was holding a gun to your head to “put it between the eyes, it looks 10x better that way.” And “don’t be afraid to blow my brains out either! But you do you, but I think it’s a rather stylistic choice if I do say so myself.”

The man thought you were trying to distract him at first, but when he figured out that you were serious he honestly got so nervous he was ready to just let you go and suggest therapy lmao

After he handled the situation, he took you directly under his wing. Sure, you were already his partner, but he was really going to look out for you including outside of work. If it meant that he had to “babysit” you, then oh well

Plus he didn’t want to face Mori if he just let you die while under his care

You realized what he was trying to do when you two would go off to “collect information” and would be doing the complete opposite. “Hey, I’m kinda hungry, let’s take a break and grab a bite to eat.”

“I thought we had to get this info back to Mori ASAP. Not that I care if he’s mad, he’s been holding out on me and this is the perfect way to take revenge.”

“Holding out how?”

“I told him that since he’s a doctor he would be the perfect teacher to show me some new techniques.”

“...on?”

“Torturing, duh! My methods are getting kinda stale, and I do want to perfect my craft after all. I want to be good at something before I kick the bucket, Chu.”

Poor man is honestly in so much distress because of you please help him

And the way you interacted with the other members was both entertaining and horrifying to watch at times. Majority of the time, you were this happy go lucky kid with a dark sense of humor (you still made people smile, although sometimes it was tense or apprehensive, but whatever a smile is still a smile). But when you were having a bad day or a mission was going wrong, everyone knew to steer clear of you.

A new recruit tried to cheer you up one day, telling you that “it could always be worse”. You then got pulled into the office with a very angry Chuuya and a mildly disappointed Mori.

Chuuya finally had enough after months of this occurred. It was like a never ending cycle: except your behavior was getting increasingly more reckless and dangerous. It was driving him crazy trying to figure out why you were this way and if it was any way to snap you out of it

He wasn’t a stranger to death, he’s seen it with his own two eyes, end even killed people with his bare hands. But the huge difference between you two is that he didn’t particularly enjoy killing, if it had to be done then he had no problems doing so; it comes with the job y’know? But with you, you took actual pleasure in killing. It filled you with a sick sense of glee, and it even made his stomach turn

The bond between you two grew from just a typical work relationship (as far as working in the mafia goes). He knew that from underneath your rather concerning persona, you were just troubled. Someone or something made you this way, and while he had his own troubles growing up, he was able to deal with it and overcome his issues. It just seemed like you just...gave in to yours. And it made him feel pity for you.

You didn’t mind Chuuya at all. You actually liked being his partner! He was pretty much the only person that you didn’t feel a need to harm or kill. And he was fun to be around, when he wasn’t being such a party pooper (I mean what’s the point of being in the mafia when you can’t purposely spill some blood every now and then for fun?). The only thing you didn’t like was how he would try and get you to talk about your past. You honestly didn’t see a point in it, it’s called the past for a reason, why didn’t he understand that?!

But no matter how many times you would shut down or try to change the subject, he would always try again, and again, and again. It was very annoying. And you didn’t like to talk about it. Why didn’t Chuuya understand that?!

Eventually, his pestering worked. One day after a rough mission when he had to patch you up, you opened up to him. You didn’t immediately tell him everything, but you gave him small insights to what happened, to what lead you to be this way

You could tell that he was grateful that he was finally getting somewhere with you. And you yourself was surprised that your dynamic didn’t change. He didn’t look at you with sympathy in his eyes, he didn’t baby you, he wasn’t disgusted by you, everything was normal. The only difference is that Chuuya told you that it was okay to talk to him, and that you shouldn’t be scared to approach him (psh you scared, yeah okay)

Chuuya felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders once you opened up. You were still a bit sadistic (but you did tone it back after the recruit incident, and after you saw how repulsed he looked, so you just did everything behind closed doors now) and had your cheery persona on, but it felt a little bit more real now. It felt genuine. It gave him a good feeling to see some spark in your eyes instead of the full he felt himself getting used to. And he would never say it to you, but it also gave him a warm feeling with him being your role model (you knew but didn’t want to burst his bubble yet)

Your change wasn’t very noticeable at first, but that’s okay. No one needed to know, it was fine with just you and Chuuya. You still felt the desire to just be done with life, but it wasn’t your focus whenever you were with him. You hadn’t made peace with your past yet, but you felt you could one day with him by your side. He was someone that you didn’t knew you needed (or wanted to admit to), but it worked out in the end. You had doubts that you could or would ever change, but if you did, growing to be someone like Chuuya would’nt be the worst possible outcome

Plus, whenever he did run into Dazai with his new sidekick, he is 10000% bragging about how much better and cooler you are, with him being the superior between them both. He can’t WAIT till you guys can whoop their ass

Fyodor

Well weren’t you such an interesting character

To see someone as young as you ready to just leave this world in an abrupt way was intriguing, and he realized that he could use this to his advantage. Maybe even give you something to gain in exchange

He found you hiding inside a disgusting abandoned building (a fitting place for a rat if he would say so himself), drenched in blood. Fyodor didn’t necessarily care why, but he was curious about one thing: why were you smiling? Your eyes were so lifeless, yet here you were smiling so bright, as if you weren’t covered in someone’s blood

Fyodor found himself smiling down at you. Did you think he was prey, that he was going to be your next target? He wanted you to try, he wanted to see what you were really capable of

“Tell me, what is going to be your next move? Do you wish to attack me?”

“If you do something that I don’t like, then yes, that’s the plan. Why are you here Mister? You wanna have some fun too?”, your smile turned into a smirk, twirling your very sharp knife in your hand. “You’re not even from here, so why are you trying to bother such an innocent kid like me?”

He matched your smirk, “You are from innocent, child, even a blind man can see that. To see just how full of sin you are. This wasn’t your first atrocity that you committed nor would it be your last. Which is a shame, it might be too late for me to cleanse you of your filth.”

Oh, he was going to be very amusing to mess with. But you weren’t stupid. Something wasn’t right with this man. No one would walk up to someone with copious amounts of blood on them, holding a weapon that caused said blood, while berating them about being “full of sin”. What was his ability? Did he have people with him? Was the building surrounded or booby trapped? These questions swirled around your head, all while he just kept smirking at you. He was pissing you off, who the hell did he think he was?

But you kept your anger at bay, plastering a cheerful smile on your face. “Sin? Cleanse me of my filth? I guess I do kinda stink but who exactly do you think you are, some type of God?”

“That’s exactly what I am. I’m here to free this world from this wretched curse that has been brought upon.”

...huh? Did-did he escape from the asylum or something? Did he seriously believe himself to be a God (not even a prophet but an actual God)? Seeing your confusion, he continued on, “The curse of ability users. They plague this Earth, and they need to be eliminated.”

“Why is that? What’s wrong with having abilities? Hellooooo, some people’s abilities are actually pretty cool! If you just have a terrible ability, it’s your problem, not the world-“

“Why not let me show you why it’s indeed a curse?”

“And how would you do that? You must be crazy if you think I’m going anywhere with you. I may be dangerous but I’m not dumb!”

“You poor, misguided soul.”, he tutted at you. “Look at where you have ended up at. These people with these so called “cool abilities” have failed you, have they not? Yet you still idolize them, not believing that they are the reason for your misfortunes. If they were truly your idols, they wouldn’t have left you to fend for yourself, to live among the rats. They left you to rot, do you not see that?”

He was hitting too close to home, he was getting too personal, too close. He didn’t know you at all, you’re a complete stranger to him, but why did his words hold some truth to them?

“Come with me, and I will prove to you first hand why this has to be done.”, he was now physically close to you, staring you deep into your eyes. “It would be such a waste for you to die without knowing the truth, wouldn’t you agree?”

You didn’t have much, he wasn’t wrong. But if he could take you somewhere with real food and not scraps you had to fight to find, and to have real shelter, then fine. You agreed. And if you felt that something was up, you’ll just kill him, run away, or both

After he took you away, he kept to his word. It seemed like he was really was telling the truth, you getting first-hand experience like he promised. It was scary that he was right, but you were also indebted to him. He not only allowed you to live in luxury (at least it was luxury to you considering what you had before), but he opened your eyes to what the true problem is. He gave your life a new purpose. If you two were able to successfully complete his goal, then your problems would be gone forever right? You would finally be able to feel a sense of peace, and you can’t wait till that could happen

You and Fyodor, after he opened your eyes, bonded easier than in the beginning. You were smart enough to not fully trust him after leaving with him, but after just a couple of pulled strings to cause certain things to happen, you slowly melted and molded into the way that he planned. You would be an excellent pawn in his grand plan, and you would do well in keeping him entertained at the same time

You were a joyful child, even when carrying out his dirty work, you did so gleefully. After joining the Rats in the House of the Dead, you tried to spread that joy among the other members. They didn’t find it very amusing, but you didn’t care and neither did Fyodor. You were far too important to let go of now

You were always by him, it seemed. Always in the same space, whether he was planning his next move, and playing the cello, you were always there with this look of awe directed at him. Every time he would catch you staring, he would simply chuckle and softly reprimand you about, “how rude it is to stare, but you simply can’t help it.”

He even taught you how to play the cello!

You sounded terrible but practice makes perfect

As time went on and the end goal seeming to be closing in, he came to see you as more than just an expendable tool. He found out about your past, but simply proved to you once again why you two had to make sure the curse was ridden as soon as possible. No one wanted a repeat of what happened to you to happen to anyone else, so the mission had to be success. Failure was not an option

Fyodor didn’t see himself as a cruel man towards you. He just didn’t mince his words and he made sure that you were dealing with the truth, and not some lie that was attempted to be twisted as reality. If anything, that was the way that he showed that he held some compassion for you, he wasn’t willing to let you be lead astray from the truth again, not while he was here. You had somehow wiggled your way into his mind, where he had been accepting of your close bond, and he took that into consideration

Once his goal is achieved and he has truly made his place known as a God, he’ll make sure that you gain your rightful place among him as well. You were worthy in Fyodor’s eyes, and as long as nothing came in between your bond and the end goal, then everything will work out. He will make sure of that.

[infernalrevenge]

Can I request a drabble about Donna being taken care of when she has really bad period cramps by Karl? If you're not okay writing Donnaberg or anything like that I'll understand, just thought I'd ask.

Nah, it's totally cool! I kinda like Donnaberg myself actually haha, so this is a nice prompt.

(TW periods and the general experience that comes with it)

One would think that having mutant powers would make you practically invincible to any sort of affliction, or at the very least, give you a much higher pain tolerance. But for Donna, she quickly found out that things tended to be worse on her period ever since. What used to be a mildly inconvenient time of the month became close to unbearable, especially during the first few days.

She was curled up on her bed, knees tucked to her chest and arms pressed against her lower abdomen as she tried to keep a building migraine at bay as well. Her temples were throbbing so hard she thought her head was going to explode. Her eyes were clenched shut as she couldn't bear to look at anything at the moment. Part of her wished she could somehow dig her fingers right through her skull just to make it stop (and if her arms weren't preoccupied, she might have tried.) She wouldn't have even made it up to her room in the first place if it weren't for--

"Hey dollface," a gruff voice greeted her, the sound of boots dropping as lightly as they could on the hardwood floor, followed by smaller, lighter ones padding through as well. Karl wouldn't want to aggravate the poor woman's headache, she seemed to be suffering enough. He placed a glass of water on the nightstand, holding onto the hot water bag.

"Still not feeling good?" he asked softly, sitting close to her. He saw the minute shake of her head against the sheets, pushing closer to him as she sought out some human warmth.

Angie hopped up and held onto the edge of the bed, placing a small packaged tablet onto it and looking meaningfully between the two of them. The man nodded and laid a gentle hand on Donna's forehead, pushing strands of her hair away from her face. "You should get up for a bit and drink this," he suggested. She could only groan in response.

"Come on, Donna, you'll need this." She groaned louder, and wiggled even closer to lay her head on his lap. Guess this means I can't leave, huh?

Karl rolled his eyes, undoing her hair bun with gentle practice. "Fine, but don't get mad at me when the pain gets worse." Despite his warning, he could feel her start to relax, the furrow in her brow disappearing as she focused on the soothing feeling of his fingers carding through her hair.

Angie scrambled onto the bed, settling on the other side of the dollmaker. Donna cuddled her even closer to her chest, tensing around her but being mindful not to crush her. She didn't want both of them to be in pain.

"At least take this," Karl insisted, prying one of her arms off to lay the hot water bag on top of her. She slowly turned to lie on her back, Angie settled on top of her chest while the water bag warmed her lower abdomen. It gave her something else to focus on other than the blunt ache she was experiencing.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, the blurry figure of Karl filling her vision and bringing a shadow of a smile to her face. She never expected him to have such softness inside that hard exterior -- but she was grateful, especially for a time like this. "Thank you," she managed to whisper out.

"No problem. Just rest up. And you will take that painkiller later, alright?"

With a tired nod, she closed her eyes and let her breathing start to even out. Karl couldn't help but watch her fall asleep, caught in a trance by her peaceful expression. And to think, just earlier he found her as a ball on the floor in her living room, moaning in pain and barely able to speak. If it weren't for Angie frantically explaining it all to him, he wouldn't have known what to do. He may not have much experience dealing with this stuff himself, but he had a desire to make her feel better than she did now -- he supposed that should've been enough.

He leaned down to plant a light kiss on her forehead. She scrunched her face slightly after -- was that from disgust at his attempt at affection, or irritation that his scruffy beard brushed against her? He could only chuckle as he thought more about it.

The man looked behind him as he slowly leaned back onto the headboard. If Donna was going to keep him here for a while, might as well get comfortable.

[ootori-sibs]

Through the eyes of the patriarch

Part 2: The game

Tw: implied neglect

With Fiyumi living with her husband and Akito off at university, mealtimes at the mansion were quite quiet. Yoshio picked at his food as he watched his sons silently eat; Yuuichi was reading a newspaper, one about innovations in the medical industry, Kyoya, on the other hand, was focused entirely on his food, staring down at it with a faraway look in his mind, a pensive look that if the light had hit his glasses like it so often did, it might just look like a glare- was this what Souh had mentioned. Yoshio silently sighed, swallowing his pride, “Kyoya?” He couldn’t help but notice how Kyoya jolted, instantly sitting up and adjusting his glasses, he didn't mention it though, “is there something on your mind?”

Kyoya was clearly worried, Yoshio noticed, and even Yuuichi glanced up from his newspaper. “No father, I’m just not that hungry.”

Hm, that was a lie, clearly. Yoshio just nodded, he didn’t really want to press it, so he opted to change the subject, “so, how was school?” That was something Yuzuru had suggested he do, it felt very unnatural coming from him but he hoped Kyoya would appreciate it.

“I- pardon?” the boy looked so shocked and almost scared, “why? Is something wrong, father?” Kyoya was definitely scared and Yoshio understood why, even Yuuichi’s eyes had gone wide. Yoshio wasn’t usually the type to ask about things like that unless something was wrong- he did have his doubts about Souh’s suggestion.

“No, not at all,” he assured Kyoya, still unable to sound anything other than professional, “I'm just curious.”

“Oh,” Kyoya seemed a little disorientated now, frowning but looking quite surprised still, “well it’s good, we did a 1800s america theme in the club so we saved money reusing those little hair extensions, although mine was a little too long so I had to get a new one.”

“Oh yes, I believed you mentioned the whole dressing up thing,” Yoshio did not agree with the idea of dressing up to attract such people, he thought it sounded incredibly improper, "I assume you had, uh… fun?"

"Well I don't really find the cosplay part of it fun, I prefer to sit quietly with some tea and work on the finances or some homework," there he is, that's Yoshio's son for you, ever the studious one. "Unfortunately," oh, Kyoya wasn't done, "I couldn't get much done, as Tamaki had taken it upon himself to behave strangely today," the boy let out a laboured sigh, clearly tired of Souh's antics, Yoshio almost regretted the deal he'd made with Yuzuru before he even told Kyoya.

"Strangely? How so?"

He seemed a lot more relaxed now, Yoshio was surprised by how Kyoya seemed a bit more willing to talk then when they began, "I'm not sure what's gotten into him today, but he was even more clingy and he wouldn't even let me eat lunch by myself, he usually leaves me to do that."

"You eat lunch by yourself?" Yuuichi finally spoke up, placing his newspaper down. Yoshio was surprised to hear him chime in, Yuuichi usually didn't interrupt things, though he saw that his heir's eyes were filled with concern, "do you always eat alone? If you have friends shouldn't you be spending lunchtimes with them?"

Kyoya paused, glancing down, "I spend a lot of time with them, I simply enjoy a little bit of a quiet rest. It's easier to enjoy my meal in some peace and quiet."

"It's not crime," Yoshio confirmed, "I mean, if the Souh boy is as annoying as is to be assumed, I can't blame you for wishing for some peace." He watched Yuuichi nod, sitting back down, then saw Kyoya frown in the corner of his eyes, he seemingly got angry but bit it back, presumably fighting the urge to defend the Souh boy. Yoshio was beginning to believe Yuzuru was right in his assumption, but there was one detail he had realised. "Did he have an excuse for this new behaviour?"

"No father, I didn't ask him."

"Hm," at least Tamaki knew when to keep his trap shut, he must have gotten that from Anne-sophie. "Alright then, I checked your grades this morning and you're still doing perfect, I couldn't find fault if I tried." Yoshio saw how Kyoya looked mildly surprised, he'd gotten an A- on an assignment and usually he'd be tough on that front, or at least bring it up, but Yuzuru had suggested care and leniency, so Yoshio was going to let that one go; everyone struggles at one subject anyway.

After dinner, Yoshio was straight on the phone to Souh, Yuzuru picked up instantly, just like he knew he would. "Good evening Ootori, is everything alright?" He seemed to be in quite the chipper mood, he wouldn't be for long.

Walking through the halls with his phone in hand, Yoshio let his tone drop to a drawl- not quite a growl, "Yuzuru…" that idiot, Yoshio had half a mine to cut him down where he stood. Instead, he took a deep breath and continued towards his office.

"Oh! Oh ok, something's definitely wrong. What's got you in such a mood?"

"Did you tell your son?"

"Huh? Tell Tamaki… oh, about the arrangement? Of course I did, why?"

Ugh, what a moron. How this guy got to be the head of a company, Yoshio had no clue. "He's been acting differently towards Kyoya, who doesn't know yet. What kind of a moron do-!"

"Why didn't you tell him?"

What? Yuzuru's question cut through Yoshio's thoughts and left him hanging there, why hadn't he told Kyoya? He supposed he didn't want his son to worry about having to behave differently, or maybe it was because he technically wasn't supposed to know of Kyoya's persuasion? Yoshio wasn't sure.

"I don't know, Yuzuru. I believe I should wait a little first, but if you insist on telling your boy, I suppose I must tell mine, I just-"

"Oh! A game!"

"A game? What?" Yoshio was annoyed by Yuzuru interrupting him, to suggest a game? What kind of a childish bastard was this man?

"Tamaki can try and romance Kyoya without the arrangement hanging over their heads! Well Tamaki will know but he is absolutely ecstatic about marrying his best friend! So it will seem to Kyoya that it's perfectly natural!"

"Are you suggesting we encourage your heir toy with my son's emotions?" He was nothing if not a protective father, Yoshio was, and if this was truly what Yuzuru intended, then he could not and would not allow it

"No, no! Not what I meant! I mean, Kyoya is a hesitant kid when it comes to emotions, Tamaki can help ease him into the idea before we drop the bombshell. Making it a game is just a plus!" Yuzuru was, certainly a strange man, Yoshio had known him for quite a while but failed to understand a word that left the old codger's mouth.

"I…" he sighed, standing still for just a moment, "a week, I'll give him a week."

"Huh?"

"Your son has a week, I'm giving him the opportunity to win over Kyoya of his own accord before I tell him of the arrangement," he spoke clearly and concisely, leaving no room for doubt.

"Tamaki can do that easily!"

"The only rules are that it must stay innocent and that he is not allowed to tell Kyoya about the arrangement himself. Understood?" Yoshio ignored the previous comment from Yuzuru, disliking how the man had implied Kyoya to be 'easy' as it were.

"Understood," Yuzuru confirmed, sounding pleased still, "is that all you wanted to talk about?"

"Hm, I believe so. Unless you wish to bet on how easily my son will yield?"

Yuzuru just laughed at that, "you are a harp Yoshio! You should try cracking jokes more often, you're good at it!" He seemed rather cheerful, and Yoshio would almost think it contagious, "I'll have to pass on the waivers, I still need to convince my mother that this is good for business."

Oh that woman, there wasn't a woman more hated than Shizue in all of the upper crust. Yoshio scoffed at the mere thought of her, "good luck there Souh, if you need; I have plenty of dirt on her."

"I'll pass on blackmailing my mother for now as well, au revoir Yoshio."

With that, Souh ended the call, leaving Yoshio in silence. He sighed and continued on his way towards his office, he couldn’t believe he’d just agreed to something like that, he usually wouldn’t. He supposed this might be good, to indulge in revelry? Was that not what Yuzuru had encouraged? Yoshio began to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t rely on only one person for this kind of advice. He shook the thought from his mind and continued on to his office.

When he arrived at his office door, however, Yuuichi was standing there, waiting for him. "Father?" He glanced at Yoshio, standing up from where he'd been leaning against the wall, "can I ask you a question?"

"Hm," Yoshio frowned, unlocking the door to his office, "what is it?" He knew that tone in Yuuichi's voice, this question would not be about business. Walking into the office, Yoshio didn't glance back at his son as the young man spoke again.

"Why have you been behaving so gently towards Kyoya as of late?"

Hm, Yoshio paused, not glancing back. He knew he'd been a terrible father, but to hear that Yuuichi considered merely asking about Kyoya's day as being soft, he must have been worse than he thought. "Yuuichi, there's nothing wrong with inquiring about my son's day, it's not gentle to care about my son."

"You never did that before."

Yoshio froze.

His son, his darling, eldest boy, his heir, his pride and joy, he thought Yoshio didn't care… it was enough to break the old man’s heart. Yoshio closed his eyes, forcing years of emotional repression to do its job, he can’t cry, not in front of his heir. He straightened his back, letting out a small sigh, “Yuuichi, are you jealous of your brother?”

“Pardon?”

He turned to look at him, the sadness on Yuuichi’s face was clear under the attempt to stay stoic, Yoshio had never paid that much attention to his children's emotions but he knew that Yuuichi was hurting. "You're jealous I'm trying to show care towards Kyoya, aren't you? I understand, you're allowed to feel like that. I failed to be a father to you, I'm trying to actually behave like a father now." He sat down, "is there anything you think I should have done for you? I'm willing to give you what you deserve."

Yuuichi visibly paused, he clearly hadn't been expecting such honesty and openness from Yoshio. The man himself sat there silently, waiting for his son's response. The usually strong and resilient heir genuinely teared up at those words, "father…"

"I'm not going to be very good at it," Yoshio made sure to warn him, recognising his lack of emotional intelligence. Yuuichi didn't seem to care, wiping his eyes.

"Father… if you're really willing to care about us… then would you like to come and play golf with me next week?" Ah, Yuuichi, Yoshio really adored his kid, he nodded, a tired smile on his face.

"Of course I will, that sounds like a good day." He watched Yuuichi's expression, that smile was a rare one; the kind he made whenever Yoshio verbally expressed pride in him. Yoshio wondered if he'd get smiles like that one from all his children once he gets better at the whole parenting thing… he hoped so.

Pouring himself a glass of whiskey, he watched his son leave the room. He opened his laptop and got to work, just some basic, mindless admin work, he had a lot of people to do all the hard work for him. So all he really had to do was check everything he was sent and provide feedback when needed,

He sat down to get some work done, he didn’t really have that much to do as he had people to do most of the work for him, all Yoshio really had to do was answer a few emails and review information. It was easy work really, there was very little for him to do that day, so he decided to ‘lighten up a little’ as Yuzuru had put it, pouring himself some tea and putting a vinyl on the gramophone- he remembered learning how to dance to this song, he’d learnt in middle school, he was told his future wife needed him to be cultured. He’d always found that amusing, it was always other people telling him what she wanted, she never told him any of this herself. Yoshio wondered if that had been the same for Fiyumi's husband, he had made demands for her after all… that might have just been a parental thing.

Speaking of making demands of your child's betrothed; Yoshio had completely abandoned his work, instead he was typing up a list of demands Tamaki had to meet. He wasn't going to ask for the club to be disbanded, (he saw how well it had ended for Eclair) but he still wanted Tamaki to lower the amount of girls he was seeing just a little. He also asked that Tamaki work harder to please Shizue, Yoshio wanted his future son-in-law to have a guaranteed career and he would be willing to speak to Shizue herself if need be. There were certain subjects that Tamaki needed to work harder at, but mostly Yoshio just wanted to ensure that his son would be well loved by this boy- he didn't trust the Souh heir but he might if the child put in a little effort.

A few hours afterwards, once he'd finished his work and emailed the list of demands to the Souh boy, Yoshio began to head down towards his room. It had been a long day and he was tired, so he was planning to get some sleep earlier than usual- it was only midnight after all.

The corridors of the mansion were quiet at this time of night, and it sent shivers down Yoshio’s spine. He could swear he saw a shadow In the corner of his eyes, but continued on his way up the stairs to the third floor.

When he reached the landing, he saw a silhouette, stepping forward, he realised it was just Kyoya… why was Kyoya up so late? He appeared to be holding a cup of coffee, and Yoshio had half a mind to fire whatever maid gave it to him. Kyoya looked so tired, clutching the cup of coffee in one hand and a piece of paper in the other, he was staring out the window and he looked like he was questioning life. Yoshio couldn't blame him.

He slowly stepped forward, trying to get a better view of Kyoya's expression. "Kyoya? What are you doing awake?"

Kyoya glanced at him, looking surprised, "father? Oh, good morning…"

"It's not morning Kyoya…"

"Oh, I thought…"

Yoshio sighed, massaging his temples, "why are you out of bed?"

"I haven't gone to bed yet today actually…" Kyoya confessed, hanging his head in shame. Yoshio sighed, this evening had contained too much parenting for his liking.

Putting a hand on Kyoya's shoulder, Yoshio did his best to sound gentle, "is there something on your mind?" He was really uneasy with this, he hated showing emotions but Kyoya was clearly bothered by something.

Kyoya was hesitant, clearly not used to Yoshio giving him this kind of attention, "I…" he looked startled and confused, his little, half-asleep brain trying to figure out whether or not this was a trap. Yoshio supposed that was his fault for training his kids to never let their guard down. Kyoya did just that after a few seconds, sighing and glancing down at the paper in his hand, "father… do you want to read this?"

Yoshio nodded, taking the paper and looking at it. For all he read it, he couldn't understand what the fuck it was talking about, it was in Japanese, yes, but it was still complete poetic nonsense. He couldn't make heads nor tails of it, it was just a bunch of metaphors on metaphors and just, just so much prose. Yoshio was 60% sure this was supposed to be romantic but he was absolutely terrible at this sort of thing, what he was sure of, however, was that the Souh boy definitely wrote this, the sudden french phrases in the middle of Japanese sentences was rather telling.

He hands the paper back to Kyoya, "so Souh gave this to you? Did he say anything?"

"No, but he's been acting strange all day."

Nodding slowly, Yoshio glanced out the window, "do you like him, Kyoya?"

"What..?" The shake in Kyoya's voice broke Yoshio's heart, the fear in his tone a reminder of how distant Yoshio had been. "Well… I…" a defeated sigh left his youngest son's lips, and Kyoya hung his head, not meeting Yoshio's eyes, "yes."

"Alright then," Yoshio offered a smile, "tell him so. Those Souh's thrive on attention, give him what he craves." Kyoya looked up at him in surprise, but Yoshio simply shrugged, "as long as you don't put yourself beneath him then I don't see any issue. Now go to bed."

"I…" Kyoya was still so shocked, staring at him with his mouth agape for just a second before nodding, "yes father." He hurried off down the corridor towards his room.

"Goodnight Kyoya," Yoshio sighed, putting his hands in his pockets and shambling towards his own room. He wondered if it was the being gay or the liking Tamaki that Kyoya thought he wouldn't approve of, both of those thoughts made Yoshio uneasy. He'd scared his child into fearing his opinions that much, he's definitely been doing something wrong, he has to fix that.

[maggotzombie]

LIEBE LIESE: ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴠɪ - 𝒰𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒

→ CHAPTERS LIST — CHAPTER V: BOYFRIEND MATERIAL WORD COUNT: 3,8k TW: Alcohol, swearing, so much fluff. A/N: GUYS! I’M FINALLY BACK! Posting a new chapter of this fic makes it official. I’m so happy I’m able to update it, you have no idea. Also, so many great plots came into my mind while I was in this forced hiatus. Things will spice up hehehe Okay, now I’ll let you guys read it! :D HEADS UP: Dialogue between “[  ]” is in German.

“SO… THE girl,” Nik starts casually as if he wants nothing.

Oh, yeah... Very smooth, Niki. Very smooth.

He and Simon share a glance when Henry does not reply, eyes fixed on the TV.

“Henry,” Nik calls.

“Yeah?” He replies without prying his eyes off the flat screen, mildly paying attention to his brother.

“The girl,” His brother repeats.

“Hm,” Henry hums, sipping on his bear. “Who?”

“The one you’re seeing,” Simon quips in.

Now they have the actor’s full attention, but he plays it off by keeping his gaze on the TV.

“Woman,” He says, licking his lips. Giving the fact that he has actually dated girls, he feels the need to point it out. “She’s a woman,” He explains.

His brothers share another knowing look.

“So, you’re seeing someone,” Nik remarks with a grin.

Henry hasn’t said anything about Liese to any of his brothers yet. He mentioned, briefly, that he was taking someone out for dinner but that was it. And now interrogation starts, as it seems.

“What’s her name again?” Simon asks.

“I’ve never said her name,” The actor muses, finally looking over at his brothers.

Their interrogation confidence falters slightly as the tactic fails.

“Does she have white hair?” Charlotte inquires all of the sudden, coming from outside.

The man frowns, looking at her. “Yes,” He confirms. “How do you know?”

Charlie calmly reaches down on the back of his shirt. The long white hair strand is a stark contrast to the black fabric and she picks it up gently, bringing it to Henry’s eyesight. Just then he realizes that is the shirt he borrowed her after they’ve met (aka the night he ripped her dress open).

“She has a nice perfume, too,” The woman adds, getting a water bottle from the fridge and walking back out of the door.

With the most confusing expression, Henry pulls the collar up to his nose and sniffs it. Surely enough, there’s a whiff of Liese’s perfume on the fabric – giving the fact that she washed and kept the shirt with her clothes before giving it back to him. Nevertheless, it’s impressive that Charlie could pick that at all.

“How the heck did she smell that?” Henry asks, confused.

Nik and Simon shrug, both of them also impressed by Charlie’s heightened sense. “What’s her name, Henry?” His older brother now asks, joining the conversation.

“Liese,” He replies without any mystery.

“That doesn’t sound British?” Piers says.

“Yeah, her family is German,” The actor explains.

“Oh,” Nik smirks suggestively at Simon and Henry rolls his eyes.

Some cheers come from the TV but it’s long forgotten by now.

“And how old is this woman of yours?” Simon teases and the actor gives him a look, meaning he doesn’t appreciate the joke.

“She’s not mine,” He clarifies. “And, I don’t know…” Henry frowns and nips on his bottom lip thoughtfully. “But she’s a doctor. So, I’m guessing about my age.”

Eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A doctor, huh?” Nik muses.

“Yup. Pediatrician and A&E doctor,” The actor nods.

“She’s a woman, after all,” Simon grants, making a face.

“Are you sure she’s real?” Nik plays along.

Henry flips them off, something he rarely does, which makes all three of them laugh in amusement.

“Seriously,” Nik starts as he stops laughing.

“She is real,” The actor emphasizes.

“Right, Hollywood star,” He shakes his head. “Do you have any photos of her? We need visual confirmation,” Nik says.

A grin spreads on his lips. “I do, actually,” He says, fishing his phone from his pocket. “Just a few, though.”

Simon snatches the phone from his hands and Nik and Piers gather around him to look at it. They quickly locate the woman in a figure-hugging red dress with a generous cleavage amongst random photos and videos of Kal.

“This is her?” Nik looks back at Henry, not believing his eyes. “Wow.”

“Damn, she’s gorgeous,” Simon says, sliding from a smiling photo to one which she gives Henry a much seductive look.

“Is that all of it?” Nik seems disappointed when Kal shows up at the screen again. “Didn’t even have the time to properly access her.”

Piers chuckles. “Knock it off, you two,” He says before looking at Henry. “She’s beautiful, brother.”

“Beautiful? She’s hotter than all of his exes!” Nik declares.

A scowl sets on his face as he takes his phone back. “What are you boys up to?” Kiri comes into the house with the other spouses following behind.

“Still picking on poor Henry?” Charlie inquires.

“The woman he’s dating is amazing,” Nik says to the women, making a gesture to imply Liese’s boobs.

“Oooh,” Victoria says excitedly before Henry could correct his brother. “Show us the photos.”

Once again, a crowd gathers around Henry’s phone to gawk at Liese. And not only the wives, but also his brothers to take a second look at the doctor.

“Only these?” Kiri scoffs after looking at the four photos. “Are you kidding me, Henry?”

“Right?” Nik nods at his sister-in-law.

“I only took her out once, okay? And I didn’t want to spend the entire date on my phone!” The actor tries to defend himself.

“Is she nice?” Charlie asks.

The silly smile is on his face before he can stop it. “Yeah, she’s pretty amazing,” He nods.

“How do you spell ‘Liese’?” Simon asks with furrowed brows while Kiri, Niki, and Vicky look over his shoulders.

Henry’s smile faints. “What are you doing?” He asks suspiciously.

“Trying to find her Instagram,” Nik replies.

“It shouldn’t be hard with her name,” Vicky chimes in, and Kiri nods.

“I don’t know about that,” Henry narrows his eyes. “There’s a lot of people on Instagram…”

“Found it,” Simon interrupts him. “She’s ‘Liese Hartmann’ with an ‘e’ and double ‘n’, right?” He asks just to confirm but the woman in the profile picture is definitely her.

Nik chuckles slightly. “Totally German.”

“What?” The actor frowns, moving to look at his brother’s phone as well. Sure enough, it’s Liese’s profile. “Yeah, that’s her.”

With the confirmation, Simon clicks on her profile and the group of nine adults all gather around the phone screen that has become way too small. There was nothing too revealing nor pretentious – not even a bikini photo sipping on a glass of champagne in a boat. It’s actually the other way around.

There are a lot of children; both from the association and her nieces and nephews. The doctor is either wearing her scrubs or casual clothes, surrounded by said kids, friends, and family. There are a few selfies then and there and some pets. Overall, just what Henry expected to see from knowing her, even if very little.

“She’s thirty-three,” Simon says, tapping on a photo.

Liese has a birthday hat on and she’s holding a cake, blowing the number thirty-three candle on it. Henry knows it was taken in the association given the background, the kids surrounding the doctor once again, and her scrubs.

“That was last year,” Kiri points out the date.

“Well,” His brother shrugs. “I’ll take it.”

“And she’s really pretty,” Vicky remarks.

“Works a lot, though,” Nik says.

Henry shakes his head. “Alright. Are you done?” He asks them.

“She seems good with kids,” Charlie says but her comment doesn’t have the teasing tone like the others.

“Yeah. Are any of these hers?” Vicky looks back at Henry.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, most of them are her patients.”

“Even the blonde ones?” Simon asks. “Some of them look a lot like her. Like this little girl,” He shows a photo.

“They’re her nieces and nephews,” Henry replies with a sigh.

“Are you sure?”

“Have you met any of them yet?”

The questions are asked at the same time and the actor frowns, glaring at them.

“Alright. Enough of this,” He shakes his head, taking the last swing of his beer.

“You’re leaving?” Nik asks with a cheeky grin and his wife nudges him to stop.

“Yeah, I have some things to do,” He says, taking Kal’s lead. “Kal!” Henry calls.

“No, Henry, don’t go! I promise they’ll stop,” Charlie says, nudging his brother again to act like a grownup but Nik’s smirk is set to annoy.

“Yes, they’re done,” Piers’ smile turns into a stern look directed towards his brothers and wives, including his own.

“Thanks, sis,” The actor kisses her cheek. “But I do need to go,” He says.

Kal comes into the house trotting with the kids following behind. “Uncle Henry is leaving?” Grace asks with unruly hair for running after the dogs.

“Yeah, he’s gonna see his girlfriend,” Simon replies, picking his daughter up in his arms.

Oh, how badly Henry wants to punch him right now. But the smack he gets from Victoria is satisfying. It looks like she’s okay teasing Henry around the adults, but not in front of the kids.

“Uncle Henry has a girlfriend?” Willian asks with a weird expression.

“Lucy?” Thomas adds, beside his brother.

“NO,” The actor emphasizes quite quickly. “I don’t have a girlfriend,” He says, latching Kal’s lead into his collar. “Uncle Simon is joking.”

“What’s a girlfriend?” Harry asks, frowning in confusion as he looks at his father.

“It’s when…” Thomas starts to explain but Henry cuts him off.

“Nothing you should worry about, mate,” He says, grabbing the boy’s head and leaving a kiss on top of it. “Now give Kal and Uncle Henry a hug because we’re leaving.”

-

After working in the morning, Liese tries to relax and take a nap. But she’s too tired and with a head full to just lay in bed to wait for sleep to come.

Instead, she tries to chill out by studying. Unconventional, but what’s new to the silver-haired doctor.

Just as she’s reviewing her notes from a paper about a study on leukemia treatment, her phone starts to ring. She reaches out to the coffee table and retrieves the device.

A smile tugs on her lips at Henry’s name on the screen.

“Hey,” She smiles at him, answering the FaceTime call.

“Hello, gorgeous,” The actor greets her with his handsome smile. “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” He tilts his head adorably.

“Only for reading when my eyes decide they had enough,” The woman chuckles.

“What are you up to?” Henry asks, biting his bottom lip slightly.

“Studying a bit,” She replies and she can tell she just crushed his plans.

“Oh,” He utters.

Liese chuckles slightly. “Why?”

“Nothing,” The man shakes his head quickly. “Kal and I were just wondering if you wanted to go to the dog park with us. But you’re busy, so it’s okay.”

She laughs with mirth. “Well, tell Kal I’ll be honored to go to the dog park with him,” She says.

Henry’s smile returns to his face. “But what about your studies?” He frowns.

“It’s not like I have a test or something like that,” The woman replies, abandoning the paper on the coffee table. “I’m a doctor, love. I’ll always have to study something,” She explains.

“Okay,” He says hesitantly. “I just don’t want to get in your way.”

“You won’t,” Liese guarantees, walking towards her room. “Can I sleepover?”

“You don’t have to ask. I’ll pick you up in a few,” Henry replies.

She frowns. “Nonsense. The dog park is your neighborhood. I won’t let you drive all the way down to Brixton just to pick me up.”

“But I want to! I don’t like making you take the Tube every time you come to see me,” The man tries.

“You don’t make me, I chose to,” Liese explains. “But I’ll take an Uber if that’ll bring you peace.”

He makes a face. “It doesn’t. It actually makes me more uneasy. Just let me pick you up, please? I swear it’s nothing…” He insists.

“[No! Stop insisting! I might cave if you continue to do this adorable pout,]” The woman replies in German unconsciously.

Henry’s response is a delicious laugh. “Okay, okay,” He says. “I think I might have pissed you off right now but I hope you didn’t just cuss me.”

She chuckles, realizing the switch of the languages. “You didn’t piss me off and I didn’t cuss you,” She clarifies. “But I’ll hang up to get ready because I think Kal might get upset if I make him wait too much.”

“Oh, yes. We don’t want that,” He shakes his head and glances over Kal. “Actually, he’s already too excited. Look.”

The man turns the phone to the dog so they can see each other. A big smile takes over Liese’s face as she sees the large bear sitting expectantly in front of his owner.

“Hey, Kal! How are you doing buddy?” Liese asks and his tail starts wagging immediately at the sound of her voice. “Do you wanna go to the park?”

The well-known question makes the dog stand up in all fours and bark on the phone. Then he tries to sniff and lick the device which makes the woman laugh.

“Alright, buddy. I’ll be right there,” She says to Kal and then Henry turns the phone back to him.

“Wait! I have to ask one little thing,” He says.

Liese nods, biting her lip in concentration. “Shoot.”

“Can I go and pick you up?” A smirk grows on his lips slowly and a laugh reverberates through his chest as she rolls her eyes and ends the call without answering him.

-

“I’m just around the corner,” The woman says immediately after picking up the call.

“So, you’ll be at the door when I get there?” Henry asks.

“Probably,” She replies.

“Okay, then,” He says. “I’m walking towards the door.”

Liese chuckles in amusement as the Uber driver stops in front of Henry’s mews house. She mouths a ‘thank you’ through the rear-view mirror and steps out of the car. When the actor opens the front door, the phone glued to his ear, he makes good use of his quick reflexes to grab the giggly woman jumping to his arms.

His hands keep a strong grip on her things and he chuckles at the pleasant “surprise”. With her arms around his neck, the woman kisses his neck softly before untangling herself from him to give some attention to Kal, who’s barking like crazy. As usual, she greets the excited dog in German without sparing compliments.

Henry closes the front door and puts his phone down, looking back at the gorgeous woman peppering his dog’s face with kisses.

“I had an idea!” Liese says, straighten up to her feet. “How about we make a picnic?” She suggests excitedly.

“A picnic?” He frowns. “Baby, it’s cold outside,” He points out.

Then he realizes: while he’s wearing a T-shirt and warm sweatpants, the doctor is wearing a tank top and shorts.

“Aren’t you cold?” The man asks.

“No, I’m fine,” She shrugs off. “But I guess you’re right,” Liese nods, sounding very disappointed.

“You’re so German,” He says, shaking his head and walking towards her. “If you want to, we can have a picnic.”

Her face lights up in excitement. “Really?” She asks, looking up at him.

“Really,” Henry nods again, smiling at her.

He laughs with mirth when she, once again, jumps to his arms. “[You’re the best,]” She says in German but the actor has a good idea of what it means. “What do you have here?”

Liese moves away from him to check his kitchen, but he grabs her arm before she can go any further. “Hold on,” He says.

The woman looks back at him and he pulls her back. He reaches out to her face and seals their lips together. A small giggle escapes Liese’s mouth when she opens it to let Henry’s tongue get into it. She feels warm and tingly from the kiss and she glues her body to Henry’s, fitting perfectly to his strong and tall build.

“Hey, you,” She says quietly against his lips when they break the kiss.

“This is a proper hello,” Henry pecks her lips.

“I like it,” The woman agrees, clasping her arms around his neck and pulling for another kiss.

The second kiss doesn’t last long as Kal jumps on them, whining. Liese laughs, looking down at the bear. The man groans slightly before looking at Kal too.

“You’re supposed to help me out, pal,” He says.

“He is,” The woman says. “Why do you think I came all the way here from Brixton?” She teases.

“Oh, yeah? You can sleep with him today,” Henry squeezes her waist.

“I will. He sleeps in your bed, anyway,” She winks at him.

“Fuck, that’s right,” He laughs and Liese steals another kiss from him, but Kal paws them. “Alright, buddy.”

Liese orders the man to go get ready while she prepares something for their picnic. She organizes everything she can find into plastic containers and Henry finds a bag to put the food into and a thick blanket. An overly excited Kal gets into his leash and they finally walk out of the house.

The actor doesn’t let Liese carry the bag, so she walks with Kal.

"Did you go to work today?” The man asks casually.

“Yeah, but just for a little bit. One of my kids isn’t doing great, I went to check on him,” Liese replies.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” He sends her a sympathetic look. “Is everything going to be okay?”

She sighs and Kal looks at her worryingly, picking up the shift in her humor. “I don’t know,” The doctor shakes her head. “This disease is really hard to figure out. The immune system can start functioning again or... I don’t know,” She shakes her head again. “How about you? How was your morning?” Liese changes the subject, smiling at him.

Henry doesn’t press on the subject, instead, he smiles as well. “It was good, I had lunch at Nik’s.”

“This sounds nice,” She says, smiling wider. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, I was having a good time until they started teasing me,” He shrugs off.

“Oh?” Liese looks at him, puzzled.

“Yeah,” Henry scratches his beard in thought. “They’re asking me about you and they’ve found your Instagram profile which I haven’t even seen before,” The man says.

“Really?” She grins at him. “What did they say of me?”

Henry smiles. “I believe the words used were ‘gorgeous” and ‘hot’.”

The woman frowns. “Which photo did they see to call me hot?”

“I may have shown a few from our date?” He replies with a face.

Liese’s eyes widen. “With that dress?” He nods. “Oh my God, Henry! No! They must think I’m such a pretentious posh!” She says, mortified.

He laughs. “Look at you! Speaking British!” He teases.

The woman whines and tries to push him, but Henry doesn’t budge an inch. “I’m serious!”

“You’re great, love. They don’t think that of you,” The man reassures her.

“How do you know that?” She asks with a pout.

Fuck. That’s so adorable. She’s so adorable. I’m so falling for her, Henry thinks.

“They’ve stalked your Instagram,” He starts. “They’re probably doing it again. You’re not posh at all. You’re thoughtful, you care for your patients, and you’re lovely,” The man places an arm around her shoulders, bringing her close.

Liese smiles, looking up at him lovingly. “And gorgeous and hot?” She raises an eyebrow jokingly.

“Well, that’s obvious,” He says.

The woman laughs and leaves a kiss in the corner of his jaw, which gives Henry goosebumps.

At the dog park, they set up their picnic blanket under a tree and Liese leaves the man there to play with Kal. The overly excited dog forgets his size and ends up knocking the doctor on her ass.

Henry quickly gets up, worried about her. “Kal!” He calls with a stern voice. “Are you okay?” He asks, reaching out a hand for Liese.

She giggles in response. “Yeah. I’m okay,” She takes his hand and the actor quickly pulls her up.

With a frown, he looks at his dog. “That wasn’t nice, Kal,” He chides.

“Ah, don’t scold him,” The woman says, dusting off her backside. “He’s just too excited and forgot his size,” She defends the dog, petting his head fondly. “Right, buddy?”

“You’re going to spoil my dog, aren’t you?” Henry asks, watching Kal trots beside her as she walks towards their picnic blanket.

“I’m most definitely will,” Liese nods, sitting down and looking up at him. “Wow, what a sight from down here,” She immediately says.

The actor chuckles and shakes his head, taking a seat by her side.

“Say,” She starts. “What would happen if I were to kiss the famous Superman actor, Henry Cavill, right now?” She teases.

His mouth waters and his pupils dilate immediately. “Guess we’re going to find out,” He says.

Biting her lip, Liese gets closer to him and places a hand on his cheek fondly. The kiss is short and sweet, after all, he’s in the public eye and, although the park is empty, you’ll never know if a paparazzi is lurking around.

The woman keeps her promise to spoil Kal as she gives him all the belly rubs he wants. Henry is mortified when the bear, not so kindly, pushes him away from Liese and takes his place. She simply laughs it off and kisses his pout.

After an hour or so in the park, they decide to head home. The doctor finally feels the tiredness catching up to her but she refuses to yawn while Henry excitedly tells her about a match he's gonna watch at his favorite pub next Friday with some friends.

“So, I was thinking,” Henry starts not even fifteen minutes after they got back to his place. “I know it’s too soon, but we could go out for dinner,” He suggests. “It doesn’t have to be in a fancy place, though,” Henry adds, walking from the kitchen to his living room, where Liese is. “What do you think?”

He stops talking at the sight of the sleeping beauty snuggling with Kal on the sofa.

“I guess we’re gonna order in, then,” The man whispers, grabbing the overthrown blanket on the backrest of the sofa and covering her. “You’re supposed to help me get the girl, not steal her from me, mate,” He says, patting Kal’s head.

-

HENRY CAVILL GETS COZY AND PACKS ON PDA WITH A HOT STRANGER

The 34-year-old Superman actor was seen out and about this afternoon with a mysterious white-haired woman and his dog. The couple shared a hug and a few kisses on a lovely picnic at the park.

While we do not have more information on the lucky lady, we know our beloved British Superman is back on the dating scene. Back in February, Cavill ended his relationship with stuntwoman Lucy Cork after almost a year together.

Check out the photos from the romantic picnic here.

* * *

— CHAPTER VII: BADDEST BITCH

[woopboopboop]

green is not only the colour of leaf

A/N: another florist harry content for the quarantine time! thank you for all the lovely responses on my previous post. hope you’ll like this one too. happy reading and for those who are celebrating, ramadhan mubarak! :D

TW: strong language, slight mention of death.

[florist!h went on a date and Y/N is mildly protective]

It's been months since Harry’s first visit to Y/N’s parents’ grave. For the following visits, at times, he will join her if he finds that the flower shop is barren from customers but not without asking her first. For her, his company is rather nice, a complete contrast to her usual silent walk to the graveyard.

It was quite awkward to have him during their first visit together since after knowing him for years, that is the first time ever he got to meet her parents. Not to mention that he is meeting with the representation of her parents: two marble headstones, instead of actual human beings. Not really an ideal way of introducing your parents to someone.

But after couple more visits, having Harry tagging along during the visit is a part of the routine. It becomes something that she is familiar with, very contrary to the newfound feelings that she has for him. That is something that she is not familiar with. Yet.

Their time together has been fine until the feelings becomes somewhat a knot and the butterflies start to flutter in her stomach. In the beginning, she blames it on the shop. Harry’s flower shop is tucked at the corner lot without any tall buildings surrounding it and has big glass windows covering majority of the shop which allows the sunlight to permeate from almost every corner of the shop.

The interior seems to be almost always bathed in natural glow of sunlight, creating a welcoming ambience. Thus, anywhere he is in the shop, she watches how the sunlight falls over his skin and highlights parts of his face in a pretty shimmer. With his laughs, soft curls, stupid jokes and accent, it’s hard to stop the knot from unravelling defiantly. The only thing that she can do is to slow it down. Maybe at this point, she needs to stop blaming the shop.

“So, how’s our plan tonight?” she asks the lads with the attempt to distract herself from her thoughts. In the shop, Harry is recutting flowers stems on the work table and Niall is rearranging some new arrivals in the cooler.

“I’m still up for it but Harry won’t be joining us.” She hears Niall says followed by the sound of the cooler being closed. She is about to go back on her phone when she heard the last part and the butterflies in her stomach seems to be flying low by then.

They were planning on having a movie night at Harry’s place later that night. She is excited because she got to finally spend some times with her friends and it is also a much needed escape from writing. Plus, it’s her turn to pick the movie that they are going to watch and she had chosen a horror story just to mess with both of them, especially Harry since he doesn’t like watching anything scary.

So, to hear that he is not going to be with them is a bummer. She thought that everyone’s schedule is clear? The last time she checked, everyone has agreed on spending the night together and that is why she is giving Niall a quizzical look but he doesn’t notice the look on her face because he is walking towards Harry.

Her eyes follow his movements from the cooler until he stands besides Harry. And when he starts to put one arm around the curly headed lad’s shoulders, she is getting more confused. “Wai – what?”

“Yeah. Apparently, someone has a date tonight,” Niall says in a sing song tone of voice as he pulls Harry close. On Harry’s face, there is a small smile forming. In her stomach, the butterflies seem to stop moving all together. A date?

The information somehow triggers a tinge of bitterness to appear in her mouth and tighten her chest. Shaking it off, she tries her best to play it cool. “Oh? Is that so, Eroda boy?” She can only hope that the nickname that she usually uses when teasing him and the wriggling of her eyebrows mask what she is feeling inside. Looking at it, there is no way that she is jealous. Nonsense.

There’s an accompanying blush on his cheeks now as he nods his head and scratches his ear.

“You… you didn’t tell me?” she asks playfully but the frown that appears on her face is deceiving. She didn’t mean to sound demanding but she kind of feel left out on the news. From across the room, Harry reads her face and this is the first time that they locked eyes since the beginning of the conversation.

There is something a bit off about her tone he noticed. The way she looks around the shop also shows that she is purposefully avoiding his gaze. But he thinks that there is nothing better than telling her the truth right then and there. “Um… It’s sort of a last minute date. Sorry that I didn’t tell both of you sooner.”

He is stuttering through his words a bit, looking back and forth between Y/N and Niall. She is not sure if it’s because he feels bad about not telling her sooner or because he is already nervous thinking about the date. Not wanting to make him feel bad for something that is not even a big deal, she waves him off with a grin. “Nah, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

She then exhales loudly, looking down at her hands which makes Harry and Niall turns to her simultaneously.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asks with a very concern look on his face.

“Nothing,” she shrugs then shifts her gaze to both of them, “It’s just that I’ve planned on scaring the shit out of you guys with the new horror movie. Guess, it’s just Niall tonight then?”

“Oh, hell no! No no no. I’m going to be picking up what we’re gonna watch tonight,” he protests, sliding off his arm from Harry’s shoulders and crossing both arms in front of his chest. Harry lets out a loud laugh at his sudden outburst and Y/N tries to stifle her own laughter by biting inside of her cheek.

She still taste the bitterness at the back of her mouth and decides that it is wise to shift her thoughts. When their laughter subsides, she immediately asks Niall, “Are we still going to go to Harry’s?”  

“Can we still go to yours?” Niall turns to ask Harry. It’s not like they live too far apart but Niall does have a good reason when he says that Harry’s place is better. The last time they went to Niall’s, the three of them ended up cramped in front of his laptop and the worst part is that he had no speaker so they ended up reading subtitles instead of watching the movie. And she doesn’t suggest her own place either since she hasn’t cleaned up her place just yet to let people come and hang around.

“Yeah, of course,” Harry answers his question with a shrug before Niall walks off to answer the ringing phone on the counter. Harry then looks at Y/N with pleading eyes and pursing lips, “Um… I also need your help with something.”

Despite his large frame, tattooed body (which is intimidating), he can be such a softie at times and the look on his face makes the butterflies in her flutter once more. “Anything for you, darling,” she says, exaggerating the pet name which in returns make him blush even more.

As soon as the bitter taste in her mouth reappears, she quickly swallows it. Even though she knows well that some of the Harry’s words are going to fall on her deaf ears and her mouth might taste bitter for the third or fourth times that day, she still asks, “So… who is this lucky lady that get to date this handsome friend of mine?”

//

“Just so you know,” Niall says, hands reaching out to the popcorn bowl on the coffee table and continues, “m’not sharing.” The popcorn bowl now sits well on his lap and one of his arms is holding onto the bowl.

Y/N scoffs and rolls her eyes seeing him hogging the bowl of popcorn to himself but she doesn’t do it with spite because that’s just how he is. Niall is always quite generous with other things, but not food. “Since when do you ever share, Niall? Hmm?” she jokes which earns her a kick on the side of the couch that she is sitting on.

They started the movie night a bit late after spending the first one hour helping Harry on what to wear on his date. If she is to be honest, he doesn’t really need any fashion advice since he is better than her when it comes to picking out outfit either for everyday look or for special occasions.

But he insisted on her help because to quote him, “It’s different, Y/N! At least you can tell me straight away what a girl like to see on a guy during first date!” to which she replied, “A good personality is enough, H. And I’m pretty sure you got that covered.” He had been pacing in front of her for a good minute and she was positive if he didn’t stop any sooner, there’s going to be a hole in the living room rug.

As if he knew that she wanted him to stop pacing, he stopped for a moment in front of her and without warning engulfed her in a big hug. But of course, after he said thank you, he was still worried on what to wear which left her no choice but to comply to his request.

“Which one do you think is okay?” he asked Y/N who was preparing their movie night snacks in the kitchen with Niall. He was standing under the archway that separates the living room and the kitchen holding two outfits in the air. On one hand, he had a dark blue velvet single-breasted jacket with black dress pants and on the other hand, he had brown double-breasted suit.

“The brown one looks nice,” she commented before continuing to rummage the cabinet for popcorn box.

“Yeah. Gotta agree with her,” Niall chimed in after eyeing at the brown suit.

With that, Harry skipped to his room bringing along the outfits and a cheerful smile on his face. While he gets changed, both of them settled themselves in front of the television in the living room.

“What movie do you wanna watch?”

She flips through the list of movies on screen, deciding to let Niall pick what they are going to watch that night. Since Harry is not there with them, she doesn’t find the idea of watching horror movie just to see them get scared is entertaining anymore. She could have a good laugh looking at Niall’s scared faces or listening to him scream after a jump scare alone but the thought is not as appealing.

Truth is, she keeps on drifting back to the thought of Harry having a date that night. He is indeed going to walk out that door looking dapper as hell and have a nice dinner with a girl (who she doesn’t remember anything about despite him telling her earlier that day except for her name which is Kate). Of course he is going to be a total gentleman too, that’s just how he is. She doesn’t know why she cares so much. It’s not something of her concern anyways.

Her wondering is then stopped by Niall’s suggestion to watch Step Brothers.

Half an hour into the movie, she is having a good laugh while Niall guffaws at almost everything that is happening on the screen and she can now understand why this is the twelfth time he watches the movie. It’s plain dumb humour but it certainly is delivered well.

“Guys?” Harry’s voice distracts them from the ongoing movie. Both of them turns to see him adorning the brown double-breasted suit completed with a blue button down shirt underneath a purple sweater since the weather is cold. He also has a pair of loafers on and two rings on his fingers; a rose and a cigar band ring. “What do you think?”

“Looking good, Harold!” Niall compliments him before sinking back to the armchair where he is sitting. His focus is now back on the television and the popcorn on his lap.

“You really do look good though. Clean up well,” she says with a smile, resting her chin on the top part of the couch cushion, looking at him. Well, admiring him to be honest but she is quick enough to not let any feelings simmer inside of her by glancing back to the movie on screen.

“Thanks!” The proud smile on his face is evident and she feels happy for him but at the same time, the bitterness starts to creep in again. “Well, I’m leaving,” he informs while walking to the front door and grabbing the essentials before leaving. “Don’t set my house on fire!” he says before the door is closed.

Y/N plops back on the couch, taking all the spaces, head resting on the armrest. Her eyes follow the characters movements on the screen but she is not really paying any attention as soon as Harry left the flat. The sounds of Niall’s laughter and the movie are drowned by the question that she has in her head.

“Niall?” she calls out and he lets out a short hum.

She rolls her head to the side and eyeing him carefully. “Do you know who the girl is? Kate?” she finally asks.

“I mean, a bit, yeah. She’s working at one of the boutiques near our shop.” His eyes are still fixated to the screen.

“How do they know each other?” she questions further as the curiosity gets the best of her.

“We send flowers to their boutiques. Sometimes they help with their clients’ wedding orders so they come to our shop. Guess they bond through that,” he shrugs, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

She nods her head, listening and also thinking the possibility of Harry sharing his random flower fun facts with Kate while they are eating their dinner like how he always shares them with her. She grimaces at the thought. She is pretty sure that the girl is nice but Y/N is not ready to share that special thing with other people.

“Why’d you ask?” He shifts his gaze from the screen to her and hearing that, she turns her head away from him to look at the television.

“Nothing. Just curious,” she says, hiding away her flustered expression with a shrug.

“Are you jealous?” There a teasing tone in his voice and that is never a good sign.

She sputters. “M’not jealous.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Excuse me, Horan?” she quirks her eyebrow at him. “If anything, I’m just mildly protective.” She mentally facepalm herself, regretting her words. Maybe she shouldn’t have said the last part but it’s too late to take it back since Niall is having a good time teasing her.

“I’m just mildly protective,” he repeats with a mocking tone while snickering.

“Oh, fuck off, would you?” She rolls her eyes which sends Niall into a bursting laughter.

//

She stirs from her sleep when she heard the front door opening and closing. The movie has long finished and when she looks next to her, Niall is out cold on the armchair. She doesn’t even remember falling asleep.

“Hey. I thought you guys had left,” Harry greets her with a low voice. He makes his way to the couch with blazer folded in his arms.

Making a space for him to sit down on the couch, she sits up, tucking her knees close to her chest and head resting on the top cushion. “Hi. Nope. Seems like we’re going to crash here tonight.”

He nods his head. They sit next to each other in silence before Harry sighs, back resting against the couch as he lolls his head next to hers, eyes staring to the front. It’s not like they have never been close before. But there’s something about their foreheads almost touching, his tired green eyes and musky scent of his cologne that makes the knot in her unravel a tad bit fast.

“How’s the date going?” she asks, turning her head slightly to face him.

He blinks slowly before tilting his head to meet her eyes, “T’was… good.” Despite the positive denotation of the words, his uncertainty penetrates through his voice.

Her eyebrows knit together thinking what could possibly go wrong during the date? Y/N feels bad knowing that his date is not working out but not completely though and she knows that it is wrong to do so. She studies his face before asking, “Something’s wrong?”

His fingers rakes through his curls and he sighs once again. “Dunno. Maybe it’s my fault?” It must’ve been bugging him since he is looking down at his fingers, twisting and turning the two rings. A habit that shows he has a lot in his mind.

“What d’you mean?” At this point, she is very confused of what had happened that makes him overthinks but after listening to his story, she couldn’t help but giggle. Apparently, Kate drew a line when it comes to too much flower talk during first date.

Hearing her giggling, he turns to her, pulling a face with bottom lips jutting a bit. “That’s not nice.”

“Sorry, H. But you’re such a dork when it comes to flowers,” she coos before giggling even more. Niall stirs a little maybe because of her not so soft giggling and so does the bowl of unfinished popcorn on his lap. Not wanting to risk the unfinished popcorn to spill, she lowers her voice and covers her mouth to stop herself from making any more noises. 

Still pouting, Harry tries to defend himself. “Hey, I don’t know what to talk about okay? M’nervous,” he mumbles, looking away.

Y/N lifts her head and turn her body to him slightly so that her side lies on the back of the couch. She then reaches out to cup his face in her hands. She couldn’t help but smile at his childish behaviour. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry for laughing at you.”

This time, he is still wearing the same expression, but she recognises the playful glint in his eyes when they meet hers. “You’re just milking it at this point, H,” she says, squeezing his face before letting her hands fell into her lap.

He shakes his head, smiling with dimple full on display. He stares at the ceiling, his smile flattering when he speaks again, “I really thought that it’s going to work. She’s a very nice girl.”

She doesn’t know what pain her when he said that. Is it the fact that he really make an effort to get this girl and fail or that it is not her. “I bet she is. But maybe the next date you’re on it’ll be better?” She offers to soothe whatever doubt he has in his head.

“Perhaps.” He yawns, sinking further into the couch while clutching his blazer closer to his chest.  

She returns to her original position; sitting back on the couch, head lolling on the top cushion, she is gradually drifting away.

Harry’s voice suddenly makes its way to her ears causing her to flutter her sleepy eyes open only to see him staring at the ceiling. “Remember when you say I look good earlier?”

She snorts thinking how on brand it is for him to ask random things when she thought that he has gone to sleep. “Yeah?”

There’s a long pause and she thinks that he is probably just sleep talking.

Feeling her eyes are getting heavy with sleep, she’s about to close her eyes when he starts to open his mouth to speak again. “Let’s make a deal. If I’m not married by 36 and so do you, let’s marry each other.” He deadpans, looking at her face intently.

And she swears her brain and heart and every other organ in her body stops working. All the sleep in her eyes just now vanished into thin air and she is left speechless. It takes her few moments to come back to her senses. He couldn’t be serious. It must be his sleepy brain she tells herself but she answers him nonetheless.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Alright, then. Cause I definitely would,” he says giving her a soft smile before closing his eyes.

If there’s anyone who is sleeping tonight, it would be Harry. And also, Niall. She’s not sure about herself though because she is pretty sure the “deal” that they agreed on just now are going to keep her awake for quite a while.

[writings-of-dumpy]

Thank God it’s Friday

A/N: OOOFFFF It’s been a long time. I’m very sorry, my life has been hectic this past year what with graduating and needing to pass my board exam (which I did!) and finding a big girl job (which I also did). So now here’s this pile of garbage that gave me the heebeejeebees, so fair warning. Wouldn’t recommend reading alone at night ...

Summary: Stiles’ first case in the FBI is much more than he bargained for, based on Friday the 13th with inspiration from “Thank God it’s Friday” by Ice Nine Kills., TW: horror, blood, violence

“Stilinski! You ready for a doozy of a case?” Stiles heard his boss, Agent Harold, say from his office door almost as soon as Stiles sat down.

Stiles smiled excitedly, despite it being nearly 7am. “A case for me already?”

“You’re lucky because it’s in your hometown, Beacon Hills. Last guy we sent down there got nothing out of those people, but I figure if we send a former local, it’ll go much better,” Harold said.

Stiles’ face fell. It had been almost five years since he had set foot in Beacon Hills. After he managed a system to handle the full moon by himself even without an anchor, he pursued his FBI dreams. And now, he had to go back as a part of fulfilling that dream.

“What’s the case?” Stiles asked. Harold handed him a thick manila folder. Stiles opened it to find various statements and a request from his father on top, followed by gruesome pictures of barely recognizable bodies and blood spattering on wooden cabin walls.

“A summer camp massacre happened last Friday. About 8 teenagers dead… I don’t know why the PD called us, but it looks like it’s a bit much for a small-town department. Think you can handle it?” Harold said.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, I’ll head down there as soon as possible.”

Harold left with a nod of approval, and Stiles immediately called his father.

“Hello there, son,” Noah said cheerfully into the phone with a knowing tone.

“Don’t ‘hello there, son’ me, dad. You knew I’d get put on this case, didn’t you?” Stiles accused with a smirk.

“Well, I had hoped….” Noah said and Stiles could tell he was smiling with pride.

“Alright, so… why did you call the FBI?” Stiles asked and opened a blank document and readied himself to write down whatever his dad said.

“Well, like I said, I had a hunch you’d be called to it. And there’s stuff that other agents wouldn’t understand if you get my drift,” Noah spoke lowly. Stiles’ stomach dropped and he took a deep breath.

“I’ll be down there soon…” Stiles said and nodded. Stiles racked his brain about a thousand times while packing, thinking about what he had encountered that could have made such a scene. He knew Scott was away at vet school completing his final clinical placements, so Stiles doubted it was any sort of werewolf, otherwise Scott would be the one on the phone. Stiles did his best to relax once he started driving from his LA headquarters, but the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was enough to make the hour long ride nerve-wracking..

When Stiles arrived at the hotel in Beacon Hills, a sense of foreboding overcame him. He wasn’t sure if he was simply picking up on the aura of the town or if the blood-soaked images rattled him more than he thought, but either way, he just wanted it to go away. He exited his driver’s seat and grabbed his luggage, then took a deep breath. He was a bit of a nervous wreck, what with this being his first solo case and the possibility of supernatural interference, but he did his best to focus on what needed to be done. He got settled into his hotel room and texted his dad that he was on his way to the sheriff’s station. It was mid-afternoon, so he had hoped the station wouldn’t be too swamped with people who wanted to catch up with him.

“So… what happened?” Stiles asked after he and his father shared a cheerful greeting and they settled in the sheriff’s office. Noah bit his lip and raised his brows for a moment with his head tilted toward the manila folder sitting on his desk.

“Well, the camp is about to open for the season, so the counselors were spending the night like they always do. The night before they were going to let campers in, all 8 of them were killed in the middle of the night. Now here’s the weird part—all campers accounted for and nobody is seen going in or out of the campgrounds before or at the time of the murders on the security footage. There was no sign of any sort of confrontation between the campers, either,” Noah explained as he handed Stiles the file folder with more photos of the crime scene. Stiles grimaced and tried to examine the photos for any signs of supernatural creatures.

“Is there a way that the footage is doctored?” Stiles asked after a moment of consideration.

“It’s an old-school film recorder. I had to scrape off about 40 years of dust just to look at it,” Noah responded with a shake of his head.

“DNA?”

“Campers only.”

“Fingerprints?”

“None.”

“Murder weapon?”

“Unidentified.”

Stiles nodded. After a sigh and a knowing look shared with his father, he said, “Looks like it’s time to talk to Deaton.”

Stiles and Noah drove to the animal clinic the next morning. When they arrived, Stiles couldn’t help but smirk to himself and thanked his father for opening the door for him. He smiled at the memories he had in this clinic, both good and bad. It felt odd to be here without Scott, but he didn’t want to alert his best friend before necessary. He was pretty sure something supernatural was happening, but he needed to rule it out first before he could move on.

They were greeted by a woman dressed in purple scrubs who Stiles noticed was wearing a stethoscope and had a pouch on her hip full of tools.

“Hi, how can I help you?” she asked with a smile.

“We were wondering if Deaton was around? We have a few questions…” Noah said. Stiles nodded and smiled politely at her. She nodded.

“He’s working on notes right now, but I can ask him for you, Sheriff Stilinski,” she said and got up from her chair.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Noah said with a smile.

Stiles quirked a brow at his dad. “You come here often?”

“Well, Liam doesn’t always want to, so I step in. I feel bad for the kid, he’s scared of doctors,” Noah mused. Stiles smirked and shook his head at how little things had changed in the three years since he had been to beacon hills.

“Both Stilinskis… This must be important,” Deaton said as he walked out from the back and motioned for them to follow him to the treatment area that Stiles was all too familiar with. He smiled and waved at the woman who reclaimed her seat behind the front desk. She smiled and waved back politely.

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now about the Beacon Hills Camp killings,” Noah began after they were out of earshot.

Deaton nodded. “Yeah, I don’t live under a rock…”

“We were hoping you could help us… Something to me says… it’s off. In a supernatural-y way…” Stiles explained. “There’s nobody on the camera going in or out, and all the bodies are accounted for.”

Deaton furrowed his brows. “So you have no suspects?”

“None. Not even a footprint,” Noah informed. “What kind of killer leaves NOTHING behind?”

“Either a very meticulous one, or one that isn’t human… I read that the medical examiner concluded the cause of death to be hemorrhagic trauma? Do you have pictures I can see?” Deaton asked.

Stiles responded and reluctantly handed the folder to him, “They’re grotesque to say the least…”

Deaton’s face fell and Stiles could almost see the blood drain from his face as he looked through the graphics. With a sour look, he returned the photos and Stiles tucked them away.

“The cuts are too clean to be any sort of local animal or werewolf… It looks more like a sharp and large knife. Whoever or whatever did that was very clearly not meticulous in any way… I think you’re right, Stiles. There is something supernatural happening…” Deaton concluded.

Noah and Stiles shared a worried look and Stiles felt his heart drop.

“Do you have any suggestions at all?” Stiles hoped.

Deaton’s lips moved to one side of his face, then his eyes darted between the two men, then the floor, and then landed on the door behind them.

“My technician is a psychic medium. I can see if she’ll help you,” he said to them with a shrug.

“You mean like a banshee?” Noah asked.

“Not quite… Banshees have the ability to detect and predict death… Y/N can, well... speak to the dead. She’s done wonders for those in this down who have lost someone suddenly,” Deaton explained. “She can see what happened I guess.”

Stiles was mildly impressed and pleased. If there was someone who could see deaths, then this would be a cakewalk to crack. Stiles and Noah nodded hopefully and Deaton called in the woman who greeted them. She looked slightly nervous and Stiles smiled slightly to himself in amusement. He knew going into the FBI would elicit a bit of nervous energy from everyone he come across in the field, but if only they knew he used to be just like them…

“How can I help…?” she asked feebly.

“Well, the FBI is looking for any help we can get regarding these murders…” Stiles began. “Deaton here tells us you have a gift for finding out what happened to the dead.”

She smiled slightly and nodded. “Well… I didn’t think the FBI would be interested in sanctioning hocus pocus, but I’d like to help in any way I can.”

Stiles nodded. “Well, this part of the investigation, for legal purposes, is to remain off the record. What I’d like from you is something that could maybe give me a hint as to who is doing these horrible things, and how to find them.”

She nodded. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

“Excellent. My name is Agent Stilinski, what’s your name?” Stiles began and held his hand out for her to shake.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you,” she said and shook his hand.

The three of them piled into the sheriff’s vehicle and drove to the camp. Stiles could tell Y/N was becoming more uncomfortable the closer they got to the campsite, so he looked back to ask her more about her power.

“So, you, uh… see what happened to dead people?” he asked.

“Well, it depends,” Y/N said with a shrug.

“Oh.. um, on what?” Stiles continued.

“Well if they know they’re dead, I can just… talk to them. If they don’t, things get… a bit more complicated,” Y/N explained. “It’s hard to explain exactly because every soul is different and responds to things changing differently. Sometimes they see me and respond to me, sometimes they just wander and I can’t make out exactly what’s being said or if it’s to me… Sorry, I feel like I’m rambling, does that make any sense?”

Stiles chuckled slightly, “I think I got the gist of it, thank you.”

Noah pulled through the gates of the camp and parked as close as he could to the crime scene tape. “So uh.. do we need a Ouija board or..?”

Stiles shot him a shocked and disapproving look.

Y/N let out a single-breathed laugh. “No, this should be fine… I might need to get closer, but I’ll tell you what I see or who I speak to.”

Stiles nodded and took out a pen and paper as the three of them got out of the car. There was a sudden shift in Y/N’s energy that Stiles noticed and he watched her closely as she looked around. She stepped under the caution tape with them and her hands clasped together. Her eyes seemed to follow something from the cabin to the lake and her expression slowly changed from curious to distraught.

“Were there any children that were here..?” she asked with a slightly broken voice.

“No, just teenagers aged 16-17…” Stiles said to her. He wondered what she saw to prompt such a question.

She slowly walked up to the cabin marked ’13’, which was where the bodies were discovered, as Stiles had recalled reading in the reports. He was impressed, he hadn’t told her where the crime took place and the caution tape was around the general campsite, not any one cabin.

“Something horrible has happened here…” Y/N spoke in a broken and soft voice. Stiles’ brows furrowed and he followed behind her as she walked into the cabin slowly. He elected not to answer her because he wasn’t sure she meant for anyone to even hear her remarks. A chill settled over the three of them as they walked into the cabin, and the sunlight seemed not as bright in the dingy and freshly cleaned cabin. Stiles would have been happy to have stayed in this cabin as a teenager had he not seen what was in it before the crime scene cleaners were called.

“What happened to you…?” she asked into the room with a tear-laden voice. Stiles noticed her eyes focus a few inches above her next to a bed Stiles recognized to be where one of the victims was found.  

Stiles’ heart ached for her upon hearing the emotion she spilled out. He took a glance at his father, who had his eyes trained on her with worry. The two of them, as law enforcement, were taught to be skeptical of those claiming to have psychic or medium powers, but the Stilinskis knew better. While Stiles had never seen anything quite like Y/N’s powers, he was sure they were real. If werewolves and banshees and kitsunes were, how far-fetched could a psychic medium be?

“A man in a mask... He appeared out of nowhere? And went into the lake…” Y/N said as if she was confirming the information with an unseen person as a part of a conversation. A chill went up Stiles’ spine as he realized that she was communicating with a spirit. He wrote down what information he could get from her seemingly one-sided conversation.  

“Oh no… No, no!” Y/N suddenly cried out. Stiles watched as Y/N quickly began to become hysteric. She screamed and reached her arms out towards nothing, and fell to her knees with tears running down her face like a fountain. Alarmed, Stiles and Noah rushed to her side.

“Shit-! Y/N, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Stiles said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders to make her look at him. Y/N’s face was red and blotchy as she cried out in despair, and Stiles worked purely on instinct at this point. He pulled her close to his chest and the two of them rocked back and forth gently. Suddenly, Y/N became limp in his arms. Stiles pulled away to look at her and saw that she had fainted. He felt her breathing against his chest, so he knew she was alive.

“Come on, let’s get her back to the car,” Noah said and ran ahead of Stiles to start it up. Stiles could barely lift Y/N off the floor before her eyes popped open.

“Agent Stilinski?!” she asked in a hoarse voice.

“Um... call me Stiles… Are you okay? You scared the hell out of me,” Stiles said as he helped her to her feet. His adrenaline was pumping and he helped her stand properly.

“I need to get out of here,” she said in a desperate tone. Stiles nodded and grabbed what he had dropped from the floor and the pair headed toward the car.

~*~

“So… a man in a hockey mask and a jumpsuit came into the cabin while the door was locked and butchered 8 teenagers, then went back.. into the lake?” Stiles repeated what Y/N had just said to him.

She shrugged. “That’s what I saw… I was only able to speak to Alice for a moment or two before…”

“What exactly happened that made you.. well..” Noah asked with a gesture from behind his desk at the station they had all regrouped at.

“You don’t want to know,” Y/N said in a serious tone.

Stiles looked concerned. “You said you saw what happened? Meaning..?”

Y/N shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes… when things are horrific enough, there is a permanent loop for the souls and those unlucky enough to see it… The events that happened play over and over until the spirits somehow break free or otherwise find peace or are banished to move on… So, I saw the events of that night. And that is what caused… well, you saw.”

Stiles frowned and his heart sank for her. “I’m so sorry. If I had known that would’ve happened, I never would have asked for your help.”

“I just hope it wasn’t for nothing,” she said with a small smile.

Stiles smiled back, “Well at least I know to check the lake and look for a guy with a hockey… Hang on…”

Noah and Y/N looked up at Stiles as he stood up and trailed off his sentence. He turned to Y/N and continued, “You only see the dead, right? Then how come you could see the killer…?”

Y/N’s face fell. “You’re right… Whoever did this… is dead. And was dead at the time that they did it…”

“That doesn’t make any sense, how could a dead person kill 10 people?” Noah asked.

“No idea… maybe Deaton has a book or something? I’ve never encountered that before,” Stiles said to himself, mostly.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m sure Deaton has something to help given he deals in magic and supernatural nearly constantly,” Y/N commented.

Stiles looked at her with a blank stare, then spoke. “How do you know that?”

“She’s not an idiot, Stiles. Liam wolfed out right in front of her one time,” Noah commented. Stiles’ eyes grew wide.

“That kid is going to get us all killed one day,” Stiles said with a shake of his head.

Y/N smiled and let out a small laugh. “Well, it wasn’t all that surprising. Once you start seeing ghosts of werewolves, nothing really surprises you anymore.”

Stiles looked at her and gave her a warm and knowing smile. “I suppose you’re right.”

~*~

Stiles and Noah wanted to ask her more questions the following day, and Stiles made a specific effort to make sure Y/N was comfortable with that. She was, of course, and agreed to help them in any way she could. After the horrific events Y/N had witnessed, she was invested in the case. She saw the large ghost of the killer in the hockey mask and the merciless slaughter of all 8 teenagers, including Alice. She spent the entire night researching the history of the town for any pictures or signs that could point her in a helpful direction. She wanted to help the poor souls stuck in the cabin, and she wanted to help Stiles. While she was looking into the history of the campsite specifically, she came upon an article that piqued her interest, which led to may more articles like it. She quickly printed it out and hoped that Stiles would find it helpful.

When she entered the Sheriff’s station, she was greeted by Stiles’ concerned and serious face in Noah’s office.

“We weren’t supposed to meet for another hour, Y/N… Are you okay?” he asked in a low tone.

“Oh.. Right, well, I was doing some research and I found this. There was a boy in 1980 that drowned in the lake, but everything about the case has been redacted from public record except for his name. The picture… I saw that boy yesterday right before I saw Alice. I might be reaching, but I think there’s a connection,” Y/N explained.

Stiles’ brows furrowed as he examined the article printout. He glanced up at her and then handed the printout to his father.

“Do you remember this case, dad?” Stiles asked.

Noah sighed. “I do, but only vaguely. I was a teenager at the time, so I don’t know about the details, just that the boy’s mother was distraught… I’m not sure how this connects to our murder case, though. Kids drown in that lake all the time.”

“Well there’s a lot to unpack there, but for now, that’s exactly my point. At least once a year a child drowns in the lake on a specific day, the anniversary of this boy’s death in 1980. And once every seven years, there is a murder on the lake premises that happened exactly like this one,” Y/N explained as she pulled out article after article to prove her point. She hoped that they didn’t think she was crazy, or worse. Stiles looked over each of the articles handed to him with a careful gaze, and then shared them with his father. The pair shared a look, and Noah shrugged. Stiles then turned to Y/N, who was biting her lip in anticipation.

“So you’re saying that this boy’s death brought on a supernatural murder spree?” Stiles asked.

Y/N shrugged with furrowed brows. “I don’t know, but it’s something. Look at the date of his death, and then the days of each other drowning or slashing…”

“June 13th,” Noah commented.

“In 1980, that was a Friday,” Stiles added.

“And every seven years, on Friday the 13th, someone gets murdered,” Y/N concluded.

Noah looked at his calendar and shook his head with a scoff. “I’ll be damned. She’s right. Last Friday was the 13th.”

“I don’t see a name on any of these… Do you remember what the kid’s name was?” Stiles asked his dad.

Noah thought for a moment and then spoke up, “Jason… Jason Voorhees.”

~*~

Stiles was stunned. The amount of research and care Y/N put into finding this pattern must have taken her hours of dedication. He presumed that she had stayed up all night to find this pattern and decided to take great care when approaching the mother of the deceased child from so long ago. He and Noah knocked on the old wooden door and shared an uncomfortable look before a few moments passed and an older woman opened the door. She didn’t look quite as old as Stiles expected and assumed that she must have been a young mother.

“Hello? How can I help you?” she said once she had opened the door completely.

“Hello there, ma’am, I’m sorry to disturb you this afternoon. My name is Agent Stilinski and I’m with the FBI. This is my associate Sheriff Stilinski, as you may know. We were hoping to ask you a few questions in relation to a recent crime, would you be willing to help us?” Stiles said in a very professional tone.

The woman looked over Stiles’ credentials and opened up the screen door for them to enter. Once they entered the house, Stiles took note of any oddities he could find and he was sure his father was doing the same. The woman directed them to sit at her kitchen table and she took a seat across from them. Stiles pulled out a pad of paper and a pen, and approached the situation as compassionately as he could. This was his first time questioning a witness basically by himself, and he wanted to do it perfectly.

“Now, Mrs. Voorhees, we understand that there was an unfortunate incident involving you and the camp by Beacon Hills lake a number of years ago… Would you be able to tell us about that?” Stiles began.

The woman took a breath and gave a knowing nod. “The death of my dear son Jason… I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of him. Yes, I believe it was the summer of 1980, by boy was only 9 and he had always had a hard time swimming, but when I signed him up for that camp, they were sure that he’d come out a better swimmer and would always be supervised. Who knew that teenagers could be so irresponsible! They told me that he ran off by himself into the lake and nobody knew where he went until the two counselors who were coming back from their break saw his body floating in the lake…”

Stiles wrote down a synopsis in bullet points and gave her a compassionate look. “This must be very painful for you, I’m so sorry for your loss. The reason I’m asking you today is because last Friday there were eight teenagers murdered in their cabin. Did you hear bout that?”

The woman looked shocked, but Stiles saw glint of recognition in her eye. He had a hunch that she did know about it, but wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“I knew nothing of that… Sounds horrible, those poor dears… I must not have read the paper that day.. You don’t think I had anything to do with it, do you??” the woman said and began to express a form of panic that Stiles had seen a few times, but only by people or creatures who were trying to deceive him.

He played it off, “No ma’am, we just wanted to get a full history of every incident that’s happened at the camp. Is there anything else you can tell us about that day?”

She let out a sigh of relief and thought for a moment. “Not that I can recall.”

Stiles closed his notebook and handed her his business card. “Well, if you think of anything, don’t hesitate to call. Thank you for your time, and I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The Stilinskis exited the house and loaded back into the sheriff’s car.

“That old lady is full of it,” Stiles commented once they began driving.

“She knew something and she wasn’t telling us… I think we need a search warrant,” Noah said with a shake of his head.

“How are we going to do that? No reasonable judge is going to grant that to you without some serious evidence,” Stiles added, exasperated.

There was a long pause where Stiles thought through every option he could. Then, Noah spoke up.

“If she’s willing, we can Y/N back there and she can tell us what she sees. Maybe Jason possessed his mom or something, but it seems like we need to get more to this story,” he said. Stiles’ eyes went wide and he looked at his father.

“After what happened to her the last time? Absolutely not. I cannot let her go through that again,” he said definitively and protectively.

Noah cracked a small smile and suggested, “We should at least give her the option. I know she’s invested in this case and I’m sure she wants to do whatever she can to help.”

Stiles thought for a moment and he wasn’t sure if it was his urge to want to see Y/N again or his lack of better judgement, but he agreed and the pair drove to the animal clinic.

“I’ll absolutely do that. Anything I can do to help is something I’m willing to do,” Y/N said when the idea was posed to her.

“Okay great. You and Stiles can go tonight and search for clues, work your magic, and find a ghost killer,” Noah said with a smile. Y/N laughed at his remark.

“Okay.. Um, I’ll meet you at the sheriff’s station at 7, then?” Stiles asked her.

She nodded. “I’ll be there with my Ouija board.”

Stiles’ eyes went wide and he saw her double over in laughter.

“I’m kidding!”

Stiles went back to his hotel and changed out of his suit and into a pair of joggers and a t-shirt to send in his report for the day. He had to carefully choose his words because not all of what he was doing was necessarily sanctioned by the government. If Pamela Voorhees was behind the killings (and he had a strong suspicion she was), he had to find tangible proof, not just ghost sightings from a local and very beautiful and talented medium. He submitted his barely-there report and hoped Agent Harold would be sated given the lack of physical evidence at this point in the investigation.

Once he was ready and the time came, Stiles packed his gun, badge, handcuffs, and a couple flashlights for this ghost excursion. Not very much bothered Stiles, but ghosts were quite terrifying. Ever since he had overcome his demonic possession, anything resembling a ghost gave him the heebeejeebees. He had to power through it, though. Images of the butchered teenagers flashed in his mind as a reminder to be brave and to get justice for them. He pulled up to the sheriff’s station and found that Y/N was already there and dressed in darker clothing as well.

“Hey! I brought snacks. I didn’t know how long we were going to be out, but I figured Cheez-its are always a good option,” Y/N offered him with a smile. “Are you ready?”

Stiles smiled at her offer and nodded. “You do this often?”

They piled into his car and she shrugged. “Not usually this official. I’ve never worked with a man in uniform before.”

Stiles chuckled slightly. “Well, I’m kind of out of uniform at this point, but I do have my gun and badge if anything were to happen.”

“Well still. I usually only do these sorts of things for people who are mourning and want closure from a sudden or unexplained death. I actually had Alice’s mother come up to me in the store today…” Y/N said somberly.

Stiles’ heart ached for her as he imagined the burden of a grieving mother desperately asking for help. “I.. can’t imagine… What did you say to her?”

“I lied. I told her her daughter was with her and resting peacefully,” Y/N said in a serious tone. “It’s not like I could say ‘yeah she’s trapped in a loop where she gets murdered over and over until her spirit can move on once justice is served, which might not be ever because it looks like she was killed by a ghost.’”

Stiles’ face fell. “I’m going to do my best to give them justice. I hope you know that.”

Y/N let out a breath and nodded. “I do. But I also know that this case is probably very frustrating and I’m sure everything we’ve found out so far you’ve kept off the record… While I’m hopeful and I believe in you, I know the reality of the situation.”

Stiles smiled slightly at her saying she believed in him as he pulled up to the caution tape in front of the camp where they had been yesterday. He shut his car off and the air immediately felt more chilled and ominous.

“Alright, let’s get to ghostbusting,” Y/N mused with a  sly smile.

“Oh god,” Stiles groaned.

They ventured into the cabin and Stiles could sense Y/N’s trepidation upon walking inside the cabin once more. Only illuminated by the flashlights they brought, the room looked much smaller than in the daylight, and the eeriness about the room was accentuated by the close-by lake’s fog. He saw her eyes move about the room and land on the bed farthest from them and she seemed to go into a trance-like state.

“He drowned in all our sins, he drowned in our mistakes… fueled by the flood we pay in blood the curse of the crystal lake…” Y/N said in a fashion that impressed to Stiles she was repeating after something. Her voice was hauntingly low and almost sounded like a song.

Y/N was seeing a campfire on the edge of the room. She saw the spirits of not only the eight teenagers she had seen before, but countless others gathered around the fire and chanting along to the beat. She couldn’t figure out why they were there, but her gut feeling told her to not join them. For some reason, she couldn’t look away.

She repeated the chant once more, and Stiles saw her eyes water. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, which she responded to by seeming to break out of her trance and looking up at him with a small and sad smile. She put her hand over his and Stiles took comfort in her warm touch when he suddenly heard a small whistling from outside the window.

“Ki, ki, ki, ma, ma, ma…” the whisper had said in a machine-made sounding  rhythmic whisper.

“What the fuck was that?!” he whisper-yelled. He looked out the nearby window and saw nothing but the light fog surrounding a few trees that his flashlight hit with its beam. He turned back to the middle of the cabin.

“Probably the ghost we’re trying to find,” Y/N surmised plainly. Stiles looked at her with a pleading expression and wide eyes.

“I hate everything about that sentence,” he said in a desperate tone.

“OH SHIT!” Y/N screamed and Stiles immediately grabbed his gun and pointed it towards the door where he saw an enormous figure blocking their path. It seemed to be human and wielded a comically sized machete in one hand and an equally large axe in the other. Covering its face was a hockey mask that had two red marks above the eyes that Stiles could only see blackness in.

Stiles stood in front of Y/N and pointed his gun at the figure. “Drop the weapons and put your hands above your head!”

“It’s a ghost, you can’t just shoot it,” Y/N said.

“I can’t let you get hurt,” Stiles responded lowly and addressed the non-compliant figure once more. “Put the weapons down slowly and place your hands on top of your head!”

The figure didn’t comply and instead it began to advance towards them. Stiles’ heart was pounding and he felt Y/N run to the front of the cabin once the large man had cleared the doorway enough for her to sneak by him. Before Stiles could get another word out, Y/N shouted once more.

“Jason Voorhees!” she said. The man turned and faced her and advanced quickly towards her. Stiles fired a shot into his chest from the back and the man didn’t even flinch. Stiles heard anguished screams come from Y/N and he had to think quickly.

“Fuck,” Stiles swore and ran at the figure who had given Y/N a few good whacks from the machete. They were exited from the cabin and Stiles thought to maybe run to the lake. He didn’t have too much experience with ghosts, but he figured it wasn’t going to hurt anything.

“Jason Voorhees!” Stiles commanded, and the figure’s attention was drawn to Stiles. He dropped his hold on Y/N and stood in front of Stiles within a few steps.

“Good, Jason! Kill for mommy!” Stiles heard a familiar woman’s voice say. He looked over and saw none other than Pamela Voorhees standing in the same stance Jason was but with empty hands where she mimed holding the weapons. “Kill him so we can keep getting our revenge on this wretched town!”

Just as he was about to do some serious damage to Stiles, Y/N’s voice rang out.  

“Jason Voorhees, you are not of this world, and I command you to leave! I cast you out of this realm and into the next!” Y/N screamed from behind the figure. Pamela’s gaze turned angry and both she and Jason turned toward her at the same time.

“No!” Pamela sneered. “How dare you?!”

Stiles noticed Y/N holding her side as she screamed with conviction at the attacker. “I cast you out!”

Without warning, the figure was gone from sight and only the machete and axe remained. Stiles saw Pamela lunge towards the dropped weapons and grab them, then run at Y/N screaming in anger. Stiles rushed the pair an managed to disarm Pamela and pin her to the ground. He pulled out his handcuffs and began to detain Pamela.

“Pamela Voorhees, you’re under arrest for the assault and attempted murder of Y/N Y/L/N,” Stiles said.

“He was my son and those counselors were off having sex instead of watching him!” she cried out as he handcuffed her and read her the Miranda rights. “They deserved it!”

“I suggest you use that first right before we consider that a full-blown murder confession,” Stiles said matter-of-factly.

Stiles looked over at Y/N and saw that she was stabilizing herself on a tree. She managed to sit down and was holing her side from what he could see through the darkness. Stiles sat Pamela by an opposite tree and pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

“What the hell happened?!” Noah said to Stiles as he ran out of his squad car once he and the ambulance arrived at the campsite.

“Officially, Y/N was taking a jog and got lost, then this lady came after her with an axe and machete from over there,” Stiles said to Noah. “So I arrested her. I trust you can handle her booking?”

Noah put his hands up and motioned for him to place her in the back of his car. Once the car door was shut, Stiles noticed that the ambulance had taken off with Y/N.

“Hey, before you go chasing after your sweetheart, I just want you to know this: I’m proud of you, son,” Noah said with a smile. Stiles smiled back and got into his car and raced to the hospital.

When stiles entered the hospital, he was greeted with a warm smile from Melissa, who happened to be at the front desk.

“Stiles! Hi, I didn’t know you were coming to visit!” she said with a cheery smile. Stiles smiled and gave her a quick embrace. She then noticed his attire, he assumed, and her face dropped. “What happened?”

“A woman named Y/N Y/L/N just got here, I believe?” Stiles asked with hope.

She nodded and went to look on the computer. “Yeah, they’re checking her in now. Looks like she’s still alert and responsive. Room 3.”

Stiles smiled and thanked her before rushing down the hall and pulling the curtain away from the front of Room 3.

“Stiles! You’re okay?” Y/N said. He noticed that a nurse was just finishing up a pressure bandage for the gash on Y/N’s side.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the room unless you are family or significant other,” the nurse said impatiently.

“He’s my boyfriend,” Y/N said to her. “Sorry..”

Stiles blushed and smiled to himself at her boldness. The nurse nodded and left the room and closed the curtain behind me.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Stiles said with a sly smile.

Y/N blushed a deep red that almost matched the blood stains on her hand. “I didn’t want you to leave.”

Stiles smiled and bit his lip. “Well, since I’m your boyfriend, I get to kiss you, right?”

Y/N smiled and let out a small laugh. “I’m pretty sweaty and gross right now, but sure. Pucker up, lover boy.”

Stiles moved closer to her and placed a hand on her cheek. “Oh so now I’m lover boy?”

“I suppose you are,” Y/N responded and the distance between their lips closed. Stiles wasn’t sure if his boldness was feeding from hers or the fact that his adrenaline was still pumping through him, but in this moment he just wanted her to be safe and happy. When he pulled away form her, they shared a small laugh.

“That was really nice,” Y/N said. Stiles nodded in agreement.

“We should do it more often. Not the ghost hunting, but the kissing part,” Stiles suggested.

After they had finished at the hospital and Y/N had gotten plenty of suture in her, Stiles drove back to the sheriff’s station and parked his car.

“How did you know..?” Stiles asked. Y/N gave him a puzzled look. “With Jason’s ghost… How did you know how to make him disappear?”

“Well, when I saw his mother basically controlling him, I guessed that she had summoned him, so I used my ability to speak to the dead to cast his spirit away. I’ve only done it a couple times, and I’m glad it worked,” Y/N said.

“You saved me. Thank you for that,” Stiles said and gripped her hands in his.

Y/N nodded and smiled and held his hands in hers. “You saved mine, too. Thank you. You brought so many souls peace tonight… You should feel good about that.”

He smiled and looked down at their hands. “I’m glad.” As the sun began to rise, Stiles smiled at Y/N and gave her a kiss on the cheek after she yawned. “Go get some sleep.”

“Will I get to see you again?” she asked in a serious tone. Stiles nodded immediately.

“I live about an hour away, so we won’t have to be too long distance,” he said to her. “And.. if you wanted… You could help me out on the next case. Say we meet up next Friday?”

Y/N smiled and laughed with a nod. “As long as it’s not the 13th.”

[findingtheperfectcharacter]

Hiding from the spotlight

Unsymp October 1!

Tw: Child abuse (physical manhanding a child and emotionally being terrible, and ignoring their wants, unsymp Patton, Symp everyone else, child!sides (the twins and Virgil are 10.), implied Loceit

@unsympathetic-october-2020

Logan hated these kinds of things. So many child fears in one room, he could see the way some of their bodies sat stiffly in their chairs. Or how others clung to their parents. The subtle shake in their voices as they practiced their lines. According to Keysers and Parrett 2004's study on monkeys, similar neurons are released when people do an action to when they see an action occurring. This explained why seeing those children in this state made his stomach twist into metaphorical knots.

He couldn't stand it and led the twins to a smaller out-of-the-way hallway.The 10-year-olds were practicing their dance for the car jingle with practiced ease. He could still remember the day when they first made that PowerPoint listing the reasons why they should be allowed to audition professionally and what could he say, one slide of, "it'll be fun" one of "It'll keep me from stealing" and 18 more slides of 'please, pretty please' and puppy dog faces... It was an extremely compelling.

"I don't want to be here." He heard a voice mutter. He turned and found a child in a black hoodie and a cloud shaped pin gripping the edge of his jeans. He was younger than his own boys, or at the very least smaller. His eyes flickered back and forth, anxiously looking around it seemed like he was trying to hide from something.

"Where's your guardian?" Logan asked, the child shook his head and clung to his leg, "Please no, please no, don't let him find me."

Logan was frankly bewildered by this situation and mildly uncomfortable with this child gripping onto his leg, but he couldn't help but have pity for him as he began to weep. He shook him off so he could kneel down and look into his black eyes.

"What's your name?" Logan asked.

The child sniffed and played with the strings of his hoodie, "Virgil."

Logan nodded, "Well Virgil, I have no legal authority to separate you from your guardian and frankly there are too many witnesses for me to do so and get away with it. A Far more reasonable thing for me to do at the moment is to talk to your guardian about the situation as an adult on your behalf."

Virgil's eyes widened, sparkling in the light, "You'd really do that for me?"

He nodded, he thought it wouldn't be too difficult to convince his guardian to let Virgil not do the audition. Virgil took his hand and led him to the bathrooms where a man with a baby blue polo was fretting. The man's face lit up and he hugged Virgil, picking him up and spinning him.

"Virgy! Oh dear why did you run away like that?" He turns to Logan, a brilliant smile on his face, "I'm so sorry for all of this trouble." Virgil's guardian tried to pet his short black curls but the child turned away, so he gripped his head with one hand and forced Virgil's head to his chest. "My name's Patton," he held out his hand. 

Logan didn't take it, "Your child, Virgil. He sharred with me the fact that he does not wish to be here. As a fellow parent, I suggest that you quit the auditions for the sake of his health. I would also suggest that you don't touch him unless he wishes to be touched."

Patton laughed, "Is this how you get all the parents to quit?" He kisses Virgil's cheek, "We're prepared for a little competition and we're totally going to wow those judges right sweetie." 

Virgil stayed quiet until Patton flicked him, "Virgey! Pay attention, what did poppa just say?"

"We're gonna wow the judges." His voice was barely audible. 

Patton booped his nose, "That's right you are you little star! Oh! That rhymes! Neat!" He turns his attention back to Logan, "Where are your kids anyway?" 

Logan cursed mentally, it was not typical of him to get caught up in these kinds of things- but he did. He ran down the hall to see Remus, seconds from hitting Roman on the shoulder with his toy morning star. 

"Remus." He said and the boy immediately dropped it. 

"HE STARTED IT!"

"WHAT?! No I didn't, you did with your giant oaf feet!"

"At least my feet taste good."

"What does that- what do you mean?!"

"Do you peanut butter toe soak?"

Logan rubbed his temple, as the boys continued to speak, "Court is now in session."

The twins huffed and sat down quietly. Logan pointed at Roman, "Roman, you have the stands."

And so the conversation went on with the children defending themselves and cross examining each other until a decision could be made. After the final verdict (Remus owed Roman an apology for enacting violence in this case as it was not self defense even if Roman's words were cruel and Roman promised not to insult him for 2 weeks as reparations for emotional damages.)

As soon as the argument ended Roman blurted out, "So who was that creepy kid you were talking to?"

Remus bumped him, "You're not supposed to call people creepy."

"But he was! He looked like a Vampire... Do you think that's why he was wearing that hood? Dad are you a vampire now?!"

"Can you imagine how cool it would be to have a bloodsucked as a dad?! Think he'd bite me, I wanna see how sharp those teeth are!" He made a biting motion in the air. 

Logan cleared his throat, "Actually boys, that kid's name is Virgil and I think he's in big trouble. The kind of trouble daddy fixes."

Roman grinned, "Ooooh solving crimes? Can we help?" 

Logan ruffled his hair, "Leave this one to me Princey, I think getting you two involved will only lead to more trouble."

..................

"I-IeeEe Virgil's voice came in as an offkey whine. The pianist looked at him with a smile, "Go on kid, take your time." Patton was in the audience and gave him a big thumbs up, "I" his eyes began welling up with tears.

Patton looked at Virgil than the judges and said, "May I talk with him, just for a second. It's his first audition and I think my kiddo just got a little stage fright." The one on the far left shrugged, Virgil whimpered when he grabbed his arm and dragged him offstage. 

"What is wrong with you? Do you like embarrassing me is that it? Do you like making me look like I can't handle my kid? This is two times today!" Virgil mouthed out a small I'm sorry. Patton laughed a louder, harsher sound than anything he did in public, "If you were sorry you wouldn't have done it. Stupid brat," he gripped Virgil's arm more tightly, "I'm giving you the world and all you want to do is whine and complain, whine and complain every goddamn second. 'I don't wanna do sports poppa, I don't wanna do art poppa. You're useless! And too old to be crying like this." Virgil's breath hitched in between sobs as Patton grabbed his shoulders, "Stop crying and do something!"

Logan burst into the hallway, a shining blue light in the darkness, Patton straightened his shirt, "Oh hi! It's you again, how did your kids do-"

"The feeling's far from mutual. I just felt the need to inform you that my husband is a lawyer for cases of child abuse and everything you just said and did was caught on camera." He showed Patton his iphone, to his utter horror, Logan couldn't help the beam on his face as he watched the man's eyes grow to the size of dinner plates. He pat his shoulder and gave a small nod to Virgil, who seemed equally awe-struck.

"I reccomend you contact your lawers as soon as you can."

And with that, Logan walked away, confident that soon Virgil would be safe. He looked down at his own kids and smiled at the thought of the quiet black haired boy finding a family of his own.

[priorireverte]

Congratulations Emily!

Your application for George Weasley has been accepted. I feel like George is often a character who gets overlooked, or reduced to ‘twin and prankster’. You have definitely not done that, adding so much more to him in a realistic way that a war would. I’m very excited to have him around!

Please look to the checklist for the next steps and reach out if you have any questions!

OUT OF CHARACTER

NAME & PRONOUNS: Emily, She/Her

TIMEZONE: EST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I am currently searching for a job, but that does leave me with some time on my hands for rping purposes! Trying to keep myself busy in a multitude of ways when the world is not helping y'know </3

ANYTHING ELSE: TW: rape, sexual assault

CHARACTER DETAILS

NAME: George Weasley

BIRTHDATE: April 1, 1978

DEATHDATE:  N/A

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY:  George identifies as a cis-man and uses he/him pronouns. He is fairly comfortable with these. George is hetero-romantic and asexual, although I would not say this is a term he understands or would use for himself. Whenever his friends would talk about their partners sexually, George would play along with the others, but definitely would look to change the subject as soon as humanly possible. It is simply not something he can comprehend about himself and he does best ignoring feelings that he may not yet understand. The only person he has ever even mildly revealed this to would be Fred, but George was not comfortable going into any major detail in regards to how he felt. At most it was an offhand comment here or there.

BLOOD STATUS: Pureblood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Gryffindor

OCCUPATION: Shop Owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes

FACECLAIM: I think I am going back and forth on this and I am also terrible at these—I believe I was debating between Caleb Landry Jones or Luke Newberry. But I think I finally decided to go with Caleb!

CHARACTER BACKGROUND

POSTBELLUM

They say there are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. They also say that time heals all wounds. George has found out that hard way that this is all a load of rubbish. What they don’t tell you about losing the most important person in your life is that you never fully stop grieving. You can’t heal. Because healing involves forgetting. A bouquet of flowers from his great aunt was nice, but it’s not going to make George forget and it’s not going to bring Fred back. And George has no idea how to keep plants alive, anyway.

It seems like most others have been able to move on; start families, or careers, but George can’t seem to get past it, and he forces himself to deal with his loss head on every day by working day in and day out at that store that haunts him. He sees Fred in everything; from the letterhead on his desk that still reads “Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, Proprieters Fred and George Weasley”; to the kids who come in and test the screaming yo-yo’s in front of him; or the mirror in the bathroom that is for employees only. He has buried himself in his work post the war, and quite literally expects to be buried in it.

While George will never fully get over the loss of his twin, he has since stopped having panic attacks in the bathroom and got a haircut, which he considers major progress. It has also helped that he has finally taken Ron up on his offer to help run the shop, which he realized he needed a long time ago, as the bills have piled up from all his discounts. [Happy to redact if Ron’s mun decides they don’t want to follow this plot!] He still snaps at his family more than he would like, but they know how suffocating they can be.

The news of the Returned may have been the happiest anyone had seen George in years. He cracked a joke and even went out of his way to visit his siblings, instead of making them come to him. To Hell with adjusting to his new life, he was ready. It seemed clear to him that those who died valiantly in the Battle of Hogwarts were returning—After all, if people like Professor Lupin and Lavender Brown were coming back, it was only a matter of time until Fred did too, right?

PERSONALITY: What are they good at? What do they struggle with? What are their strengths and weaknesses? 

Boys as loud as their hair, is what George heard Filch say about him and his brother once, and it lit up his face with a wide bright grin before he tapped Fred excitedly on the shoulder to share the good news. It was this unbridled optimism, this impractical belief that he could do anything that gave him the confidence and courage to follow his dreams. That, and having a partner by his side.

George was easy to get along with, because for most of his life his decisions had been made for him and all he had to do was saddle up and play along. Fred was always the one setting the wheels in motion, and George was grateful for that. He wasn’t shy by any means, but people just flocked to Fred, and by association George. They were known to light up any room they were in, and were always the first to enliven a crowd if it was too dreary for their liking. He liked having the same friends as his brother. He liked being a package deal. He knew Fred would always have his back so when he felt like he wanted to retreat, he knew Fred could carry a conversation or sort something in the shop without him.

Perhaps that’s why it’s been so hard for George to adjust to life on his own. Now all of that pressure falls on him and it feels overwhelming. He was never the business-savvy brother, leaving Fred to come up with price points while he worked on ideas for new products.

Now, it feels like half of himself is gone. Sometimes he feels like a body walking around and smiling because that’s what people are supposed to do, but the joy just isn’t there. The smiles are artificial now. He is trying, but few things can bring back that spark that his twin so easily transferred over to him.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY: What was being part of their family like? How did they grow up? What values did their parents/family instill in them?

His parents instilled in him and all his siblings a love and joy greater than most, and George was grateful for that. The Weasley’s weren’t well off by any means, but that only bubbled the creativity in the twins, especially when it came to ways to cure their boredom. He remembers fond birthdays he shared with Fred where they made their own cake scream or spent an entire afternoon perfecting exploding snaps in their bedroom, much to the dismay of their parents. The Burrow was unkempt and chaotic, but George loved it, squeaky floorboards and all.

He hasn’t been back in years, purposefully choosing to close himself off from that space. He knows his mother isn’t happy with his choice and that guilt eats him up inside, but that shrinking feeling in his heart is better than the burning feeling he would get of seeing his brother’s hand on that clock. Still, George loves his family endlessly, even if he hasn’t done a very good job of showing it these last couple of years.

HISTORY: What was their life before the end of the war in ‘98 or before their death? What was important and formative for them?

There was a time when George thought that the worst thing that could happen to him was having to de-gnome the garden after flying a car underage. Then there was a time he thought the worst thing that could happen to him was losing an ear. George and his siblings grew up in a loving, but shabby home. He loved his siblings and knew they loved him, even if he and his twin brother were always pranking them. They were carefree, and they had each other.

Fred was the one who first suggested the two go into business, and George was always the first to agree with his big brother. It felt like a dream, leaving the drudges of school behind and spending all day doing what he loved with the person he cared about most. They never fought. They had been a well-oiled machine since birth, so it only made sense that their business ran smoothly. The one knew where the others’ strengths and weaknesses lied. Fred was better at bargaining and he didn’t care what color the walls were, like George did. Growing up did not seem like growing up, because he had a partner by his side.

George was the one who first brought up going back to Hogwarts. Given their proximity to the Order of the Phoenix and Harry, fighting alongside them was their only option. Additionally, George felt they owed Harry for helping them start their business in the first place. He will always believe that the cause they fought for was noble and right, but he sometimes wonders if the victory was worth the loss. He doesn’t spend much time with folks of his past. George doesn’t want to, but a piece of him resents Harry. He would never tell anyone, but he wonders if they hadn’t gotten so close, felt it was necessary to fight alongside him, if Fred would still be here. He wonders If he wouldn’t fall asleep alone at his desk every night curled into a ball; he wonders if he would ever make a new product instead of staring, detached at the efforts that just remind him of his brother.

OOC EXPLORATION

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? I feel like finding a post-war trio era rp with a unique plot that is also para-based is me asking for too much, and yet here you are!! I have never explored Post-War George and I think his trauma is so fascinating and it could affect his life in so many different ways, as it already has. The addition of the Returned is asking for more ~angst~ and boy am I here for it :) In particular, I am interested in exploring the dynamics George has with his siblings especially, as I am sure some of them have very different reactions to him kind of closing himself off for a bit, and his guilt is obviously through the roof because of it. But also all characters tbh!!! I love for plotting out entirely too much backstory haha.

ANYTHING ELSE?  I made a mood board for George here! https://www.pinterest.com/ebateman64/ch-george-weasley/

And also some head canons!:

George has a hard time sleeping (he always has) but he actually enjoys sleeping in his office. The papers piled high, the Pygmy Puffs that squeak at night–the clutter and chaos actually feel like the most stable thing he has had in a long time. Immediately following the war, George stayed at the Burrow for a few weeks to be closer to his family, using it as an excuse to get any leftover stock that might still be in his childhood bedroom. But it was too troubling to sleep in that room. It was bare-boned, not only because he had taken most of his belongings, but because one of the beds was empty. After the first night, he slept on the couch in the living room instead.

While he barely feels the loss of his left ear these days, occasionally there is a ringing sound that fills his head and gives him migraines from the pain, major enough that he needs to lie down. This only happens occasionally, and he usually chooses to push through it by clasping his hand to his ear for a few minutes.

George actually used to care quite deeply about his appearance, however, that has definitely gone downhill in recent years. Some could say he is going to a “rugged” look, but it’s really just because he can’t be bothered to wash his hair. In the last couple of weeks, however, he has donned the old suit that he used to wear to work everyday. He can’t fill it out like he used to, but it gives him some semblance of hope.

[foramomentonly]

Nail in My Coffin, Part 7

Part One    Part Two    Part Three    Part Four    Part Five    Part Six

Summary: Alex and Kyle are fashion designers on a Next In Fashion style reality show. Michael is their model. Dom/sub elements. Prompt courtesy of @signoraviolettavalery .

Michael and Alex have a fight. It ends in “I love you.” 

TW: Discussion of child abuse and homophobia, implied PTSD

Author’s Note: It’s been a week. I know. And I know this might not be what you all want to read right now (or ever again), and that’s okay. I was writing this piece before this week happened and coming back to it gave me comfort, so I kept writing it. I’ll continue writing Malex and I’ll continue in this AU, as well. Love to you, friends.

Read on AO3

It’s a bad fight because it’s their first, and they don’t know the rules.

“Know what today is?” Michael asks, grinning into Alex’s face as he battles with the stubborn hem of Michael’s sleeve.

Alex presses his lips together like he’s trying not to smile bigger and glances up at Michael mildly.

“Do you know what day it is?” he smirks. “You don’t strike me as a calendar person.”

“It’s your birthday,” Michael continues on, undeterred.

“I know,” Alex replies indulgently. “I was there when you found out.”

He glares over his shoulder at Kyle. Kyle clearly hears him, but he stays diligently bent over his own work. Alex hadn’t breathed a word, let half the day go by like any other. But Kyle had accidentally blabbed to Liz, and Liz had run off to tell the producer on set, and the whole debacle had ended with the entire cast and crew singing “Happy Birthday,” and Michael hurriedly calling in a favor from his well-connected sister for surprise dinner reservations. 

Michael leans closer, brushing his nose against Alex’s temple.

"I think we should celebrate,” he murmurs in Alex’s ear. Alex tsks and lifts Michael’s arm impatiently to get at the bottom of the sleeve.

“Stand up straight,” he commands, and Michael does, but a dark look passes over his face.

“Anyway,” Michael goes on, “What about drinks and dinner?” He raises an eyebrow and grins. “I’ll throw in a birthday blow job. Time and location is up to you.”

Kyle flips off his machine and pivots off his chair in one fluid movement, calling, “Coffee,” over his shoulder as he practically sprints away.

Michael smirks.

 "Finally.“ 

He looks down at Alex, expecting to find his dark eyes bright with mirth. He doesn’t exactly condone Micael’s teasing attempts to make Kyle uncomfortable, but he also doesn’t hide his amusement. This time, though, Alex is staring stonily at the hem of Michael’s sleeve, seemingly caught up in his work. But Michael sees how his eyes flit back and forth restlessly, and he knows Alex is deliberately avoiding eye contact. Michael furrows his brow, confused and bit frustrated.

“Alex,” he says through his teeth, “tonight? What do you think?”

Alex’s mouth is a thin line, his jaw tense.

“It’s not a good idea,” he says. 

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not,” Alex grits, his voice loud and commanding and filled with finality. It’s the tone that usually turns Michael’s spine liquid and replaces the chaos of his mind with peaceful, focused clarity. This time it grates in his chest like nails on a chalkboard, and he returns Alex’s cold stare with the full force of his heated glare.

“This isn’t a scene,” he hisses. “You don’t get to make all the decisions.”

“It’s my birthday,” Alex replies, “I absolutely do have final say in how I spend it.”

“Fine,” Michael spits, exasperated by Alex’s obstinance. “But what’s the big deal? Everybody knows about us, we’re not even trying to hide it anymore. Would it be so bad if we acted like a real couple?”

“Yes!” Alex cries, his voice a mixture of insistence and panic, and something in Michael caves, gives in, and he stops fighting in favor of sinking deep into the overwhelming disappointment and frustration weighing him down like an anchor. Alex searches his face, his lips parting as he lets out a breath and starts to speak.

“Michael-”

“Don’t bother,” he huffs, “let’s just get this over with.”

Alex straightens his spine, his features shifting as the emotion falls from his face and a cool mask of indifference slips into place.

“Left arm up,” he orders, but Michael shakes his head, glaring straight ahead.

“Do not give me orders right now,” he hisses. Alex regards him cooly for a brief moment before turning on his heel and striding away. A few minutes later, Kyle returns to their station, a silent apology evident in the shrug of his shoulders, and he finishes the rest of Alex’s work in silence.

***

Alex doesn’t speak to Michael the rest of the day. He doesn’t return to his work station until after Kyle has released Michael, and whether it’s by fate or by design, they don’t call him back for a second fitting. Michael watches as absolutely no one suggests so much as a birthday drink to Alex, but from a distance, he can see that Alex is perfectly content in his isolation. Alex isn’t especially outgoing or demonstrative, Michael’s always known that. But their connection was instantaneous, almost cosmic, and Michael had assumed Alex was making other, if fewer relationships on set. He never realized until now how rare personal interaction actually is for Alex outside of himself and Kyle. He watches Alex back at the hotel share a quiet meal with Kyle at the bar and accept a hug from Liz, his gaze following Alex’s stiff form across the room and toward the elevator bay. He realizes if he wants any kind of resolution tonight, Michael has to go to him.

***

Alex answers the door wearing the same carefully neutral expression he had when he’d walked away from Michael earlier in the day, and Michael feels like ice water is seeping into his veins.

“Can we talk?” he asks, and Alex steps aside so he can pass into the room.

 They stand in silence, facing one another across the length of the bed like opponents in a duel. Alex is fully dressed, prosthesis still on, but his eyes are tired and a little bloodshot, and his hair is unkempt, like he’s been running his fingers through it carelessly. Michael wonders how many drinks he had with dinner. Still, his stance is firm and steady, and when he finally speaks, his voice is clear.

“So,” he says, not quite meeting Michael’s eye, “what do you want to talk about?”

Michael scoffs.

“Are you kidding?” he asks, voice already rising. “You left, Alex. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but you just left.”

Alex shrugs.

“I needed space,” he says, “and you clearly didn’t want me there.”

“Then you say you need some time,” Michael insists. “You don’t just walk away.”

“Why are you trying to push this?” Alex demands suddenly, brow furrowed in anger, and he finally meets Michael’s gaze with a resentful glare. “We’re together, we’re not hiding. Suddenly that’s not enough?”

Michael shakes his head, running a hand through his messy curls. 

“Apparently not,” he cries, throwing his arms in the air, “cuz I still feel like a side piece.”

Alex takes a step back, expression incredulous.

“What?” he spits.

“First we had to keep it secret because of the show. Now everyone knows, but you still don’t want to leave the hotel with me for some reason? I feel like I’m your side chick and I’m just letting you string me along like an idiot, making promises I know you’re not gonna keep!”

“I’ve never promised you anything,” Alex says coldly.

Michael scoffs.

“Believe me, I know.”

“And don’t pretend like you don’t love being my dirty little secret,” Alex says, his voice glacial.

"Jesus Christ, Alex,” Michael groans, fisting a hand in his already chaotic hair, “I love you, but what the fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“What?" 

"I said what do you expect me to say?” Michael cries, shoulders raised and arms outstretched as though to catch an answer tumbling out of the sky.

“No, y-you—you said—”

Michael pauses, thinks back, and recognition dawns. He squares his shoulders.

“I said what I said,” he admits softly. 

“Me, too,” Alex replies with a ridiculously formal nod.

“What?”

“I-I love you, too.”

Michael feels the air rush out of him, along with all the bones in his body, and he steps forward, opening his arms to Alex. Alex takes a hesitant step back.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to hold you,” Michael answers incredulously. Then, softer, he asks, “Is that okay with you?”

He waits until Alex nods, stepping hesitantly into his arms. Michael wraps his long limbs around Alex’s shoulders, feels Alex run his palms over his back and, after a moment, press his face into Michael’s wild curls.

“I’m sorry,” Michael breathes, and he’s surprised to feel a wet lump in his throat making his voice shake. “I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just—I want you, Alex. I want all of you, all the time. I love you and I—”

Alex shakes his head, pulling away only far enough to cup Michael’s jaw, to steady him with the dark, calming pools of his eyes. 

“This isn’t about you, it’s me,” he says, leaning in to press a tender kiss to the corner of Michael’s mouth before moving away, lowering himself into the desk chair behind him and sitting forward, elbows resting on his knees. Michael misses his touch, his proximity, instantly, but he drops onto the corner of the bed, accepting Alex’s unspoken request for space.

“I didn’t grow up in a safe home,” Alex begins in that even, disconnected tone Michael knows means this story will not be a happy one. “My father is military. My three older brothers are, too. Growing up with them was. Well. It was very obvious very quickly that I was gay and not interested in carrying on the family legacy. The abuse was constant, unpredictable. Verbal, emotional. Physical.” 

Michael’s brow furrows, but he stays silent. Alex takes a deep breath through his nose, exhales slowly through his open mouth, and continues. 

“When I was seventeen I was at a stalemate with my dad. I was not gonna join up and he was not going to pay for college. But I had a boyfriend. I thought if I could just ride out the summer I could follow him when he went to school. We could be together, get an apartment. I could work.” Alex shrugs. “We were in love. On my birthday, we were fooling around in this old shed at the back of my dad’s property. He caught us. I—” Alex swallows, finishes his story in a rush. “It was bad. I don’t remember most of it. The next day he drove me to the recruitment office.”

Michael nods, absorbing and processing while Alex gazes at him with an unnerving calm.

“So, you don’t like to celebrate your birthday?” Michael asks, and Alex shakes his head slowly. “And—and does your dad know about the show? Your work?”

Alex sighs.

“He knows what me and Kyle are doing, yeah,” Alex says softly, “but I need to be careful. I don’t court attention. And I don’t want you and I to become a fucking storyline. I know he can’t hurt me anymore, he can’t hurt us, but sometimes I’m still so goddamn afraid—” 

Alex cuts himself off, shaking his head firmly and taking deep, even breaths to steady his trembling frame.

“So, can I ask you a stupid question?” Michael says softly once Alex has regained his composure. 

Alex nods.

“The boyfriend,” he says hesitantly, “was it Kyle?”

Alex laughs. Not his genuine laugh, the one that scrunches up his nose and makes him look so painfully young and carefree. But his shoulders relax and voice grows stronger.

“No,” he says, “definitely not Kyle. Kyle’s like a brother to me. A real brother. He—he’s been a constant. Just always there. Always backing me up.” He laughs, a little lighter. “Always calling me on my shit.”

“I got one of those,” Michael murmurs. “Isobel. My sister.”

“Sister?” Alex asks, leaning back in his seat and crossing his legs, more at ease now that the focus is off of him.

“Well, adopted. Well, sort of,” Michael stammers. “We were found together, on the side of the road, when we were little. Me, Isobel, and her twin brother, Max. We all went into a group home. They got adopted, I went into the system. But Max and Isobel, they found me a few years later. They’re my family.”

“How long were you in foster care?” Alex asks.

“Only until I got the fuck outta there,” Michael mutters, and Alex tilts his head and shifts foward again in his seat, an unspoken question. “I had some bad placements. Fundamentalists. Drunks. Went through some of the same shit you did. When I was sixteen I traded a mechanic work for an old truck. Fixed it up. Slept in the bed.” He pauses, adds with characteristic flourish, “Under the stars.”

“Where was all this?”

“Albuquerque.”

Alex blinks, a smile pulling at his lips, and shakes his head ruefully.

“What?”

“I grew up in Roswell.”

Michael grins.

“I got placed there for a minute,” he says, “but the family moved out of state.”

“So, in another lifetime we might have grown up together?”

Michael reaches a hesitant hand out between them and Alex takes it easily, allows himself to be tugged up to stand between Michael’s legs. Michael grips Alex’s hips and rests his chin on Alex’s stomach, wide eyes gazing up at him.

“I bet I would have been all over you in high school,” he murmurs.

Alex laughs, threads his fingers through Michael’s hair and scratches his nails lightly against his scalp. Michael’s eyes fall shut.

“Doubtful. I was totally emo in high school,” he says. “Black nail polish, septum piercing. The works.”

Michael drags the tip of his nose down Alex’s abdomen, presses a kiss just under his belly button.

“Hot,” he mumbles into the fabric of Alex’s shirt. “Tell me you wore eyeliner and I’m building a time machine.”

“I love you,” Alex breathes, and he uses his grip on Michael’s curls to tilt his head up. “I’m fucked up and I shut down and I fucking hate talking about shit I really should be talking about. But I love you and I don’t want you to think that I don’t want this. I want to be with you.”

Michael releases a shaky breath, eyes wet and shining golden, and shakes his head.

“It isn’t just you that fucked up. I got my own shit,” he admits. “I’ve been left too many times to not freak out when someone walks away from me. I don’t always do so well with the whole concept of ‘space.’”

Alex laughs.

“So basically we’re doomed?”

“Yup.” Michael grins, slipping his hands up under Alex’s shirt. “Wanna go out with a bang, Captain?”

“Ohmygod,” Alex laughs, pressing his palms against Michael’s shoulders and forcing him back onto the bed, settling beside him. Michael slides his leg between Alex’s, cups Alex’s cheek and presses their brows together.

“I love you,” he whispers, gravitating closer to Alex’s lips with every breath. “Ha—Can I say it?”

Alex brushes his lips against Michael’s and smiles, eyes already half closed.

“ I’ll allow it,” he breathes.

“Happy birthday.”

[cryxmercy]

post tenebras lux || mercy & arthur {flashback}

Mercy gets her sight back. And as usual, everything is fine. 

When: About one month ago, during one of the last days of the carnival.  Where: Carnival grounds; Arthur’s house Who: Mercy and Arthur @arthurjdrake​

TW: blood (non-medical), injury, body horror, eyes

Mercy loved carnivals. The lights, the games, the sideshows, the laughter and screams of kids and their families out having a good time (and getting the hell scared out of them on occasion), and the food. Especially the food. So it was a small blessing that Mercy hadn’t lost her senses of taste and smell along with her sight. Sight that hadn’t shown the slightest hint of returning. 

She knew Arthur was worried; so was she. To the point where she was starting to slip into a state of mind that did little to help things. She’d felt angry, depressed, frightened, and even wondered if staying ‘dead’ would’ve been better. For Arthur at least. Though she hadn’t voiced that last one. It was just a brief thought anyway, and nothing she really believed. Tack on bouts of insomnia mixed with nightmares about black water that saw her waking suddenly, gasping for breath and terrified when everything was still dark, and it hadn’t been the best of times. For either of them. 

So even if she couldn’t see the carnival lights or anything else, that hadn’t stopped her from doing her best to have a good time. And make sure Arthur - whose idea it was to come out tonight, even if Mercy was fairly sure he was just trying to cheer her up -  was having one too. 

She held his arm as they walked through the midway towards the exit, a bag of cotton candy and a hard-won stuffed cow dangling from her free hand. “You’re sure you don’t want one of those giant stuffed animals before we leave? I bet I could still win you one.” 

While Arthur wasn’t certain about any kind of event or carnival in White Crest of all places, the idea of getting Mercy out of the house if only for a few hours seemed like a good idea. So they’d walked down from his house and Arthur had taken the time while they’d meandered around stands to describe the things to see while figuring Mercy’s other senses would help build a picture for her in her mind’s eye.

The stuffed cow was a given, as soon as he’d mentioned it he’d been unscrupulously directed over towards it by his companion and the fishing game beyond. It had taken several unsuccessful attempts to catch a plastic frog with the tiny fishing stick he’d been given but eventually he’d snagged one and the cow was the obvious choice.

Cotton candy (he hated the stuff) and toffee popcorn had come next, and he was just shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth when Mercy spoke. “Dun’mind” his words were a little garbled by his mouthful of sweet-treats “m’not fussed.” He was just glad to see her a bit brighter.

Mercy laughed a bit at his muffled answer. “You can share mine then.” She waved the cow in his direction. It had been a fun evening, the best they’d had in awhile. And Mercy was loath for it to come to an end. But all things did, and she tried to make the best of it as they took their time walking back towards Arthur’s house. 

It was still disconcerting, not being able to see. And in a place like White Crest, it could also be dangerous. But Mercy chose not to think about that right now. Or what might happen if her sight never returned. They would simply have to find a new way forwards. Whatever that might mean. And Mercy would have to find a way not to feel like a burden. 

“Thank you. For dragging me out,” Mercy said as they left some of the noise behind. “I had a good time.” 

“One cow s’enough f-- us,” he said around another mouthful of popcorn, the toffee sticking his teeth together a little and he made a strange face as he tried to work the fragments free with his tongue mildly concerned he might pull out a filling or two. But hey, that was all part of the fun.

The music faded behind them as they walked away from the carnival, the mist clinging a little around their legs not that Arthur mentioned it considering it was more than a little disconcerting. But nothing had jumped out at them and that was the big thing.

“You’re welcome,” he said after a little while of walking, “I’m glad… That was the aim.”

“For now…” she said, grinning playfully. But left it at that. She really was happy with her new prize. She just couldn’t help but tease him, even now. The music was replaced by the usual sounds of the evenings. Nightbirds, crickets, the far-off hum of light traffic, and the water that wasn’t that far off the closer they got to Arthur’s house. Mercy couldn’t see the mist that trailed after them, breaking away like gossamer once it was clear they weren’t returning to the carnival. 

She gave a small hum and let her hand slip into his. “Did you?” she asked quietly. “Have a good time?”  

“You’re not getting a cow, it’s absolutely not happening,” he certified once again just to make sure that point truly was driven home. “Why’d you want a cow anyways? Why not a goat?” Arthur shook his head at the sentiment of keeping cows. So much effort for one animal it truly wasn’t worth it. He’d rather get a horse or something generally purposeful.

“Yeah,” he answered after a little more walking down the street. All in all it hadn’t been the worst, and watching the carnie’s face at the axe throwing when he’d had to give Frey the directions on how to throw the axe to compensate for all the rigs put in place. It had been a nice afternoon all things considered. “I’ve missed this… Just us, spending time together doing stuff… just normal stuff you know?”

As usual, Mercy sighed when Arthur (as usual) said no to the idea of a real cow. “Goats are little bastards who get into everything. And they’ll eat my flowers.” It was a fact as far as Mercy was concerned. “But they are cute.” 

She smiled at his answer. “Good. You deserve a nice time. Especially after putting up with me.” Mercy was mostly kidding about herself, but there was still a part of her that felt like a burden. But she didn’t linger over it as they walked on. She tipped her head sightly in Arthur’s direction, smiling again - a bit softer this time - as he said he’d missed them spending time together. A humorous quip sat on Mercy’s tongue, but it faded away. She didn’t have the heart the joke about such a thing right now. 

“Me too,” she said quietly. “Maybe we should… do it more often.” 

“Goats are cute, and take up less room than cows do.” Why Mercy wouldn’t let this one go was beyond him, but perhaps that was just going to be one of the many things he simply didn’t understand. “But anyway, you’ve got a cow now so you can’t complain at me anymore.”

“Bah,” Arthur gave her a small nudge as they walked, “it’s hardly the first time I’ve had to look after you. D’you remember that time you got so drunk you got in an argument with a lamp=post ‘bout it getting in your way? I’m the one that had to drag you away before you punched the damn thing and broke your hand.

“We should. Where else do you want to go? And don’t suggest a mime place… I’m certain our ban stretches across many of their establishments.”

“What if it’s a mini-cow?” she asked. “There not any bigger than a dog.” Honestly, as much as Mercy wanted a cow - she liked cows, okay? - it was starting to become a running joke between them. Though Mercy wasn’t quite sure how funny Arthur thought the whole thing was. Regardless, he was right. She did have her cow. “I do,” she nodded, giving the fluffy toy a hug as they walked. 

She nudged him back, laughing at the memory. “I do remember. But that lamppost knew damn well what it was in for. It provoked me.” Mercy was kidding. Mostly. “But… thank you…” she said a moment later, sobering slightly. “For always being there…” Unlike Mercy, who had been the one to run away. But she didn’t want to think about that and ruin a nice evening. 

“Oh… um…” Her brow furrowed in thought, but it softened as she laughed at the mention of mimes. “Good. May their children’s children’s children fear our wrath.” She held her cow aloft in emphasis, but dissolved into laughter after that. “How about… that music store that sells old vinyl and vintage instruments? And maybe the axe throwing place? I bet we can get our names on the leader board.”

“No cows. You’ve got your cow, end of,” Arthur side-eyed her at the plush toy she hugged at present. If he was honest he didn’t know where the joke ended and actual seriousness on the topic began. But here they were and Arthur wasn’t getting her a bloody cow no matter how many times she asked. “What’re you calling him?” Arthur asked after a moment, unable to help himself considering if you had a plush toy cow… Well, you had to give it a name didn’t you?

“Mhm, sure it did. Just there minding it’s own and it got in your way…” he tipped a brow in amusement but the look softened into something more subdued. Quieter and more thoughtful. “Welcome… But you don’t need to thank me when it’s what I’ll always do.” No matter the life or time.

“You’re a menace to society,” he grumbled but again it was spoken in jest unable to help himself from smiling at the memory. “But sure… Vintage records and axe throwing… What could go wrong?”

Mercy held up the plush in A Very Serious Way as it came time to give it a name. “Let’s call him… Milk. Milk the Cow.” She laughed at her own joke and tucked the toy back under her arm. The subject had run it’s course for the evening, and thoughts of cows slipped away as they neared the house. 

“Your sarcasm has reached Dungeon Master levels, sir,” Mercy teased. Though she sobered after that, holding his arm just a bit tighter. “I know…” She wanted to ask what would happen if she stayed this way. If she couldn’t protect him any longer. If she was nothing but a burden. But she didn’t. Again, not wanting to ruin what had been a nice evening. “As charged,” Mercy grinned brightly. “But I’m never boring,” she pointed out. They entered the yard and Mercy waited patiently while Arthur unlocked the door. “Nothing could go wrong,” she said with confidence as she felt her way along the hall once they were inside. “But think about all the things that could go right.” 

She felt her way into the kitchen to put her cotton candy away, but had barely reached the island when she felt a throbbing in her head. It wasn’t unusual at this point, but Mercy couldn’t help but frown. It hurt. So she sat down at the bar and closed her eyes, laying her head against her plushie cow as she waited on Arthur to join her. 

“Milk?!” it was a little incredulous and Arthur couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him at the name “of course you’d call it milk.” Really he shouldn’t have been surprised, it was such a Mercy type response to the question he’d posed having expected something like Clarabelle or the like. “Milk it is. Just know I’m never going to forgive you if I ask for the milk and you hand me the cow instead.”

“Well that event was a critical fail, come on, declaring you wanted to fight a lamppost just because you’re the one that couldn’t walk straight…” His grin was fixed as they neared the house, “no, I’d never dare call you boring that’s for sure.”

When they were back, Arthur shut the door and slipped his shoes off, pairing them neatly away in the cupboard a little further in following Mercy deeper into the house. Seeing her resting on the plush his head tilted a fraction, “do you want a coffee or anything? You look a little peaky tonight...“

“What else do you call a cow?” Mercy laughed, happy to hear Arthur doing the same. It was a good sound. And she wished he would do it more often. She gave a dramatic sigh as he called her out on something that hadn’t even happened yet. “I’d never dream of it.” Even though she totally would. 

“It was the wine’s fault then,” she said matter of factly. “You know I’m a lush sometimes.” Sometimes as in wine almost always went to her head. “And I always knew you were a smart man…” Mercy was many things, but boring wasn’t one of them. 

Back at the house, she wasn’t quite sure what had brought on the sudden headache this time. But they were more frequent over the last couple of weeks, so Mercy tried not to let them bother her too much. She didn’t want Arthur to worry any more than he already was. She hummed at his question, giving him a small, genuine - if slightly tired - smile. “Do I? Maybe I ate too much…” But something to drink sounded perfect. “Tea maybe? If that’s alright? There was some chamomile I think…” She pushed up in the chair, trying not to frown as the throb grew exponentially worse when she stood. If she grew more pale, it wasn’t as if she could tell. “I think I’ll… maybe take a quick shower too. We could… put on a film in a bit? If you like?”

“Clive,” Arthur answered decisively, the answer apparent in his mind that there would be no other option. But this was Mercy’s cow so the final buck stopped with her he supposed. He chuffed, shaking his head in fond amusement at a situation he could foretell was absolutely going to happen at some point down the line.

“Clive? That’s… that’s like… a serial killer's name. Clive.” She snorted a laugh. “We’ll call the next one that then.”

“I’m sure there’s a Clive in the world that’s super offended that you’ve dubbed him a serial killer,” Arthur chided with a small laugh.

“Right, well… At least it’s an improvement that you admit to it these days. The amount of times I’ve had to bundle you into a carriage just because you can’t walk straight...” he clicked his tongue in mild disapproval. 

It was hard for Arthur not to worry right now, the situation was hardly feasible for anything but worry considering what was going on right now. “Cotton candy… I keep telling you that stuff’s hellish. I don’t know how you can eat it.” But he worried his lip as he looked at her, moving over to touch her forehead with his hand as if he might sense… something off. Though he was hardly the one that was ever going to detect someone else’s temperature considering. “I’ll make some up. But okay. Will you be alright? I don’t want you to slip or anything.”

Still, talk of a film earned a nod not that she could see. “Sure. We could put Lord of the Rings on… Or something else if you fancy?”

She hummed, turning her head in his general direction. “And it’s called personal growth. But remind me to tell you the story of how much you used to love schnapps. Total lush, you were.” Mercy was slowly telling Arthur about the part of his life he couldn’t remember. It usually came in bits and pieces, stories relevant to whatever was happening at the moment, but they’d talked about it at length here and there too. 

“What can I say?” About the cotton-candy she’d consumed so much of. “I’ve got no sense of self-control.” She gave him a wan smile as the peakish feeling didn’t pass. His worry was palpable, even without her sight. And when he pressed his hand to her forehead, it felt nice. Warm and soft against her cool, clammy skin. Mercy hummed quietly at the sensation, leaning into it just a bit. “I’ll be careful. Promise.” She felt for his arm, giving it a squeeze. “Lord of the Rings is perfect.” 

“Yes, I’m aware. But very well, just…” he stopped himself from saying be careful, but knew the implication carried even if he tried not to hover and fuss. The lingering worry something he couldn’t help, especially as he took in how ill she really seemed to look now they were home and he could see her in the light. “I’ll be here, shout if you need anything.” And with that he watched her turn and leave, worrying his lower lip in concern but reminding himself that she was a grown adult and didn’t need him holding her hand. She can take care of herself.

“I will be.” Mercy finished his sentence for him. She knew he was worried. If the situation were reversed, she would’ve been doing the same thing. And Arthur would’ve likely been telling her he was fine too. What a pair they were. But she wasn’t going to fuss at him for it. And it wasn’t that she didn’t want help. She just… needed to do it herself. If this was permanent-

No. Mercy pushed that thought from her head as fast as it had appeared. The consequences were too much to think about right now. Only the irony was worse. And she didn’t want to think about that either.

After that, Mercy made her slow, careful way down the hall to the guestroom she’d been staying in. After finding some pajamas - which consisted of a pair of cotton shorts and an old t-shirt - she padded into the bathroom where she ran the water in the sink and splashed some on her face. The trip to her room had made the throbbing in her head ten times worse. For a long moment she stayed there, bent over the sink, letting the steam rise up into her face and willing the growing sensations of vertigo and nausea to leave. Mercy pressed a hand to her eyes as her head throbbed again. Only this time it was accompanied by the feeling of something wickedly sharp pressing into the back of them. The pain was sudden and intense, and so different from what she’d been experiencing that it caught her off-guard, and she made a muffled sound of distress as she felt the world tilt. 

The cold tile was unforgiving as Mercy fell to her hands and knees, bruises forming and healing in a matter of moments. She managed not to crack her skull open, though the pain and pressure was enough that she felt like her eyes would burst and her head would follow. She didn’t know if she had called out for Arthur, or if her voice had just been in her head. But by the time she heard footsteps coming up the hall, all the pain and the pressure was gone as quickly as it had come. Mercy was left with a ringing in her ears, and a cold sense of dread in her belly - like a lead weight - that wondered if she had imagined the pain and the lingering scent of copper in the air. 

Or if this was the moment she lost her sight for good. 

She can take care of herself. And yet five minutes later when the panicked cry came from upstairs, Arthur practically tossed the coffee mug he’d been sipping onto the side and bombed down the hallway and up the stairs. “Frey?!” he yelled a cold fear gripping him once more as his socks skidded on the wooden floor barging into the bedroom she’d been given and then hurrying to the bathroom where she currently knelt. 

“Hey-- Hey I’m here… What happened?” it was only as he knelt down that he saw it, the same as before. Twin tracks of crimson. “Oh no no no-- not again... “ wildly he searched around, grabbing a towel and pulling it down much as he had before. “I think we need to get you to a doctor or… Something. You’re… This happened before. Oh Gods.” Once he had the towel pressed to her eyes he fumbled for his phone almost dropping it and cracking the screen in his panic trying to dial with his thumb.

All Mercy’s previous thoughts had been consumed by the piercing throb in her head that had her on her hands and knees… red and white spots flashing across the darkness… and then Arthur was there and she was shaking her head that she didn’t know what had happened. 

“What is it?” she asked, leaning back against the counter as he pressed the towel to her eyes. She still felt a bit dizzy, but the pain was… gone. “Arthur?” He didn’t answer, but Mercy could feel his panic rising. Her own heart felt like it would beat out of her chest, and she reached for the towel, for the hand that held it to her face, and pulled them away. “Arthur! What’s… happening? Why’s there so much... blood??” Mercy froze, her grip on Arthur’s hand tightening. Blood. Red blood. Soaking one of Arthur’s white towels. “Oh-” She made a small sound, and blinked. Once. Twice. On the third blink she looked slowly in Arthur’s direction. 

Some things would never change and his proclivity for worrying and fretting overly so about people made it hard to focus on the best thing that could help at any time. “Your eyes, it’s happening again” Arthur answered, hastily thumbing in the number for an ambulance and ready to foot the bill for the call because this was what had happened the night she’d lost her vision. For it to happen again it must’ve been a sign that some complication had arisen. Gods they really should’ve asked a professional’s opinion.

“I don’t know!” he yelled, panicked, hitting dial and pulling the phone up to his ear half-ready to speak to the operator and explain whatever the hell was going on here. Not that he knew how to explain my friend’s eyes look like they’ve just exploded after several weeks of probably magic blindness over the phone. But he could improvise. The phone rang, Arthur worrying the sleeve of his jumper in fret right before a question that would change everything.

“Blo- What?” he questioned, shock striking any colour from the pallor of his cheeks staring at her in bewilderment. “You-”

“How can I help you with your emergency?” a bright voice chimed from the speaker. “Hello? Hello there?”

On her third blink, Mercy looked slowly in Arthur’s direction. “Hey you…” she said, swallowing past the lump in her throat as she tried to focus on his blurry face. “Long time... no see…”

“Oh shit-” Arthur had half-forgotten about the phone, jamming it to his ear he hastily mumbled a rushed apology “sorry- wrong department, sorry- bye.” The joke fell flat as Arthur opened his mouth and shut it several times trying to process just what was going on. “You… You can see? Holy shit.”

By the time Arthur had realized what she was saying, Mercy was trying to wipe her face with her hands. But she only succeeded in smearing the blood into long, erratic streaks across her ashen skin. Her fingers came away scarlet, and she huffed a bit as she realized - again - that she could well and truly see. 

“Yeah… yeah, I think-” She swallowed, finding Arthur’s face again. “I think so…” The relief in her expression was clear as day, but so was the lingering haze of fear. That she would never see his face again. Slowly, Mercy reached up to touch Arthur’s cheek, smearing a bit of blood across his skin in the process, but paying it no mind. “Hi…” 

“Here… Here, careful” Arthur raised the towel again to try and help with wiping the blood away, little care for how many of the white towels they might ruin and permanently stain. It hardly mattered in the face of this flooding realisation. She could see. Holy fuck she could see. The relief crashed over him like a wave, enough to threaten tears of emotional relief from a month of turmoiled fear that this was a newfound reality they were going to have to live with.

The soft brush of her hand and the dazed focus was enough for an unexpected sob to rise up. A choking tightness in his throat and chest as his hands raised to grip her shoulders “hey...” He pulled her in then wrapping his arms around her without any precedent and hugging her with an intensity that he couldn’t put into words burying his face against the crook of her neck. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

Mercy let him wipe her face, not caring one bit about being fussed over or what linens they were ruining. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. What mattered was that the nightmare of the last month finally seemed like it was over. Not just for Mercy herself, but for Arthur too. And if Mercy were honest, she was more relieved for his sake than hers. 

But when she saw the tears that threatened as he realized she was well and truly able to see him, Mercy felt her own throat tighten. The feeling of knowing she’d caused Arthur pain, even without meaning to, was always a visceral one that made her feel physically ill. But she had no time to sink towards guilt as Arthur pulled her in, hugging her more tightly than he had in a long, long while. Mercy hugged him back just as hard, sucking in a breath that was close to becoming a sob as she turned her face into his hair. When she spoke, her voice was muffled, and shook just a bit, but her words held a quiet intensity that didn’t need an explanation. “I won’t. I swear it.” 

Arthur was a highly emotional person at the best of times, it didn’t take much for something to affect him emotionally. Highly charged situations and tense scenarios were the worst in trying to steady a mind easily distracted by worrisome thoughts. Thoughts that could snare him up and drag him deep into their depths where they’d eventually drown if he wasn’t pulled out from them. Just as it didn’t take all that much to move him to the threat of tears. So it was easy to sink into the wrap of her arms and inhale the scent of her hair and skin and remind himself that she was here. His hand lifted, combing his fingers affectionately over the braids in her hair and pressing her head close the rush of her breath warm against his skin. The shake that tremoured through her was enough to cause him to tighten his grip, holding her even tighter than he had moments prior. “Good. Because next time this happens it’ll be me that bloody well does you in. Never ever scare me like that again.” 

Or else Gods knew what might become of him.

~