#i understand its frustrating to see so much hate thrown your way and for years

[bonny-kookoo]

BOOOOOONYYY! :)

What about a very spicy one with Brat Tamer/JM x Brat/Reader where he is her Dance Teacher. Jm wit dark hair

Jimin with black hair >>>>>>>>

----

"And where do you think you're going?" Jimin asks, running a hand through his hair thoroughly amused by your frustration.

"Home." You scoff. "Because you suck." Comes from you as well as you put your phone into your bag. You don't even know why you're at his place to begin with- yeah maybe you had hoped for him to genuinely help you get that fucking step right because he won't stop nagging you about how your foot is never placed correctly- but even after three hours of trying to understand the way he's explaining you still don't get it.

He calls himself a dance teacher and yet he's shit at explaining.

"Now now, we can still be classy about it, can't we?" He laughs, walking after you as you make your way to the door. "You're simply too tense darling-"

"Thats what you say every single fucking time!" You argue back, rolling your eyes. "You're too tense, you're getting frustrated, you're not paying attention~!" You mock him, absolutely pissed at the fact that he doesn't seem affected at all. He's still smirking, arms crossed and yet relaxed, watching you.

Maybe the worst thing is that he looks way too hot for you to actually go through with your threat of quitting.

Yes you might have a massive crush on your dance teacher, so what? So does every single other person he teaches it seems- even guys admitting his attractiveness, and it fills you with red hot jealousy because you just know you don't have a chance. And also because you know that he's a player- stories of one night stands and fleeting romances being thrown around left and right and all around him, tales told by whoever you may ask. It makes you mad. Why can't good looking guys have good personalities as well?

"Come on, I'm sorry I've upset you. We can take a break and try again later." He attempts to soothe your anger. "I'd hate for you to go home all riled up like this."

"Yeah right, you just don't want me to go around and tell people how you failed at teaching me." You mumble under your breath as you slip into your boot, pulling the zipper on the side up and catching your finger in it. "Ah fuck!"

See?" He clicks his tongue, moving closer so he can loom over you, taking your boot off again for you. "Dont go please."

"I'm uncomfortable mister park." You say sternly, and much to your surprise, he detaches himself quickly at that. It catches you off guard for a second, and your reaction doesn't go unnoticed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push myself onto you like that." He apologizes, and it throws you out of your temper tantrum in a way. He would've laughed about it- if it wasn't for the concern that's now breeding in his head. "You seem surprised."

"I mean- kinda?" You say, voice now a lot quieter, almost hesitant. "I- thought you might-"

"I might?" He asks, face unreadable. "I don't believe in forcing myself onto women I'm attracted to- neither to I believe in convincing them." He explains with a serious tone.

"Why not convincing?" You wonder, unsure why you ask out loud like that.

"Sex isn't something you should convince someone to do. You either want it, or you don't." He shrugs. "I'm honestly sorry if I have interpreted your actions wrong. I really never meant to push you." He tells you again, and you sigh.

"Its.. you didn't interpret them wrong." You say. "I'm just.. I don't want to be another girl or guy you sleep with and that's it."

"I've never slept with any of the trainees if that's what you're implying." He scoffs a little. "In fact, I havent had sex in years, ever since I broke up with my ex partner."

"Oh." Is all you can get out, now fully embarrassed that you even for a second believed all of the rumors that were, and still are, floating around him. Of course rumors aren't truths. Why did you believe them so easily?

"Its not your fault for believing what you hear." He smiles again, relaxing. " after all, as a woman, you can't be careful enough these days."

"You seem quite aware of those issues. You know, as a guy." You say, awkwardly standing in front of the closed door.

"I've got many female friends." He shrugs. "Though that's all they are. Friends." He makes sure to press.

"Right." You nod. "Yknow, just like us." You laugh a bit embarrassed, making him smirk slyly.

"Oh?" He asks, amused. "I thought we might have the potential to be more." He wonders out loud, making your eyes widen.

But you easily catch yourself, looking him in the eyes as you cross your arms. "Maybe if you can do your job right and teach me right." You challenge, making him walk closer, close enough to run a hand over your hair- a delicate gesture that evolves into something far more sinful as soon as he grabs your hair firmly.

"How about I teach you proper manners first?" He asks, and you roll your eyes. The audacity.

"Can't even make me dance right." You tell him, and he laughs out loud at your bold words, before he looks down to you with half lidded eyes.

"Oh I'll make you dance, darling."

[septembersghost]

Sometimes I think harry's explanation on fine line(having s*x and feeling sad) suits hs1 better simply because that's all the album is about. I always think about his 2015-16 and I can't imagine it being any other way. Like I think 2015 was his worst year . First taylor left him and showed up with her bf 3 months after leaving him. Then zayn left the band and he definitely hated(atleast resented zayn for that) . He was snarky everytime zayn was brought up. I also felt like the boys also isolated him and blamed him for z.In some bts there was ot3 standing close then there was.......harry. If louis blamed harry in 2019 for breaking band we can imagine how he behaved in 15. on top there was Robin's cancer. So he had a lot to deal with and he was only 21-22. I genuinely don't think I'll be able to go through all that unscathed. So he didn't have a silver lining to look for in that stage and he used sex as a defence mechanism. Taylor left him when he had a bit more less-messy life I don't think hs1 would be this sad and maybe would've been more positive. I felt like tay left him when he desperately needed someone in his life who truly understands him as a support system. While he wrote it as a heartbreak album there is a lot of underlying issues in it. While he asks 'take the pain away' he is not just talking about Taylor. He is talking about everything in his life. I think Olivia perfectly describes how much he needed her companionship at that moment of his life.

that explanation of fine line is so inaccurate, and i think he said that to try and conceal some of its heartbreak/darkness/vulnerability, but it does the record a bit of a disservice. it's much more than that. i do agree that description is more fitting for HS1, though he does tackle some of that in a deeper way there as well.

idk that i'd characterize his response to zayn as hating him, but he definitely was upset/annoyed and played that off with snarky humor. i'd imagine it also frustrated him that zayn expressed some dismissal of the band as a whole, since harry has always openly been very proud of their music and what they achieved and created, but naturally the two of them had disparate experiences and walked away with individual feelings. i haven't necessarily picked up on the other boys blaming him (although i have seen commentary about h being blamed for the "hiatus" and some of the resentment that went along with that, whether unfounded or not), but that could be due to seeing things in hindsight rather than as they happened. (niall and harry seem quite close to me in press for mitam!)

agree that was a very difficult and tumultuous time for him, and it's easy to forget he was still SO young. there's real grief tucked away on a lot of HS1, and masking that with sex is not at all uncommon. the sorrow and feeling of not knowing how to handle everything is probably clearest in ever since new york, especially since he's said that it's about that specific loss, but shades of it and that uncertainty and hurt show up in ftdt/mmith and even two ghosts as well.

keeping in mind she was also very unwell and in an escalatingly bad place at this time, it makes additional sense as to why they never found a safe moment to land or an ability to work that out. two young, adrift people just trying to hold on and make it through various terrible storms weren't going to be able to build a lasting foundation.

While he asks 'take the pain away' he is..talking about everything in his life. definitely. fame itself is such a monster to deal with and to survive, and to be thrown headfirst into that as a teenager and try to surface and cope with early adulthood and finding your sense of self and experiencing such formative events...the trade-off of success and money or whatever for sharing your creativity and talent being that intrusive, incessant fame is nightmarish to consider. the entire concept of scrutiny on that level fills me with dread tbh. and it's been challenging and hard from the advent of popular celebrity, we've seen its destruction on so many people, sadly. it's incredible anyone survives it with their minds and hearts intact at all.

[sofuckingtiredjuice]

ok because its literally impossible to block and move on from all of b*bes, im making a fucking rant blog

its so frustrating to ssee the hypocrisy

antis if youre sending fucking death threats, PLEASE STOP NOW OH MY GOD i shouldn’t even have to explain why this is a problem. if you dont like their content, stop giving them attention. youll only see more of this drama if you pay attention to it. also pls stop badgering people to tell you about a certain neutral in the fandom oh my god pls. they dont create content for the people you dont like its obvious they just want to be friends with everyone so just ignore them if it upsets you. there are plenty of other content creators that DO agree with your ideals and your shipping preferences. please seek them out. seriously. and please dont flood their tag. it will just make them more angry.

beetleb*bes, you cannot deny there is hypocrisy within your own group as there is within mine. im not in a lot of circle of antis, but i do my fucking best to try and stop anyone from doing something provocative if i can. i know its only a handful of this group that is spiteful and angry. if you’re as calm and harmless as you claim, fucking do something about it PLEASE. instead you have a small group with a ringleader who is slandering your name. for example making a receipts blog that documented a harassing anons to a babe with a response from said targeted babe with a slur (i know they didn’t know the origin of the slur and have since learned the racist, ableist history it has) and only calling out the anon BUT THEN have the audacity to post an anon harassing a different babe using the same slur and having their buddy call out how horrible it was when they couldnt even call it out in the first place with one of their own. or for example drawing a cartoon beetlejuice about to “mercy kill” what seems to be musical beetlejuice BUT IS INSTEAD the actor who plays him, but THAT doesnt end up on the receipts blog. instead said blog has posted “poop ur pants” as a death threat/insult. pls tell me how that adds up

and both sides are guilty of this unfortunately. stop provoking each other. stop making art and text posts that will make the other mad. PLEASE. there are a lot of good creators on this tag and fandom that are going to leave because of this constant back and forth, me included. please stop dunking on different iterations of this character. whether we like it or not, they are all canonical versions of this character. 

im just ranting at this point because i want to let out my frustrations and soemtimes screaming into a void feels better and i doubt my words will reach anyone, but i hope it does make sense

EDIT: censored the group name because i forgot to the second time

[midday0nightmares]

31 - a week later.

Previous chapter a rat.

m.list.

warnings: this series contains themes of yandere\mafia, blood, violence, mental health, drugs, non-con.

author note: this is pure fiction and it is not intended to romanticize any of the situations mentioned bellow.

3 days after.

“Jeno .. can I ask you something?” 

“Sure” he replied,

 jeno too has changed, he has become more caring towards you like he was stepping to fill jaemins place, while jaemin was occupied.

Jeno was more controlled, he didn’t show much, if you didn’t know what had happen you would have believed everything was fine.

“What’s gonna happen to me if..? You know” ,

you leave the questions unfinished, but jeno understands what you wanted to ask.

His mouth opens to speak but closes shut again, he takes a minute to think before he answers “I don’t know”.

His honesty although appreciated didn’t help at all.

 “but, I will do my best to make sure you’er taking care of” he reach to hold your hand over the table, gently squeezing it to reassure you.

.

.

.

5 days after.

You saw less and less of jaemin.

The stress of it all was getting to you too, you were agitated.. you blamed it all on jeno.

“Why don’t you just confess?”, 

your question was loaded with hostility.

He looked at you, a desperate look on his face, he told you over and over but still he tells you again,

”it’s complicated sera”.

You scoff, his answer seemed more like an excuse than a genuine answer. “what’s complicated? You did it, you are the one who should be facing life in prison not him” you pointed at jaemin’s closed door.

He exhales, his eyes close “you don’t know what you’er talking about”.

“You killed him!” You contain to argue but he gets up and leave, ending the conversation.

Tears of anger pooled in your eyes, this is another level of injustice. 

.

.

.

6 days after.

You were quietly munching on your cereal, jeno sat across form you sipping on his bitter coffee.

The mood was tense, unstable.

The neglected tv flashed a breaking news strip that caught your attention, it was about the murder in a diplomatic’s son house, “turn the volume up” you ushered jeno.

“.. it has been determined that the leased apartment falls under diplomatic amenity and no further investigations could be carried” 

You looked at jeno, “dose it mean that they’er closing the case?” You asked, carful not to get your hopes up, he remind quiet for a minute before he nods “ yup, I guess they are”.

You jumped out of your seat, squealing with happiness “yes! Yess thank god” you grabbed his arm to share the joy but he didn’t move.

He wasn’t happy, nor relieved.. he didn’t seems to feel any thing.

You top your small celebration, “what?” You asked.

“Nothing” he stood up ready to leave, “clean up when you’er done”.

he leaves you to your wild thoughts to run the worst case scenarios. 

.

.

.

Today

The week slowly rolled over with much tension and uncertainty, jaemin has been called to the police station couple more times, you swear each time he comes back, he has aged years.

You wanted to be by his side but he didn’t even look at you when you tried to call him this morning, if he’s not out then he’s locking himself in his room. you tried knocking on his door, to get him to at least eat a proper meal but he didn’t answer. Each attempt has been met with either complete silence or a sharp temper, he would lash at you then quickly apologize.

This is not how you wanted your first semester to begin, you attended the first week of your online classes but you couldn’t really focus on what has been said, not with a disaster hanging above your head ready to drop at any minute.

And as much as you wanted to blame it all on jeno, you couldn’t anymore. The case is closed, but why is jaemin still being investigated? Could it be because of you? Did the police knew you were taken? Was it your fault?.. you tossed and turned in your bed, it felt cold and empty without him, you missed him so much. After a long string of pillow thoughts, slumber finally took mercy over you.

“y\n..” 

An unfamiliar voice calls your name.

“y\n” 

the whisper gets louder, your body tip over and fall off of an edge to an endless darkness.. you jerk out of the nightmare, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

You clam yourself and push the heavy covers off of you, dragging your feet to the kitchen for some water, you don’t bother turning the lights on, you open the fridge door and take a bottle. The icy water clears the clouds in your mind only for the grim reality to take its place, jaemin might be taken away.. you dwell on the scary thought. 

You turn your head to see the lights of jaemins room were on, your heart clinches, he’s still awake at this ungodly hour.

Opting not bother him, you head back to your lonely bed, but the dark figure in the balcony almost gave you a heart attack.

You recognize the man, it’s jaemin.. his tall figure was standing in the dark, the phone was pressed to his ear, his demeanor was agitated, shifting his weight form one foot to the other, you couldn’t hear anything but you can tell he wasn’t happy.

You turn to see if jeno was in his room, his lights were off and his shoes were by the door. you always had the impression that they were close, partners in crime. they did all their nasty work together, but why is it only jaemin who is in this mess right now?.

“You can’t be serious !” 

Jaemin’s loud voice comes clear through the thick glass, his hand running through his hair seemingly wanting to rip it from the roots out of frustration. You can tell he was angry, desperate.. he keeps shouting but you can’t make out what he was saying. you step closer, as close as you can without being seen by him, you try to decipher his muffled voice,

 “I am your son! Your only son” 

you’er not sure if that’s what he said.. 

He speaks in a lower voice before he removes the phone from his ear, ending the call. He punches the wall next to him, he was beyond pissed.

You move to hide behind the curtain to avid angering him more, he opens the door and steps inside slamming the glass door behind him.

“I can see you” he deadpan says in the dark, since there’s no one other than you, he must be talking to you and you make the quick decision of coming out before he losses his temper. 

“Im sorry, I had a nightmare and I got up to drink wa..” You try to explain yourself but he waves his hand with not much care “Yeah yeah” and you stop talking.. he walks to his room, the dull city lights illuminating his backside, his shoulders were slumped, his back hunched with heavy burden, the sight of him broken made your heart twist inside your ribcage.

“Jaemin” you call him without a plane, he stops and looks at you, “Are you okay?”, stupid question.. 

Although it’s dark, you can feel his eyes burning holes into your face.

“Do I look okay?” He retorts,

You answered him with a small “no”

he turns to walk to his room but you speak again, “I can help you if you tell me what wrong”, bold statement.

He stops again and heavy sighs, your heart thumbs in your chest as you wait for him to speak, but all you get was a scoff, “why don’t you just know your place huh?” he asks with much condecindence, although you know he didn’t mean it, his words still hurts. 

“Just stay out of my way, you have done enough already” he adds more sharp words, twisting the planted knife in your heart.

“I just wanted to help you and be here for you” your voice breaks and you hate yourself for it, but you chock and the tears starts to gather in your eyes, he huffs and looks up to the ceiling, impatiently waiting for you to recompose yourself. But his cold nonchalant demeanor triggers more eruptions inside of you.

 the words escapes your mouth before you have thought of them.. “all I wanted was to help you, but you keep me away form you! you don’t tell me anything, no one is telling me anything! I don’t know what is happing or if I will see you when wake up the next day” you rant through the sobs, your voice getting louder and louder, and when he was fed up with you he shuts you down with a loud scream “shut up”.

 Jeno comes out of his room, bewildered and alert.. he stands in the background watching the fight evolves.

“You are not my girlfriend” he walks towards you, making you feel small and insignificant, “I don’t own you anything” his tall stature looms over your short one, that cuts deep. 

you look at him, you stare into his eyes, challenging him to take what he said back but he doesn’t.

“Yeah?” Your voice barely comes out, “fine then I guess I have no reason to stay here anymore”. you turn and stomp to where your bed is to collect your few belongings, he follows behind, his steps shaking the ground beneath you.

“where the fuck do you think you’er doing?” He asks but you ignore him, more so you couldn’t speak due to the choking knot in your throat, but your lack or response angers him even more, he grabs your arm and turns you around with much force, that it almost dislocates your shoulder, you whimper at the pain but he doesn’t care, his grip tightening even more, his eyes glazed with a dark, sinister layer.

“Jaemin!” Jeno warns, but it does nothing as another screaming match breaks between you, with him asking you the same question, not really waiting for an answer, and you shouting whatever comes to your mind first, curses, accusation, anything to hurt him. you don’t know who started it first but hands were being thrown, jeno was trying to break you apart, but  eventually, jaemin overpowered you and threw you over his shoulder like a rag doll, your kicking and screaming did nothing against him.

 “Jaemin” jeno shouted at his friend who was in a trance, muttering the filthiest insults under his breath.

“Where are you going? Jaemin!” jeno tries to reason with him. at this point jaemin was like a robot, marching to his room, he kicks the door to his bedroom open, he slams you to his bed, knocking the wind out of you. 

“Jaemin! Calm down” jeno was trying to stop whatever jaemin was doing, he kneels and opens his safe, jeno’s voice getting louder, you were paralyzed with fear everything is happing so fast for your brain to form a response.

Jeno was trying to pry jaemin’s hands out of the safe, “come on! don’t do something you’ll regret”, jeno was almost begging him to stop.

jaemin finally broke out of his trance and turned to jeno “get out!”,

but jeno stood in his place like a pillar, his presence seems to clam jaemin, he takes a deep breath and pushes his hair back “I know what im doing” he speaks calmly this time before he turns back to you, you swallow the thick knot “jaemin please..” pleadings to spare your life were timid but loud enough to be heard, your body crawls as far away from him before the wall stops you.

He kneels down and reaches again inside the safe, for a second the time has stoped, everything moved in slow motion. 

He takes out a metal handcuffs out of the safe, the blood that was frozen in your vines moved again, you let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding.. jeno does the same “fuck..” he must have thought the same, he too believed jaemin was about to kill you.

Your limbs fell weak and cold due to the withdrawal of the adrenaline that filled your bloodstream, you feel sick, dizzy.

The bed dips under jaemin’s weight next to you, your head falls back into his soft pillows, aimless tears rolls down your temples, you give him your hands to cuff. you are worn out, you surrender.

He takes both of your arms and cuffs them to the headboard of his bed, your eyes meet, you don’t look away and neither does he. He looks down at you.. his eyes pours inside of your soul.

Dark circles beneath his eyes, dry lips, heavy eyelids but still, still handsome as ever. he leans down to kiss your watery eyes, “for my sanity sake” he whispers between the kisses.

He throws his covers over you, and turns the lights off before he leaves and close the door behind him.��

[mingoyeob-archive]

under the oak tree II | teaser

summary ⇾ jungkook has finally returned home from war and is anxious to see his new bride. what will happen when he finally lays his eyes on her after three years and how will he be able to contain the hunger he’s held for her even after all this time.

genre ⇾ knight! jungkook, strangers to lovers au, will be smut

pairing ⇾ jungkook x reader

teaser word count ⇾ 1.3k

authors note ⇾ finally! i've started writing uot 2! this is just a snippet from the beginning but here's an update on how its going so far, hope it gets you excited for the finished product! nothing smutty or riské, at least not yet ;)

part 1, interlude

it was hot.

the sun beating down on the large number of knights in the campaign had their foreheads burning and hair sticking to their skin. expensive armor that was once new and shiny was now heavy with dirt and mud and sweat. they had been riding for days now with barely any breaks in between and it was obviously starting to take a toll on the exhausted band of knights. well - on everyone except jungkook.

of course the commander would be perfectly fine. he had trained years for this type of thing, never once slowing down or stopping to catch a breath. and that’s not to say everyone else hadn’t trained to earn their spot. just no one had trained as hard as jungkook did. wanted it as much as jungkook did. even from a young age, when he fought warriors three times his size, he had never given up. swinging his sword till his arms gave out or until his opponent gave up out of pity and walked away from his broken and tired body splayed out on the dirty ground. cowards is what jungkook would call after them, watching them walk off before he lost consciousness.

“sir…” a voice rang out loud, but exhausted, from the back of the formation. “don’t you think it’s time to stop and make camp?”

horses came to a halt as the commander stopped and heads turned in the direction of the culprit. the voice seemed to belong to a handsome young knight who’s fluffy brown hair was basically drenched making him look as if a bucket of water had been dumped over his head. his body laid slumped over the back of his horse as he looked up in the direction of commander, puppy eyes begging with desperation. the rest of the knights assumed the boy had to be lacking a few braincells - how could he not? no one in their right mind would ever question the commander when he gets in a mood like this.

jungkook had barely even turned around, steely eyes still facing forward as he hissed, ”what’s your name knight?”

the boy gulped, all signs of exhaustion seeming to drain from his face as he started to recognize the tension in the air. his back straightened up and he tried his best to talk loud and avoid stumbling over his words, “taehyung, commander. sir kim taehyung...”

“and may i ask what, sir kim taehyung, do you think gives you the right to tell me when and where to camp my knights at?” jungkook says, biting out the words. everyone could see the mans shoulders tensing and those in the front caught a glimpse of white knuckles gripping hard on to the reigns of his horse.

taehyung stared wide eyed at the back of the mans head before flicking them around trying to catch the eyes of someone who could help him out the situation as he mutters meekly, “well commander i just thought-“

“you thought wrong.” he growled, cutting the conversation short. jungkook didn’t even spare him a glance, instead urging his horse forward and calling out to the rest of the group, “i’m the commander. we’ll camp when I say, any questions?”

he was met with silence, “didn’t think so.”

jungkook didn’t say much more before his horse galloped off expecting the rest to follow. most of the more experienced and knowledgeable knights did so out of fear of being chewed out like taehyung had been, already used to the commanders stern and no bullshit attitude. the rest, young and new to the guard, followed hesitantly with looks of uneasiness. taehyung who was still in shock sat there on his horse staring off in the distance at the commander as he charged ahead, unsure of whether he was still even considered part of the campaign anymore.

“don’t worry, you’re not fired.” a voice from the side of his horse spoke making taehyung turn his head. next to him stood another dashing knight, blonde hair parted down the middle and sweeping over his forehead. he turned his lips into a smile at taehyung, eyes squinting and chubby cheeks squishing up with gesture. “at least, not yet. but i’d advise against asking the commander too many questions. he doesn’t like that too much, more of the ride in silence type, ya know?”

taehyung just nodded his head frantically, glad someone was giving him help on how to survive the rest of the journey. he smiled and laughed out, “thank you for the advice, kind sir!”

“ugh no need to be all formal, just call me jimin! can I ask why you wanted to stop and make camp?” jimin says, voice dripping with honey like kindness.

taehyung just stared at him with a blank face, not understanding how the knight hadn’t noticed the bullets of sweat dripping down his face and the heaving breaths he took. but taehyung could see the man was almost in the same state and he assumed it must not be that much of a big deal to him. so instead he played it off and laughed, “ah i was just thinking the horses might need a rest! my tannie seems to be out of breath.”

taehyung patted the side of his black and chestnut brown horse yeontan, who just sneered in return and jerked forward a little, seeming like he was able to tell his owner was throwing him under the bus. taehyung made a mental note to cut the horses usual treat of carrots in half for the obvious betrayal, lips turning down in a frown. “by the way, what crawled up the commander butt and died? i hope he’s not always like that or else i’m definitely not making it.”

jimin let out a boisterous laugh at taehyung, shoulders shaking and head thrown back in amusement. “ah well, jungkooks just in a little bit of a mood right now. hates being away from the misses too long if you catch my drift. ” he says after catching his breath from his laughing fit.

“and don’t worry, your tannie will get his break. jungkook usually likes to make camp a little past the halfway point where a stream passes by for drinking water.”

taehyung sighed in relief at jimins words. the halfway point was just a couple miles ahead. they would be there before sundown and he couldn’t wait to strip this heavy army off and take a nap - and get tannie a drink of water too, of course. his smile returned and only seemed to get bigger as he reached out and gave jimin a pat on the back, “once again i thank you, jimin! you seem to be very knowledgeable on the commander! you must have taken this route with him many a blue moon, yes?”

“of course! i am his second in command after all,” jimin says, sending taehyung a sly wink before moving his horse forward in the direction of the rest of the campaign. “better catch up! there’s a lot of mysterious creatures out here that could use a snack. don’t want to be left behind!”

jimins horse kicked up dust in its wake and once again taehyung was left in shock, surprised by the casual way the man was able to drop his title on taehyung as if it was no big deal. and after what he said, taehyung was definitely fired. he just shook his head and let out a loud groan, head dropping forward into his hands. but his call of frustration was met with a howl in the distance that seemed to be a lot closer than he was comfortable with. so with shaky hands he gripped his reigns and rode after jimin calling out after him pathetically, “hey! jimminie, please don’t leave me!”

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 12

the Darkling x Reader

The hour was late as the stars basked in the darkness and cold winter air. The fire roared in its hearth while your still steaming cup of sleep-aiding tea sat untouched on the small table. Your talk with Alina earlier was the cause of your unrest. You didn't know whether to feel sorry for her or be frustrated with her. She is a lovely girl, most pure and kind and quite literally the definition of sunshine, but something about her irked you and you hated it.

Maybe it was her somewhat unhealthy obsession with her friend, the tracker- Malyen Oretsev, or the sheer denial and lack of understanding of her position. Sure, Mal was the only thing that tied her to her old life, a sense of home, but he didn't belong anywhere near the Little Palace and posed a threat to Alina's true potential. She should understand that, no doubt it's been explained to her many times. She was no longer a random girl from the First Army or a Child of Keramzin, she was the Sun-Summoner and had to act the part.

But there was also a nagging feeling in you since your last words with Aleksander, the ones about the stag. From what you could gather, Alina definitely wasn't power-hungry, not yet anyway, and placing an antler anywhere on her would be against her wishes. You knew deep down that whatever he had planned would go far beyond just giving her an amplifier for her sake.

You sighed and moved around on the armchair again, trying to convince yourself those were the reasons you couldn't sleep, that Alina's position in this mess was why your mind wouldn't shut off, but who were you kidding, it was her and him. For starters, she called Aleksander by his name. The second the word left her mouth, your blood ran cold.

__

'Is he not here?' Alina looked to you from over her mug, eyes scanning the room.

'Who?'

'Aleksander, is he away at Kribirsk again?' Your smile faltered and your grip on your own mug loosened. But Alina waited for an answer.

'Oh umm, I don't know.' You did but the shock caused your mind to blank completely.

__

You had known Aleksander for years before he even told you his true name, you had to earn it. She spoke of her General with a fondness, at one point even speaking of him as if he were more than just her commanding officer.

__

'Do you miss the First Army Alina? I know you left friends behind, not just Mr.Oretsev.'

'I suppose I don't feel at home just yet, it's a lot to take in, this whole division of orders thing doesn't help either... But he assures me I am not alone, that I have an equal in the Palace.'

An equal?

__

The heat of the fire was doing nothing to calm down your rising rage. Apparently Aleksander was doing more talking with Alina than you'd thought, even sacrificing his own true name, one only spoken by you and his mother, for her to utter as if it was just another name. So what if you were in his chambers, making use of his office and sleeping in his bed, he clearly had his eyes on two prizes or maybe just one.

You felt sick now, be it from the heat or the anger, you got up and opened a window. The cold and dark night was a stark contrast to the licks of the flame. It made you feel at peace, but only momentarily. You heard voices outside, slowly growing louder. You rested your head against the wall, begging for one last moment of stillness, but alas the door was yanked open and his boots echoed throughout the room. You cursed yourself for deciding to spend another night in his quarters. You thought he'd be gone longer than just 4 days.

'I do hope you made yourself comfortable' His voice was as smooth as the kvas you had downed after Alina left. You wanted to turn around, but the anger was still there and all hell would break loose if you let your emotions run wild again.

'I did thank you. At least you have a desk'

'I'll get you one first thing in the morning'

'No need, I already requested one' Your voice was void of any emotion. Don't start a fight.

'Are you alright?'

'Just tired, being diplomatic is hard work' It sure was right now.

'Might I suggest actually getting into bed then?' His hand slowly came around your wrist and pulled you in the direction of the bedroom but ironically at the simple touch, your anger grew, when it usually has the opposite effect. You saw out of the corner of your eye that he had a genuine smile on his face, one that tended to make you melt but not now. You shrugged him off and walked in the direction of the door, leaving him utterly confused.

'Y/N what's going on.

'I'm tired, I'm going to bed' You tried so hard to act normal, not in any way pissed.

'Y/N look at me'

'Goodnight Aleksander' You couldn't help it, the mockery of his name just came out. There goes the diplomacy.

You heard him quickly walk towards you and tried to get to the door first to escape the tense atmosphere you created but he got there first, blocking your way.

'What?' You threw your hands up in exasperation not yet looking at him.

'Did something happen whilst I was away?'

'No'

'Then what is it'

'Nothing'

'Don't lie to me Y/N'

'Oh but it's okay for you to lie to me' Your eyes finally bore into his.

'Excuse me?' His expression read baffled; annoyed; pissed.

'Move away from the door Aleksander'

'No! You're going to be mature and have an actual conversation with me for once' He asked for it.

'Alright fine, Let's start with Alina''

'Y/N'

'I had a lovely little tea party with her today. Sweet thing. She loves to talk once you get her going. She told me a lot of fascinating stuff, including your name! How interesting don't you think.' Your voice was so cold it even made you shiver.

'I can explain'

'I'm not finished.' You felt that pull in you, that pull that comes before you put your fire or shadows to use but crammed it down with all your might. 'Her best friend hasn't been replying to any of her letters and I can recount there are many of them. Guess what I found in one of your drawers? They are all very poetic don't you think? I'm all for helping her adjust, but that's not help, that's manipulation Aleksander.'

'She won't let him go, It's dragging her down.' He said through gritted teeth.

'Dragging her down or away?' The double meaning in your words didn't go unnoticed by him.

'Y/N all I want to do is go to bed right now, I've had a long day, please.' His hand reached out for yours but you scoffed and moved away.

'You wanted to have this conversation, General, don't shy away when your actions are questioned.'

'Fine' He unblocked the door and crossed the room, throwing his cloak and kefta on the floor with a heavy thud. 'Is there anything else you wish to accuse me of Y/N dearest?'

'Look at you, so bitter but I haven't heard you deny any of it'

'You may go now if you like.' He picked up a decanter of whiskey and poured himself a generous glass

'Since when are you this childish Aleksander. Have I missed something in my 100-year absence?' You mocked.

'You left me with all of this' He gestured to the palace. '-That's what happened.'

'Don't turn this around on me, and I told you that wasn't a choice.'

'The Y/N I knew would have come back and not hid like a coward'

You stilled and waited for any sign of apology, but it never came. He meant it even though he knew how much such a simple statement would hurt you. You turned slowly and walked to the door.

'While I'm gone, at least have the common decency to change the sheets before you bring Alina in here' you shut it loudly behind you and heard the breaking of the glass, no doubt thrown at the door as you were leaving.

What a day.

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess

Ok so idk if people can see this but I posted this like a week ago and apparently nobody seen it so here it is!!!!

Part 13

Here's my masterlist!!

[angstyantoinette]

Some Yandere Alastor HCs, if you are able?

oh. my. god. absolutely. I’ve literally been waiting for this moment. 

Warning: NSFW mentioned.  

I DO NOT IN ANY SHAPE OR FORM CONDONE THESE BEHAVIOURS IN REAL LIFE.

(Sorry, but I got way too into this and began writing a full-on oneshot kinda thing. This also took wayyyyy too long to write)

When you first met:

Weakness is an inconceivable fault in Alastor’s mind, it must be used as a gateway for victory, and not for anything else but fear. In all the horrors he has seen and mostly caused, mental or physical weakness is what he uses to rile up his victims, make them think they have a mere chance of survival, while the demon is wrapping his charm and pure agony around their limping body, savouring his victim’s last breaths before they fall still, silent and cold, and he walks off, in search of a new plaything. 

He saw that familiar weakness in Charlie, practically being attacked by the sickening scent from the other side of the Pentagram. That Vaggie girl knew far too much for her own good; he heard her dramatically retelling his demonic history in Hell, and he silently chuckled as she shot him venomous glares, to his apparent unacknowledged state.

Pathetic.

 And that’s when you walked in. Poor Y/N, making the mistake of coming in that day. It wasn’t as often that you helped out at the hotel, but Vaggie had discreetly called you over in the hopes that you could help plan a movie night or something to cheer everyone up. You showed up with movies, popcorn and a small flask of booze in hopes that you could just forget everything tonight. 

You showed up to the hotel with the items, walking in, expecting Charlie to come rushing towards you like she usually did. Instead, you found yourself in a room with a tiny demon cleaning impossibly fast, Angel slurping on a Popsicle being seemingly berated by Vaggie again, and an obviously tipsy cat with wings, who was pouring himself another glass of booze.  

You almost didn’t see the red-clad demon, skulking around in the shadows, but a pair of strange eyes caught your attention. They were like radio dials, rich and red. In any other situation you would have investigated it discreetly. But a great evil was radiating from those eyes, of the demonic stranger.

Let’s just say that you didn’t enjoy the vibe that you got from him.

He stared at you for a little while, before shoving out his hand and gracing a huge, cheshire smile across his face; it was unsettling to say the least and thankfully Angel was far more approachable than this deer-like weirdo. However, to be polite, you painfully etched a false smile on your face, aware that it was probably incredibly obvious, and gently shook his hand, desperate to claw your way out of his vice-like grip. 

It felt like a million years before this demon ceased his scrutinising and you managed to glide on over to Charlie, and you shoved the red-clad entity out of your mind before beginning to interact with the princess. 

Alastor was in shock. Not only did he fail to politely and forcefully introduce himself, he still didn’t catch your name. He had to know. He had to.

You had piqued his interest in mere seconds.

“Charlie, dear, I must leave immediately! Business to attend to, and quite frankly, those low-life scum in the centre have been causing havoc again! Time to return the favour!” A mysterious departure that couldn’t be explained, but it left you and Vaggie more at ease, and you sucked in a breath and continued conversing with everyone.  You were just so desperate to forget about him, but even as you drunkenly danced with Angel, debated with Vaggie, and threw yourself onto a spare queen-sized bed in the hotel; the paranoia remained. 

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

Over a period of time, you had become skilled at avoiding this intimidating new demon, who you came to know as Alastor. You made your outright discomfort very, very clear.

You ensured that all tasks required to being completed were paired up with someone else if needed. In your two months’ of acquaintance, you knew that he was to be wary of. You made arrangments to sleep in many floors away from him, many locks sealing your bedroom shut. After moving permanently into Hazbin Hotel, you had thrown yourself into helping Charlie and the others. You owed your afterlife to them all, for being so good to you. 

And Alastor just made the cut. If he wasn’t technically your colleague, you would have never even caught a glimpse of his tall figure skulking and prowling the hallways, smile stretched wide as he hunted for his next plaything. 

Admittedly, you had been doing a small amount of research. It became a small fascination, but also an intoxicating frustration that you just couldn’t seem to get rid of. But why was “The Radio Demon” here of all places?

You knew his former life. You knew him now. And you had some ideas about what he was capable of. 

And the question still lingered; what was his actual purpose?

Demons of such renown didn’t just show up to random hotels to ‘help.’ They tortured, and played with their victims. They never spared anyone. Ever. 

But all of a sudden this red-clad fucker waltzes in, claims to be of “assistance” at at an all too coincidental time of when the staff was in great need?

You were sure he was planning something. An event, anything to with a big, fancy ass gesture to grab Hell’s attention. 

A divine, heavenly force would be the only thing now to help you.

A real pity you didn’t know it yet.

Or that you never get it.

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

Alastor didn’t understand why you riled him up so much. 

His attraction to you was intoxicating, and as he lay in his satin crimson sheets, nights after night, he grew to picture you in a rather...lewd fashion. Many a hazed, oddly relaxing day he had taken a seat, Angel slurping a god-forsaken popsicle and you could either be right there or not; it didn’t matter.

He could imagine you moaning as clear as day, begging, just wishing for him to-

A shameless, electrifying sensation would show itself, making him struggle to carry on whatever conversation, or interaction he may have been having, forcing him to ‘suddenly’ disappear. 

Just like this time. 

As he was walking upstairs-who knows why, he could have just teleported- hopefully scouring the halls for a glimpse of you. He sighed in pleasured frustration as he continued to search for your figure until-

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.” 

“Really?” 

“As if!”

 “Stop calling th- SHUT UP!” 

Snippets of anger could be heard, from a few doors down, was it? The laundry room it sounded like, the irritating rumble of the washing machine puncturing the former silence he so desperately desired. 

Alastor’s grin only ever widened when he saw you angrily tapping your fingers against the top of the counter near the violently vibrating machine, a tic he has come to love and hate just as much as you do. 

“Ah, Y/N dear, there you are!” 

His eyes flashed with unforgivable greed as you spun around, arms up in the air, as if you were about to attack him. A silent but gradual chuckle shook his body, the thought of you even attempting to defend yourself against him was simply too amusing. 

Watching him with a ferocious cautionary gaze, you ceased your finger tapping and pressed a digit to the washing machine’s button softly, ceasing its deep rumbling. 

Diving downwards, you opened the door and pulled out your clean clothes, not noticing a pair of predatory eyes mentally undressing you. Of course you could feel his gaze, and that didn’t make it any more comforting that you were literally bent over in front of him. 

Alastor was#s all too aroused comfortable by the view in front of him, and he was left disappointed as you bustled out of the room, steaming laundry in your arms, almost running down the hallway. 

A clawed hand picked up a pair of warm, lacy underwear. 

Clean. Fresh. His.

And you can’t do anything about it.

You’re not his toy, oh no. You were his prize, his consolidation, his REWARD. 

He deserved you. It was safe to say you deserved Alastor too.

So, yes, I know this wasn’t the best. But I felt guilty for not finishing it for so long. 

what Alastor the red bastard did next is up to you to imagine :3

thank you for putting up with my inconsistency-

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic. 

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them. 

-

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately. 

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin. 

This has been going on for days now. 

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work. 

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you. 

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away. 

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell. 

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house. 

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon. 

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out. 

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting. 

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely." 

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend. 

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight. 

Or ever. Forever sounds good. 

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky. 

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire. 

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules. 

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on. 

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future. 

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet. 

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse." 

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is. 

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam. 

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you. 

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King. 

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred. 

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you. 

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?" 

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred. 

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses. 

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house. 

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights. 

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy. 

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either. 

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room. 

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by. 

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow." 

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts. 

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight. 

-

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance. 

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them. 

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP. 

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky. 

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness. 

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.  

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms. 

The sound is coming from Fred's. 

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart. 

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees. 

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him. 

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him. 

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise. 

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me." 

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what? 

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist." 

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively. 

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.  

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!" 

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've - 

"I was right. I'm losing you too..." 

"Uh, what?" 

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you." 

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." 

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths." 

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better." 

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought? 

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up. 

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now. 

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled. 

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything." 

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session." 

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do." 

"Mn." 

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred. 

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze. 

"Mn?" 

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state. 

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all." 

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?" 

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you." 

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated. 

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside. 

They're going to be alright. 

[suchalonelysunflower]

Wedding Bells (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader

Summary: The happiest day of your life is the worst day on Luke’s life. Could there still be a happy ending if he’s not too late?

Warnings: angsty. Language and mentions of alcohol. Slander on the name Phillip (sorry to all the Phills but it’s true, look it up) Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 4.9 k

Author’s note: let me guide you through my thought process: I was writing You Said Forever and accidentally got caught up on the Olivia x Joshua x sabrina drama, that lead me to the Miley x Nick x Selena drama, which lead me to the song Wedding Bells by Nick Jonas. So this is loosely based on that. Remember that Reblogs, Comments, Feedback and Likes are very important and welcomed, you don’t know how much it helps and I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading ✨🦋🌻

My materialist // wanna be part of my tag list?

His head was pounding, loudly.

Every beat sounded like an echo that ran through his whole body. Speaking of his body, goddamn how it hurt, how everything hurts.

His eyelids were closed, eyelashes stuck and tangled with each other, heavy as the sun shined through the window, begging him to get up. His mouth was also dry, he couldn’t figure out if it was because he slept with his mouth open or because he doesn’t remember the last time he drank a drop of water.

He groaned as the pounding in his head continued. A never-ending pain that matched the loud banging on the door.

“Luke! C’mon, we’re going to be late!”

Ashton's voice sounded far away as his mind was not fully awake yet. He didn’t want to be awake yet, maybe not ever again after this day.

If his eyes were awake he would roll them. Couldn’t Ashton understand that he didn’t want to go? He made it fairly obvious for the past few months! He was not going.

Luke hid his head farther in his pillow, trying to avoid any kind of contact with the outside world. But that was almost impossible as soon as he heard Ashton pick on his lock.

That bastard.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to mess with a bloke from the outsides of town?” He said with a teasing tone. Luke knew he was bluffing, his doorknob was messed up since the moment they bought the house, so it was easy to get in if you knew the right tricks with a safety pin - oh the irony of it all.

Luke mumbled something close to a word his mum wouldn’t be proud to hear. But Ashton simply ignored it as he walked towards the windows to open the curtains, letting the sun illuminate the room at its full capacity.

Ashton sighed at the sight of the room. Clothes were thrown out everywhere, the same goes with the hundred liquor and beer bottles and cans that were scattered around the floor. He grabbed the half-empty bottle of vodka that rested on the nightstand and clicked his tongue.

“You bought this yesterday,” He said, totally unimpressed. Luke didn’t answer “C’mon, buddy, up to the shower you go”

Ashton patted Luke’s back, encouraging him to get a move on, but the blonde just brought his sheets over his head and stayed put.

“Luke…”

“Mmnphf” He mumbled.

“What?” Ashton walked to the foot of the bed and grabbed the tall Australian by his legs, pulling him out of his comforter in one swift move that made Luke fall out of the bed with a thud.

“Motherfuck-“ He complained, rubbing on his bumped head, which was still pounding by the way.

“You were saying?” Ashton said with a smirk as he crouched down to be face to face with Luke, the teasing smile quickly fading away because he didn’t like what he saw at all.

The baby blue eyes that once shined with gleam were dull, red, and empty, and probably angry about his interruption. His curly blond was sticking to his forehead and his body language seemed to have given up on keeping him with a straight figure, making him physically close himself up to others.

“I said I’m not going!” His voice was hoarse due to the heavy drinking he’s been doing these past few days. He tried to sound harsh, but Ashton could easily see through his bluff. He was hurting, every part of him.

“Of course you are,” Ashton scoffed.

Luke glared at him “I’m. Not. Going” He said through gritted teeth. The drummer rolled his eyes. He’s had this conversation before and it was always the same speech.

“You are because she wants you there, so you’ll be there” Ashton stated as if that was the only reasonable answer.

Luke closed his eyes, cause he was sure that if he opened them he would punch Ashton in the mouth. Why couldn’t he understand? “I can’t go, Ash”

His voice broke at the end of the pleading, breaking Ashton’s heart in the process. He hated to see him like that; to see him throw away his life so carelessly without asking for or accepting anyone’s help. It’s not like he ignored what was happening, but he was sure this would do good for him; close cycles, help him move on, and that shit. How else could you mend a broken heart?

“And besides,” Luke continued “She doesn’t want me there” The words felt like poison in his mouth, bitter and dry “She invited you guys, you are her friends and I’m just her stupid ex”

That was a lie and he knew that. When the invitations came he made sure to throw his away before he even got to open it. Making the others believe that he wasn’t invited at all. He didn’t even tell them that you were the one who dropped them, him being unlucky enough to answer the door.

“It’s in June,” You said, eyes avoiding him “Hope you can make it”

Whatever words Luke had stuck in his throat stayed there as he swallowed the pain of seeing you standing there, inviting him to see you love someone else. All he could say was “You’ll look beautiful in white”

You practically ran away after that, leaving him alone with the invitations. Just looking at those envelopes hurt more than he could imagine. He knew this day would come eventually, he hoped he would. He just hoped that his name was engraved on paper next to yours.

“Maybe,” Said Ashton with a grin “But if she didn’t want you there then why did she ask me to RSVP for you?” Luke’s eyes widened like plates, he knew Ashton had called his bluff once again “She said you never answer yours so I did it for you. Cause she wants you there, Luke. You were her best friend, too”

Luke groaned and covered his face with his hand “Why did you do that?!” He asked with an exasperated tone, wanting to hate on the drummer but knowing that that was impossible.

“Because you need to go, mate! You can’t leave her hanging like this!”

“And what am I supposed to say?!” He yelled, he was not used to yelling but he was at the ends of his wits ``‘Oh, hey Y/N! A beautiful day isn’t it? Perfect weather to break my heart into a million pieces while you marry another guy and I’m sitting there watching, wishing I was him! I’m happy for you, though I’m really not cause I know it’s been like what? 3 years 5 months and 24 days since we broke up? but I’m still in love with you. Okay have fun?!”’

He grabbed an empty can from the floor and threw it away, hitting the door of his closet. He was beyond furious and frustrated. You were getting married and he can’t do anything to stop it; to stop you.

Ashton sighed, heartbroken by this whole ordeal “You’ve been counting?”

“Ever since that day. It was my greatest mistake and now I’m suffering from it. Karma really is a bitch. Did you know our anniversary is supposed to be in 5 days? And now it’s impossible to ever get her back”

The drummer placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, he wished he could make his pain go away. He’s never seen his friend so heartbroken before and it pained him knowing that there was nothing he could do about it.

“Luke,” He said in a fatherly tone “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. But believe when I tell you she wants you there, she misses you” Luke turned his head towards Ashton, his eyes begging him not to lie “I’m serious, she’s always asking about you but she’s too scared to talk to you thinking that you don’t want to speak to her. She needs you there, man. Not as a bitter ex and to show you she’s moved on, but as a friend. And I know for a fact you can’t say not to her, even when you’re mad”

Luke sighed. Ashton was right. He could never deny you anything, even before you were together and you were just his best friend, you were always his weakness.

He misses you too, every day since you broke up he’s been missing you. And he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see you at least one last time, given that your last interaction was awkward as hell.

“I can’t go, Ash”

Ashton nodded with a disappointing sigh as he got up from the floor, but before he could walk out the door he heard Luke say “I can’t go because I don’t have a suit!”

Ashton smiled “I got you covered, buddy” And left the room so Luke could take a shower.

*

Ashton’s suit was itchy, but Luke was grateful that he didn’t have to show up in jeans and an old BonJovi shirt.

He was surprised to find out that they were actually on time, although he wouldn’t be surprised if someone told him that Ashton woke him up much earlier than needed to get there on time.

They met with Michael and Calum in the parking lot, they greeted each other and started talking as if Luke’s heart wasn’t about to burst from the anxiety he was feeling.

To show up at a wedding is something; to show up at your ex’s aka the love of your life’s wedding is… unsettling. He understood why his friends didn’t want to make it awkward for him, yet the awkwardness settled at the moment he stepped foot out of the car.

“She’s getting married in a church?” He asked no one in particular.

“Yeah? That’s why we are here, mate” Calum chuckled.

Luke furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. You never wanted to get married in a church or even a chappel. No, if he remembers correctly, your dream wedding was somewhere outdoors; either a park or a forest or even someone’s backyard. You used to say that love was the most beautiful and natural thing in the universe, so it was logical to celebrate something as powerful as a wedding in the eyes of nature, so it all came to be one for love and love can be one for all.

He remembers he laughed at that, not to mock you in any way, but in awe of how beautiful you put it. Everything you said sounded like poetry to him, even if you were just reading a menu in a Chinese restaurant. But now your poetry would belong to someone else, and he only hoped that that someone deserves to hear it.

He doesn’t know the groom, he believes his name was Phill? Or something like that? Ashton always said he was kind of a jerk, but you loved him enough to marry him so maybe he wasn’t that bad. But for Luke he would always be the man that stole you from him.

All three of his friends started walking inside the rustic church and Luke followed, incapable to think about anything else that wasn’t you at that moment.

However, the minute he entered the cold building he knew something was wrong.

The church was filled with people he didn’t know, he assumed they must be from the groom’s side of the family, but he would bet the 35$ Ashton left in his pocket that you didn’t know half of these people either.

You never wanted a big wedding, hell, you didn’t even want a big birthday party, no matter how much Luke insisted on it.

“Those kinds of parties are not for the ones being celebrated!” You told him once “If it was truly important then all you need is your closest friends and your found family. What else is there to love?”

Your words kept repeating themselves inside Luke’s head. What else is there to love? Indeed.

That wasn’t the only thing catching his attention though. With every step he took towards his seat he found out more things out of place, out of you.

For example, the color scheme was terrible and he knows you didn’t pick it, your favorite colors were nowhere to be seen. Then it was the flowers, if there is one thing he never forgot about you were your favorite flowers. You used to fill the house with them saying that they were your little serotonin boosters, he remembers how happy they made you and how one time he nearly bought all the flowers in the shop to surprise you when you were having a bad day. Now he cannot even look at them without thinking of you.

The more steps he took the more flawed this wedding looked. And yes, he knows that sounds bad, especially coming from him. But it was the truth. Not even the music sounded like it would come from you.

The words ‘This is not right’ Kept screaming at the back of his head.

The Y/N he knew would never choose those flowers or those colors or that guest list or that venue, nor the song that was playing over the speakers. She preferred live music over all the rest and, if she would’ve asked, she’d known that all four of them would perform for free on the happiest day of her life, even if it was the crappiest day for him.

If someone were to tell him a year ago that this is how your wedding would look, he would’ve laughed cause this is not like you. This wedding, this… charade of glamour and show.. this wasn’t you. This wasn’t Y/N. And it's supposed to be your day!

He couldn’t understand why you’d choose this? This was so unlike you, unless… unless he never really knew you at all.

And just like that, the sinking feeling of dread came upon him as he tried to figure out who was the person he knew and who are you now? What changed so much to make you lose all that you once were?

What if?

What if he knew how to love you better? He wouldn’t have let you walk away from him. He would’ve fought for you, for the two of you, instead of just giving up like he did.

Luke knew he loved you. Fuck, he still loves you like the first day. And now you are loving somebody else cause he didn’t know how to keep the most beautiful thing he ever had; the most beautiful thing he let die. He messed up, but his biggest fuck up was realizing it and doing nothing about it.

And now it was too late.

“Dude, are you okay?” Michael whispered when he noticed his friend's frown.

Luke nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line “What were you saying?”

Michael smiled with mischief “We were just laughing at how ridiculous Phillip looks. That suit does not suit him at all”

For the first time since he came, he looked over at the altar. Standing there was the so-called Phill you were going to marry. He was talking to his groomsmen and laughing obnoxiously at what seemed like an inappropriate joke. What did you see on that guy?

“Did you know the name Phillip means horse lover?” Said Calum, trying to stiff a laugh with the other two friends.

They were doing their best to keep Luke distracted and he appreciated that. But seeing the groom so unpreoccupied, so chill and uninterested made his blood boil. How could he be so at ease? If it were him, if he had the wonderful chance to marry you, he’d be a ball of anxiety. He’d be wondering just how beautiful you’d look, if you were feeling as nervous as he was, if you were as happy as he was and how he couldn’t wait to marry you… He would do all that because he will know that he is the luckiest man on earth. But that’s not his truth at all.

“I’m going to take a walk”

Neither of them told him that the ceremony was about to start or offered to accompany him. They knew he needed time and they wouldn't pressure him at all. Luke silently thanked them for that.

He walked out of the ceremony hall and started pacing around the halls, quickly getting lost as he tried to ease his mind.

How could he go through this and pretend that he’s okay? He remembered Ashton’s words from this morning and knew that if you wanted him here then he would be here, but that still didn’t make it any easier.

He would go through the ends of the earth for you if you asked him to, but this? This might be the hardest thing he has ever done, second only to let you go.

His curls were getting messy because of all the ruffling he did with his hands. He needed to pull himself together before the ceremony, he needed to seem okay in front of you. He-

The soft cries coming from behind the door caught his attention. They were hushed but they seemed completely broken. Whoever was behind that door must feel just as hopeless as he did.

“Hello?” He said, knocking on the wooden door “Hello, are you okay in there?”

The sniffing sounds stopped “Luke?”

It was quiet, almost like a whisper. But Luke would recognize your voice anywhere, especially after not hearing you say his name for 3 years.

“Y/N?”

The door opened with a click and revealed a supply closet and, inside that supply closet, there was a bride. There you were.

Luke’s breath almost disappeared as you knocked the wind out of his lungs. You looked beautiful. Stunning in your white dress. Magical as your hair was perfectly styled. Breathtaking with your waterproof makeup still intact, although you would look breathtaking without it as well. Ethereal as you looked at him and he realized that all the times that he missed you seemed small at how much he missed you now and how he would miss you all his life.

If there were any other adjectives to describe how you looked, he would take them all out of the dictionary and give them to you in the form of a song. Cause in his eyes there was no other beauty that could compare, that even the sadness in your eyes seemed to compliment your magnificent. And that was something he couldn’t ignore.

Without thinking it twice he took a couple of steps in front of you and cupped your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumb as he murmured: “What’s wrong, love?”

Hearing his voice so worried and soft shook something in you, something that you didn’t know you still had but at the same time knew that it would never go away.

More tears started streaming down your eyes as your gaze met his, making you get lost in those baby blue marbles.

“I- I don’t know what I’m doing, Lukey” You confessed in a whisper.

At the sound of his nickname, Luke felt like he could float away in a cloud of happiness. He thought you’ve forgotten. But the look on your face denoted a fear he hoped he’d never got to see again.

Your eyes were puffy red and your cheeks were flushed, not only because of the blush. And your eyes, they were terrified and Luke didn’t know what to do, so he just said.

“You’re getting married today” You didn’t miss the hint of sadness that laced those words. You hoped that could mean something.

You placed your hands on his wrist, holding his hands that were cupping your face and making them stay there. Right now it was the only comfort you got.

“I don’t know if I should-“ You choke out a sob “Luke, I’m scared- I’m so scared”

“Do you love him?” The words pained him, cutting right through his heart. But you and him were here for a reason, and that reason was waiting at the altar.

He secretly prayed that you would say no, that you would beg him to take you away and run away together, maybe elope somewhere far away and not come back to this place ever again.

He saw the hesitation in your eyes and he knew his answer.

“Y/N, I love-“

“There you are!”

Luke closed his eyes in annoyance when he felt his words get stuck in his throat as the stranger’s voice came closer to them. You quickly pulled away from him and that only made his heart break more than it already was.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Said one of the bridesmaids Luke has never seen before, he assumed that it was from the side of the groom as well, just like everything else “The ceremony is about to start, we need to go now!”

She quickly grabbed you by the wrist and practically draged you to the ceremony hall.

You were desperate. Your pleading eyes searched for Luke, begging for him to do something. But what could he do now? His shocking state left him standing right there with his eyes glued to your figure being dragged away somewhere he didn’t know you wanted to be. It all happened so fast that the only thing he could think of was that this might be the last chance he’s got to see you and all he could do was stare into your pretty eyes cloud with fear and tears.

‘Here comes the bride’ started playing through the speakers of the church and Luke clenched his fists to his side. You hated this song.

He went back to his seat minutes after the ceremony started. His three best friends were looking at him with curiosity and a thousand questions in their minds. They knew the minute that they saw you come in that those tears were not of happiness and, judging by Luke’s hard, emotionless face, he had something to do with it.

Throughout the whole ceremony, Luke couldn’t stop staring at you. It was eating him inside the fact that he knew you didn’t want this and yet you were still going through it. He couldn’t understand why. He is losing you right before his eyes and he couldn’t take that.

He knew that the moment you say ‘I do’ would be the moment his soul would die forever.

“Luke?”

He knew something was wrong. He knew it the moment he parked the car in a freaking church and your eyes filled with tears just confirmed it to him.

“Luke, are you okay?” Michael whispered once again, concerned about the white knuckles on his best friend’s fists.

He loves you. He loves you so fucking much and he can’t let you do this.

He won’t let you do this.

“If anyone can show just cause why this couple cannot lawfully be joined together in matrimony, let them speak now or forever hold their peace"

“Fuck it,” Luke said before standing up.

In one second, all eyes were on him. He could feel the stares of strangers, the judgy whispers of the families, and even the shit-eating grins from his best friends sitting beside him. But all his attention was on you. On you and your relieved face.

“I object to this union,” He said in a firm voice that overshadowed the murmurs, leaving everyone completely quiet.

He could see your eyes clouding with tears and the way your lips seemed to be saying his name in one breath. That was all he needed to keep going.

Luke took a few steps to the side, walking until he ended up in the middle of the aisle, looking at you and only you.

“Y/N, I love you,” He said, earning a few gasps from the public “I love you since the day I met you, the day I first asked you to be mine, and even on the day I lost you. I was an idiot who didn’t know how to take care of the magic we created and decided that it was best to let it go before it went out of hand. But you, you always believed in magic; you always believed in me and, Y/N that’s why I’m here telling you that I am still in love with you. And that you are making a big mistake here, just like I did when I lost you. But we are still on time to make everything right.

This, however, is not right and you know it. Where are you in all of this? Do they know your favorite flowers or that your favorite song includes a swear word? Do they know the way you take your coffee or your favorite colors? Do they know how much you love to dance, especially when no one is watching?

I know you, baby. I know you enough to say with certainty that this is not what you wanted. I know how much you love rain and how you wish time would stop every time you take a shower so it could last longer. I know that you cry during every movie, even if they have a happy ending because you always believed in them. I know you never want to break someone’s heart so you are willing to take the hurt as long as the other person is okay. I know that my biggest regret is losing you, cause you are the only thing I got right in my life.

You are life, fire, spark, patience, and love. You are the kindest person on earth and you deserve so much more than this world could give. No one deserves you, darling but I would spend the rest of my days trying to.

I’m in love with you Y/N L/N. Please, don’t- don’t marry him”

Luke’s eyes were watery as he swallowed down a sob on the last part of his speech. His eyes never left yours for a second as his body visibly shook with anxiety and fear, waiting for your answer.

You, on the other hand, were smiling through the tears “I love you too, Luke” You said loud enough for all to hear, and Luke felt like he could breathe again, a smile growing wide as he let a few tears roll down his eyes.

You ran down the aisle to his arms, fully sinking into them as you wrapped your arms around his waist. Luke’s chuckle reverberated through his chest as he picked you up and spun you around in your wedding dress, finally putting you down and looking right into your eyes, now clouded with happy tears.

“I told you you were going to look beautiful in white”

He kissed you with all the love he had in his heart. It was honest, pure, and filled with happiness as the two lovers finally reunite, making the entire church erupted in cheers.

The groom, however, didn't share that excitement. He was fuming red as he started walking towards Luke with his groomsmen, calling you derogatory names as he was ready to start a fight.

“Oh, fuck no” Said Calum, walking down to the middle of the aisle along side Ashton and Michael, creating a safe distance between the two of you and the fight that was about to start. Phillip was not happy, but before he could give the first punch Calum’s fist was already on his face, making him tumble back with a bloody nose “Take that horse lover!”

All hell broke loose in the middle of church as punches were thrown carelessly. The three Australians seemed to be winning the fight with ease, beating the asses of your now ex-fiancé and his friends.

The public was too distracted by the fight to notice how you walked away from the aisle as you cheered on your friends to kick their kneecaps. Luke took your hand and pulled you towards him, still laughing as he began tugging on it for you to follow, and so you did.

You ran as fast as you could, leaving everyone behind without a second thought. The only thing in your mind being the love you had for each other and how you won’t take it for granted this time.

“I love you,” He said as you reached the car, placing his hands at the side of your waist and leaning in for a kiss filled with adrenaline “I fucking love you, Y/N”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed him back with all the love you kept from him during all these years “I love you too, Luke. We are meant for forever”

“Forever and beyond”

It was a crazy sight from every point of view. The man with the messy hair and the girl in a wedding dress kissing in the middle of a church parking lot while the guests all peered from the entrance of the building, four of them bleeding through their nose with tears in their black eyes, and three of them with their clothes all messed up and sweaty, smiling triumphantly as they watched their friends live their love again.

With one last kiss, Luke helped you get inside the car and he quickly got to the other side, starting the engine just in time to hear the bells chime. Marking the start of your real happily ever after with the love of your life.

.

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @sarcasticallywitty15 @hoodhoran @flaneurcth @notinthesameguey @myloverboyash

[airashisakura]

For @ssskmonth Prompt used: Favorite food

Present

A/N: Major spoilers warnings for those who don’t follow Boruto Manga. After chapter 55 events.

Part 1

Part 2

FFN | AO3

Sarada scrunched her nose in irritation. The rice porridge she had been trying to cook didn’t taste right. Frustrated, she dropped the ladle on the granite slab. A few minutes before she had tasted it, and it lacked salt. She was so sure that she had sprinkled in the right amount, and now she couldn’t understand how that could ruin the taste.

I never have trouble with this recipe! She cried in frustration. And why is it happening TODAY of all days?

It was a simple recipe that she knew how to cook. Perhaps it was things around her that distracted her.

She twisted the knob of the burner with much more force than required, turning off the stove. She dropped the lid over the pot forcefully and cringed at the sharp metallic sound.

The start of the day had been good for her. Like every year, this birthday also started with the sight of her mother grinning widely. It was a bit too early, however.

Her mother had given her a squishing hug as she wished her birthday, and like every year, she giggled and returned her mother’s embrace. Everything around her could change, but maybe this routine never would.

Perhaps it could. She was no longer a child who hid behind her mother when she was afraid to face something. She had been on her fair share of missions and was beginning to grasp the essence of shinobi life. She was a kunoichi now, and she had confronted the death of her comrades. She had accepted this ugly truth, but watching her father recuperate had made things worse for her. Sitting beside her unconscious father in the hospital had almost given her a taste of what it felt like to lose someone close.

Trying not to concentrate on her thoughts, she padded towards the refrigerator. She tried to occupy her mind with how to fix the porridge. One thing she could do to balance the salt was to add more rice to porridge. She sighed in relief when she spotted a bowl of rice in one of the cabinets.

She turned on the stove again, adding the rice and water to adjust its consistency and let it boil.

She tapped her fingers on the granite slab, eyeing the bubbling water. With nothing to do at the moment, her mind wandered off to her teammate.

She reached for other ingredients and measured in each carefully. While she was stirring the porridge, she realised that with her team on suspension from missions, she hadn’t seen Boruto lately. Boruto seemed to be doing fine, but she had realised she was wrong when Shikadai pointed out that of all people, Boruto was the one who’d been affected most by the incident.

Maybe I’ll call him up, Sarada thought while she cracked eggs into a bowl.

However, she felt like he had been ignoring her, and decided not to call him while she gathered the chopsticks and started beating the eggs.

She had mixed feelings regarding Boruto. Although she understood it wasn’t Boruto’s fault at all, every time she saw her father’s injuries, she couldn’t control the anger that surfaced. She tried to shake off the feeling as she poured the beaten eggs into the porridge. She didn’t want to blame Boruto for what had happened.

After closing the lid on the pot again, she buried her face into her palms, leaning against the counter. She really hated this cycle — understanding Boruto’s helplessness and then ending up holding a grudge against him. No matter how hard she didn’t want to think about it, the thought of what havoc he might cause when he lost control of his body again dreaded her. She knew Boruto was now a potential threat. What if she had to do something in future herself?

She was too confused to think straight. With a sigh, she removed the lid to see if it was done. Satisfied with the consistency, she sprinkled in some spring onion and reached for a bowl to pour some for her father.

Sarada knocked lightly on the door, announcing her presence to her father. Although it had been routine for a few days, she waited till her father responded. A small smile adorned her face when she heard him ask her to come in.

She realized she rarely had any time with Sasuke like this. They usually trained together or ate dinner when he came back from his mission. She never had felt his day-to-day presence as such.

She pushed the door open. She tried to suppress her excitement, but she didn’t have to work hard when she saw her father reading a scroll.

“Didn’t mama tell you not to strain your eye?” Sarada asked him, pretending to be offended.

She kept the tray on the bed-side table and heard the scroll falling on the bed with a light thud.

Sarada fidgeted on her foot sheepishly, waiting for her father to wish her a happy birthday. She looked around the room, trying not to be obvious. The silence stretched, and it became a bit uncomfortable, so she asked him.

“How are you feeling today?”

"Better," Sasuke nodded, his voice as reserved as always.

Sarada adjusted her glasses, and scrutinized her father's face. He didn't look any better than he had the previous days. Although her mother assured her there was nothing to worry about, she sensed that her father wasn’t doing well.

She wasn't quite sure if her father was sad or if he really was better. Sometimes she was really amazed by how her mother managed to read behind her father’s stoic mask.

His long absence from her life made her sad because she knew Uchiha Sasuke only in two ways — one when he was happy and proud of her, and the other when he was indifferent and unattached with his surroundings. She didn’t know much about her father, and maybe her father didn’t know much about her.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, patting his hand on the side beside him and gesturing for her to sit.

Sarada plopped on the bed beside him; and replied, “Boruto.”

He listened with a rapt attention as Sarada recounted her concerns and could only wonder when his little Sarada, who hardly could make coherent sentences when he had left for his mission, had grown up. He had missed so many years and so many things, he realized.

Sarada frowned when she asked him, “Papa, do you think anything is going to happen to Boruto?”

Sasuke knew what she was talking about, but didn’t interrupt her.

“Since he is a potential danger now,” she explained.

Sasuke sighed, closing his eyes, partly in relief and partly agitated. “Don’t worry about that. This isn’t the old Konoha. The present council doesn’t take any harsh measures.”

Sarada gave him a perplexed look, and Sasuke realised what he had said. However, he didn't falter, and waited for her next question.

“What about old Konoha?”

“A lot,” he paused and thought about whether to complete his sentence.

“About the old system.”

About that unforgivable system that ran on blood and filthy tricks.

“About the old councilors.”

About those insensitive bureaucrats who didn’t think twice before ordering a thirteen-year-old to butcher his own clan and family.

“And about our clan.”

About the family I once had.

Sarada was thrown off by his sudden straightforwardness. He had always measured the amount of information he fed her and had always dismissed her when she pried much about the clan and the doujutsu. She couldn’t help but feel a little awkward, and she didn’t know how to react until she noticed.

“The food,” she squeaked. Sarada touched the bowl and wailed, “Oh no! It turned cold.”

It reminded him of Sakura, and he smirked before he said, “Ah, but I can eat.”

“You sure? I can go and reheat if you say so,” Sarada said as she set a low table on the bed and placed the bowl there.

Sasuke nodded, and murmured, “Itadakimasu.”

He took a spoonful of porridge, and asked her, “Did you cook this?”

Sarada nodded eagerly. “Mama had to leave early for the hospital today, but it isn’t like mama’s, though,” she pouted. “I messed up while adding salt.”

“No, it’s fine,” Sasuke lied. The porridge was too watery with a lot of rice, and it tasted disbalanced.

He wondered again when his daughter had grown up so much. Although he knew they were shinobi and they were supposed to, he couldn’t shake off the image of the tiny girl born to them years ago, and the shiny big black orbs that had stared at him when he had held her in his arm for the first time.

Sasuke took a few more bites of food and decided to break the silence, “What do you want for your birthday?”

“Eh?” Sarada blushed, although she tried hard not to overreact.

So Papa remembered.

She grinned harder and nodded her head, saying, “Nothing. You being at home is more than enough for me.”

But when the words slipped, she realised perhaps her reply wasn’t apt. Some unfortunate events making him stay home wasn’t what she wanted.

“I didn’t mean that way,” she reprimanded herself. “This is the first time you’re home on my birthday and...”

She didn’t know how to explain further, looking at the ground.

As far as she could remember in her childhood, Sasuke had never been home for her birthdays except a few years during which she didn’t have a clear memory.

Sasuke again took a spoonful of porridge and said, “Aah,” and smiled lightly and added, “maybe training?”

“You know mama won’t be a bit happy about this?” Sarada deadpanned.

Sasuke scoffed and after a second, both were laughing.

It was the first time she had seen her father so unguarded. She had made many memories, spent precious time with her father, and learned a lot, but this Sasuke was an entirely new one to her. For that moment, she stopped blaming all the wrong things that had happened to her, to her father, and to her family and cherished the moment. Seeing him so casual, she decided to say something she had been thinking about.

“I’m sorry. I had always resented you because you couldn’t live with us. I wondered why you had to go on a mission for so long.”

Sasuke was a little taken aback at the moment. Years of sacrifice had created a large mass of guilt inside him. However, Sakura always supported him, but he knew he owed an apology from Sarada for his absence. He wasn’t sure how. Words weren't his way, and he was too overwhelmed to say anything after what her daughter said.

Sarada smiled widely, and added, “Thank you for protecting us, Papa”.

“Aah.”

(Since chapter 55 was released in March, I assumed it to be around Sarada's birthday)

Part 3

[sondepoch]

Tangled, Tangled (Barbatos x Reader)

True devotion can only be bought with love. And the only person Barbatos will ever love is you. Unfortunately, the Demon King demands absolute allegiance from all his subjects, and he keeps Barbatos loyal by holding you hostage. After a century of separation, though, the butler's good behavior is rewarded.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

True devotion can only be bought with love.

Fear is the second-best contender. It is amazing, the lengths a man will go to out of fear. And hatred—hatred is nearly as compelling. And then there's rage. Rage and fury and deception. All brilliant ways to sway the weak, to earn followers, to gain rapport among those who otherwise would do differently.

But true devotion can only be bought with love.

Something the Demon King knows all too well.

"You may rise, Barbatos." The man arches a bored eyebrow at his butler, drumming his fingertips aimlessly against the throne. "Speak. Why have you requested a formal audience with me?"

"This is formal business, your grace." Barbatos holds his gaze level against the ground, not daring to look upon his master. "I did not want to waste your private time with my personal issues."

"You only wished to waste my public time, is that it?" The Demon King chuckles, the sound echoing through the throne room. "Very well. The hours I set for meetings are open to all. I suppose that includes even you, Barbatos."

"Thank you, your grace."

"What do you wish to speak with me about?"

"The date, your grace."

"The date?" An irritated confusion crosses the Demon King's face at that, and a small part of Barbatos's heart falls. He had hoped that the king would at least remember, but it seems that he will need to explicitly ask for it.

"It has been one hundred years, your grace, since the last...ahem. I was hoping that you might permit me to celebrate another century of my loyalty."

A glimmer of understanding falls into the Demon King's eyes, and Barbatos swallows nervously, praying that the man is in a good mood. It certainly would not be the first time he has been dismissed of this single pleasure because the Demon King felt like torturing him.

"To celebrate a century of your loyalty, eh?" The Demon King frowns. "You make it sound as if there might come a century where you aren't loyal to the crown."

"Of course not," Barbatos responds swiftly. "My oaths are for eternity. My loyalty to you and your cause will never fade. It's merely that…"

"Our agreement."

"Yes."

The throne room quiets, feeling unnaturally cold as if the stone walls are designed to suck away at the temperature, making all who pass within these walls as uncomfortable as possible. It takes all of Barbatos's strength not to shudder as the king studies him, his only solace being that the warmth will eventually return. That you are not out of reach. That the Demon King hasn't said no to Barbatos's request just yet, and that even if he does, he has a chance to find you after another hundred years.

"Beg."

Barbatos wastes no time in falling to his knees, his forehead touching the icy floor. He has no pride left, no dignity to be stolen. All that exists in his heart is the overwhelming desire for you, a love so strong that it is the only thing keeping his heart beating.

"Please, your grace."

True devotion can only be bought with love.

"Please let me see my lover."

And the love Barbatos harbors for you burns brighter than all the flames in hell.

"I am your servant for eternity, I assure you."

He is devoted to you, to your touch, to your smile, to your taste.

"And I will only ever request this of you once every hundred years."

And so he is devoted to anyone who may permit him to see you.

"But I beg you to allow me this mercy."

Even if it is the man who stole you away in the first place.

Barbatos retains his posture, head practically glued to the floor as he waits. The desperation in his voice does not go unheard, and there's the sound of laughter from the throne, arrogant and cruel.

A sharp metal bounces off of Barbatos's head.

The demon's eyes widen. Not from the pain of the action, not because his head is now throbbing. But because that is the key to your room.

Because the king has said yes.

"Rise, Barbatos. Take the key. I expect you to return it to me by noon tomorrow, and you cannot take your little friend out of their cage, but…"

Barbatos struggles to maintain his composure, no longer listening to the Demon King as he speaks. The butler is now wholly preoccupied with the key in his hand, with the fact that his master is dismissing him, with the knowledge that you are merely minutes away, and all Barbatos needs to do is turn a key in a lock to be by your side.

The rush of adrenaline which travels through his body is exhilarating. The demon's strides are controlled as he exits the throne room, but the moment Barbatos steps into the halls that will take him to your room, he's sprinting, all thoughts of propriety thrown out the window.

It's the moment he's been waiting for ever since he left your room one hundred years ago—the moment he is always waiting for whenever he has to leave you at the Demon King's orders, sworn to never return until he has sufficiently proved his loyalty, something the king has decreed to be one hundred years of faithful service.

Open, dammit.

Barbatos's actions are uncharacteristically sloppy as he shoves the key into the lock that bars your room, hating how stiff it is from lack of use.

"Open," Barbatos hisses under his breath, trying to use more force. "Just open!"

The demon slams his hand against the door, and suddenly, he doesn't know how he waited one hundred years for this. If the door doesn't stop blocking him from seeing you this instant, he's going to tear it to shreds, consequences be damned.

"Barbatos?" Your voice calls from the other end, slightly frantic. "Barbatos, is that you?!"

"The door!" He croaks desperately, trying to shove it open. "It won't—it won't—"

A sinking feeling takes root in Barbatos's stomach. What if this is a joke from the Demon King? What if he wasn't satisfied with Barbatos's service this century, and wants to torture him like this, so close from the one person he cares for but still so far?

"I barred it!" He hears you shout from inside. The sound of moving furniture fills his ears, and then you're calling his name again. "Now, Barbatos! Try to open it now!"

The demon pushes. He pushes with all his strength. He pushes and he pushes and he pushes until tears of frustration are beginning to prick at his eyes, and then he loses all sense of control and he shifts into his demon form, horns manifesting.

He sinks his claws into the door, talons tearing at the steel, and in the face of his inhuman strength, nothing can stand in his way. The metal screams as it grinds against the floor but Barbatos forces it open all the same, the promise of you on the other end only spurring his strength on.

It takes Barbatos all of two seconds to dart inside when the door is sufficiently open; two seconds before the metal screeches and the door is closed behind him.

But in those two seconds, his entire world has changed.

"My love," Barbatos breathes into your ear, holding you close against the ground. He does not know when he hugged you, or when he barreled into you with enough force to knock you both to the floor, or when you wrapped your arms around him in response. All he knows is that you're here, and no one is taking you away from him just yet.

"Barbatos," You whisper, clinging to him. Your figure trembles and the demon feels a wetness in his shoulder. "Barbatos, I missed you so much—I don't—you don't know how much I missed you—"

"I missed you too, my love." Barbatos pulls your head from your shoulder, his thumbs brushing the tears away from your cheeks. "More than I can ever say."

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that conveys his every emotion.

The two of you stay like that for a long time, completely unmoving. As if standing still will hold time back with you, giving you both longer to savor the moment. Giving you longer to savor this night. But however much you need each other's love, the need for air becomes overwhelming and Barbatos pulls his lips away from yours only to kiss you seconds later, refusing to lose a moment longer than he has to.

He wraps his arms around your waist slowly, stroking the skin there and savoring its softness. Its warmth. "Legs around me," He mumbles against your lips, and you comply instantly, wrapping your limbs around his figure as he lifts you and carries you to your bedroom.

It's hardly difficult for Barbatos to find the way there.

It takes him all of three minutes, an impressive feat given that the abode you reside within is practically a castle—but the Demon King's words were true. This is nothing but an extravagant cage, your presence in it a mere tool to keep the king's dog under control.

"Stay with me," You mumble into Barbatos's skin when he presses himself onto your bed. You layer open-mouthed kisses against his neck, slowly removing his clothing as he removes yours. "Stay with me tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after. The Demon King can't do anything if you refuse to leave."

"My love," Barbatos warns gently, squeezing your hand. "The Demon King can do everything."

"No, he can't," You argue. "You're a strong demon, Barbatos. He won't be able to hurt you, and—"

"He won't hurt me," Barbatos mumbles, frowning. He hates that he always has to go through this with you, that he always has to say it. Then again, he can hardly blame you. A century of separation would delude him into thinking that rebelling against the crown was smart, if only he weren't reminded of its power every day. "He'll hurt you."

"No, he won't," You mumble, cupping Barbatos's cheeks. You force him to look at you, and his heart breaks a little when he does. Even as you're with him, you're far away. Already thinking of how he'll have to leave you tomorrow. How you'll have to wait another century, only for it to repeat. "He won't hurt me. If I get hurt—if I die, he has nothing to hold you loyal to him."

"My love," Barbatos whispers. "He will kill you and he will make me watch. Because he knows I will turn back time such that it never happens again, so he can eternally keep me at his side."

"But how…" There is an unspoken question in your eyes, a soft curiosity as to how Barbatos can possibly know anything about a man who holds nothing but secrets.

And then there is Barbatos's unspoken answer, the flash of a memory flickering in his eyes before he is kissing you once more, trying to forget the sight of your once-empty eyes and the foolery which ever made him think he stood a chance against his master.

"There has to be something," You whisper, clutching Barbatos's shoulders as his fingers continue to work against your clothes. "Love always finds a way. That's what all the books say. We have to be able to do something to—"

"Shh," Barbatos hushes you, pressing his lips against yours. "Please, my love. I can make you no promises but for the present." Barbatos slides your underwear off. "So please do not think of the future."

"But Barbatos," You mumble desperately as he peppers kisses down your body. "I can't live through another century without...I just miss you so, so...please don't leave me...ah…"

The demon closes his eyes as he grips your hips, using his mouth the way you like best as he works your tongue along your nether regions. The sound of your moans does nothing but urge him onward, your fingers gripping his hair the way he's imagined on all those nights without you.

The demon takes his time with you. Ravishing your body as if he is a man starved. Latching his lips onto your skin at every instance, even as he sheathes himself inside and is at last one with you.

"I love you," He whispers into your ear hours later, when your bodies are finally tired and the night has grown older. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Barbatos." You hold him close, hugging him even as the two of you struggle to find your breathing, hearts returning to their normal pace together.

"Diavolo…" Barbatos clears his throat, taking a shaky breath and speaking only once he's positive his voice won't wobble.

"Are you calling another man's name while I'm in bed with you?" You flash a coy grin at Barbatos, and the demon doesn't bother suppressing the instinctive flush that crosses his cheek at your words. Your eyes are no longer clouded by desire as they were earlier, your voice having exchanged its desperate tone for one of adoration in the haze of such strenuous activities. But the demon can still see the undertones of longing behind your gaze, and even if you're no longer begging for him to stay behind with you, there's an unmistakable sadness in your eye.

"Diavolo will rise to the throne soon." Barbatos strokes your cheek with his thumb. "He suspects his father will take the Long Sleep by the end of the millennium."

"And?" You whisper, eyes wide. Eyes hopeful. Eyes desperate, because you don't know Diavolo the way Barbatos does, and you don't know if Diavolo will permit the two of you to be together.

"And Diavolo has promised to set you free when he rises to the throne."

The sob of relief that leaves your mouth at that tugs at Barbatos's heart. Your arms were already around him before, but now you're clinging to him, and you're desperately hugging and laughing and crying and trying to share your joy.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Barbatos!" Tears well in your eyes. "I can—I can eat real food—something you've prepared and not that insufferable trash the Demon King sends me—and we can go out in public together—out—outside this cage of mine and into the real Devildom—and we can—and we can see each other every night and—and—"

The happiness in your eyes falters.

"And there's a catch, isn't there?"

Barbatos nods gently. "Not a bad one. Diavolo is a just man. His only terms are that I pledge loyalty to him. The conditions of our bond will similar to what I share with his father...but he will only take you away from me if I do him wrong."

You sigh, seeing both the good and the bad of this situation.

"You will still be a collared dog."

"Perhaps," Barbatos muses. "But with you by my side, I will be happy. We will be happy. And Diavolo is a man who listens to reason. He will be a good ruler. I will not need to go against him."

But you're still hesitant.

"Can't you convince him otherwise? He shouldn't need a hostage to keep you in line. And—and you've done nothing wrong! Why can't he just accept your loyalty to be genuine?"

"Because," Barbatos brings your hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips. "They are jealous of you, my love."

"Oh?"

"True devotion can only be bought with love. And I will forever be more devoted to you than I ever shall be to them."

Your lips quirk upward at that, a flash of amusement traveling through your eyes. You don't believe him for a minute; the sheer notion of royalty being jealous of Barbatos's love for you is ridiculous.

"That sounds like a fancy way to tell me that things are complicated, Barbatos."

"What can I say? The ties that bind us are tangled, my love."

The demon sighs as you lay your head across his chest, your hands tracing abstract patterns onto his abdomen.

"I don't want to wait anymore," You whisper, pulling the demon closer. Barbatos can sense how you're already preparing to cling to the lingering warmth of the mattress when he'll have to leave, when you'll be left with the vague scent of your lover on your sheets and nothing more. "But I'll try."

And that is all I can ever ask of you, my love.

Barbatos doesn't thank you aloud. He isn't thankful. This very situation is something he will never be thankful for, and there's nothing the demon can do but press a kiss to your forehead as the two of you wait in silence for the moment where he will have to leave. There is no solace, no comfort in the fact that you will soon be separated. Even the promise of Diavolo's ascension to the throne is faraway, and Barbatos cannot expect you to be hopeful for a day that will come after so many centuries of waiting.

"Close your eyes, darling."

The demon blinks, but your arm reaches up to caress his face, his eyelashes flutter closed.

"See, if we lay like this, we can almost pretend that the Demon King doesn't exist." A short laugh spills from your lips, a sound so beautiful that Barbatos wants to bottle it in a jar and listen to it for hours. "Almost...so stop frowning."

Your fingertips ghost over his lips, and the demon smiles on instinct.

"That's better," You drawl sleepily, wrapping your arm around his neck. "Someday, we really will be able to stay like this forever."

That day cannot come soon enough.

Barbatos swallows thickly, knowing that he mustn't cry. That he cannot break in front of you. That while he is with you, he must be strong so that you have someone to lean on in your anguish.

But the more he thinks about how far away the future he desires is, the worse the pressure in his throat becomes. And the need to remain composed in your presence outweighs his desire to hold himself captive to the truth that binds him.

And so, for a few short hours, he allows himself this luxury.

And he forgets.

Forgets the king which is holding you here, forgets the prince who might set you free. Forgets the moonlight that illuminates you, forgets the bed that holds you. Forgets everything except the feel of your body next to his, your warmth spreading into his, your skin on his as he memorizes your figure to keep him company for all nights to come until he may see you again.

And when Barbatos closes his eyes like this, he can almost pretend that this night will last forever.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: As I was writing this, there was an overwhelming urge to turn this into pure angst and have Barbatos open the door, only to see MC and Diavolo kissing or smth

Comment & Like

Thank you for reading <3

I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

[marvel-and-mischief]

Daisies

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader Words: 2700 Warnings: gambling, swearing, alcohol, rough handling by guards, allusions to prostitution (it’s part of a scam), lighthearted punishment in the stocks Synopsis: Pero seems to always be around at the wrong time to sabotage your scams and join in with your punishments. Enemies to Lovers (sorta)

Daisies: attachment, new beginnings

💐

“Now remember, ten or above wins you double your stake, below ten and your stake is mine.”

The scruffy drunkard sat opposite you let out a bellowing laugh, the nasty stench of his rotten teeth hitting your nostrils. His movements sloshed the tankard of mead in his hand, spilling some of its contents on the table between you. You had to hold back your look of disgust and smile through the uncomfortableness.

“I won’t lose. Throw ‘em, lady,” he slurred. You had to fight off the smirk threatening to show on your face as you shook the two, six sided dice in your right hand. You had nothing to worry about, the dice were weighted, favoring the lower numbers and therefore guaranteeing your win every time. 

“Alright, but when you win you owe me a drink!” you winked cheekily at your mark, catching his eye whilst you threw the dice on the table. The more you distracted them the less chance there was of getting caught in your scam.

The dice came to a stop and you both looked down at the same time; a three and a four, earning a groan of disappointment from the few onlookers that had gathered to watch.

“Better luck next time,” you grinned, gathering up your dice and winnings as the man muttered something unintelligible and grumpily left the table, “anyone else want a go?”

“I will.”

You froze at the voice in your ear and saw the figure of a familiar man take the recently vacant seat opposite you. Pero Tovar always seemed to show up in your life when you least wanted him to. He was an annoying ghost and you could never shake off his haunting. You should gather up your earnings and leave but something kept you rooted to the table. And the longer you took to contemplate your next move, the more the drunkards in the tavern wanted to know what was going on. Soon you’d attracted quite the crowd.

“I said, I want a go.”

You looked into his brown eyes, the ones that sparkled with humor, always at your expense. 

“It may be too difficult for your small brain to understand how to play,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Then let us play a different one. I will throw the dice, and if the total is lower than ten, I win every penny you have taken tonight.”

The bastard. The only reason he would suggest playing it that way was if he knew how you were cheating the game. You clenched your jaw in frustration. 

“I think I am ready to take my leave-“

“But we have an audience!” Pero smirked, raising his voice and waving a hand at the tavern full of people who hurrahed, eager for you to throw the dice. You were cornered, physically by the wall of people around you and mentally by Pero who knew if you refused the game it would look suspicious. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, faking an over the top smile, twirling the dice in one hand and clenching your other hand into a fist under the table. Stay calm, don’t show him how much he was getting to you, you told yourself. You’d chase him down afterwards and with a knife to his throat take your money back. That would show him.

You dropped the dice on the table and leaned back in your seat to see Pero staring at you. You didn’t need to see the dice to know you had lost, the weights that usually worked for you were against you this time, and the tavern goers yelled in surprise and delight, some were even joyfully patting Pero on the shoulder in congratulations. All the while Pero was smiling at you, self satisfied at playing you at your own game. 

You pulled the drawstring bag off your hip and threw it across the table, hitting Pero in the chest. 

“Better luck next time,” Pero mocked your earlier words, “would you like a drink to drown your sorrows in?” Pero threw the bag of coins in the air and caught it successfully. 

“Oh bugger off, Pero,” you hissed, leaving the tavern in a huff. You didn’t want to see him again this night. You’d get him back next time.

-

The boy was young, still a teenager but old enough to know better. His clothes were of the finest materials, gold threads held the pieces together and added beautiful patterns to the front and shoulders of the jacket. He even had a long, shiny feather in his cap. He stuck out in the crown like a sore thumb.

You had been scouting the market for marks all morning and he was the only person you thought worthy of relieving of coin. He had a guard with him, who was more interested in looking at the women walking by, and his coin purse was dangling enticingly down by his hip. It would have been much easier for a child to run along and snip the string with a knife but the only ones you’d found were hand in hand with their parents. So you were on your own.

You were hidden down the side of a building, in the shadows and away from prying eyes. Or so you thought until you caught the flash of a grin out the corner of your eye.

Pero Tovar was mirroring your position on the other side of the marketplace, the wealthy man in the middle of you both. Pero moved his gaze to said man and it was then you knew he was after your mark. 

It had been only a couple of nights since he took all your money at the tavern and you’d be damned if you were going to let him swindle you of even more coin. You had to get to the mark before Pero did, by any means necessary. 

You tried to plead with him, subtly shaking your head but all Pero did was lean against the wall and offer you a warning glare. 

The mark was buying a trinket from a stool, handing his purchase over to the guard to carry and looking around for where to go next. This was your only chance. 

You untied the string at the top of your tunic, letting it open up to display your chest more than you would usually allow. But you needed a distraction and a way of getting close to the man without suspicion. You pulled out the small scissors from your boot and held them comfortably in your dominant hand, shaking down your sleeve to keep them out of sight.

You tried to ignore Pero but as soon as you slipped out of the alley he did the same, heading directly for the wealthy man. 

Unfortunately whilst you were gaining speed through jogging movements, Pero’s purposeful strides were larger than yours, meaning you both reached the man at the same time. 

“Sir, could I offer my services-“

“You seem too respectable to want the services of a harlot-“

“Harlot? Excuse me, I am so sorry, this ruffian-“

“Ruffian! You should show some respect-“

Your attempts to get close enough to grab the purse were scuppered by Pero subtly pulling you away with a hand around your waist. And as much as you tried to pry him off you, he was strong and stubborn, rendering your scam completely useless. The wealthy man’s guard dragged him away with a growl in your direction to stop you from pursuing them.

“What was that!?” Those words had been on the tip of your tongue but Pero spoke them first. You looked at him with a confused frown.

“What?”

“What were you thinking? That guard could have killed you.”

“Oh do not pretend you care for my health, you wanted that purse to yourself.”

“I did, but when I saw you were going to get yourself in serious trouble I had to come and save you instead of getting the coins for myself. You are welcome, idiota.”

You stared at Pero in disbelief. Was he expecting gratefulness? You couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.

“I have been doing this for years and I haven’t gotten caught once. I would appreciate it if you didn’t save me again,” you huffed, tying up the strings of your shirt before stomping away from him. 

If you never saw Pero Tovar again it would be too soon.

-

You were mad. But you were mad that Pero was right more than you were mad at your actual predicament. 

You had been playing a simple card trick on an unsuspecting traveller, one that you’d played hundreds of times, it had never gone wrong. Somehow the extra card up your sleeve (the one you used to cheat with) had slipped out and fallen to the floor and a guard that had been watching had spotted it and arrested you before you could run.

So that was how you found yourself in the stocks all morning, set in the middle of the courtyard of the castle grounds for everyone to laugh at. A few delighted children had thrown various rotten vegetables in your face, most adults had taken pity on you and walked on by. Your back was hurting from being hunched over, your feet were aching on the hard, stone ground. But none of that compared to the pain of seeing your foe being dragged towards you. 

“Please, I beg you, this is punishment enough, do not put that man anywhere near me.”

“Anyone would think you hated me,” Pero grumbled, humor in his voice despite being guided towards his punishment.

You felt the top half of the stocks lifting off the back of your neck, a second of relief, as the guards situated Pero next to you. His hand was so close to yours you could touch him, not that you wanted to. The stocks were dropped down and locked in place and the guards left you alone.

“You bring me nothing but bad luck,” you mumbled, huffing as you shifted on your feet.

“Because I was not there to save you this time?” You could hear the smirk in his voice which irritated you.

“Because I have never been caught, and then you start showing up everywhere I go and I am caught, and to make things worse, I have to be punished next to you!” You laughed humorlessly, narrowly dodging a handful of what smells like horse manure. You shoot a glare over to the man who threw it.

“Carino,” Pero clicked his tongue and you felt his hand sweep against yours, “these rotten potatoes are preferable to your whining.”

You gasped and tried to flick at his hand but it only hurt your bruising wrists.

“When I get out of here I am going to find the biggest vegetable, fresh from the ground, and throw it at you.”

Pero laughed a large, belly rumbling laugh that surprised you. 

“Why are you laughing?” you asked, baffled at his sudden turn of emotions, but it didn’t deter him from laughing more. 

It was the second plop of manure hitting the top of your head that had you joining in with Pero. The ridiculousness of the situation, the bickering between you, and your damn hand kept knocking into his. It was all so silly.

You spent the rest of the morning in fits of giggles with the man you thought you hated.

-

You were thrown down the steps of the dungeons, your knees hitting the hard, dirty floor before you were hauled back to your feet to be taken to the cell that would be yours for the night.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” was the voice that greeted you. You saw him sitting in the corner of the cell, a growing bruise on his jaw and stripped of his leather outer garments. He looked softer in just a shirt and breeches, more vulnerable but also kinder. Like any ordinary man, not the pain in the ass you knew him to be. You chuckled at the sight of him.

“Your life would be boring without me,” you teased, but Pero nodded his agreement. You plopped down next to him with a sigh, stretching out your legs and feeling the soreness of your knees as you rested them. You rubbed at the tenderness over your skirts. 

“Are you hurt?”

“Some scrapes, that is all,” you assured him, but his eyes lingered where you were soothing your burning knees, “how did you end up in here?”

“Not my fault,” you raised a sceptical eyebrow, “a drunkard started a fight with me.”

“And where is this drunkard?” you asked suspiciously, looking through the bars into the other cells, all of which were empty.

“He passed out. The guards did not want to drag his useless body in here.”

You hummed, clearly not believing his tale. He rolled his eyes at you, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing.

“And you?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you end up in here?”

You sighed, remembering what had happened.

“A noblewoman thought I was going to steal her purse.”

“You were not going to steal her purse?”

“No!” You feigned looking scandalised at the mere suggestion, before dropping the act, “I was going to steal her dog.”

Pero guffawed, not expecting you to say such a thing.

“Her dog?”

“It would have been worth more than the coins in her purse.”

Pero rubbed at his tired eyes. You listened to the sounds around you; the guards gossiping outside the dungeon door, a rat squeaking somewhere nearby, the rhythm of Pero’s breathing. It was the first bit of peace you’d had in a long time.

“If we get caught again they will not simply throw us in the dungeons,” Pero whispered ominously. 

You couldn’t disagree with him, but there weren’t many other options for people like the two of you. You were wanderers and loners. You had no money, no home, no family. What choice did you have?

You glanced at Pero who was already looking at you. He looked defeated, with dark bags under his eyes and his lips turned ever so slightly downwards, he looked how you felt. Hopeless and alone. 

“We keep running into each other. That must mean something,” you claimed, feeling stupid as soon as the words came out. You quickly looked away and waited for him to mock you.

“You think this is God’s will?”

You shrugged and began picking at the dirt on your skirts.

“Perhaps we should do something about it.”

“Like what?” you asked, allowing your tone to lift in hope. 

“If we are meant to be, maybe we should get out of this town and find another.”

“Together?”

“Why not?”

You looked at Pero then. There was no teasing in his eyes or smirk on his lips, he was being deadly serious. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of sticking with Pero from now on. However, you couldn’t make it too easy for him. 

“Well for one, I’d be stuck with your ugly mug.”

Pero grinned and let out a deep, throaty chuckle. 

“I would wager my ugly face is better than the hangman's noose.” 

The room became sombre once more as you realised what your options were. You had to leave town, but you could either do that alone or with the man whose company you were beginning to enjoy. 

You felt Pero nudge your side and you saw he was holding a single daisy up to you. 

“Do you carry flowers at all times?”

“No, idiota, they are growing in the walls,” with an amused shake of his head he carefully placed the small flower behind your ear and leaned back to admire his work.

After your initial shock you smiled your thanks and he smiled back. 

“Bonita,” Pero muttered and leaned his shoulder against yours as he settled back against the cold, damp wall.

You think you could get used to sticking by his side. 

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @computeringturtle

[mjsparkour]

Okay, I asked you a while back for some fic recs and I am in need of more. Have you read any Gina x Ricky lately? Would love for you to share the ones you've loved

Hey!

I’m so glad you liked my rec the last time, there have been alot of fics that have been written since you last asked so this list was super hard to limit. There are alot in this list alone (17 overall I think). I could always recommend more, Rina writers are just so talented. So here's a list of some of my favorites <3

The Story of Us by peculiarblue

‘gina learns that sometimes things have to fall apart so that they can fall back together, right where they were always meant to be’ This is a complete 2 part chapter fic

Thee Rina bible. It’s everything we could ever want and need. Everything we want s2 to be and more. It’s an absolute masterpiece in every way. So many parts where I nearly died, the angst in the fight scene, the tension before they made up (the dress scene that reminded me so much of that amylaurie scene I lost my mind a little more), them being absolutely gone for each other!!! it’s just perfect in every way.

When Your With Me and Were Alone by orphan account

‘Ricky Bowen remembers everything.’ This is a one-shot three-part completed series.

My favorite series, it’s gotta be. It’s the first of its kind for rina fics. Lore does an incredible job of realistically writing rina’s characterization and reactions to Gina moving and what would happen after. A wonderfully talented writer, utilizing the power of her words while minimalist carries an effect. 

You Know Me Better by This_is_Riri

‘Gina was moving. This would be her sixth move in seven years. She was used to it by now...only this time, it felt different. Post episode 7.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

This one really gets you at your gut. Heart-wrenching for both characters but mainly gina. The vents that happen to both characters, it just makes sense that so much more than their vunerabilities bonds them together. Perfect execution of the mutual understanding trope. 

and I know I’ve kissed you before by ptrprkrs

‘but I didn’t do it right / can i try again, try again, try again? or: 5 times ricky kisses gina + 1 time she kisses back’ This is a complete one-shot.

I love a good five times plus one fic. This one is heartwarming, cheeky and cute. It gives a healthy balance of the inevitable anguish that comes with pining (and not just for the character but for frustrated readers that just wanna put these kids together already) but also the sweet innocence and fluff from first love (or first love adjacent). 

what love might have done by rradioh

‘Ricky follows his gut. Everything changes. Some things stay the same.’ This is a completed one shot.

A good look into what could've been for season one. Reflecting moments that felt like they could’ve easily been placed in the show and showed the subtly of the growth of rinas relationship. It wasn’t something that was thrown into our faces but came gradually and this fic facilitates that growth with key moments that add to that. A Great one-shot.

And the 7th Thing I Hate The Most That You Do (You Make Me Love You) by iknowpIaces

‘It doesn’t help that he really does look good in his costume. God, she hates him. She hates him. She hates him. Then, he has the nerve to smile at her. And Gina hates how that smile alone sends her over the moon.’ This is a completed one shot.

SOOOO GOOD. No one understands, I love the trope where one person has a crush on the other and it's unrequited (or it seems that way) but eventually it's apparent that they're also just as gone for that person as soon as they start moving on, or feeling fine with having their feelings not reciprocated. Then they're both just mutual pining messes, ugh I love it. This fic handles the trope with care and rina just comes together organically. 

lesson in love by finelineholland

“Give me 4 weeks. I’ll help you out. Like… a crash course, if you will. 'How to be the perfect boyfriend for Nini Salazar-Roberts': A class taught by yours truly.” This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

A rom-com in the form of a fic. It’s so true to Ricky and Gina as characters and their dynamic. The writing is really good and gives so much in terms of plot. I really hope it updates soon because I love a good makeover/transformation fic, it gives she’s all that and geek charming in the best ways.  

take me to the feeling by peculiarblue

‘gina meets a stranger at a party she doesn't want to be at, and let's herself fall in love for the night, wherever it takes them’ This is a completed one shot.

Katie does it again. Another classic that makes us fall for rina while they fall for each other under the stars. You can’t help but feel something for them right off the bat because theirs something about the cheekiness of the dynamic and so real. You can’t help but fall for them, a must read.

The Last Time by mytearsricochet

‘this is the one where gina meets ricky and nothing is against them. except for a few misunderstandings, forgotten birthdays, wrong people, and missed opportunities. because as much as love doesn’t care about time, this is the one where time cares about love. and with time, everything falls into place.’ This is a completed one shot.

SO UNBELIAVBLEY UNDERRATED. This fic is too excellent, it's everything rinas could want. it’s an incredibly well done long slowburn that makes you strap in for the ride. With all those teasing moments where they're mutually pining and they're just on the precipice of finding out their feelings for one another only to hold back and stay friends (until the end of course). The end makes you work for it, but so worth it when you get to it. 

10 Days in “Love” by kindredspiritsxo 

‘It was almost the end of high school and nobody had it figured out. Especially Ricky Bowen. His parents had recently divorced, he had no idea what he's doing for college, his longtime girlfriend dumped him the month before and now he's been replaced by one of the most popular guys in school.

To make matters worse, he leaves for Europe in two days for his senior trip. The same senior trip that said ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend were going on. So, Ricky did what any desperate teenage boy would do to try and get his girlfriend back: he devised a plan. A plan that included the help of Gina Porter and playing pretend for 10 days.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

I love a good traveling fic. Sometimes all it takes to get a character to wake up about things going on in their lives or feelings for character b is a good change of scenery. This fic does a great job of utilizing the enviornment to facilitate rinas love story through one of my favorite tropes, the fake dating trope. There's some angst along the way because nothing can ever come easy but it's not without its reward. It gives me major spiderman far from home vibes just solely because of petermjs adorableness and how that energy kinda translates to rina in this fic more so in the beginning before they have this repertoire. 

on the line by peculiarblue

‘with everything in her life finally at a stand still for once the last thing gina needs is one curly haired skater to come in and give her a reason to change again

(or, gina lets ricky back into her life the only way she knows how, at a distance, through daily voicemails, until her heart remembers why she can't love him anymore.)’ This is a completed one shot.

It hurts in the best way possible! that is the best way to describe this fic. Were taken on a journey where I personally wanted rina to just talk to each other in person but the magic was all in the voicemails and the power of their connection. There was a satisfying ending, I couldn't ask for more. If you haven’t read literally everything written by Katie go read it, it won't disappoint.

but everywhere just brings me back to you by ptrprkrs

‘or, ricky is just a little in love with the voice of the girl at the starbucks drive-thru’ This is a completed one shot.

An amazing fic that hits every spot effortlessly, even the ones you didn’t know you had. Like Ricky being a lovesick puppy going to a drive-thru just to hear Gina’s voice for coffee, he doesn’t drink or like. All the while they’d been connected all along. I’m a sucker for any kind of soulmate implications or stories where people are unknowingly connected like that so this ones a real favorite for me. It’s sweet, lighthearted and funny and a great read.

About Love by goldenthread

‘a series of Interconnected one shots and canonical aus for Ricky and Gina <3.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

Here's where I enter some shameless self-promo...I wrote this recently. It’s just some loosely connected one-shots I have of rina based on canon. I write about an alternate first meeting, what would've happened if Gina had to understudy Nini in a rehearsal and (for a future chapter) a babysitting au (for what happened when Gina actually told Ricky the truth, she was babysitting her neighbor's kid when she talked to him at the skatepark). Check it out if it sounds like your thing!

in your eyes by finelineholland

‘you always try to hide the pain, you always know just what to say. i always look the other way. i'm blind, i'm blind. in you eyes, you lie, but i don't let it define you.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

There is something about Rina being written about from an outside perspective that is just so excellent. The story starting with Nini noting the obvious chemistry and their connection and being threatened by it, I don’t know it's just so pleasing to me. Another fic like that one of my favorites (one that I’m pretty sure I’ve suggested in my other rec list), pretend i don’t see it in your eyes by spobylol. Another absolutely excellent read that does not miss once. This story in contrast also writes from rina’s perspective as well which I also thought was well done. 

right from the start I knew by anonymous

‘“Uh.” Ricky really didn’t think this far ahead. To be fair, it’s not like he’s ever thought ahead about anything ever in his life, so this is really to be expected. “We - forget about it? Maybe. Or like - I don’t know. I think I have to figure out how to be like - a person right now. By myself.”

“Same.” Gina says absently. “I’ve spent what feels like my whole life thinking about what other people think of me. It’d be nice to - to be able to try looking beyond that for a change.”

Post-Season 1. Ricky and Nini break up, but that doesn't mean things work out right away.’ This is a completed one shot.

The most iconic love confession I’ve read in a rina fic to date. it’s just so good, a certified rush every single time. The mutual pining hits spectacularly especially when you see just how soon it starts to hit Ricky that he’d made a mistake getting with Nini and him paying for that mistake. The writing only amplifies it. Also Ricky telling Gina he’s obsessed with her? yeah, I automatically added this fic to my list of faves.

If they only knew by goldenthread

‘Ricky Bowen never really bought into the whole soulmate thing (except he did) but life got in the way and now he's sort of pretending to date new (totally not intimidating) girl Gina Porter to win back the one and only Nini Salazar Roberts. Not a single thing could go wrong.

or

The one where Ricky and Gina aren't so good at the whole soulmate thing and they fake date.’ This is an incomplete multichapter fic.

More shameless self promo, sorry y’all but I’m super proud of this one. It’s a soulmate and fake dating au, combining two of my fave tropes into one to make this (surprisingly) long fic. It’s a whirlwind of emotions and a lot of moving parts in the story. I plan on updating within two months then after that there's three more chapters until its finished :) hope y’all enjoy it if you decide to give it a read!

you are the best thing & the worst thing (that’s happened to me this whole year) by tophsgf

‘Gina's roommate Nini is unbearable. What's more unbearable, however? Her very charismatic and totally off-limits sort-of boyfriend.’ This is a completed one shot. 

An amazing fic, I need more people to know about it! I really like fics where the development between Ricky and Gina is gradual, which seems to be the case for a lot of fics but for this one in particular I like its execution. Obviously, at first, he’s with Nini so it’s like the dynamic is at a point of comparison from the start but we quickly learn that thanks to good ole mutual understanding and overall compatibility Ricky and Gina are just right for each other. A fun read that hits all the bases.

[headcanontheshitoutofsoulsborne]

Bloodborne Chain 2

Original prompt: The day of Laurence' transformation.

@mrslittletall

It was time for the usual morning mass and Laurence was feeling terrible.

In truth, he had felt terrible for a while now.

His body had been plagued with fevers that made him feel like he burned from the inside and he swore, sometimes it even felt like he managed to melt things he touched.

He was suffering from intense nausea that he couldn't stave off... sooner or later he would end up in front of the toilet, or any other receptacle he could reach in time, and vomit out whatever he had eaten prior. The worse thing however, was that the vomit was uncomfortably hot and he sometimes had the feeling that he was throwing up literal lava. Judging by how red it looked, it may have been true, but Laurence still desperately hoped that it was just blood. Which was more than unsettling in its own right, but would be a lot better than what he feared it was.

The last symptom and the one that made him absolutely sure about which sickness he was suffering from, was the hunger... the desire to bite into anything vaguely human shaped and the times in which he had wanted to dissect a corpse and found himself having stuffed a finger in his mouth... or worse.

His hands were concealed by gloves. It was usual for him to wear gloves anyway, but in this times and days, he never removed them, because of his prolonged finger nails that reminded him very much of claws.

It was more than clear for Laurence that he was infected with the beastly scourge, the plague that had befallen Yharnam all this years ago and he didn't know just how much time he had left.

However, his poor state wasn't a reason to neglect his duties and so he stood up on the gallery to hold the mass like every morning and recited the prayer, until he was at the last few verses.

“Remain wary of the frailty of men.

Their wills are weak, minds young.

Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.”

Almost done. Laurence took a deep breath and raised his voice to speak once again.

“Bless us with-”

A sharp pain stopped his words and he clasped a hand at his chest, where his heart was. That... that never had happened before. At the same time, the nausea washed over him. Oh no, not here, not in the open, with all the citizens and all the church ministers watching him.

Already they stared at him, clearly confused why he had stopped. He couldn't... couldn't stay here. Clasping his other hand over his mouth, he turned around to run... only managing a few steps before his body forced him to throw up right where he was, hot reddish vomit seeping through his fingers and hitting the floor with a sizzle.

“Vicar, what was that?”, he heard a voice next to him, one of the church ministers. More voices joined in soon.

“Your grace, did you just...?”

“...That looked like blood...”

“Are you feeling alright? Should we prepare a blood ministration?”

Laurence didn't feel ready to speak. He had the feeling when he opened his mouth, that the rest of his breakfast would make it out. He raised a hand, the one that wasn't clasped over his mouth and dismissed them. He didn't need any help. He just needed to be alone.

Before anyone could say something, Laurence was making a beeline to his office, shutting the door behind him with a loud noise and then... vomited out the rest of his breakfast into a bucket he had positioned there just for this case. I was filled with a little bit of water, to cool down the far too hot vomit. Even now he could see how the water in the bucket started to steam.

After he was done, Laurence wiped his forehead. The fever was back. He took a few steps back and then practically fell into his chair that was lined up with his desk. His breathing was slow and heavy and he needed a few minutes to even think about pouring himself a glass of water and washing the bad taste in his mouth away.

He looked down at his desk, where his notes were strewn everywhere. How long had he worked last night? Desperately trying to find a cure that he hadn't managed to find for years? Laurence removed his gloves and looked at his hands, seeing that his fingernails had prolonged even more over the night.

How much time had he left? Weeks? Days? Hours maybe?

He raised his head and got up, stepping in front of a mirror that was standing in his office. The claws were not the only clue. He could see the fangs, when he bared his teeth, small, but they were there, as well as his left eye which had started to collapse. One of the earliest signs of the scourge.

His gaze wandered to his door. After what happened just now, he shouldn't let himself be seen like that. He went to his door and turned the key in the lock, letting it stick before going back to his desk, where he sat down with a frustrated sigh and started to sort through his notes. As long as he still had time, he at least had to try. He wouldn't succumb to the scourge that easily.

As Laurence sorted his notes, his hand brushed against a certain item. He picked it up and stared at it.

A failed experiment from the early days of the Healing Church. A rune with which they had tried to control the beastly scourge, to at least let these people remain their humanity, if not their form. He knew that it was futile. The rune wouldn't help him, it would probably simply speed up his transformation.

Why did he have it still here? He didn't know. Maybe he had tried to base the cure around it. Laurence didn't remember. His memory was often hazy nowadays and so he brushed the rune to the side, instead reading up on the notes he must have worked on yesterday evening.

There must be a base to start somewhere. He only needed to find it. Wishing to be able to better concentrate, Laurence hooked himself up on a blood ministration. He would need the focus.

He almost missed the knock on his office door.

That Laurence had suddenly left the gallery mid prayer had been a cause of concern for Ludwig. He knew that Laurence hadn't been feeling well lately, as hard as he tried to hide it, but that had been the first time he had actively run away before having spoken out the adage to its end.

While everyone else present was starting to leave after a brief confusion, either going to their shops, workplaces or starting their duties in the church, Ludwig made his way up to the gallery, where he found the church ministers in the middle of a heated discussion.

“Excuse me, what happened here?”, Ludwig raised his voice to drown out their argument. “Where is Vicar Laurence?”

“Ah, Sir Ludwig, we were discussing this just now.”, one of the church ministers replied, while several others stared at Ludwig, making him feel like a whole row of eyes stared at him. “He seemed to be in pain and then threw up... it looked like blood.”

Ludwig had shouldered his holy moonlight sword as usual, but when he heard that, his grip around tightened and his eyes widened. “He did WHAT?! Why has nobody followed him?”

“He gave us a sign that he would be fine and you know how he is.”, the church minister said. “He would have just sent us away. We were actually just discussing how we could approach him about the issue, because...”

The church minister pointed at the ground and Ludwig could see that there was clearly a hole burned in the ground, an acidic smell coming from it.

“Is that where he...?”, Ludwig asked and before he could finish his sentence, the church minister nodded.

“Yes, where he threw up.”, they finished for Ludwig.

“That's not good... it's literally burned. I will go and try to talk to him. You stay here. Don't do anything withOUT my approval.” Ludwig waited until all of the church ministers gave him a bow and then made his way to Laurence' office with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

As he stood in front of it, he took a deep breath and then knocked at the door. “Laurence? I am going to come in.”, he said and tried to turn the handle, only to notice that the door was locked. “Laurence? Open the door, please.”

Laurence froze as he recognized the voice outside the door. The voice of Ludwig. Ludwig was the last person Laurence wanted to have in his office right now. He was a Hunter. He would recognize the signs, the signs that Laurence successfully had hidden from Ludwig for so long, by having him pushed away and shut out, a behaviour that he still didn't know why Ludwig tolerated it. He had been horrible to him and still, Ludwig would come and just tell him that it was alright, he would wait until Laurence felt better.

Only that Laurence knew he wouldn't get better, not when he wouldn't find a cure. So Laurence raised his voice and said: “I am fine, Ludwig, I am busy. Just go away. Please leave me alone.”

Ludwig couldn't come in and see him, he would notice the collapsed eye, the fangs, the prolonged fingernails. He would be forced to kill Laurence at the spot, as was the rule for church hunters, no one infected was to be left alive, but Laurence didn't want to force Ludwig to do this. Especially not when he had failed to make Ludwig hate him. Why had his boyfriend to be so kind and understanding?

“Laurence, I have been considerate with you for weeks now.”, Ludwig said. “I know you aren't feeling well and that you don't want much company, but... you have thrown up blood today at the morning mass. Blood that was hot enough to burn a hole in the ground. Laurence, whatever it is, that ails you, you don't have to go through this alone. Please, let me help you.”

Laurence felt a sharp stab in his chest at his words. This time it hadn't been from the scourge. He knew it was because Ludwig would be willing to stay with him and help him out and he wished so much that he could get into his arms and confess everything to him, but Laurence knew that he couldn't.

He couldn't let Ludwig know. He had to try and use all the time he had for finding the cure. How much he wished to just tell Ludwig the truth, he could, he just had to open the door and leave him in and confess about his ailment to him, but... he couldn't. Ludwig was the most loyal hunter of the church. He wouldn't stop because it was Laurence and Laurence knew that the action would break his heart.

“This none of your business.”, Laurence said, as cold as he could manage, even though he felt hot tears drop down his face. Not as hot as his vomit, but still hot enough to steam when they dripped on the ground. “Leave me alone. You can't help me.”

“Laurence, please.” Oh, Laurence just hated how pleading Ludwig's voice was. “You haven't been yourself lately. Please let me help you. I want to help you, but how can I help you when you don't let me be part of your life?”

More tears forced their way out of Laurence' eyes as he got up and walked towards the door and extended a hand, leaving it on the handle. He just had to unlock it and let Ludwig in and... no, he couldn't. He shook his head and sank down in front of the door, with his back to it.

“I... I can't...”, he sobbed, not being able to hold his tears back. “I just... can't...”

“Laurence, are you crying?!”, Ludwig shouted and frantically tried to turn the handle, several clicking noises proofing that his efforts were fruitless. “Let me in, Laurence, please.”

“No.”, Laurence said, his voice coming out strained. He took a deep breath and then shouted: “Just leave me alone and don't come back!”

“...”, there was an audible silence in front of the door. “I can't force you to open the door...”, Ludwig said and he must have removed his hand from the handle, because it went back to its original position. “But I won't leave you alone either. Just... please tell me what's wrong. Please, Laurence, just give me a <i>chance.”</i>

Laurence didn't reply as he got up, gaze on the ground, wiping away the fresh tears in his face.

<i>If I let you in, you have to kill me.</i>

The unspoken words hung in the air. Laurence couldn't bring himself to say them. He also couldn't bring himself to tell Ludwig to leave him alone anymore.

“Sir Ludwig, there have been beast sightings at the outer rim of cathedral ward!”, a hurried voice sounded, not belonging to Ludwig obviously.

“In broad daylight?! They are getting more and more brash.”, Ludwig gasped. “Laurence, I have to go, but I will come back and then I want for you to talk to me.”

There was around half a minute of silence before Laurence could hear footsteps that moved away from the door. Soon, they faded and Laurence took one step towards his desk, when the pain from earlier hit him again.

With a cry, he fell to his knees, doubled over in pain. This pain certainly was worse than earlier, he felt like he got ripped apart from the inside. Alongside the pain, he felt an itching sensation on his head, so much that he wished he could move and scratch his scalp open. It continued until the itching sensation became a new wave of pain, so intense as if something, anything wanted to force its way out of Laurence' head.

He spent a small eternity in this agonizing pain when it stopped as sudden as it had started. Breathing heavily, Laurence got up on his knees, staring at the splotches of blood on the floor, already sizzling into the carpet. He raised a shaky hand to touch his face and found blood. He couldn't remember getting injured, had he self harmed in his pain?

He slowly got up on his feet and limped to the mirror in his office, stopping before he even was in front of it. He didn't need to come closer to see what was wrong as his hand shot upward to confirm what he saw.

Antlers. He had grown some antlers, that now adorned his head, a thin stream of blood accompanying the place where they had forced their way through.

“I might have less time than I thought...”, Laurence gasped as he went a few shaky step to his desk and let himself fall down on his chair.

He could as well use this time and try to see if he at least managed to find a base for the cure. If he would transform and had to die anyway, he wouldn't just take it with his head bowed, he would scream and fight against it.

So Laurence straightened himself up, took a deep breath and then started to work.

An hour or two later, Laurence had scattered a variety of documents over his desk. Ideas where the beastly scourge came from. The first idea and the one he had followed the longest had been that it escaped the labyrinths. They had seen beasts down there and it felt like the most logical thing, that after they got unsealed, the sickness that was responsible for the beasts in there would be able to come out.

Though, they never had learned how the people down there had transformed...

Another idea had been that it was the fault of the vilebloods, but that couldn't be. As much as Laurence loathed, the beastly scourge had been there before the vilebloods had come into Yharnam and it didn't vanish once the executioners had been done with their job. The vilebloods had been beasts of their own, but that was a thing that Laurence couldn't blame on them.

A third theory, a theory that Laurence always had dismissed immediately, was that maybe the blood could be at fault. That instead of getting them closer to ascension, that humans would regress and that was the cause of the beastly scourge. Laurence had tested the blood rigorously and had been sure that it wasn't the case, but.. right at the moment he was staring at the newspaper story about Old Yharnam.

He remembered that night far too well. Finally having acquired enough umbilical cords to summon a Great One, one of the ascended, he had stepped outside and done the ritual, seeing as the Great One came from the moon. He had stepped forwards to ask her his questions, when Gehrman suddenly appeared and said something to the Moon Presence... and that had been the last time Laurence had seen Gehrman.

Shortly after, the worst hunt that had ever happened took place. Almost everyone in Old Yharnam had transformed. It had to be the influence of the moon, Laurence thought, as he stared out of the office of his window during that night, seeing the blood red moon in the sky.

In the end, Old Yharnam had to be burned down and sealed shut before the beasts would spread into the other parts of the town. Shortly after it happened, the blood red moon vanished and the longest hunt ever had been over... and Laurence had come out of it as a broken man, even though he didn't let it shine through.

Now that he looked at the article again, he noticed something. The article mentioned the sickness that had ailed Old Yharnam during that time.

Ashen Blood... in truth it had been a poisoning caused by the church. It hadn't been exactly on purpose, but the Old Yharnam citizens had been stubborn and when Laurence had learned that the poison of their research had leaked into the groundwater, he hadn't ordered for them to stop, instead he had brought the holy blood to Old Yharnam, to cure all these people and sold them on the holy blood.

A large amount of people had gotten the blood at the same time.

A large amount of people had transformed into beasts at the same time.

How could he have been so blind?!

Laurence shot up and practically ripped his current blood ministration out of his arm, a small stream of blood running down his arm, the wound closing shortly after, the healing effect of the blood taking action.

Laurence cleaned his arm from the blood and continued to think. That couldn't have been the only cause. There must have been a second cause. Not everyone who took the blood transformed. He himself had taken the blood almost daily for years and he was transforming only now.

Maybe it really was the moon...

Whatever it was, the blood certainly was one of the causes. Of course they could prevent further cases by ceasing to use the old blood, but that would be difficult.

Yharnam was reliant on the old blood. The whole town was based around it. If he would take it away, then the whole town would collapse. He would need a lot more time to figure out who to take the blood away from Yharnam.

The safest bet would be a cure, then they could keep using the blood without fearing the side effects...

Laurence sighed as he noticed that his train of thoughts involved the future, a future that he certainly wouldn't live to see anymore.

Though... with one of the causes figured out, he had a base to at least start. He leaned over his desk to search for a few more documents when the pain came back and this time it was paralysing. He fell down with his chair and convulsed on the ground for what felt like it was a really long time, paired with the same itchy sensation he had felt earlier, paired with an intense pain in his arm.

When the pain ended, he was lying there, gasping for air. It took him a few minutes to get up again. As he looked down on his hands as he propped himself up, one of them wasn't human anymore.

He could see long claws coming out from far too long fingers, the whole hand covered in shaggy fur and as his gaze followed his arm, he could see that it extended to it. His whole left arm had transformed into something so utterly inhumane that he wanted to retch.

Instead he walked the few steps to the couch and flopped onto it, cursing when he bumped his new antlers and then staring at the ceiling.

With the realization earlier about the old blood being one of the causes for the beastly scourge, his initial thoughts had been about how to handle this whole mess.

Now that his own transformation had completed another step, he had become aware that he had doomed Yharnam.

“All I wanted to do was help...”, he murmured, surprised that his voice still sounded human instead of beastly screeches leaving his throat. “I just wanted to help...”, he repeated, as if he wanted to convince a listener that wasn't there.

If only he had thrown the blood away once Master Willem had warned him about it. He probably owed the old man an apology. An apology that he would never be able to speak out. Was the old geezer even still alive?

As Laurence stared at the ceiling, he thought about all the friends he once had and had lost one way or the other, but almost all of them had left his life related to the old blood.

Caryll, who refused to study the old blood and had stayed in Byrgenwerth for their own studies about conversing with the Great Ones.

Maria, one of the best hunters he had ever seen, who got so disgusted with her own actions that she had chosen to take her life instead of living on with the guilt. She had been one of the most vehement defenders of the theory that the blood could have been at fault.

Gehrman, the first Hunter that Laurence had ever employed, the one he had lost to the Moon Presence. No, he had lost him earlier even, when his heart broke into a thousand pieces after Maria's suicide.

Micolash, his best friend and rival, who had become more and more recluse, stopped helping Laurence with the blood ministrations altogether and vanished one day to never be seen, but Laurence knew about a group that was antagonistic to the Choir and while he himself didn't fully trust them himself, the only person in charge of a group that would be able to mess with the Choir was Micolash.

Only Ludwig was left... and Amelia, his adopted daughter and future Vicar, and he had done his best to push both of them away in the last weeks. Especially Ludwig. That Ludwig still wanted to speak to him, baffled Laurence, he had been nothing but an asshole to him lately.

Laurence let out another deep sigh as he rubbed over his forehead, with the far too large beastly hand, feeling hot and sweaty. He could stay here and self loathe until he ran out of time... or he could get up and write down what he had found out so that Amelia and his church ministers could continue his research.

The most important thing would be to wean Yharnam from the blood. Laurence slowly got up. He had to make peace with the fact that he would die soon, maybe he already had made it, but he at least didn't want to leave Yharnam to ride into its certain doom.

It was difficult getting back to his desk. His vision seemed to swim and blur in front of him. Had he gotten up too quickly? No, it was the advanced transformation.

Just as Laurence had sat back down and straightened a piece of paper, taking up a pen to write down his last will, there was a knock on his door.

He froze briefly, asking himself if Ludwig had come back already? If, he would just send him away again. He needed to write his last will and after that... well, he probably would surrender and let himself be taken out before he became a danger to the church.

It wasn't Ludwig however. The voice outside of the door belonged to one of the highest ranking church ministers.

“Your grace, open the door. We have reasons to believe that you have been afflicted by the beastly scourge. As sad as this observation makes us, you know our rules and there can't be an exception, not even for you.”

Pinpoint the cancer and rip it out of Yharnam... Laurence remembered his own words about the matter.

Laurence opened his mouth to speak, to tell them that he would come to them later, that he needed to be alone now, but he was shaken by a horrible coughing fit. There even seemed to come smoke out of his throat... They certainly couldn't see him, when they would see him like this, they would execute him right away and he couldn't let that happen.

Couldn't they have discussed for half an hour more? All these boring meetings and today of all days they came to a conclusion early.

“Vicar Laurence, if you won't open the door, we will have to break it down. If you have nothing to hide, you will be able to open the door just fine, won't you?”

Damn. Laurence glared at the door, cursing his church minister in his mind with a dozen profanities in the span of a few seconds. He cleared his throat and finally managed to speak.

“I wish to be alone right now. I have urgent business to attend to and it can't wait only because of your outrageous accusations. I will make time for you later.”

So that they could execute him... Laurence cringed at the thought, but the church ministers didn't take his words. Of course, what had he expected? If he hadn't anything to hide, he could have just opened the door.

“Break the door down.”, the church minister ordered and Laurence knew that they had a hunter with them, probably multiple. He stared for a few seconds as the door got repeatedly knocked with a blunt object and only when it started to splinter he stared down at his still very blank last will.

In his panic, he wrote down the first thing that came to his mind.

“Fear the old blood.”

Just as he had finished writing, the door burst open and he could see a dozen church ministers as well as a few hunters out there. They stared as much as him as he stared at them.

His appearance was proof enough that he indeed had been afflicted with the beastly scourge.

“Vicar Laurence, you are hereby under arrest!”, the church minister announced in a clamorous voice and Laurence could see how the hunters stormed inside his office.

“Wait!”, Laurence said, both hands in the air, showing that he wasn't armed. The hunters stopped and looked at him, the church minister behind them having scrunched up his face.

“Don't show mercy just because he used to be our vicar.”

Speaking in the past of him, right in front of him. Laurence didn't had time to be offended though, he needed to tell them.

“Please listen to me!”, he said and then his world seemed to stop as his heart skipped a beat and the pain came back full force, in such a force that he couldn't speak anymore, only scream... a scream that didn't even sound human anymore.

From the corner of his eye, he could somehow see how the hunters started to move in his direction again. Laurence brushed over his desk... where was it.. his last will had been just in front of him, but which paper was it? It must be the one with fresh ink, but... he couldn't find anything with wet ink... instead, his hand closed around a small object.

It was the rune. Beast's Embrace. In the back of his mind he knew this was a bad idea. It had never succeeded before, but maybe it would help him regain his sense for long enough so that he could tell them about the dangers that the old blood possessed and how to handle Yharnam after his death.

Laurence embraced the rune with his beastly hand and concentrated on the arcane prowess inside of it... feeling how his pain eased down at first, he already was opening his mouth to speak, when his whole body felt like it would burst.

<i>Failed.</i>was the last conscious thought Laurence ever had, when his bones shifted and his veins popped, rearranging his body in a way that should be physically impossible. He heard how his clothes ripped open when he started to grow, he could feel the itching sensation of fur covering his skin accompanied by a blinding pain. Laurence couldn't see anything anymore, he only heard some shouting in the distance. He wanted to open his mouth to scream, but only a garbled screech came out of it as Laurence realized that his face had twisted into a snout with a row of razor sharp teeth.

He was crouched on the floor, with a claw on his hand... hissing because of the pain... He could smell blood... his blood... It hurt so much, so very very much... But, there was the smell of flesh... human flesh and he felt hungry... so very very hungry... maybe the flesh would help him ease the pain.

He took a step towards a smell and felt a new pain, sharp and annoying, at his leg and when he looked down he saw his attacker. He raised his hand and flattened them in an instant, the sweet smell of blood filling the air. He raised his hand to look at it, the urge to lick the blood clean of it strong, when a second sharp pain hit him.

Growling, he stepped forwards, glaring at the ones in front of him. He rose to his full height and let out a blood curdling screech, as he raised both of his arms into the air and then his fur ignited into fire.

He had to feast... that would stop the pain... it would stop the hunger... he had to hunt them down! With a second screech, he lunged at the first human that was dumb enough standing in front of him.

Once Ludwig returned to the church, it was on fire. With a gasp, he jumped off Midnight, his horse, and ran towards the entrance, stopping when he saw a black robed church hunter stare fearfully at the church.

“Hunter! What happened? Why is the church on fire? Why aren't you helping with evacuating?”

“Sir Ludwig, thank the blood that you returned! It's Vicar Laurence. He... turned. He had the scourge and hid it and now he is the most gigantic beast I have ever seen. He already has killed and devoured a dozen black robes! It was him who ignited the church, he's literally on fire! He's... he's out of control!”

The church hunter took a few steps back after his rant and took a deep breath before he fell down to his knees and... seemed to pray. Ludwig could hear how he called for the aid of the Great Ones, faintly, when his own mind raced.

He had heard them, the words of the black robe. He had been very clear about it. Laurence had turned... his Laurence did have the beastly scourge, the one he loved more than anything in the world, the one who had done his damn hardest to not let Ludwig be part of his life for the last few weeks.

<i>Oh!</i>

It had been so obvious, but Ludwig had decided to ignore him.

Laurence always had eaten his food without saying a word, but had vanished shortly after and often Ludwig had seen him come out of the bathroom wiping his mouth.

He did have increasingly fevers, sometimes they seemed to be getting so worse that he felt like he was on fire.

He never had taken off his gloves.

He had stopped to see Ludwig altogether for the last three weeks, telling him that he was busy and not feeling well and didn't want to get his ailment to spread to him because the holy blood had troubles with healing it.

“Laurence... why haven't you told me...?”, Ludwig said, tightening his grip around his holy moonlight sword before he rushed into the church. Even though he knew that the black robe didn't have any reason to lie, even though he had seen the signs, signs that his past self had ignored, a part of him still wouldn't believe that it was Laurence after he had seen him with his own eyes.

Inside the church, there was chaos. Smoke, flames and rubble. Ludwig covered his mouth and nose with his shawl and approached a group of black robes that tried to free a trapped blood saint from a column that must have fallen on her leg.

Ludwig easily lifted the column and after the blood saint had been safely pulled out, he grimly said: “Where?”

With a shaking hand, one of the black robes pointed deeper into the church. Another one added in a low voice: “Follow the flames...”

Ludwig was doing exactly that.

He actually did find a beast inside the church, in one of the conference rooms where it was busy trashing chairs and tables. The black robe hadn't lied, that was the tallest beast he had ever seen. Easily seven meters or more.

Knowing how small and scrawny Laurence was, Ludwig barely could believe that the beast could be him.

The beast was literally on fire. It wasn't because someone had ignited it, it's fur possessed a fiery quality on its own. When it screeched, a sound that made Ludwig cringe and wince, he could see burning hot magma gathering in its throat.

The left hand was mutilated into a giant claw, far larger than the right claw. The snout was filled with a row of razor sharp teeth and a set of large antlers grew out of its head.

In the corner of his eye, Ludwig saw two black robes approaching the beast, their weapons raised while the beast was distracted smashing and igniting another chair, but the moment their attacks connected with its rear, it stopped and turned around.

Ludwig had never been faster to join a fight, his holy moonlight sword blocking a hit of that immensely large left claw. The force was enough to even knock him several feet back.

“Leave!”, Ludwig ordered the black robes. “Help with evacuating the church! I handle things here!”

The two of them were on their feet in an instant and ran towards the direction of the grand cathedral, while Ludwig eyes his foe.

Could that really be Laurence?

There was a glimmering of gold in front of the chest of the beast.

Ludwig's eyes widened as he recognized what it was.

The Vicar's pendant... Laurence would always wear it, every single day. There was no doubt.

“Laurence...”, Ludwig choked out, feeling tears form in his eyes, tears that didn't had time to spill, because Laurence used his moment of hesitation to hurl him into the next best wall.

Ludwig was blinded briefly by pain as one or two of his bones cracked. He slammed a blood vial into his tight and stood up again, he was the captain of the church hunters. He was used to receiving injuries like this. Nothing that the blood couldn't handle.

...Laurence had always said this.

Upon seeing that his prey had escaped him, Laurence screeched and his large claw came rushing down once again on Ludwig. Ludwig stepped to the side, a technique that Gehrman had taught him. A technique that each Hunter should master, or they wouldn't stand a chance against the beasts they fought.

“Laurence...”, he said again, now feeling the tears in his eyes spilling. “You aren't recognizing me anymore, do you..?”

No, of course not. Nobody had ever come back after transformation. There was only one thing Ludwig could do right now.

Give him a swift death.

Ludwig dodged another swipe of that large claw and propelled his sword into Laurence' right leg. He screamed in pain and... what sounded like frustration.

Ludwig removed his sword and saw far too hot blood gushing out of the wound, igniting the carpet around them.

“You didn't want for it to be me...”, Ludwig murmured to himself as he circled around Laurence, who growled and spluttered at him. Ludwig had always thought that the beasts still looked a tiny bit human. It was no different with Laurence, as grotesque as his body had become, the way he still kept himself upright on two feet and the way he mostly used his claws for attacking... it was one of the most uncanny things about being a hunter. The knowledge that once this wretched abomination had been a human.

It was different when it was his own lover and the head of the church though.

“You didn't want that I had to kill you.”, Ludwig finished his thought. “I would love to make it painless for you, but...”

Ludwig's voice trailed off as he was unable to finish the sentence. He knew that he had to strike Laurence down, he knew that he had to inflict a mortal injury on him to stop his rampage, but... it felt so hard to take the next step. Ludwig looked down at his arm and saw that he was trembling.

That had never happened before.

The arm holding his sword was trembling.

Next thing Ludwig felt was an intense pressure around his chest as Laurence' claws enclosed around his body and lifted him up in the air.

Ludwig stared at Laurence' face.. the face that wasn't his boyfriend's anymore. That was the face of a beast. A beast that would kill anything that crossed its path. A beast that was a danger. For the church, for Yharnam. A beast that had to be taken out.

As Laurence opened his mouth Ludwig wrestled his right arm free of his grip and then drove the sword deep into the open maw of him.

A garbled screech was to hear. Ludwig tried to shove the blade even deeper inside, but get hurled against the wall before he could even properly grab it. This time he had been prepared however and managed to endure the impact with minimum damage.

Laurence was howling in pain, bringing both claws up to his snout, fumbling for the sword stuck in his maw. Ludwig rolled himself up and put a safe distance between him and Laurence, as he managed to remove the sword and hurled it towards the same wall Ludwig had impacted with, blood gushing out of the wound. Blood that looked a lot more like lava.

Ludwig's feet carried him over to the place where his sword had landed. He grabbed for it and as his hands enclosed it, he could see the little lights. His guiding moonlight.

“My guiding moonlight... are you sure about this?”, he said, but he didn't have a reason to not believe its guidance. It always had been right. Ludwig turned around and looked at Laurence, who, in the meantime, had recovered from the pain, blood seeping out of his mouth as he growled in Ludwig's direction.

As he saw how Laurence set up for a lunge, he took the holy moonlight sword with both hands and directed it towards Laurence. He concentrated on the little lights and he was sure about it, they guided him towards a specific strike.

As Laurence executed his lunge, Ludwig ran towards him, following the little lights, jumping in the air shortly before Laurence' large claws let the ground shake and while Laurence was open, he rushed down and drove his sword into his skull, right where his eyes normally would have been.

He could hear the skull cracking as Laurence shrieked in pain. Ludwig landed on the ground, a hand still on his sword as Laurence started trashing around. Ludwig held on for dear life until Laurence laid on the ground, exhausted. Ludwig used that time to remove his sword, wincing in pain as far too hot blood gushed over him and made his skin blister. As long as Laurence was still stunned on the ground, he had to act quickly. Ludwig took a big swing with his sword and let it crash down on the wound.

Laurence cracked skull broke with an audible sound and he twitched for a few seconds.

Then, he stopped moving altogether.

Ludwig slowly approached Laurence. He didn't appear to be breathing anymore. It was over.

All the adrenaline of the fight left him at once. He felt tears streaming down his face. He collapsed on his rear, vaguely aware that the fire the room was coated in wouldn't stop burning and he likely would be reduced to ashes soon if he didn't move.

Nothing of it mattered to him in the moment however. He itched closer to Laurence' dead body, hugging the giant beastly skull, not caring that his burns got even worse as his tears freely fell down and produced steam on Laurence' still hot body.

“Oh, Laurence...”

@palepious

@thefatladysang All the Channels of the City Streets

The sun blazes before them, its visage cracked and marred by the stark outline of the tree branches, bare of all leaves save for those foolish enough to try and cling to the long dead branches. Against the light, Ludwig narrowed his eyes, squinting at the figure before him.

“He doesn’t understand, you see?” the figure says and Ludwig nods in reply.

“I know. Were it up to Provost Willem, the Old Blood would never see the light of day.” The figure nods and lets out a snort of annoyance at the mere mention of the Provost.

“The old fool is sorely mistaken. The Old Blood is meant to be feared or restricted.” He turns, facing the woods and the city beyond them. “The power to cure the sick, heal the wounded, alleviate the suffering of others…” He pauses and Ludwig finds himself breathless at the sheer generosity and selflessness of the man’s vision. A better life for the common man, a hopeful future for those who had none… His back is turned towards Ludwig, but the other man knows that his exhilaration and hope mirrored on the other’s face.“This was a miracle meant to be shared with Yharnam. Not hidden away in Byrgenwerth for the rest of eternity. I don’t see how Willem could be so blind to the good it could do.” Ludwig nods, despite the fact that the man cannot see his agreement. The man turns, the burning rays of dying sunlight framing his youthful face and bright green eyes as full of hope and exaltation as Ludwig had imagined it would be and he finds himself breathless in the face of such beauty once again. “You’ll join me, won’t you?” There’s no hesitation in Ludwig’s answer.

“Of course.”

“You won’t betray me?”

“By your side, I will happily remain.”

And so they left, heading westward towards the burning sun, towards Yharnam, towards their vision of the future…

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

The afternoon sun climbed higher above Yharnam, occasionally filtering through the heavy clouds and into open windows to warm the inhabitants within and flitting over the hunched form of Ludwig as he trudged through the candlelit halls of the vicarage. Hunts were never easy and last night had been no exception. Whatever plague had birthed the beasts seemed to be spreading as the days went on. More and more beasts were popping up in the city and Ludwig couldn’t help but wonder if there would ever be an end to them. He and his men had found four stalking the streets earlier and they’d had to pull no less than two away from an older, obviously ill man unfortunate enough to have been caught without shelter. It was the thought of the long limbed and uncannily thin man’s gratitude, his wide smile and look of relief as Ludwig and his hunters had rallied to his aid had been worth everything; worth every sore muscle, worth every imaginary pound of weight in his limbs, worth every twinge of exhaustion after nights filled with more and more hunting and less and less sleep.

That being said… he thought as he came to a halt before a small but ornate looking door. It’s not only the Hunters who have been kept busy… His fist tightened around the medallion emblazoned with the crest of the Healing Church clutched within, It had been a token of gratitude from the older man, an attempt to repay the Hunters for their services. He’d claimed that it was the most valuable thing he owned, that he’d etched and engraved the image himself, and that it might fetch a fair bit of coin. The very idea of selling it was enough to make Ludwig scowl as he raised a gloved fist, knocked on the door and was met with only silence. He tried again. Still no reply. It was only with the third knock that the sound of irritated grumbles and the creaking sound of a body vacating a bed reached his ears. Good. He was finally awake. The heavy door inched open and Ludwig was greeted with a steely glare and tousled blonde hair that seemed to glow golden in the flickering light of the hallway candles.

“What do you want?” Laurence grumbled and Ludwig couldn’t help but give the rumpled looking Vicar a fond smile.

“Do I need a reason to visit an old friend, Laurence?” The man’s eyes narrowed further as the door began to close in Ludwig’s face. Apparently a reason was required. Luckily, Ludwig had one. He reached out to catch the door and Laurence sighed rather impatiently. “I met a man in the city during the Hunt earlier. His name is Alban Kent.”

“And?”

“He’s very ill and in great need of blood ministration.” Laurence blinked once, then twice as a shade of incredulity began to mingle with the impatience on his features.

“You’ve disturbed my rest to tell me that?” He practically hissed the words out and while Ludwig’s smile remained tense, it remained in his face nonetheless.

“It’s nearly noon Laurence! Surely you haven’t been sleeping all this time!” He boomed out a laugh as though the two were sharing a simple joke between friends. Laurence did not join in his laughter and Ludwig’s guffaws eventually died down as he looked, really looked at the man before him; his mussed hair, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the rumpled bed shirt, the fact that he was still wearing a bed shirt at this hour. “Have you been sleeping all this time?” Laurence sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head as though trying to dislodge the conversation itself.

“Very well.” He muttered. “Next time you see this “Alban Kent,” kindly inform him that he’s been granted entry through the Great Bridge to the Cathedral Ward.” Ludwig for his part, was so caught up in the state of the other’s well being that it took him a moment to realize what Laurence had said, and another moment for him to remember why he’d sought out Laurence in the first place. He nodded again and promised to promptly pass the news along to Alban Kent, eyes never leaving the Vicar’s face as Laurence bid him farewell and attempted to pull the door closed. Ludwig’s hand didn’t budge.

“Are you feeling well, Laurence?”

“I’m fine Ludwig.” He snapped as he wrenched the door out of Ludwig’s grip with a strength that did not match his slight frame and harrowed appearance. “I only require rest. Something you seem insistent on keeping me from at the moment.” The candles in the hall sputtered and flared, deepening the shadows on Laurence’s face as he glared at Ludwig with such venom and contempt that the Hunter found himself rendered speechless. It was in this pause in their conversation that Ludwig could finally take in the other man’s appearance, the deep and dark circles beneath his eyes, the way his frame seemed almost impossibly gaunt, wondering why he had failed to notice it before now. He looked haggard, not at all like an indolent and slothful man who was merely annoyed at being disturbed from an unnecessary sleep. He truly did need to rest…

“My apologies.” Ludwig bowed his head and turned to leave when he felt a smaller, bony hand land on his arm.

“No, I needn’t have snapped at you Ludwig.” All the scorn and disdain had left Laurence’s voice, leaving the man sounding only regretful and exhausted. “I’m tired. That’s all.” The fond smile returned to Ludwig’s face as he turned back towards the other man, placed his hand over Laurence’s gave, what he hoped, was a comforting squeeze to it.

“Then I will leave you to it. Get some rest Laurence.” The Vicar said nothing, merely pulled his hand back from Ludwig and closed the door with a resolute thud, leaving Ludwig in the hallway staring after him. He hadn’t noticed the state of the other’s well-being until now. Had he been besieged by some form of illness? Were the duties of maintaining and leading the Healing Church wearing on him? Was it the threat of the Beast Plague? When had Ludwig become so busy hunting and slaying beasts to realize that Laurence was not well whatsoever? What if treatment was impossible? What if-

Ludwig gave a shake of his head to interrupt the thoughts plaguing him. Such events were not things that he could afford to think about in that moment. As the Vicar of the Healing Church, Laurence would surely receive treatment for whatever was vexing him. He had beasts to hunt, a medallion to return, and a Yharnamite to find and bring to Cathedral Ward. With that, ignoring his heavy exhaustion and the feeling of muscles twitching beneath his skin, Ludwig turned and strode down the hall.

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

It was several days later and the moon hung high and wide in the evening sky, occasionally blurred and obscured by the low hanging clouds above Yharnam. Citizens were asleep in their beds, the city streets were almost empty and peaceful. And then the shrieking howl of a beast pierced the night as it’s massive body barrelled through the streets, the Hunters of Yharnam close behind. One broke away from the group in a desperate sprint, weaving through the cobblestone streets after the monster until he lunged forward, axe digging into the muscle and fur of the beast’s leg, drawing a spray of blood that splashed against the walls and windows of the surrounding buildings. The beast made a sharp turn. Yellow eyes blazed bright with murder, its muzzle lunged forward and fangs dug into the neck of the unfortunate hunter, sending a greater torrent of red ichor into the air as it began to tear into the man. A gurgling scream rose from his open throat as the rest of the group backed away, reluctant to interfere at the risk of their own lives. All at once, a strange green glow lit the alleyways and a beam of what appeared to be moonlight made solid blazed forward and into the beast, knocking it backwards onto the stones of the streets. It did not rise.

Panting, Ludwig rolled his shoulders and straightened, the glow of his sword dimming as though to mirror its owner’s exhaustion after the chase. This was the fourth beast they’d encountered that evening and the night was still so young. There was no telling where the other beasts were lurking, where they could be hiding or how many were holed away within the city. He rolled his shoulders again, wincing slightly as the muscles in his arms twitched beneath his skin. For the moment, his men could rest, recuperate, and-

“Behind you sir!”

The sound of shattering glass and splintering wood rose in Ludwig’s ears. Heeding the warning, he ducked forward into a roll, turning the second his feet were firmly affixed to the ground. The sword, once again glowing an ethereal green, swung upwards, carving through the beast’s chest and arching upwards to nearly cleave it in two. It was over in less than a second and Ludwig simply leaned on his blade and tried to catch his breath, now covered with the deep red blood of the beast.

“Where the hell did that one come from?” He gasped, feeling muscles shudder beneath his skin from the excitement. His group of Hunters looked at each other.

“It almost seemed as though it sprang from inside the house, sir.” It was the man who’d shouted the warning. “I saw it through the window behind you, bounding towards it like, well like a beast.” Gathering his breath, Ludwig fought against the heaviness in his shoulders and straightened to clasp the other man’s shoulder, giving him a fatigued, but grateful smile.

“You have my thanks.” He murmured, giving him a pat before striding forward towards the body of the beast. It was thinner, more gaunt than the one they had been chasing throughout the streets. The thing was smaller overall with two legs that almost looked as though it could be bipedal. The torches flickered again and caught the glint of something silver within the fur of the Beast. Perplexed, Ludwig bent forward, trying to ignore the ache in his knees to part the coarse hair and get a better look at-

At the silver medallion emblazoned with the crest of the Healing Church…

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

The moon, still wide and white as a smile hung much lower in the sky when Ludwig arrived at the heavy wooden door once again. He raised a fist and hammered it against the wood as though trying to knock it down with his bare hands. The reply came much sooner this time, more grumbles and noises of complaints. Ludwig heard them, but at the moment he couldn’t quite bring himself to give a damn. There was a creak and the ever familiar sight of an annoyed, somewhat sleepy looking Laurence came into view as the door opened.

“I can accept you waking me in the afternoon Ludwig, but this-”

“The Old Blood is causing the Beast Plague.” Immediately, Laurence perked up, eyes going wide with shock and Ludwig could practically see his spine stiffen as he was grabbed and pulled into the bedchamber. The door thudded closed behind them and Laurence began to busy himself with the tinderbox, hunting around the room for a candle. The match was struck, a weak flickering light came into existence and Laurence gestured towards the bed, silently imploring Ludwig to sit.

“What have you found out?” He inquired, much calmer than he’d been in the hallway. “Tell me everything.” And Ludwig did. He told him about his encounter with Alban Kent while on a hunt, about how he’d been given the medallion as a form of payment and had returned it during Alban’s visit, how he’d been on a hunt barely an hour earlier only to encounter the beast wearing the pendant. The whole time, Laurence’s expression never changed. Occasionally, the Vicar would nod in acknowledgement, but there was no fear, no rage, not even a response to any of Ludwig’s statements. He was silent while Ludwig explained his findings and remained silent for several moments after Ludwig had finished. On any other topic, Ludwig would have allowed him the time to quietly think, to turn over the information he’d been given to formulate a course of action and how best to implement it. But this was a different matter altogether. Ludwig needed answers, needed some sort of plan, and Laurence just sat there, hands folded together beneath his chin, staring into the flickering candle and said nothing.

“Well?” Ludwig demanded.

“Well what?” Laurence’s tone was smooth, even, almost unconcerned. And Ludwig felt his blood boil.

“Well you need to stop Blood Ministration immediately!” He roared, rising from where he’d been sitting on the bed to stride forwards towards the other man. “If the Old Blood is responsible for creating beasts, we need to stop treatments and-”

“Ludwig.” The Vicar barely even needed to raise his voice and Ludwig found himself cut off. Voice betraying nothing about his thoughts, Laurence continued.“Are you aware of how many Yharnamites come to the Cathedral Ward for Blood Ministration a day?” The words hung heavy in the candlelit air between them as Ludwig’s jaw hung open for a moment or two.

There was no way-

There was no way Laurence could even think that-

“Laurence-”

“Almost fifty Ludwig. Every single day. And that is simply the people we treat for day to day ills and injuries.” Heedless of Ludwig’s attempted interjection, Laurence gazed over the tops of his folded hands at the Hunter. “Have you any idea how many of them have been genuinely cured of their illness and ailments?”

“Laurence, you’re not-”

“All of them Ludwig. Every single person who comes through the Cathedral Ward leaves in almost perfect health every time.” No, he couldn’t be thinking- “What do you think would happen to those if your little discovery were to be disclosed to the populace of Yharnam? What would happen if we were to stop Blood Ministration altogether?”

“The Beast Plague would cease and the people would no longer be threatened!” Ludwig roared once again, muscles coiling and writhing beneath skin in his anger. He paid them no mind and continued to advance towards the First Vicar. “You can’t honestly expect me to-”

“All the efforts and accomplishments we’ve been working towards will be undermined!” His voice had raised slightly, rage barely noticeable but for the few who had known Laurence, truly known him, for years. He stood slowly, full height barely coming up to Ludwig’s chest, but by God did he make good use of every inch. “You claim you want what is best for Yharnam? The Old Blood has ensured that the city thrives, that its people can be healed and made well no matter their standing or station. Do you truly seek to undermine all our efforts Ludwig?”

“Of course not. But if you-”

“And you are worried for nothing. We are already working towards a solution to the plague.” Laurence finished his rant, fixing Ludwig with an icy glare as though daring him to continue the argument. To his credit, Ludwig didn’t so much as flinch, fixing Laurence with a glare of his own.

“What solution?” Laurence did not flinch either at the question, but there was a distinct lack of an answer as well that did not go unnoticed. “What kind of solution are you working towards Laurence?” The other man did not answer some time. Seconds, minutes, hours may have passed by before Laurence finally broke eye contact to turn his gaze out the window towards the pale moon. For a moment, he said nothing and Ludwig wondered if the two of them were destined to remain in silence for the rest of eternity. And then…

“The Choir has made contact with Ebrietas. They’re close to a revelation regarding the nature of the Beast Plague and how best to stop it.” The reply was said to the window, Laurence still refusing to meet his gaze, as though anticipating Ludwig’s reaction and the subsequent look of distress mingled with outrage.

Ebrietas.

“You’re relying on that-” Ludwig cut off, swallowing around the lump that had suddenly risen in his throat at the mere mention. He’d only seen the Daughter of the Cosmos once, back when the Healing Church had still been young, back when using the Old Blood as a medium for healing and medicine had been a revolutionary idea. It had only been once, only the briefest of glimpses. But what little he’d seen had remained with him for weeks, months, and would likely remain with him until he died.

And Laurence wanted to rely on her- on it, for help with the epidemic ravaging their city. “Your plan is to rely on that thing!?” He hissed, advancing towards Laurence, the rage bubbling beneath his skin nearly tangible. “Making deals with beings man was not meant to comprehend? Endangering the lives of the citizens of Yharnam?” HIs anger and frustration with the other man burst forth and Ludwig surged forward, gripping Laurence’s upper arms tightly and giving him a rough shake that lifted Laurence partially off the floor. “What are you thinking Laurence!?” There was no response as Laurence continued to gaze out of the window. The man’s apparent indifference to Ludwig’s outburst enraged Ludwig even further and he nearly found himself overtaken by the urge to rip the other man limb from long limb when he noticed the Vicar’s eyes, yellow sclera glazed and glassy. And Ludwig felt a cold sense of dread come over him as the pieces began to fall together. Yellow eyes, long limbs, a persistent fever, the strange way his face had grown gaunt and longer in the time since the founding of the Church... “Laurence?” The eyes closed as Laurence drew a quivering breath.

“Their lives are not the only ones at risk, Ludwig.” He murmured, eyes still glassy, still refusing to meet Ludwig’s. “The best way to study the effects of a substance on the body of humans is to experience said effects yourself after all.” Laurence smiled, gave a rueful chuckle as though the two of them were simply conversing as two old friends, as though Ludwig’s fingers and body hadn’t gone numb causing his grip on Laurence to loosen just enough for the Vicar’s feet to touch the floor once again. And still he continued speaking. “If Ebrietas is not forthcoming, then my own experiences with the plague should be rather enlightening.” He finally looked up, finally met Ludwig’s eyes and gave a rueful, almost sad smile. “Don’t give me that look Ludwig.” He gently admonished the other and Ludwig vaguely became aware that his face had contorted in a look of despair. “If all else fails then…” He swallowed, nonchalance taking on a newly unearthed fear at the unspoken certainty of his future. “Well, I’ve trained Amelia for this exact scenario. She’s a worthy successor already…” He trailed off, looked off towards the moon through the window once again and left Ludwig to stew over the night’s revelations.

He’d been foolish really. The conclusion of Laurence’s fate should have been obvious to Ludwig from the moment he’d realized where the Scourge of the Beast came from. The Old Blood caused the Beast Plage, and Laurence, as the First Vicar of the Healing Church and pioneer of Blood Ministration itself, had naturally been partaking the blood as far back as their days as students in Byrgenwerth. Had that not been how they’d discovered its medicinal properties? Or rather, how Laurence had discovered its medicinal properties? Had Laurence known? Had he known of the Beast Scourge the entire time? Or had the information made itself known to him at a later time? Through his continued contact with that thing beneath the Cathedral? Or had Laurence simply noticed the pattern between those who contracted the affliction and the patrons of the Healing Church? Thousands, millions of questions bouncing around Ludiwg’s head, vying to be spoken, practically tumbling over themselves to be the first out of his mouth. And yet, the sight of Laurence, looking haggard, uneasy, and more scared than Ludwig could ever recall seeing him in the time they’d known each other, rendered every single question and query silent. What could he say? What words could possibly offer comfort to a man who knew he was destined for a fate that would surely be worse than death for a man sworn to eradicate plague and disease?

“With how much you’ve been sleeping well into the afternoon she’s practically running things already…” Though despondency did not leave his face, Laurence managed a brief chuckle and a smile at the comment.

“That she is…” He murmured in reply. For a moment, the two said nothing, just standing in the warm, sputtering glow of the candle on the bedside table as they tried to keep their wits, tried to pretend that all their work wasn’t for nothing, trying to pretend that one of them was not only a few steps away from a horrific fate. And then Laurence looked up, finally meeting Ludwig’s brown eyes with his own, now yellow eyes. “You’ll stay with me, won’t you?” The question was softly asked, Laurence’s voice quivering with an insecurity he would rather die than show the masses of Yharnam. “Until the end?” And with a final squeeze to the other’s shoulders, offering comfort rather than consternation, Ludwig replied with his own miserable smile.

“Of course.”

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

He’d been returning from another nightly hunt, exhausted and covered in the blood of beasts when he saw the strange glow through the spires of the Cathedral Ward. Smoke was billowing into the night air from deeper within the ward. Ludwig only had a moment to take in the horrifying sight, had only a moment to wonder what had happened, whether the Clerics had been evacuated, whether Laurence was safe or not, before another Hunter was running towards him, eyes wide and panicked. Ludwig ran forward to meet him, expecting news of the fire, what had caused the blaze, if it was an accident or deliberate. The Hunter wasted no time, calling out to him immediately.

“There’s a Beast! In the Cathedral Ward!” Ludwig felt his blood freeze. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been to hear that they were under attack. With no hesitation, Ludwig gripped the hilt of his blade, accelerating and calling over his shoulder.

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the Grand Cathedral.” The Hunter called back, struggling to keep up as the two of them ascended the stone steps. The streets were deserted, sparks and embers dancing in the air around them as Ludwig could feel the air grow thicker with heat as they approached the Cathedral. Were the beast and the blaze connected somehow? A thought suddenly occurred to Ludwig and he felt his stomach drop to the stones beneath him. The blaze was visible now, even from the low level of the Round Plaza, he could see the edifice of the Great Cathedral, partially obscured by the flames that threatened to consume the entire Ward. Pausing for the first time that night, he turned to the Hunter.

“Where is Laurence?” The Hunter paused, a look of confusion spreading across his face, likely due to Ludwig’s use of the Vicar’s given name. Ludwig however did not have the patience for such things. “Do you know where the First Vicar is?” A look of horror crossed the other man’s face and he turned his gaze towards the stone steps leading up to the currently burning Cathedral.

“I, I heard that he’d gone to the Great Cathedral to pray but-” He may have said something afterwards, or perhaps he’d simply cut the statement off right there. Either way, Ludwig heard nothing over the ringing in his ears the news brought. Laurence had been in the Cathedral. The Cathedral that was now engulfed in flames. The burning Cathedral that a beast had last been seen in…

With a shake of his head, Ludwig grit his teeth and clutched the hilt of his blade so tight he could feel his knuckles turn white. He had to think, had to focus. Laurence was likely-

The Church would-

“What about Amelia?” The Hunter’s head shot up, taken aback by Ludwig’s sudden question. “Where is she?”

“I heard she was taken to the Church of the Good Chalice.” He replied. “Far as I can tell, she’s safe, sir.” And with that, Ludwig let out a shaky breath. Laurence may be-

Laurence was probably-

Even so, the Healing Church would rebuild, would rise from the tragedy under Amelia’s guidance. So long as she was safe, so long as she could lead, they would recover.

But they would not do much with a Beast burning down the Great Cathedral.

Gripping the hilt of his sword once again, Ludwig turned and faced the other Hunter.

“Gather as many men as you can. We can’t let it escape!” The Hunter gave a nod and almost ran off before a look of uncertainty crossed his face, nearly making Ludwig scream with impatience.

“Sir it- It’s different somehow. I don’t think we can-” And Ludwig was gone before the other could speak any further, bounding up the stairs towards the blazing Cathedral, heedless of the flames and scorching heat surrounding him. The doors were wide open, flames licking the stone entryway as Ludwig peered inside. Even partially obscured by heat and fire, Ludwig could see that the Hunter had been right. This Beast was different, far bigger than the others he’d encountered previously. Nothing to be done about it. Clenching his eyes, Ludwig dove forward, leaping into a roll through the flame and coming to his feet on the heated stone floor before the beast.

Steeling his eyes, Ludwig ignored the beast and cast his gaze around the interior of the Cathedral, looking for some sign of Laurence. There was nothing. No blood on the floor, no tattered pile of clothes, no blood-soaked body lying somewhere in the corner. For a moment, only a moment, he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Either Laurence had escaped, or…

And then his eyes fell on the Beast.

It easily dwarfed him, nearly reaching the upper levels of the Cathedral while standing on its hind legs. Shaggy grey fur covered a body that was wreathed and alight with flames. At the sound of feet hitting stone, the thing turned its mangled antlered head towards him, drew itself up to its full height and bellowed, long and guttural. Its breath stank of rot and decay and blistered impossibly hotter than the inferno surrounding them. It was a monster of a Beast, a devil that had crawled out of Hell itself and brought damnation with it.

And Ludwig swung his blade wide, green glowing against red and orange to slice into the open maw of the Beast.

There was no telling how long the two exchanged blows. The Beast lunged forward and Ludwig rolled away. Ludwig rushed forward to try and cut legs and the beast would bring its heavy arm down before he could get within range. They sliced, stabbed, swung and danced around each other until Ludwig was panting and sweating with exertion. The heavy robes of the Church Hunters may have protected him against the worst of the beast’s attacks, but the warmth had become unbearable and he could feel his head swim. There was no sure way of telling how the beast was faring, but it was covered in shallow cuts with what appeared to be liquid fire seeping through them. It roared once again and lunged towards Ludwig, but its movements were slower, more fatigued. It was wearing down. Just a few more strikes, just a few more moments, just-

And with a great burst, a beam of moonlight shot forth from the sword to pierce straight through the torso of the monster and with a great shriek of pain its upper body flew through the air leaving the legs and hindquarters to collapse onto the floor. It clawed its way towards the doors, howling and shrieking in agony and defeat. Ludwig rushed forward, sword raised high and poised to strike the final blow when the beast turned its head and roared at him, sounding almost pitiful. The blaze around them had dimmed, as had the fire lighting the beasts eyes. Without their glow, Ludwig could see that they were the yellow of beasts; lucid, clear, and bright with an intelligence that did not suit its bestial nature. Bright yellow eyes that Ludwig was certain he’d seen somewhere before in a dimly lit room in the flickering light of a candle. Eyes that had once glowed a bright, intelligent green before the blazing light of the setting sun…

“Laurence?”

And the beast blinked, eyes narrowing before widening as they fell on Ludwig’s form, frozen against the dying flames. Its- his- The Beast’s eyes widened in recognition and it gave a piercing, agonized. More and more liquid fire sizzled on the slowly cooling stone floor as it began to claw at its own head, howling and shrieking in a maddened agony.

And in his mind, Ludwig could almost hear the frantic, panicked voice of the First Vicar.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you?”

Teeth clenched and eyes hardened, Ludwig strode forward. His sword was no longer glowing with Moonlight, but still raised, still poised to strike. Laurence- no. He could not afford to think of this, this thing as Laurence. The Beast that had never been Laurence continued to growl and shriek as he approached. Limbs thrashed across the ground, swinging wide and missing Ludwig by mere inches. He continued on.

“Until the end?”

The Beast continued to growl, even as Ludwig drew closer, even as he came to stand right next to his- it’s head, even as the pointed end of the sword hovered above one open yellow eye.

“Of course.”

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

Seemingly hours later, the other hunter who had split from the Plaza will through the Cathedral doors, a dozen hunters in tow, each expecting to see Ludwig in the jaws of some enormous flaming beast. Instead, they will find him standing triumphant over its massive corpse, covered in blisters and burns and with a hollow look in his eyes and news of the death of Laurence the First Vicar on his tongue. They will never know what occurred during the battle, Ludwig will refuse to speak of it. No one will know how he spent the past few moments, cradling the head of the Beast in his lap, tears soaking into fur as the fire around them died, wondering how it had come to this. How had Laurence, the Vicar of the Healing Church, had fallen to Beasthood. And if Laurence had been the first to go, how much longer did Yharnam have. And no one will know until much later that as Ludwig had wept and mourned, he’d felt something foreign, something monstrous and sinister, slithering beneath his own skin…

@dragonbasket

@maskofconfusion

Ascendance. This was the true goal of the Healing Church. Hidden under layers of selflessness and generosity to Yharnam’s citizens, the pursuit of godhood spun the cogs of their civilization without ever being seen. The Church stood as a beacon of hope and prosperity to the people, with it they had no fear of illness, of injury, of death. The people put their unquestioning faith in the miracle blood and obliviously trusted the Church to uphold their promises of security until it was too late.

The moon hung in the sky above Yharnam like a blooming rose. It bathed the streets and rooftops in a blanket of crimson light and reflected off the stained windows of the Grand Cathedral like the glint in a wolf’s eyes.

The Church had abandoned its people. While the red moon rose higher in the night sky, the upper echelons had blocked off the Great Bridge, effectively spelling the fate of anyone still on the other side. Those of the Church had closed its doors and hidden themselves away, leaving the helpless citizens of Yharnam to the claws of the beasts it helped create.

Said beasts ran through the city like a swarm of locusts. With gnarled, matted fur and bloody claws and wild eyes they tore through people and homes like a knife through butter. It was a culling. The cobbled streets were wet with the blood of women and children and the men trained as hunters even though they never stood a chance.

There were still those who attempted to fight, those with the hope that it was only a matter of time until they were saved. They stood fast in Old Yharnam and acted as a last line of defense. But even then, the Old Hunters too fell to the merciless strength of the beasts. On that night Old Yharnam was set ablaze as a last resort, and any hope of pushing back against the beastly scourge was turned to ash along with it.

It was on that night that Laurence, the first Vicar made contact with the Moon Presence. In his lust for cosmic knowledge and desperation for salvation from the monsters he helped create, he too became a horrifying beast.

It was on that night that Ludwig the Holy Blade upheld his duty to the Church and took up his sword of moonlight, slaying Laurence where he stood. No longer a man, but a beast.

Ludwig dashed up the stairs to the Grand Cathedral. He’d already spent too much time that night fighting a losing battle. Countless numbers of his students and fellow hunters had lost their lives to the beasts roaming the streets. They’d had to give up even pretending they could protect the citizens from the vicious creatures, eventually retreating to preserve their own lives. After all, if the hunters all died here, would there be any hope left?

He passed by whimpering children and weary mothers on his way up the stairs -he was surprised they even made it this far- with his eyes forward and shoulders squared. He knew there was nothing he could do to help them short of inviting them into the cathedral, and even that was only open to the public during the day for blood ministrations and prayer. They wouldn’t be allowed to stay there regardless, those days were over.

So he moved on. He pushed the heavy doors open and closed them without looking back.

“Ludwig, I see you’ve made it right on time.”

Standing at the far side of the cathedral with his back to the entrance was Vicar Laurence, the founder of the Healing Church as they knew it. Laurence was a man Ludwig respected greatly, a man he found strength when standing beside him. It was more than he felt he deserved, for him to have found a light in the crushing darkness they all lived in. But he’d slowly been learning that selfishness was the only way to survive anymore.

Though even in this nightmare they lived in Laurence still had not given up. He was fully devoted to his cause, so devoted that Ludwig felt compelled to stand by his side as he saw it through.

“It’s almost nightfall, Laurence, I hope whatever you’ve got to say is important.” he sighed. “The state of things out there is getting worse and worse, it would not be wise to ignore. There’s nearly nobody left.”

Laurence spun around away from the altar and clasped his hands together in excitement.

“My dear Ludwig, I believe I have made the discovery of a lifetime. The solution to all of our beastly problems! The gateway to a greater self!”

Laurence was all but vibrating with anticipation as he waited for Ludwig to approach him at the altar. He excitedly rearranged various items on the surface and motioned for Ludwig to hurry closer.

Ludwig reached the scholar and peered around his shoulder at the mess of what could only be described as things on the wood of the altar. There were what looked like masses of flesh and mummified extremities and strange plants- He couldn’t even begin to guess what Laurence had in mind for these ‘materials’.

He carefully stepped away from the altar and drew Laurence back by his sleeve to meet his eyes. “Laurence, have you gone mad? Miracle blood is one thing, something I’m willing to believe in, but this?” his voice lowered, “You worry me, Vicar.”

Ludwig wanted to rationalize what he was witnessing. He wanted there to be a straightforward answer from Laurence to explain the horrific things he was collecting, but he feared that there wasn’t going to be one. How could there be? And that’s what he was worried about. He was worried that Laurence was getting into something he shouldn’t be, something he couldn’t handle.

Laurence laid a hand over the one still grasping his sleeve. “I need you to trust me, hunter.”

Ludwig could feel himself caving. Inside, he knew he was never going to stand in the way of Laurence’s progress. While Laurence and his ideas sometimes confused or worried him, he knew that he did indeed trust him. He trusted him completely, and that thought used to scare him, but now it was a fact he was resigned to. He would follow Laurence to the very end, be it a happy one or just another nightmare.

Ludwig nodded, letting go of Laurence’s robes and standing back.

Laurence reached out to squeeze his hand lightly one last time and smiled. “Thank you, Ludwig. This is something I could not do without you.”

Laurence then turned back to the altar and laid his hands upon it. He ducked his head and whispered words too low for Ludwig to hear.

Ludwig watched, stunned, as the air around his comrade shimmered and shook. His mind could barely comprehend the way the energy in the room turned solid and flowed. The mirage-like form floated through the air around the altar, reaching down from the high ceilings of the church to ensnare the man beneath it. All Ludwig could do was bear witness as the form seemed to coil around Laurence the way a snake would its prey.

Laurence was lifted into the air, his body silhouetted by a red halo of light cast through the stained windows behind him. In stark contrast to Ludwig’s creeping terror, the man before him looked delighted. He looked up and past something the other could not see and reached out his hand in offering.

Ludwig broke out of his stupor to call out to his comrade, fear and confusion lacing each syllable. He could barely comprehend enough of the scene to question it, almost begging for any kind of explanation.

“Don’t you see, Ludwig? There’s no need to be afraid!” Laurence looked away from empty air to address the frantic man below him. “Our time of fearing everything but the shadows beneath our feet is over, soon it will be our time.” He flung his arms out at his sides as the being coiled around him became corporeal. “Witness me, dear friend, for I have beckoned the Moon!”

Laurence’s raving grew more spirited, gesturing wildly seemingly in an attempt to quell Ludwig’s fears. He tried to assure him that they would live on, thrive, even ascend together.

Ludwig knew they couldn’t.

He reached over his shoulder and grasped the hilt of his blade. The last thought that went through his head as his sword lit up like a glowing sea was how much he wished they could.

@fateoftheundead

[phantaloon-books]

All We Are is Bullets

AFTG songfic, Andreil centric, Andrew POV, inspired by Demolition Lovers by My Chemical Romance

Trigger warnings:  violence, graphic descriptions of violence, death, major character death, gunshots, guns, gunshot wounds, injury, angst, hurt no comfort, sad ending, blood, car crash, life on the run. This one’s on the heavy side sorry.

Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard

I would drive on to the end with you, a liquor store or two keeps the gas tank full

It had been over 7 months since they last had an encounter with anyone from the Moriyamas or the remaining of the Butcher’s people. 

They had grown too comfortable, too soft. Andrew wasn’t even sure how that happened, considering both his and Neil’s upbringing, but it happened anyway. They were reckless and careless, jumping from town to town along the United States, jump starting cars and making gas station stops and robbing liquor stores, and they’d grown to feel safe.

What a ridiculous thing it is, safety. Neither Andrew nor Neil should be able to afford to feel safe.

But they did. 

And these are the consequences. 

Andrew shakes his head, pressing harder on the gas, willing the stolen sports car to just go faster. One hand on the wheel, the other hand hovering over Neil’s pressed against the bleeding wound on his stomach. 

Neil’s breaths are getting rougher, and Andrew tightens his hand on the wheel. Of course Neil notices, and icy blue eyes look up towards haunted hazel. 

“It’s fine, it’s fine, don’t worry, I’ve dealt with worse, it’s gonna be fine,” Neil’s words are supposed to be soothing, but his voice is too hoarse for them to work. Andrew snarls.

“Shut the fuck up, Josten, just stay awake, I’ll get us out of here, and we’ll stop soon to patch you up.”

“They’re gonna be on our tails soon, Drew, I don’t-”

He breaks off in a coughing fit, his lungs rattle, and when he pulls his hand away from his mouth, Andrew sees the red that paints his hand. Andrew swears his soul leaves his body.

“I’ll pull over on the next stop-”

“Andrew, we don’t have time to stop right now, you know we don’t, it’s fine, I’ll be fine, if we stop we’re dead.”

Andrew knows that’s true, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate it. Instead he holds on to Neil’s hand tighter, and Neil’s expression softens.

“Until the end, forever, remember?”

I will drive until the end with you. I mean this forever.

This isn’t supposed to be their lives. They were supposed to be done after the shitshow that was Neil’s freshman year. The Moriyamas were supposed to leave Neil alone. The FBI was supposed to deal with what was left of the Wesninski circle. They never should have trusted the feds to do their fucking job. Instead what was left of the Wesninski claimed war on the Moriyamas and Hatfords. Ichirou was beyond furious, with both Wesninskis and Hatfords out for blood and revenge. And he blamed it all on Neil. 

Andrew would never understand the Moriyama lord’s logic. To blame a mob war on a 19 year old kid, whose only crime was being born to two mob families, one of which was tied to the yakuza. 

But they were out for Neil’s blood then. Had nearly killed him outside the Court the first time, he would have been shot in the head if it wasn’t for his incredibly quick instincts. The shot hit his shoulder instead. They didn’t wait for a second time, Andrew just shoved their stuff in a bag, took Neil’s remaining money and together they ran. He only left a letter for Aaron, and he didn’t regret leaving their family behind. 

Neil had been upset with Andrew at first.

“You have no idea what you just did, Andrew! You have no idea what it’s like to run for your life every single day, not knowing if you’re gonna live long enough to see the next, you have no idea what you just did!”

“I don’t care about that, Neil.”

“You should! This isn’t a little adventure, this isn’t a road trip, this is fighting to stay alive, and bullets and knives and hiding and lying forever!” his voice broke, and dropped to a whisper, “I never wanted to put you through this.”

“You’re not understanding me here, I’m trying to show you but you don’t understand. You mean too much to me to care about all the things you’re saying, I’d end my days in a hail of bullets to keep you safe, I would drive on to the end with you, I’ll keep running with you to prove to you how much you mean to me.”

Leaving bought them 4 more years. 

Until today. 

Until the end of everything.

The sun is going down on the highway as Andrew floors it, going too high above the speed limit running from Neil’s demons. But he’d signed up for this, as Neil had so kindly put it. Neil’s hand trembles, growing cold. His blood is slowly pooling on the car seat below him. He fights to hide his grimace, but his face is pulled tightly in pain anyway. 

“I’m going to fucking stop, Neil.”

“Goddammit, Andrew! No, we can’t afford to stop, right now!”

I’m trying to let you know how much you mean.

“Andrew, we’re not stopping, I can hang on however long we need to get somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is safe, Neil, we’ll never stop,” Andrew can’t help the snarl, anger is curling inside his chest and it’s too much, “You’re bleeding out, don’t you understand? We need to stop now.”

“I know this is frustrating for you, Drew, I get it, but we have to wait until we reach somewhere safer-”

“Goddammit, Neil-”

The car is thrown forward at once, and Andrew has to take both of his hands to the wheel to stop the car from veering sideways and crashing. With a curse, he takes a look through the rearview mirror, and he curses once more.

Fuck.

They’d been too busy arguing to notice the black SUVs and trucks on their tails. There’s a lot of them, nondescript, but obviously Moriyama. Andrew’s heart starts to race, as he wills the car to go faster, beyond its own limits. But there’s too many of them. There’s no way they’ll make it out this time. 

He glances at Neil, blank mask long forgotten, worry and dread and terror seeping out of him like it never has before. Because Neil is crying softly, despite the serenity of his entire posture. Tears are streaming down his face, eyes closed but body and face relaxed. 

The car is nearing 200 mph when Neil opens his eyes, tears flowing freely. The black SUVs are getting impossibly closer, caging them on the sides. 

“I’m so sorry, Drew,” Neil’s voice is a shattered whisper, and it breaks Andrew’s already shattering heart, “I never wanted to get you involved in all of this, I never wanted this life for you, I’m so so sorry, I ruined your life.”

“Shut the fuck up, Neil, I chose this, I chose to run with you, I wanted-” the words are stuck in his throat and he can’t get them out. I wanted to spend however much time was left with you. That’s how much you mean to me. That’s how much this means to me. “I meant it then, and I mean it now, Neil Josten, until the end.”

Neil’s eyes are pained, something like grief and sorrow shining through the icy blue. But he still forces himself to smile, as if he can read what Andrew thought, and Andrew knows full well he does. 

“We’ll show them all how much we mean.”

The first shot comes from Andrew’s side and he barely manages to dodge the bullet that cuts through the glass like it’s nothing, shattering the window at once. Neil crouches with a cry, and Andrew shoots a glance his way as much as he can as he attempts to keep the car under control. Neil’s right shoulder is bleeding, the window on his side just as shattered as his own. Andrew didn’t even notice the car getting close enough to Neil’s side, or the shot aimed his way. Neil feels his stare, the overwhelming alarm and horror that drowns Andrew from the inside, and turns pained yet calm eyes his way.

“It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

Understanding.

Neil knows he’s not going to make it, they are not going to make it. This is going to be their last run. With a deep breath, Andrew buries all the fear and worry deep down, and stares at Neil with nothing but determination.

“I’m about to get us killed, but when it stops, we run in the other direction and into the city, we hide as best as we can.” The or die trying goes unsaid, but Andrew knows Neil understands, he always does. 

“I love you, until the end of everything.”

Andrew stares at Neil, and he wants to say I love you too, you mean everything to me, but instead what comes out is “Hang on, tight,” and he hits the brakes at once.

Despite Andrew’s eidetic memory should make sure that he remembers what happens next, but it’s all a blur, and when he can get to consciousness and focus his eyes, it’s to Neil half carrying him as he limps his way down the highway, looking frantically behind him. A quick glance behind them and Andrew sees the wreck he left behind; cars pile one on top of the other, some are on fire, including the one they were driving, and they set each other aflame, like pouring fuel on scarecrows. Moriyama men are dragging themselves out of the cars, and trying to find a way out of the wreck. Andrew can’t help the smile. He didn’t think they’d make it after braking a car going 200 mph, but he somehow manages to make his legs listen to him, as his ears echo. 

Neil notices when he feels Andrew take back some of his own weight, turns a bloodied and dirty face at him, and smiles back brightly. Neither of them have much hope of making it to the other side of the road and finding a place to hide, but in that one second, they begin to run hand in hand, and things are okay, despite Neil’s bleeding wounds, and Andrew’s aching head.

They both know it won’t last long, so Andrew pulls Neil for a kiss, as long as he dares to, it’s merely a brush of their lips, but it’s everything that matters. 

They’re about to reach the other lane when the first shot rings through the air, but Neil’s always bright instincts pull them both out of the way. They would be helpful if there were two or three men, but Andrew risks a glance back. There are dozens of men regaining their composure, readying their weapons, and before he knows what’s happening, both Neil and him are hitting the ground hard. 

Neil just pushed him.

And then the bullets come, lead rain passing through phantoms.

He’s too disoriented at first, but then burning pain lights his body, like nothing he has ever felt before. He gasps, but he pushes through the pain, and forces himself to look around. He doesn’t have to look far, he finds what he needs next to him.

“Neil! Neil!” His voice seems far, far away, but Neil is looking up at the blue, blue sky, breath coming in insignificant little huffs, more like sighs than breaths. Blood is pooling underneath them. “Neil, look at me, stay with me.”

Moving hurts, burns, but he makes himself push through it harder, until he’s somehow leaning on his side, with a clear view of Neil. Neil who’s bleeding too much. Neil who has too many bullet holes on his body. Neil who just pushed him to the side to protect him. Neil who is bleeding out. Neil who despite everything turns his head so he’s facing Andrew, even if his eyes are still looking up. 

Andrew’s own eyes are blurring with unshed tears, and he blindly reaches forward to grab Neil’s hand lying limply by his side. 

He feels like he’s falling.

Neil’s lips are turning red, and he’s coughing, choking, trying to force out words that can’t come out. He gasps and moans in agony, and Andrew’s own chest hurts, not just from the bullets he couldn’t escape. This is it, a pool of blood, falling and touching hands.

“Neil, look at me, look at me, it’s gonna be alright, we’re gonna be alright.”

Andrew’s own voice is cracking. He doesn’t understand how Neil remains awake, but his stubborn idiot rabbit is still breathing. With another strained whine and a choked sob, their eyes meet at last. Icy blue and deep hazel, one last time.

And Andrew is falling, falling, falling.

He squeezes Neil’s hand as tightly as he can, and chokes out a whisper despite the metallic taste flooding his mouth, “It’s okay, we’ll be okay, just let go, it’s okay.”

He feels the thuds of footsteps approaching, but black is already creeping at the edges of his vision, his eyelids are growing heavy, and Neil’s own breaths are coming slower.

Neil closes his eyes, and Andrew closes his as Neil’s shredded chest stops moving.

I’ll meet your eyes, I mean this, forever.

lol sorry

read on ao3

[reki-of-the-valley]

Boy Like a Fading Dream

A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.

Find it on AO3 here!

Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.

“Where’s dad?”

Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; she’s cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.

“How was your day, baby?”

Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.

“Tiring.”

It’s all he manages to say to her. It’s all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now it’s anything but fun. Snowboarding isn’t fun anymore, especially when there’s no snow outside. Especially when he’s cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.

So was training fun? No. No, it wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he lies. He can’t tell his mother how much he hates it. He can’t tell her when it’s what’s paying for his education – an education he also hates. “The usual, you know.”

Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.

“Dad’s not home yet, is he?”

Nanako shakes her head. “He’s staying late tonight. He has a project that’s due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.”

Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.

“I have to go study.”

Nanako doesn’t say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows she’s watching him, watching his every move, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that he’s lying to her.

Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes he’s thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he can’t bring himself to clear out his trash. He’s already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.

It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. It’s become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesn’t actually care for what’s on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness that’s formed in his chest.

So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.

Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything he’s ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.

A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.

.MechanicStarReki. – Suggested for you

Langa squints at his screen. The name doesn’t ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where exactly it is that he’s seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.

Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he can’t find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesn’t bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.

The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption “See you for Christmas.” The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. He’s hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture – she must be around 15. She’s pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows he’s seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows it’s impossible. He can’t have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. There’s no way he’s ever seen this boy; Langa’s only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.

Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where he’s seen him.

A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where he’s seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where he’s seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where he’s seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where he’s seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.

Does he resemble an actor from one of his mother’s shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, that’s not it. He’s too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesn’t just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.

Does he look like an athlete Langa’s watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isn’t that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isn’t that.

No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he can’t find where it is that he’s seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe he’s caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe it’s just a mere coincidence that the boy Langa’s made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.

Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.

“Langa sweetheart?” Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. “Is everything alright?”

Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.

“Are you sure?” She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. “I’ve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.”

Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadn’t heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. He’s sorry, he’ll be down in a minute to set the table.

“Langa.” Nanako’s voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything he’s doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to survive the disappointed look on his mother’s face. He knows she would understand, that she’d tell him he’s allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.

So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile he’s been practicing for years.

“I’m just tired.”

Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesn’t hate himself.

“If you’re tired, I can bring your food up. You don’t have to eat downstairs if it’s too much.”

Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, he’s barely ever home. It’s the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. It’s the only time where he feels like they’re a family again.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.

“You promise you’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. It’s broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he can’t make that promise. There’s just no way that he can promise such a thing. He can’t bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he can’t bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.