#yes the “condolences” was crossed out

[javertautismtruther]

Still thinking about the note left in the backstage by the Dutch Tour Thénardiers sending their condolences congratulations with their funeral on top of two crates of beer after their final show

[shirefantasies]

This is something no one requested, but that I wrote for sheer comfort at a rush of bad memories. Warnings are fairly obvious, but this post will contain implications of abuse, though no graphic/explicit depictions.

The Hobbit Characters Finding Out You Were in an Abusive Relationship

Balin

His gaze drops from yours, but you are not offended by the pensive expression that crosses his face- what you said would take anyone time, let alone someone as thoughtful as Balin. Several heartbeats pass before he speaks. "My heart breaks for you," he begins, "that is a fate no one deserves. I can hardly begin to imagine... But what I do know is you have every right to do things at your own pace. Don't push yourself for me, love." Eyes shining, you nod. "And if I ever raise my voice at you, it'll only be for good reason, say, in a battle or because my old ears don't work so good." Giggling, you accept his proffered hand. "I admit, I can't picture you raising your voice like that at anyone." "It's happened," he jokes back, "those nephews of Thorin's have earned it a few times. But not you. I'm not here to control you, I'm here to love you, and you tell me if I'm making good on that." "It's a deal," you reply, smiling softly as Balin squeezes your hand.

Dwalin

“I know you may not understand or that my fears may seem weak-” “Weak?” Dwalin cuts you off. “Ya know who’s weak? That coward for picking on someone who loved ‘em. You are strong as hell for telling them yer done.” One final question rose to your lips. “So you don’t think differently of me?” At that, the tattooed dwarf shakes his head, placing a hand upon your shoulder and breathing your name softly even in his rough voice. “By my bear, you’re about the sweetest soul I’ve ever met and this only serves to confirm it. I’d have pummeled the sod at first insult.” “I probably should have,” you remarked, arms crossing over your midsection. “Not so fast,” Dwalin’s hand clapped over your chest, taking yours, “that’s what you have me for!” The hearty, devilishly proud laugh he burst into was enough to have you joining the mirth, your head falling gently against his.

Thorin

His eyes darken, jaw setting in a way that sends shivers of intimidation down your spine even in spite of your knowledge that it is not for you. You know it because of the way Thorin pulls you into his arms, because he breaths his condolences into your ear as he does so, warm air ticking the shell of it. "And your fire still burns," he remarks, wonder coloring his voice and shining in his blue eyes. "In a way," you reply, gaze still a bit downcast, "I use it as fuel. Never again will I be somebody's plaything." "Never indeed," Thorin agrees with a small nod, "and you may not need it, but while I remain at your side you have my sword and my word that no harm will come to you so long as I draw breath…”

Oin

His eyes go moist in a moment and he holds up his ear trumpet, clearly hoping beyond hope he heard you wrong. Hands clasping his, you shake your head. “So I’m sorry if I ever seem afraid to-” “You are sorry?” Oin asks incredulously, his tone still managing to be quiet, subdued to the volume you normally know him for. “You don’t have a damn thing to apologize for. That is not your fault in the slightest. Do you have any scars? Any bruises? I’m only asking because I want to take away your pain.” Likely it was in the past, long enough ago for those worries to fade. Scars to score only your heart. “Aye, if I can…I want to heal that, too. Treat you like the jewel you are.”

Gloin

His wide-eyed expression is almost comical despite it all, bringing a hushed, nervous chuckle past your lips. Gloin continues staring at you like you're a new creation for a moment longer, dragging the silence out until you feel you might burst. Finally, he stutters out a reply. "You- you endured all that?" "Yes, though I cannot help wondering if I could have prevented it. You see, I-" "Oh, no," Gloin cuts off your spiral, clutching your gesticulating hands and shaking his head firmly at you, "don't you dare let that coward off one bit. No one asks for anything that bastard did. They always say pressure makes a diamond, but you, my dear, were a gem far before and only shine brighter with each passing moment. Diamonds are gifts of this earth, though, not just some trinket for rich arms. If it was you or all the wealth in the Lonely Mountain, I'd choose you every time. Remember that. Please." "How could I forget words like those?" You grin at him, heart still hammering. "I will do my best to carry them in my heart."

Bifur

Soon as your confession leaves your lips, Bifur backs up from you, dismaying you with his own pain in your eyes. “Scared?” He signs, and your heart breaks anew. Quickly you step forward, bridging the gap again, and reach up to tuck some of his wild hair behind his ear. Shaking your head, you reply, “No, dear Bifur, I am not afraid. If anything, I apologize if I ever seem that way. If my nightmares frighten you and I either hold you closer or push you away. If I startle a little too easily. If I am quick to say no.” He finally tilts his head back up to look you in the eyes, moving it to the side to rest his cheek against your palm. “I, too, have nightmares. Bad things happen when I sleep,” he signs to you, “I get hurt. You get hurt. I need space sometimes, too. I may tell you no, too.” “But when you love someone,” you finish, a tearful smile rising to your face, “You want to see them fulfilled.” At that, the dwarf nods vigorously. “I love you. I never want to scare you. To hurt you.”

Bofur

“A star as bright as you?” Shaking his head, Bofur removes his hat, clutching it in both hands. “Guess that’s beside the point. Someone like that only thinks o’ themselves. But hey, you know that wasn’t your fault, right?” You just nod. “And the fact that you still give your heart to everyone… you’re nothin’ short of amazing.” Tearing up, you burst into a smile, exhaling your relief and falling into Bofur’s open arms. “Was gonna do it anyway,” he mumbles into your neck, “but I want you to know that I’ll treat you like royalty. Much as I can give. I really will.” “I believe you, Bofur, I believe you.”

Bombur

Never have you seen his face fall like you do in that moment. All but instinctually, he opens his arms. “May I?” Nodding, you fall against his chest, the beat of his heart calming your racing thoughts. “I don’t know what to say other than that you don’t deserve that,” Bombur tells you, a hand gently cradling the back of your head, “you deserve the finest man who tosses roses at your feet ‘n’ sings your praises day after day. Someone with half an eye who can see how lovely you are. You deserve all the pretty things in this world.” “And I have that. I have all I could ever want right here,” you reply, a tear slipping from the corner of your eye, “you give me all the love I deserve.”

Dori

"What gives them the right? Nothing. It's not right, any of it! Why is it always the prettiest flowers that get plucked?" Even in his righteous anger, Dori pays you a sweet compliment, a small testament to his value of you. Cupping his cheek, you interrupt his rant, shifting him to meet your eyes and feeling tears prick at you when you see how wet his eyes are. "I don't want you to live with that pain," he adds, voice breaking slightly. Heart dropping, then soaring again at the love in his eyes, you reach up on the other side, and his hand comes up to cover yours. "These roots are strong," you assure him, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his, "with care they grow anew." "I will take care of you," Dori whispers your name, blue eyes fluttering shut, "Always. I swear it."

Nori

“Where is the rat? I’ll kill ‘em, gut ‘em like the pig they are!” Nori’s rage rose an odd flush of endearment through you; murderous as his words may have been, your heart was lightened for his care, the sheer vindication that what you went through was not deserved. But then again, the way that person hurt you was something you would never wish upon any living soul and you knew that. Sheepishly, you shook your head, stepping forward to take one of the dwarf’s wildly gesticulating hands. “The way you love me has avenged enough,” you cut into his harsh words, “no one has fought for me before you, Nori. Thank you.”

Ori

“Somebody really did all that to you?” He doesn’t mean to sound stupid, but the revelation is nothing but dumbfounding. “Yes,” you nod, breath catching in a half-sob, “I didn’t even feel like a person by the end of it.” Your arm is crossed over your chest, but Ori removes it, gently, intently, to hold your hand in his. “You are, though. You’re…you’re more than anything I could have ever imagined. And I like imagining things quite a lot,” he smiles softly, almost sheepishly, “in fact, you know what one of the things I imagine is?” You cringe, see his eyes widen that he accidentally hit a sore spot and feel the way his hand involuntarily tightens. He continues, though. “How I can show all that to you.” Head falling atop his, you succumb to a grin- he is leagues different from that person without even lifting a finger. “You do that just by being you, Ori.”

Fili

You hardly expect his first words to be thanking you, but indeed as both of his hands grip yours, he smiles sadly and does just that. "Thank you for trusting me with that. Fighting the fear. I don't take it lightly. But if you think this does anything but make me love you more," his smile shifts, returns to something more like the amusement you more often saw, "I'm afraid you are solely mistaken. The fact that you trust me, feel safe around me...why, I'll work to keep earning that until the day I die." Grinning, you fall into Fili's arms, feeling utterly secure in the warmth of his embrace. "And that alone means the world," you whisper, "I love you." "And I you. Forever."

Kili

"No," Kili shakes his head, "no, you cannot be serious!" "So you think I lie?" You shoot back, tone sharply defensive in your hurt. Kili's dark eyes widen, glossing over with tears; he shakes his head again, this time slower, but much more vehement, "Not at all. I simply can't believe it. Why anybody would want to hurt someone like you. I admit I can't fathom it." "It's because I didn't matter in that person's mind," you reply, your own eyes tearing and your voice going soft, "I was not a consideration." "Well, let me consider you," Kili replies quickly, straightening and reaching out a hand, "I'll not do anything you want me to do. And if I ever raise my voice at you, feel free to slap me." "Kili," you half-chuckle, half-sob, "how would that make me any better than-" "It was a joke, but see? Now I have you smiling again. That's all I want. For you to be happy. I love you, truly, I do."

Bilbo

“Any chance we would…run into this person?” So casually, almost awkwardly phrased, and yet you deduced exactly what Bilbo meant with his question. “Are you…” Your expression widened back to a tentative smile. “…hoping to have a fight with them?” Plenty of people had been on your side, nearly everyone agreeing that what you endured crossed every line, but hearing it from a partner was an even stronger spike of the vindication you never tired of. Plus Bilbo’s scrappy side was all but the cutest thing in the world. “Well,” the hobbit straightened his coat, “I simply think they need to be put in their place. Why, of all the… how could anyone take a look at someone like you and see anything but the greatest treasure they’ve ever known, it’s insulting, maddening, uncouth beyond all-” He stopped when he heard you giggle, felt your arms snake around him. “Oh Bilbo…my greatest treasure. I’ll always feel safe when you’re here.”

Thranduil

Rarely do you see the woodland king’s eyes harden, go so cold like shards of pale blue eyes, as you do when he hears your admission. “This person saw fit to treat you like property?” Thranduil’s voice is dangerously low, his gaze drifting distantly from yours. “I felt that way, yes,” you quietly agree, nodding. The king’s expression sends a shudder of intimidation down your spine. He must notice, the way he offers you his hand- tentative, eyes softening in question. Telling you wordlessly that acceptance is your choice. A small nod and you take it, his fingers closing over yours as he lifts the back of your hand to his lips. “Never again,” he breaks the silence, voice low but all ice drained from it, “while I wish your time here to never end, our gates are open to you. My halls are as your own. If that…that fiend even thinks to cross the Woodland Realm’s borders? Some gates shall be closed forever.” A part of you wishes to cringe at Thranduil’s harsh words, but as he winds you into his chest you simply feel the heat of tears prick your eyes as you whisper your thanks, an answer coming in the form of the elven king’s lips upon your head.

Bard

He stepped back, eyes widening at your revelation. Every aspect of him softened. “How? How could anybody…” Eyes distant, you shook your head. “At the time, I felt like it was because I wasn’t good enough. Now I see how sick it was. How I was…just an object,” your voice faded into a near-sob, prompting Bard to catch you about the waist, lower you into a chair. He moved to put a hand on either arm of it, thought better of making you feel trapped. Instead he simply let you keep hold of his hand, tilting your chin with the other to meet your eyes. “By every power I hold dear I hope you never feel too afraid to tell me no. To tell me if I’ve hurt you. And by that same light we’ll spend every day filling your heart. Never should you apologize for your scars- those are signs of your strength.”

Beorn

He never does this. You've never known the Skin-Changer to be one for spontaneous affection and yet he's pulling you into his arms the moment you finish, your head falling against his chest or wherever it falls upon his massive height. Several breaths pass like this before either of you speak again. “There is cruelty in this world I will never understand. No excuses exist for it. None. But I will do everything in my power to keep you safe from it.” True to his word, the Skin-Changer is there for you after every nightmare. Never once does he raise his voice or his hand to you. He may not always understand you, but well does he know the feeling of chains, physical or metaphorical, and he would die before casting his own. In moments surpassing his understanding of you, he takes to the woods, offering space over harsh words and freedom of travel over control. True love, after all, always returns.

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[lina-lovebug]

You Are Mine

Na'vi! Quaritch x fem! Na'vi! Reader

All sentences in italics are the Na'vi language.

Background: Reader was kidnapped along with the kids and is Neytiri older sister. Quaritch wouldn't let her escape and became his direct line into the world of Pandora.

_

You still couldn't believe it. That monster, that bastard, was somehow alive. And when he dared to lay hands on the kids, you made sure he would have a reminder of what pain he would experience the next time that happened.

You bit his neck. Hard.

"You do this with all your partners, sweetheart?" Quaritch smirked at you, the blood gone but the marks of your fangs still scarred onto his skin.

I hissed in retaliation, a reminder that I was not to be tamed.

"Leave her alone!" Spider hissed, protective over his aunt. You adored Spider and saw him as your son.

I never got the chance to make a bond. Despite my parents' best efforts to pair me with Tsu'tey, you wanted to bond for the sake of love and trust. And I knew well that Tsu'tey did not love me, so I was seen as a lone Na'vi.

"Do they hurt?" Spider questioned, referring to the restraints on my wrists and ankles.

"I am fine, do not worry about me. Besides, this sky bastard would not know a woman's touch if it was shoved up his ass," I smirked and Spider laughed.

"What? What's so damn funny?" Quaritch questioned.

"Stupid oaf," I giggled, knowing he couldn't understand shit.

"It was nothing," Spider insisted.

"Tch," He walked away, leaving you and Spider.

Quaritch hated to admit it, but you were a damn beauty. He remembered you vaguely from his human memories, seeing you land on his ship and fire two arrows straight at two pilots. The fear he felt knowing you could have pulled out one more and struck him, but didn't and left. A fierce Na'vi warrior who was strong and willing to kill for her people, plus the looks were an added bonus.

"What do we know about her?"

"Her name is (Y/N), she's the daughter of the previous leader of the Omaticaya, Eytucan and the Tsahik, Mo'at. Her mother and sister, Neytiri, are her only living relatives-"

"So she's Mrs. Sullys' sister?" Quaritch chuckled and looked back at you, who was staring out at the forest.

He could have guessed, judging by the similar faces, but you were taller and much more. . .up close than Neytiri. Sure, Neytiri literally got the closest you can be by killing him, but you were his captive.

Meaning he could get information from you.

_

"So you are Neytiris' sister. Could have guessed from the mark you gave me," Quaritch approached me in my cell, shutting the door behind him. My tail flicked, in tune with my nerves, as I only stared at him.

"Much prettier, I will admit," He sat down next to me, to which I scooted away and kept a sharp gaze on him.

And did not respond.

"So sorry about your father. My condolences. I did not mean to cause such harm," My chest rose higher, feeling angry that he thought he could even speak of my father.

But still, I stayed silent.

"You're pretty close with my son. Did you raise him?" He crossed his arms together, but my eyes traveled to his neck. When his comrades tore me away, my fangs dragged and tore the skin open.

"Do you even speak Engli-"

"Your language was too easy for me. It shows just how intelligent your species are," I responded in perfect English.

"Why tha-"

"It was not a compliment," I cut him off, my stare deadly and my lips in a firm line.

"And Spider is not your son," I knew Spider, and he was the kindest soul. He wanted so badly to be Na'vi, but he had a human body. It did not discourage him and that is why I was proud to call him my own.

"So you did raise him then. You taught him the language?"

"Rather mine than yours," I retorted.

"I'll take that as a yes. Look, I'm hopeless with this stuff, and in order to better connect with him," He got closer.

"I would like you to teach me. I want to bond with him - the way we were meant to. Could you help me with that, sweetheart?" His hand went to grab my hair, and my hands went to grab his wrist and restrain him.

But he did so to me.

My shackled hands fell against the wall, and he stared down at me. His hand grabbed my chains and pushed them upwards, against the wall.

I hissed, bearing my fangs but all he did was chuckle.

"I can do this all day, sweetheart. I won't let them torture you, as a thank you for raising my son, but," He moved his face closer to my own.

"Don't think for a second that you're getting out of here."

_

It had been three months and he still spoke like a baby.

"Nari!"

"Narni."

"No!" My hand went up to smack his forehead and he grabbed my wrist, frustrated.

"This is stupid. I'm clearly saying it right!"

"No, you are not," I expressed. We had these lessons twice a day in my prison, and as a reward, he would let me out for a day. I still had my ankle shackles on but it felt nice to move around.

"As much as I would love to agree and get you out of my sight-"

"Aw c'mon, sweetheart, you don't mean that," He expressed, his hand still around my wrist.

"I ain't that bad to look at," And his teeth grazed my wrist, over my veins and his eyes. . .oh great mother, his eyes looked at me in such a way only mated pairs should.

"You-You-"

"Cat got your tongue?"

"Tch," I tore my wrist away, "your behavior is very inappropriate. Only mated pairs should look at each other like that."

"Mated pairs?" I sighed at his question.

"When a woman chooses her man, and he in return, they then bond and become Mated for life," It was a simple yet perfect way of life. That is all you wished for yourself and any other Na'vi.

"You don't fool around? Have a taste of anyone else?"

"Your culture seems to think that is all love is, but you are wrong. You know when you have found your mate, and it is like no other feeling. You will do anything for your mate and your children. Na'vi women are noted to become feral when their child is in danger and are considered the most dangerous creature," You saw now Neytiri loved her children and even when they had the smallest scratch, she became so protective of them.

"How do you guys mate? Just attach your braid things?" He was genuinely curious and it made me smile, but not enough for him to notice.

"Guess you're a happy woman then," He was a bit bummed, as you were beautiful, and your spirit is strong.

"I am not mated. Many men were killed the last you were here," I admitted, the fall of my people still bringing a light mist to my eyes. Many friends, and even my own father - all lost but never forgotten. They were all with Eywa now.

"You have sex," I stated bluntly, "and you share your memories."

"Hmm. . .good to know," I watched as he got up and made his way to the door.

"Oh, and (Y/N)? I was checking your pulse. You do find me attractive," He chuckled, leaving as I recalled his fangs grazing over my veins and my cheeks flared.

"As if, you bastard!"

_

"Can you look away?"

"And let you escape? I'm not that fucking stupid."

I rolled my eyes at my captors, who were allowing me to bathe in the natural spring waters because I did not like their mechanical baths.

I moved further into the water, making sure my body was covered. Only my eyes were up above as I moved behind the waterfall, and I caught Miles Quaritchs gaze as I disappeared.

The cool water brought a smile to my face as I bathed, using soap we made from the land and relishing in the cleanliness.

"Having fun?"

I gasped, dipping back down into the water as I saw Miles Quaritch move his body into the waterfall, his shirt off.

"Don't worry, I covered my eyes, sweetheart. Just making sure you aren't running away," He said, averting his gaze.

But mine lingered.

It was shameful, for sure, but my eyes lingered on the water droplets that traveled over every muscle of his chest.

"Why did you hate us?" I asked quietly, and he looked at me.

"Why did you come here?" And kill so many.

He let out a sigh of sadness, like he himself did not know.

"I know my memories say that it was for money. I could see through his eyes that all he saw were disgusting creatures in the way of his goals," He seemed ashamed, like he didn't want to be that man but his memories and name force him to remain that same person.

"Do you hate me?" I asked, my body fully out of the water but his eyes did not trail my body. His eyes remained on mine, and his gentle hand came up to my chin.

"Never, sweetheart."

_

I knew I was in deep trouble. The many times Miles Quaritch came to visit me, and the many times I got to know him - he was a changed man. I could see it in his spirit. He came to adore my planet and our ways, but those around him would not allow him to fully embrace it. It would mean he would abandon his mission, and they would kill him for it.

Which is why I was unsure of my own heart.

I was his prisoner. I was his captive, and yet I felt my heart race anytime he looked at me.

Neytiri would be disappointed in me.

Father would be disappointed in me.

Mother would not be able to stand the sight of me.

Which is why I was crying.

It was late and all were asleep, so I sat in my corner and wept. I had fallen for such a cruel man who killed hundreds of my people, and why? Why did I choose him? Because he might have changed? I did not understand.

"(Y/N)? Are you crying?" Once I heard his hushed voice, I wiped my tears away. The lights remained off, but we could see each other as our bodies gave off the bioluminescent glow.

"Go away, Quaritch."

"If you need anything, you can ask-"

"I do not want anything from you. I want to go home," I hissed, trying to move the focus from my tears.

"I. . .you know I can't let you do that," He sighed, conflicted with himself.

"I do not understand," I whispered, and he grabbed my chin and had me look up at him.

"Understand what?"

"My heart," I admitted, "it wages war with itself."

"Why?"

"You have a strong spirit and a kind heart, and you are not the same man you were once were. . .but I do not understand why my own heart is intertwined with yours," I confessed, and his hand on my chin relaxed and he looked shocked.

"Neytiri will hate me," The thought of my own sister shaming me and looking at me with great hatred made me hate myself.

"Don't say that."

"As much as I yearn for you, that does not erase the things you have done," He held me against him as I wept. My nails dug so deep into the fabric of his shirt that it left holes.

"I wish I stayed dead," He admitted.

"Then maybe I wouldn't see so many Na'vi who despise me. I wouldn't fear death every time I saw an arrow. . .but if I stayed dead, I never would have gotten to know you, sweetheart," He confessed, holding my face in his hands.

There did not need to be any other words as he leaned down and captured my lips in his. In this moment, I did not think of how my people would hate me or that my own mother would not love me. I only thought of his soft lips against mine, and how he felt absolutely perfect to me.

[piratefishmama]

Pt1

It continues, also with Robin. She leaves Steve on that floor, pathetically cycling through this random metalheads video game music repertoire, sending a silent apology for her fallen friend to the lady in the apartment below them, sure she got to hear Steve practicing his songs every now and then which was a blessing, but she also now had to deal with his pathetic puppy crush as well.

Sorry two (definitely not house-trained) poodle owning lady, Robin sent her condolences for her hearing. But only a little condolence, one of those dogs had left a steamer in the elevator and it was a tall-ass apartment block. Karma really, sweet sweet karma.

It continued because Robin had a mild gift for hunting people down on the internet, it was a skill she’d developed and honed purely to hunt down the assholes who occasionally popped up on Steve’s insta with threatening messages and dumb as shit behaviours that a best friend refused to abide by. Steve had never allowed her to do anything with the knowledge, but one day, one day, the dogs of war would be released, and she would rain fury down upon them for making him make the sad puppy eyes.

He was just a dude, sure he grew up with wealthy parents, sure he had connections since birth to help him get to where he wanted to be, but… that didn’t make him any less of a soft-ass with a genuine love of sports, and sweaters, and listening to audio books in reading nooks with mugs of coffee like some kind of pinterest mood board model.

That didn’t make him any less of an actual mother hen to several child actors and young musicians ensuring they got fair treatment, ensuring they were never taken advantage of by the industry or the people around them.

It continued because within an hour of sleuthing, Robin poked her head back around from Steve’s guest room (read: Robin’s second home), and proudly announced “Found him!” As loud as she could to get over the cover of the final boss battle from Banjo and Kazooie that Steve absolutely did not recognise but was clearly vibing to.

“Found who?”

“Your mystery hater! He’s a—”

“Robin!! You can’t dox people!!”

“I’m not doxing him, I’m telling you exactly where he is so you can go confront him.”

“That is exactly what doxing is. How did you even find him?!”

“Dumbass posted a pic of a newspaper article that his friend wrote, which, uhm, that’s pretty cool I guess, but it had her name on it! All I had to do was search LinkedIn for her and boom, I gottem.”

“…Okay so he’s basically asking to be found is what you’re saying right now.”

“EXACTLY, can we go? Can we? I wanna see him squirm like a little bitch baby when you turn up to confront him.”

“All you’ll see is my pathetic attempts to flirt with him because I don’t know how I’d be anything but pathetic around him I mean have you seen his hands? Do you remember the Hemsworth incident? Do you remember the Hemsworth incident, Robin?” The incident in question involving a low doorway and a concussion that left him delirious in the fantastic arms of the God of Thunder.

“Do I remember you acting like a drunk school girl with her first crush around a guy with biceps bigger than your head? Yes. Yes I do. It was hilarious and you gained a handsome Aussie as a life-long friend out of that pathetic display—"

“I was concussed.”

“Drunk school girl. That doesn’t mean you can’t manage to charm a little bitch from Indiana, we’re from Indiana, we have common ground, you can bond with him!”

“Oh, because being born within the same state makes for such a conversation starter… should we really go?” Would that be stupid? Would that be crossing a line? Would that be absolutely batshit insane?

“For true love—" and champagne in First-Class "I think we should.”

“…Fine.”

Part 3

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 1) Chapter One

Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader

Chapter One: One Hell of a Reunion

Summary: Sebastian comes across someone he hadn't seen in centuries.

            “Remind me again why we’re at some silly Baroness’s funeral?” muttered Ciel tersely once they finally made it to the reception.

            “Young Master, the Baroness Alma Ellington was a contributor to Funtom enterprises for many years,” said Sebastian. “It couldn’t go said by the nobility that the Phantomhives didn’t attend the funeral of such a generous woman.” He smirked.

            Ciel tsked. “At least it’s almost over.”

            “Yes, Young Ma—” Sebastian straightened, and his eyes narrowed.

            Ciel looked up at his butler. Clearly, something was wrong. “What is it, Sebastian?”

            “There’s another demon here,” said Sebastian quietly, gazing around the room.

            “Another demon?” Ciel furrowed his brow. He’d never encountered another demon or had seen Sebastian around another of his kind.

            “Yes.” Sebastian’s eyes were dark. “We’ll excuse ourselves as soon as acceptable.”

            “What, you’re not popular with others of your kind?” Ciel smirked, eager to tease Sebastian.

            His butler merely smiled. “We are solitary creatures, Young Master. It is not in our nature to remain close. Besides, we’re not fond of one another, even in our best moments.”

            Ciel looked around the room, trying to determine who the demon could be, but with only Sebastian to go on, he wasn’t sure who to look at. He sighed in annoyance at not getting a choice to see Sebastian out of his element. “Very well. Let’s excuse ourselves.”

            Sebastian bowed slightly. “We’ll let the maid in charge know we are departing.”

            The pair crossed to the entrance of the reception hall where the maid was taking the cards left to the heir of the estate with condolences. They nodded smoothly with a gracious smile as each person left. As Ciel and Sebastian approached, though, Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. This was the demon he had sensed.

            “Young Master, this is it,” murmured Sebastian, slowly drifting closer to Ciel in case the demon tried to grab for his soul.

            “The—?” asked Ciel.

            Sebastian nodded darkly. “Yes.” He gazed at the demon as they thanked the latest couple for attending before turning to Ciel and Sebastian.

            Their eyes met.

            Sebastian’s brow furrowed, and the other demon’s did the same. They both regarded each other with a bit of…familiarity. Ciel looked between them cautiously.

            “Oh,” said the newer demon, straightening.

            “Ah,” said Sebastian, his dark expression relaxing.

            Ciel deadpanned, and an irk mark appeared on his forehead. “Would you care to explain what I’m missing, Sebastian?”

            “I know them, my Lord,” said Sebastian. His eyes passed over the demon again, as did theirs, as they both gauged the latest appearance the other took on.

            “I thought you said you didn’t like others of your kind,” said Ciel.

            “They are the only tolerable being of my kind,” replied Sebastian with a nod to the maid.

            The demon smiled. “Why, thank you. I think the same of you.”

            “I am superior to most,” said Sebastian with a smirk.

            “And being tolerable made you drop your guard? Sorry excuse…” muttered Ciel, unimpressed with Sebastian’s pride.

            “They are the only demon that has any…slight honor, Young Master,” said Sebastian. “They will not try anything against me.”

            “And I just finished a…job contract, so I’m well fed,” said the demon with a catlike smirk.

            “Ah, the Baroness?” asked Sebastian.

            The demon smiled sharply. “She needed a little help with her husband.”

            “Ah, yes, the one who died in the unfortunate accident,” said Sebastian with a sly smirk.

            “Actually, he had been about to gamble away the fortune he’d gotten when marrying the dearly departed Baroness. She got quite lucky, in a way,” said the demon, smirking.

            “Ah, indeed,” said Sebastian with a knowing look.

            “And this is your latest contract?” asked the demon, smiling at Ciel.

            “Earl Phantomhive,” said Ciel curtly.

            “Please to meet you, my Lord,” said the demon with a nod. They understood why their fellow had taken him as a contract. His soul radiated purity. However, they had just fed and had no need for another soul for a long time, plus this was their old acquaintance making the contract, they couldn’t interrupt that.

            “I assume you’ll be looking for new employment, then?” questioned Sebastian.

            “Yes, just tying up some ends here and there,” said the demon. “Though I am not hungry and am loath to return…home, so who knows what I will do.”

            Sebastian was silent for a moment before looking at Ciel. “My Lord, I believe the manor is in need of further staffing.”

            “Isn’t four enough with you there?” questioned Ciel, raising an eyebrow.

            “Unfortunately, my colleagues are less than adequate at times,” said Sebastian.

            “Are you suggesting I offer another of your kind a job?” asked Ciel. He wasn’t sure whether to think Sebastian was losing his mind after being so territorial or to actually take him seriously.

            “There is very little good help these days,” lamented Sebastian. Plus, he trusted this one to the extent demons could trust one another. They were fed and had proven time and time again to respect his status as a demon, so he had no reason to worry after them stealing his soul. (And it had been a while since they had seen one another, not that it played into Sebastian’s decision making. That would be flawed reasoning for a butler such as him).

            Ciel shrugged. “What the hell? I already have one of you.”

            The demon brightened. “This does seem like a fun way to pass the time.”

            Ciel nearly deadpanned again. And I thought Sebastian was strange.

            The demon turned to Sebastian and held out their gloved hand to shake. “I look forward to working with you again, Mr…?”

            “My master calls me ‘Sebastian,’ ” said Sebastian, shaking their hand.

            “Sebastian…” repeated the demon thoughtfully. Their nose twitched, catlike. “There have been worse.”

            Sebastian scoffed quietly. “And you?”

            “The Baroness called me ‘(Y/N) Noir.’ I believe I will continue to use the name,” said (Y/N). They took a step back and smiled. “Now, Sebastian, my Lord, I must finish my service to the Baroness. I will head to your estate within a day.” (Y/N) bowed to Ciel, nodded to Sebastian, and turned to the other guests.

            “Sebastian,” said Ciel as they left the reception hall.

            “My Lord?” asked Sebastian.

            “How do you know this demon?” asked Ciel.

            “My Lord, if you are wondering about their ability, they are capable and, even if not trustworthy since they are one of my kind, reliable,” said Sebastian. He gave a small false smile. “If you are concerned for your safety or your revenge, there is no reason. (Y/N)—” He let the new name roll of his tongue “—will assist with our endeavors. Of course, that is until they take their own contract, but then they will merely part ways with us.”

            Ciel gave a look at Sebastian. “If I wanted references, I would have asked for them. I asked you how you know them. Don’t evade my questions.”

            “Very well, my Lord,” said Sebastian, giving a slight bow before guiding Ciel into the carriage and sitting across from him. “I taught (Y/N).”

            Ciel raised an eyebrow. “Taught them? Demons teach one another?”

            “Occasionally, yes,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “I taught (Y/N) well, and so they give me…more respect than demons typically give one another. None of our encounters have ever been uncivil.”

            “That explains why they acted like you, charming everyone and being the perfect servant,” muttered Ciel. “Are you two the same type of demon or something?”

            “No, Young Master,” said Sebastian. He smirked. “I am a raven. They are a cat. We are completely different.”

            Ciel groaned. “Of course, they’re a cat. You love cats.”

            “I can assure you, Young Master, I adore cats, but my feelings towards (Y/N) are very different,” said Sebastian.

            However, with Ciel’s order to never lie to him, Sebastian found himself speaking in quite the roundabout fashion.

l

            Sebastian opened the door and smiled pleasantly as he found (Y/N), maid outfit pressed carefully, standing beside a single bag outfit the doors of the Phantomhive Estate.

            “Right on schedule,” said Sebastian. “An excellent start to the job.”

            (Y/N) had a catlike smile as they looked back at him, still as fresh and unafraid as they had been a millennia ago. “I was taught to be perfect at any job I took.” A mischievous light glinted in their eyes. “And I don’t fail my teacher.”

            “No, you do not,” said Sebastian with a smirk. He lifted (Y/N)’s bag. “Come, I’ll escort you to your quarters. Then, I shall show you what it means to be a Phantomhive servant.”

            (Y/N) nodded as they walked through the silent halls to the servant’s quarters.

            “This will be your room,” said Sebastian, opening the door and placing the luggage on the bed.

            (Y/N) looked around and nodded. “Very well.”

            Sebastian brandished a maid’s uniform from behind him, pulling it from nowhere with the skills only a demon could possess. “This will be your new uniform for the Phantomhive Estate. As you have gotten used to performing as a maid for the Baroness, I assume you will continue such a role. If not, I will have a manservant’s uniform prepared momentarily.”

            “The maid uniform will do,” said (Y/N), smiling and taking it.

            Sebastian nodded and stepped back out the door. “I will give you a moment to change.”

            “Thank you,” said (Y/N). They glanced up at Sebastian as he closed the door. “And Sebastian…”

            He looked at them, and their eyes, sharp with the eyeliner creating a catlike shape, met his.

            “It’s good to see you. It’s been far too long.” A smile appeared on (Y/N)’s lips as the door closed.

            Sebastian sighed. A little too bright for a demon. He supposed it took all types. Although, of course, he had put up with them for so long. He supposed it wasn’t too bad.

            And they were right. It had been far too long.

            Not that he’d noticed it.

            Not at all.

Taglist:

@technikerin23

@im-making-an-effort

@izzieg3987

@jinxxangel13

@alexpangender

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Sub-Zero x Apprentice Reader: Father Figure

Young reader is an apprentice under Kuai Liang.

Warning: Your dad is an asshole just for this fic. (If he is irl my condolences) ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Evening hits as the ice clan is dismissed from class for today. Training today was smooth, though you were still lacking behind. You didn't worry about it, though. It wasn't like the Grandmaster would be cruel to send you out to battle unprepared.

All your peers were leaving, yet you lacked behind as you weren't that eager to walk all the way home by yourself again. It's an everyday thing for you, but still, you were always paranoid. Even if you did have friends outside of training sessions, no one goes the same way as you.

Glancing around, you spot the Grandmaster doing his own thing, not appearing busy. Surely it wouldn't hurt to ask him, right?

Isn't he supposed to care about his students?

Shyly walking to him - shuffling your boots through the snow - you got your words together for what you'd request.

Kuai sees you approaching and stops what he's doing, the master cryomancer wondering what you were up to. "Greetings, Y/n. Did you need something?"

"Yes, Grandmaster. Could you... walk me home?" You felt yourself shrinking. Now that you've asked, it felt shameful. "If you want- I don't want to bother you. I just don't like walking by myself." The excuses made you feel all the more flustered.

Kuai didn't see such an issue, though. Maybe you could use the company. Besides, he wasn't doing much at the moment. It'd be nice to interact with another student other than Frost for once.

"Very well." He shrugs. It was just that easy.

One new thing he gets to learn about you during the walk is that your village is a little far from the Lin Kuei palace. Dangerous, too. Somehow, you still had a decent attendance.

Safely escorted to your cabin, you stepped on the frozen doormat before you look back at him and bowed. "Thanks for walking with me. Shall I try to bring you some tea or a snack before you go?"

"No thanks." Kuai politely turned down. "Are you here by yourself?"

You frowned and looked to the side. "Err, my dad is inside, but I'm sure he's likely asleep. I shouldn't bother him."

The scarred man's brows narrowed but he wasn't going to press it too much. "How come he doesn't walk you to training?"

"He's busy like all of us." You answered.

"Hm. Well, I'll come get you tomorrow." That sounds more like a command than offer.

Still, you had to think for a second. Anything unplanned or unusual is inconvenient, something you picked up from behavior.

"Be here early." You tell your Grandmaster, and he nods before walking away from your cabin, returning to his palace.

---Next Morning---

You've woken up and already did some morning stretches.  You hurried, yet quietly, packed up your items for today. Kuai Liang should be almost here right about now as you two planned. You just hope your dad wasn't awake at this important time-

"Well, good morning to you." You hear the same patronizing voice.

"Morning." You responded, walking to the door and not looking back until he stops you.

"Don't you leave the house a little later? Why are you leaving this early?" The side of your eye could see him cross his arms, staring dead at you.

"So I could start training early." You say with an unintentional attitude.

"If you don't want to be near me, you can just say that."

You look at your father with absurdity. "I didn't even say that, I just said I was going to train early."

He nods and walks to the couch. "Right. You keep talking to me with that tone."

"Whatever, dad." You mutter without thinking. Not such a good move.

You flinched at the loud sound behind you and you didn't know if he slammed something off the table or flipped it over. Your eyes remained glued on the door.

"Just get the hell out of my house. Go!"

Your lips quivered and you turned the doorknob, opening the door and completely froze up when you see your mentor right there.

His inarticulate eyes fall on you, and though your face was shocked, he could see the distress.

It was a brief silence. You could tell that your father behind you was also surprised as well, before he spoke up to the powerful man.

"Grandmaster Kuai Liang. What a surprise you're at my house at this time... Did you need my daughter?"

Kuai glares at your dad with hidden judgement. "I'm here to make sure she walks safely to her academy. Something you are unable to do. And I'd appreciate if you don't treat my pupil like that."

The second Sub-zero gently guides you to his side as if protecting you from your own kin's foul vibe.

"It's nice meeting you, Mr. L/N. I hope next time, you better yourself." Not that you noticed really, but his tone held a threat to your dad.

Shutting the door behind you two, Kuai holds your hand and guides the way.

"Is he always like that?" He questions you before his tone gets darkly concerning. "Does he put his hands on you?"

"Not anymore. I'm too old for that." You groaned. "But I don't know his issue. He just... He's never happy."

"And that gives him the reason to treat you like your beneath him? That's not how a father treats his daughter."

You already knew that. You were just unlucky in this life. Noticing your frown, he squeezes your hand slightly.

"I'll train you to be the best cryomancer this realm has, and your father will regret treating you as he does. And I'll make sure he doesn't hurt you." The ice man promises you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Fun fact: I was originally gonna make this a Raiden fic but I rarely write about the grandmasters.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em - prologue

Masterlist - part one

Summary: Corporal Makayla Sully believed she was the last of her family. Her parents were long gone, her brother Tom was killed for his wallet, and his twin Jake abandoned her in exchange for the sunny paradise Pandora. Kayla is informed of Jake's passing and so she decides to take a job opportunity with General Frances Ardmore. She hitches a ride to Pandora with the intent of recovering her brother's remains, twenty years since the last time she's seen him. Instead of a box of bones or ash, however, she's given something she thought she lost a long time ago.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

Word Count: 1k+

posted on ao3

Taglist: @mooniequeen

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

A/N: The title loosely translates from "warrior from above" in Na'vi

EARTH, OVER TWENTY YEARS AGO...

It's like a switch turned off in his head.

One minute he's drinking and actually enjoying life for once, the next he's thrown out of the bar and had been told his twin brother was dead. Seeing Tommy's body numbed everything, sobering Jake up before he even had a chance to puke the stuff out. It's one thing for his legs to stop working, it's another for his emotions to stop as well. The man barely said a word or even composed a proper emotion during the whole funeral process. After watching his brother's body being cremated, he hadn't been angry or even devastated by the loss. There wasn't a single tear shed on Jake's behalf during the service, his mind droning out the words exchanged and the condolences given.

Now, he sat in his wheelchair, staring out the window of his sister's crammed two-room apartment, not far down the road from his own living space. His hair was long and unkept with the idea of shaving it all off tomorrow, the dress jacket he had worn for the service now tossed to the couch behind him. The shaggy, old apartment didn't have much for lights, least of all a view, the only green to be seen being the lights of signs indicating a restaurant or a dollar store right outside. The familiar sound of ice clinking softly together in a glass could be heard behind him, along with a woman's voice.

"Jake? Jake."

"Hm."

The woman's voice drew closer as she crossed the room to him, "I found a job opening down the street. 'Pay is good. Thought we might check it out together?"

Looking up, Jake is met with a small glass with about a couple gulps worth of whiskey in it, and two ice cubes to make up for the shitty water content. He glances up at his sister as she offers the glass to him and he eventually takes the drink but doesn't acknowledge her words. Kayla's head tilts to the side, studying his reaction before speaking again, "What is it?"

His jaw tightens, taking the time to stare down at his drink while he finds the words, "... I'm taking Tommy's job. I'm gonna be shipped out on a shuttle tomorrow afternoon. In about... six years, I'll be landing on Pandora."

"... Really."

"Money's good," he tries offering the bright side, despite his brooding behavior. He gulps back his entire drink with one tip back of his head, tolerating the burn of alcohol before setting the empty glass on the window sill, "And they need someone with Tommy's face and DNA in order to sync up with the avatar they designed for him. I'll be saving them millions of dollars."

He doesn't need to see her face to know that Kayla was trying to refrain from scowling, "You don't know a single thing about science. You're a war dog."

"Not anymore, clearly," Jake muttered while his hands touched the wheels of his chair.

"You know what I mean. I mean you barely passed high school--"

"'And Tommy passed with flying colors', yeah I know," he responds flatly, a bad taste starting to form in his mouth, "I've heard that plenty of times, trust me."

"Jake-- why are you telling me all this the night before you're meant to leave?"

He finally looks up at her. Plain-faced and pale, Kayla still had a shadow of youth in her eyes, with plenty of life ahead of her. She may not be a twin like Jake and Tommy, but she still bore the resemblance of a Sully. Narrow nose, thin lips, dull blue eyes, and a pointed chin, Jake's younger sister could easily be misinterpreted as his twin now that Tom was no longer around. The thought made his stomach clench and the taste in his mouth got worse.

"So you wouldn't be able to stop me."

She huffs, unimpressed as she took a long sip of her own beverage, "Well, at least you're honest when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk."

"When are you not drunk these days?" She hissed, "Do you think those scientists will take on a drunk in the RDA or whatever-the-fuck it's called?"

"I'll sober up in my cryotube. I'll be clean in six years and it'll only feel like six hours for me. It's a win-win."

"You mean a win-win-lose because that still means leaving behind your only living family member. Whatever happened to 'Sullys stick together?'"

Jake scoffs while taking a hand to rub his tired face, "You're not a kid anymore. You can make your own living, and start your own family. You don't need me and you definitely don't need this lifestyle. You could do anything with your life without your crippled brother holding you back--"

"Who died and made you the sole decision-maker of what I do with my life?"

"You're clearly leaving an opening for me to say 'everyone died.'"

She pointedly slammed her drink down on the window sill before she turned to walk away, "Fuck you."

"Kayla..." With his sister still exiting, Jake grabbed his wheelchair and made the motion to go after her, his arrogance and pent-up emotions now starting to boil over, "Hey! Kayla! What the hell do you want from me?!"

"I want to be the first choice!" She screams, whipping back around to point an accusing finger down at him, "For once! I have never been put first over anything else ever! Not with Mom or Dad. Not with Tommy. And now not even with you!"

The snarl he lets out startled even him, bitter coldness dripping from his words, "Grow up, Kayla."

"What, is it childish to feel wanted?"

"Yes! That's not how you survive out here!" He emphasizes this by swinging an arm in the direction of the window.

"Stomping down feelings and a need for your family will ensure your survival?"

"'A need for your family?'" He grins up at her, incredulous and in disbelief, "Do you even hear yourself? It's not like I'm your first choice for a caring older brother!"

"No, you're not. You're always drunk, mean, and miserable these days."

"Hence why you don't need me holding you back--"

"Shut the fuck up!" She roars back, "Only you can hold you back. So stop trying to sell me this bullshit excuse that you're not worth keeping around only so you can ditch me! Because that's what you really want, isn't it? To ditch your sister?"

The room is silent apart from both siblings trying to regain their breath and posture. Jake had a hard time admitting that his voice had cracked when he managed to tone down the volume, "... No matter how I answer that... it won't be an answer you like."

Pain flashed in her eyes, a visual that would continue to haunt Jake from that day forward. Kayla's dirty-colored hair spills over one shoulder as she straightens herself up, towering over Jake, the hurt quickly being replaced by a wall of cement that quickly hardened behind her blue eyes. Her face relaxed into an expression that slowly bubbled with anger instead of pain, her voice dripping with venom, "You're right. Because you're either leaving me here because you don't want me to watch you die, or you're leaving to start a new life without any reminders of me. Either way, you're a sick son of a bitch and I wish you died instead of Tommy! Go to Hell!"

For added measure, she takes her foot and kicks at his wheelchair, pushing Jake back as he rounds back with more hateful words, quick to defend and pity himself, "I'm already in Hell! Living here, breathing this air, looking like this! This whole place is fucking Hell and I'm sick of it! You can love life as much as you want and make the most of it, but it's still a dying dream! I hate it here! I'd rather blow my brains out on Pandora than here! At least there's something nice to look at when that happens!"

The silence is nearly deafening the apartment, Jake's ragged breaths of anger pounding in his ears as he glares up at Kayla. Spontaneous tears spilled out of her eyes the second Jake found the time to blink, her breaths shaking as she tried to control herself from letting out any pathetic noise resembling a sob. It was a struggle, to be sure, as Jake watched her entire composure slowly crumble and shake, trying to grasp whatever dignity she had left.

"I hate you..." the words sound forced out, but they stab Jake straight in the chest, nonetheless. Kayla's voice croaked as she continued the verbal lashing, "I hate you..." She furiously wipes away her tears with the collar of her dress shirt that she had worn for her big brother's funeral, "When I wake up tomorrow, you better be gone by then."

The pent-up rage had been released in a cold laugh under his breath as Jake tightly gripped his wheels, "How about I do us both a favor and leave now!"

He rolls past her and makes it to the door, letting it slide open for him with a bit of a struggle due to the little power left in the mechanics of it. He doesn't turn back as he aggressively wheels forward, calling over his shoulder, "Have a good life, kid."

"Fuck you, Jake."

Then the door slides shut once more.

A/N: If you didn't see up top, I already have a masterlist starting since I have three chapters of this fic already published on ao3. Please check it out and leave kudos and uplifting comments if you enjoy, thank you!

[roxygen22]

Still Here (Chapter 5)

Summary: Your mother fills you in on unexpected news about Timothée's past, and you meet his neighbors. You make a new mom friend!

A/N: Fem!reader's relationship with her mother isn't the healthiest. Mention of death of parent.

Catch up on previous chapters here.

After you got home and helped Madison inside, you sent Timothée the picture of him and her together on the boat.

Thought you might like to have this.

You walked to the living room where your parents were watching TV. You collapsed onto the sofa in exhaustion.

"Did you have fun?" your mother asked.

"We had a blast. Timothée took us out to the cove on the other side of the lake to swim. He even let Maddy drive the boat on the way back."

She smiled. "It was good for both of you to get out and have some fun."

"I agree. I feel...lighter. Timothée said that his neighbors have kids around Maddy's age. One of them may even be in her grade in the fall."

"Oh, that'll be nice for her."

"I'm going to ask him to introduce us so maybe she can get to know them before the school year starts. It'll be nice if she can know at least one kid."

Your mom hesitated. "Are you- do you think you'll be hanging out more often with Timothée?"

You cocked your head to the side, confused by her question. "Well, yes. I haven't really re-connected with anybody else here yet. It just worked out that I ran into him at the grocery store. And, well...it's almost like no time has passed at all."

She nodded. "I get that. But just- just be careful with his feelings. He's such a sweet boy and he has been through a lot."

You typically appreciated how your mom rose above small-town gossip, but not in this case. "What do you mean?"

"Not my story to tell. But if he hasn't told you already, I do think you should know that his mother passed away a few years ago."

Your hand shot to your mouth to silence your gasp. "Oh no. What happened? Why didn't you tell me sooner? Like years ago when it happened?!"

"Well, you were going through your own troubles, and you and he hadn't spoken in years at that point. He had enough on his plate without an ex-girlfriend vying for attention."

"I- I could have called him. Messaged him. Offered my condolences instead of coming across as callous or obtuse. Oh, now it makes so much more sense why he said he's helping out his dad. Or the look on his face when I said to tell his parents hello from me." You clasped your hand to your forehead. You had always liked Mrs. Chalamet.

"Just...spare his feelings. You already hurt him once." She gave you her classic condescending look.

"Spare his fee- He hurt me, too, you know!" You raised your voice in return. "And I'll have you know we talked through that today. Like adults!" You got up and stormed outside to the porch swing. She has some nerve. You sat there with your arms crossed, staring out across the field, until you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket.

She reminds me so much of you. She doesn't just look like you. She acts like you, too.

You smirked.

Bless her heart.

That's not a bad thing.

Don't tell her that. She'll just roll her eyes. But I get it. She wants to be her own person.

Hmm. Opinionated and stubborn. Sounds like someone I know.

She does come by it honest.

You laid your phone beside you and let out a long sigh. What am I supposed to do with the information Mom just told me? How do I even bring it up in conversation? I can't not say anything, but I also don't want to make him sad. You picked up your phone again when it buzzed.

She's a cool kid. Want me to see if my neighbors are available tomorrow to meet so she can hang out with other kids?

That would be lovely. We're free all day.

Stay tuned.

By that point you had cooled off, so you decided to go apologize to your mother for raising your voice and check on Madison. She had fallen asleep again in her room. Poor thing was tuckered out from the lake. You figured she would wake up soon to announce that she was hungry. Your phone buzzed again.

How about 6pm at the park on the square? They have church in the morning, and it's too hot to play outside in the early afternoon.

Sounds like a plan. Will you be joining us?

Nah, I'm going to just make you guess who you are supposed to meet. Of course I'm coming.

You snorted at his sarcasm.

Just curious. You know what happens when one assumes things. See you there.

I can come pick y'all up since you're on the way. No sense in three vehicles heading to the same space when two will do.

You drove us all the way out to the lake and back. Why don't you leave your truck at my parents' place and we can ride in my car.

Ok. I'll be there around 5:30.

<><><><><>

By 5:00pm the next day, you had changed clothes three times trying to find something cute but practical for the park. I really need to go shopping for myself at some point, you thought. Madison came into your room every five minutes to ask when Timothée was going to be there.

He was punctual and drove down the driveway at exactly 5:30. Madison beat you out the door and ran down the steps to give him a hug, which shocked you both.

"Hey there, kiddo, long time no see." He patted her on the back.

"But, I just saw you yesterday." She looked up at him in confusion.

He chuckled. You interjected quietly, "It's a figure of speech, Mads. He was being sarcastic because he did just see you yesterday."

"Ohhh."

You heard the screen door shut behind you and footsteps on the porch. Timothée stepped around the two of you and jogged up the steps to give your mother a hug and shake your dad's hand. "Mr. and Mrs. [L/N]. Good to see you."

"You, too, honey. It's been a while since I've seen you in town," your mom replied.

"Oh, well, I've been busy between the shop and taking care of my dad."

Your eyes dropped to the ground. You dragged the tip of your shoe through the dirt. The clues had been there all along; you just didn't see them. You turned to find Madison was already in the car and buckled, waiting as patiently as a 9-year-old can. You got in partially to start the car so she would have some air.

"Well, we better get going. Thanks for letting me leave my truck here," you heard Timothée say.

"Y'all have fun," your dad called out.

Your mother followed Timothée to your car. You rolled down your window and shut the door. "Did you pack some sunscreen and water?" she quizzed you, looking inside as he got in on the other side.

"Yes, Mom."

"What about snacks and extra clothes if Madison gets dirty?"

"I have all of that under control. And if I forgot something, we're a whopping 15 minutes away," you responded.

"Okay." She patted your arm that rested on the car door. "Have fun, stay out of trouble."

"Bye, Mrs. [L/N]," Timothée said sweetly as he waved.

"Bye, Nana!" Madison yelled from the back.

You looked over at Timothée as you rolled up the window. "Sorry about that."

"She cares. It's sweet. You shouldn't take it for granted," he said, looking down at his hands.

You hesitated. "Timothée, I- she told me last night about your mom. I'm so sorry. She was such a kind woman. If I had known, I would have reached out." You grabbed the hand of his closest to you and squeezed before returning yours to the steering wheel.

"Thanks, [Y/N]. I miss her a great deal, but it's getting easier with time."

All of you were silent for the rest of the drive. The nervousness of meeting new people was catching up to you. Did I upset him? Will I be able to carry on conversation with the parents without it getting awkward? Will Madison get along with the kids? you worried. You drove up to the park and spotted a family there already with three kids.

"Is that them?" you asked and nodded your head in their direction. Timothée looked up and around.

"Yep. That's Blake and Holly. The kids are Anthony, Emerie, and Bradley. Ready?"

"Yes! Let's go!" Madison interrupted before you could respond. The three of you got out of your car and crossed the parking lot. As you got closer, Madison's earlier eagerness morphed into shyness. She tucked herself against your side.

"Timothée! Over here!" you heard the woman, Holly, call out. You all walked over to the picnic table where they were gathered.

"Hey, Holly, Blake." Timothée nodded then gestured to you and Madison. "This is [Y/N] and her daughter, Madison, who I was telling you about."

"It's so nice to meet you," Holly said as you all shook hands. She bent over to eye level with Madison. "Especially you! You're 9, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"My Emerie is 9, too. Let's see, where is she?" Holly stood. "Kids, come over here, please," she shouted. The three children ran over to their mother. "This is Anthony. He's 11, and Bradley here is 6. And this is Emerie. Kids, this is Madison. She's Emerie's age."

Madison shyly waved. Emerie stepped up and asked, "Want to go slide with me?" Madison nodded and followed. The boys took their soccer ball out to the field to continue playing. Echoes of the girls' giggles soon filled the air.

Timothée sat beside you on the bench seat of the picnic table to watch Madison play. You looked across the table at Holly and Blake. "Thank you for meeting us here. And for letting Madison borrow the lifejacket yesterday. She had an absolute blast."

"We're happy to meet someone new! We didn't know anyone when we moved here a few years ago, so we understand what it's like to start over. Though I understand you grew up here?" Holly asked.

"I did. But I moved to California for college when I was 18 and lived there until just recently. This is a strange new world for Madison, though."

"It'll get easier for her with time. It seems like she and Emerie have hit it off quite well." Holly smiled. "She should acclimate quickly in school, too. The teachers are fantastic."

"That's so good to hear. I need to go take care of her registration paperwork soon."

"I had to do it with Anthony after we moved, if you need any help," Holly offered.

You smiled. "Thanks. I might take you up on that." The two of you continued to converse about kids, school, and life in California. It seemed promising that the two of you could become friends, too. Your first mom friend.

Madison came running over at full speed and stopped just short of the table. She leaned down with her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. "Emerie said I could come over and play sometime. Can I?" she asked through her panting.

"Well, if her parents are also okay with it." You looked over at Holly who laughed and nodded. "Then yes."

"She said yessss!" Madison yelled as she ran back to playground. All of the adults chuckled.

You looked over at Timothée and smiled. "Thank you for this," you said quietly. He said nothing, just bumped your shoulder with his. Holly looked at you with a little smirk.

As the evening came to a close, you exchanged numbers with Holly and thanked her and Blake again. You both wrangled your respective children and parted ways.

Madison talked a mile a minute on the way home about her time with Emerie and even expressed some excitement about going to a new school. Neither you nor Timothée could get a word in edgewise. Once you arrived home, you asked her to run inside and get ready for a shower while you said goodbye to Timothée.

"Mission accomplished," he said warmly as he watched the girl skip up the steps and through the front door.

"Indeed. That's the first I've heard her embrace being here for the new school year and looking forward to it. Thanks for coordinating and tagging along. I'm sure you had to be bored," you said, walking with him to his truck.

"On the contrary. I had a good time. They're good folk. And you two are cool, too." He winked, and you blushed.

"So about that dinner I mentioned yesterday. My treat this time, if you're still game. We still need to catch up about YOU." You playfully poked his chest.

"As long you let me drive. Maybe Friday? We can drive into Hartley. I know a good place, and there is something I want to show you."

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Chapter 6

Masterlist

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Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

[mynameis-noe-body]

Post-Second Wizarding War Severus Snape × you (F)

Summary: A year and a half after the end of the war, Severus still hasn't managed to leave Britain. No one knows of his survival, and for months he enjoys a life of silence, solitude and well-deserved peace. Everything would be absolutely perfect, were it not for you, sitting on his empty tombstone everyday to bring condolences and read some poetry. When it's said that curiosity killed the cat...

Warnings: None

Rating: to be defined

Status: in progress

Here the first chapter.

▪️▪️▪️

October 13, 1999

The October wind promised a cold winter. He needed it. Wrapping the scarf around his neck until it covered the tip of his nose, lifting the collar of rough black wool, the professor continued on through the morning fog, which would soon be swept away by those cold gusts. His house was outside the village, a seemingly bare cottage covered only with old wood and thatched roofs. No flower garden, not even a fence. Every little convenience was hidden within its protected walls. Oh, his rooms really were a little paradise: warm, cozy, with a wood-burning stove in the bedroom, a big bed covered with goose-down pillows, fluffy blankets, and a big fireplace in the main room for cooking his potions and to warm up, sitting on the couch while splurging on one of his many books. Not much had changed since Spinner's End, his house was always essential and covered with notes, old books and cups of tea scattered on the various shelves, but it was finally clean, well finished and cared for. He had chosen light and comfortable colors: dove gray, hazelnut, mint green, creamy white. A place of peace. A place to forget, rest and slowly watch the world flow out of his window without having to face its violence. His shoulders were tired, so aged despite his barely forty years. A wizard in his prime. Still, he was barely alive.

Yes, certainly. By a miracle of my own hand, he thought, with a melancholy smile.

No one had ever come to his rescue in that life. It was rather curious, and equally exhilarating, that whenever he went to Hogsmeade, he was obliged to cross that pitiful path which bordered the monumental cemetery. They called it that because of the engraved headstones and elaborate statues that populated it, the poems set into the white stone and the proud photos of the fallen and war martyrs, but it was only a depressing spectacle of death. Fifty fallen - forty minors. A massacre. A butcher's shop of innocenti bodies. He hated that place. And he found his grave in bad taste, with its desperate angel on an empty stone. Obviously they hadn't recovered his body, he wasn't dead, but given the heroic deeds of him, a romantic and idealistic man, ready to sacrifice bla bla bla. Kinglesy had dwelt on useless details. He had done what he was asked to do because it was the only right thing. However painful, however difficult, however seemingly unreasonable—he had listened, and he had obeyed, and he had fought as hard as he could because there was nothing left for him. And they won. That was all that mattered. His death would only be a negligible side effect. On the other hand, everyone believed him to be actually dead, so why bother trying to resurrect himself? Months of peace. They had been the best in eighteen years.

But clearly, not everything could go as slow and quiet as he'd hoped. Certainly he was not surprised by the frequent visits of his former students, and all of the Order of the Phoenix, with their self-righteous and cloying compassion. They placed their hand on the grave and told him to rest in peace - he would have gladly replied that yes, he would have rested in peace if they had left him alone! Of all those bearing-out and condolences, there was then you. And he couldn't even remember you in particular... Sometimes he almost felt guilty, those few times he forgot that you couldn't really see him, not with the very powerful Polyjuice Potion he had swallowed and the Charms of disillusionment to change the voice. Even that day, despite the autumn wind and the morning fog, you had trudged along the mud and gravel driveway to the cemetery and sat down on a smooth stone corner of the tombstone, an open book on your knees. He didn't care what you were reading. Really. He couldn't have cared less. But you were reading John Donne...

"Each man's death diminishes me, for I am involved in mankind" you recited in a low voice, slowly lifting your chest with each breath. You were cold — your voice was shaking, as were your fingers pressed hard on the paper. Your feet scrambled back and forth, hitting the engraved marble headstone. "Therefore, send not to know for whom the bell tolls—"

"It tolls for thee" he concluded. You lifted your chin a little, just to look at him. No, he didn't know your eyes, even though they really did have something familiar. You had existed in the distant past, but Snape was glad he couldn't remember you. Maybe it meant the nightmares were slowly fading. He inhaled deeply, tightened the coat around him as if the smallest detail could still give him away. “You're wasting your time,” he said, shrugging. "He can't hear you."

You closed the book, and leapt off the stone, landing on a pair of old, rain-battered boots. You looked decent, but humble. Your clothes were distinct, maybe in the past they would have even looked luxurious, but now they just had a vintage and worn look; sad and rough black corduroy trousers, a faded cream shirt, and a long green flannel jacket with a hole in the pocket. Putting on the newsboy cap you took out of the duffel bag, you walked towards him.

"It's my way of showing him respect. You know, he was my professor. I think of him every day when I pass by." You said it with such a slight melancholy that it startled him, for some reason. It was a genuine feeling, and at the same time full of tireness. You looked exhausted.

He snorted, feigning nonchalance. "You could bring flowers, like everyone else does."

You smiled sideways, bitterly. "Flowers are a frivolous expense that I can't afford. Besides, if I'm being honest, I don't think he would appreciate this show of compassion."

Snape barely held back a nod of complete agreement. All those tears shed, their remorseful and so pitiful apologies meant only to appease their feelings of guilt - Potter, Weasley, Granger, their families and even Minerva! - they all had the constant habit, at least once a month, of bringing white flowers to his grave. It was maddening. As he began walking up the damp driveway again, the former potions master noticed that you were following the same route. He cleared his throat. "I suppose a man like that wouldn't particularly appreciate even your vain attempt at funeral unconventionality."

You frowned, barely glancing at him. It made him laugh to think that in his appearance - stolen from a commonplace Scottish Muggle traveler in his forties, from whom Severus had stolen enough hair for the next ten years of Polyjuice Potion - you were looking for some crumbs of the professor and Headmaster Severus Snape, who just a year and a half ago you thought you knew. But in the end you shrugged, and smiled serenely. "It almost seems as if you met him too. Besides, since he died, everyone thinks they've know him, on some level. Some jackal from the Daily Prophet even thought of publishing a serial on his life! They psychoanalyzed a dead man."

"I met him a long time ago" he admitted, perhaps to himself. "He was a very different man than the one described last year, in May." You said nothing. You just kept walking beside him without ever invading his intimacy with vain chatter. He had the feeling you too were a shy creature and jealous of your daily peace. He couldn't help but appreciate the comfortable silence. "I suppose he would be grateful for your gesture. Your memory is more dignified than any dull flower, I suppose."

You smiled as if he had just turned on the sun for you, blowing away the clouds of that day.

At the end of the drive the road split in two, one portion of the road continuing towards the flat clearing nestled between two craggy hills where his cottage stood, the other continuing towards the edge of Hogsmeade, into the forest and towards the bend of the river. "Here our paths separate" you said. How did you know where he lived? "I see you walking towards home, skirting the cemetery" you answered that question which he had never actually uttered. "I know you live north of Hogsmeade."

"Am I to assume then that you live in the forest? Alone?" it sounded dangerous even to say it.

You shrugged without paying attention to him. "It was a pleasure to meet you, sir. Have a good evening."

Severus nodded and, moreover, also vaguely disinterested. Only one thing kept buzzing in his head. "May I know your name, miss?"

"It's Billie. Billie Mallard."

He nodded, as he watched you continue along the path in the forest, until you disappeared into the thick fronds, without asking for his name. He felt almost grateful.

If you love this story, keep reading here & please consider following me. That would be deeply appreciated. Thank you.

[adelaidedrubman]

it’s serving absolute wednesday

i was tagged on this particular wednesday by my dears @nightbloodbix @cassietrn @deputyash @inafieldofdaisies @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat to share a wip! (and by folks last week too i think but scrolling through notifs hard so apologies for any double tags for those who just posted and obviously no pressure).

unfortunately have not been able to write much this week due to the Week of it all, so fished up (haha) a hl&s chapter 4 excerpt i have already posted a little bit of before (if you saw it pretend i didn’t).

And she wore the wide, toothy grin of a bear with a fresh caught salmon between her paws as she shucked off her shirt, single auburn brow quirked up as she held it out to him as if offering food to a cub. “Think you can get dressed all by yourself like a big boy, too?” When he didn’t immediately respond, she thrust a hand against his chest to push him back flat against the fence again, shoving the collar over his head herself.  “I’ve got it from here,” he bit out, elbowing her away. “Thank you for all the unrequested manhandling.”

“Funny way of saying ‘emergency medical care,’” she grunted, crossing her arms over her barely covered chest. “And a fine of job of it, too, you could fucking add. You’ll still need to find a real doctor eventually to pluck out the fishing line and super glue everything back together, but I’m sure you can manage a few more weeks of not buying a new boat to afford the co-pay on glorified Elmer’s. So long as you’re up to date on your tetanus shots, everything’ll heal up just fine. I did good stitchwork.” “Go to a real doctor, you say?” he replied, forcing a hint of condescension back into his tone as he poked shaking arms through sleeves. “Does that mean you fancy yourself something of an amateur? A would-be? Perhaps a failed ambition, before you chose to cast your lot amongst trout and speeding tickets?” She flashed him a sweet, dimple framed smile clearly meant to exaggerate the straining of a patience she’d never actually once exercised.  “It means I’m someone who usually has to settle for doing my own first aid,” she chimed brightly, swinging her head away from him. “My fuckin’ condolences. I understand that must be a scary new experience for you.”  “So I shouldn’t use the satellite phone I’ve been hiding this entire time to summon the private jet I keep on retainer to fly me straight to the Mayo Clinic over this?” he hummed, sparing a brief, belated glance to the freshly-tended wound as he pulled the borrowed shirt down over his chest. She wasn’t wrong — she did well enough. The skin had the sheen of thorough cleaning, her stitchwork tight but precise in its binding. There had certainly been far worse done by his own immature hand in its day, faded silken webs of scarring memorializing unsteady job of a sewing needle and thread in the dark of his childhood bedroom forking out and framing the fresh set of stitches.  Mementos she’d also seen, it occurred to him in retrospect as he tugged the hem of the shirt down, stopping just below his navel to leave a small sliver of stomach exposed above his waistband. And perhaps that was the source of her arrogance about her own work — heartless, smug little thing she was.  Yes, he knew the likes of her, knew that every little act of seeming kindness was merely an opportunity to cruelly poke and prod for her own amusement. Right down to the shirt given off her back — still smelling of her, he noted, tilting his head down as he rubbed the fabric of the collar between his fingers to stir up the scent. 

sending tags out to @florbelles @josephslittledeputy @afarcryfrommymain @theresaruggedroad @just-another-wasteland-merc @voidika @captastra @confidentandgood @belorage @blissfulalchemist @shellibisshe @thedeadthree @ladyofedens-blog @miyabilicious @simplegenius042 @henbased @clicheantagonist @firstaidspray @strafethesesinners @nuclearstorms @jackiesarch @v0idbuggy @orionlancasterr @stacispratt @8bitpizzacoupons @strangefable @shallow-gravy @roofgeese @corvosattano + opt in here to be tagged + again, no pressure!

[skz317cb97]

Teasing Poppy

Lee Minho x Thick reader

Word count: 7.3k

Synopsis: Your beloved grandfathers death triggers a downward spiral in your life that your new neighbor Minho seemes intent on fueling. Lines get crossed that shouldn't be and you start to avoid him at all costs, until you run into a little problem and Minho is the only one you can ask for help.

A/N: 18+ only! This is the 6th installment of the thick reader series. I cried SO much writing this! I honestly don't know if it's because it's just that sad or #trauma from my childhood✌️Also I don't know shit about plants or the study of them, anything in this was googled or gardening jargon i was familiar with so if its not accurate (shhh yes it is) Anywho! I hope you all like this one! If you do, like, comment, reblog, send an ask, LET ME KNOW! I love hearing from you all and the reaction to this series has been amazing! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: MDNI 18+ONLY! Strong language/swearing, mentions of cancer and death, oral (m&f receiving), fingering/jacking off, "dry" humping, protected piv sex (use your head and condoms please!), praise/pet names (beautiful, kitten of course), slight Minho dom/MC sub dynamic if you squint. I think that's everything but if I missed anything at all please let me know and I'll add it to the warnings immediately.

It was so easy being ten. Walking through your grandfather’s greenhouse, looking at the beautiful blooms of all the different flowers as he watered his plants, sprayed leaves, checked soil pH.

He was a botanist by passion and profession, the top in his field, and you were his little assistant, you had been since you could say flower. If you weren’t in school, or doing homework, you were with your grandfather in the dirt. Learning about *magnoliophyta and *tracheophyta.

You didn’t really have any friends. You were an awkward kid. Chubby and kind of nerdy. While other kids rode bikes, had sleep overs, and played video games, you would much rather be learning about the classification and proper soil drainage for a California poppy with your grandfather.

Any poppy in fact, all poppies. They were your favorite; your grandfather knew and that’s why he called you Poppy, his little poppy plant. He adored you, tended to you like you were another beautiful flower in his garden, helping you grow. He was everything to you, your whole world.

Being ten was easy. This, this was hell. Standing at your grandfather’s casket, completely covered and surrounded by flowers from friends and family sending their condolences. Flowers that usually would bring you a sense of comfort but no longer did because your whole world was crumbling.

Your mom and dad, they were there and did their best to console you but it didn’t really matter. You had been on auto pilot through the whole ordeal, just numb, still in shock that he was actually gone. The cancer had spread so quickly, he had deteriorated so fast. You thought you still had time. You thought you would see it coming, you'd get to say goodbye and hold his hand.

You had been out of town. Speaking at a college to an auditorium full of hopeful youths wanting to be the next great scientists in your field, botany, like your grandfather of course. He was so proud that you had gotten asked to speak. He hadn’t been feeling well just before the trip and you told him you weren’t going to go but he would let you do no such thing.

So, you went. You could still hear the applause as you walked off stage finally able to check your phone. When you saw dozens of missed calls from your mother, you knew.

When you got home from the funeral that day you took every poppy plant you had in your little apartment, which was a surprising number really, and donated them to a nearby nursery. The first day back from your trip after your grandfather had died you wanted to smash them all in a rage but you knew how he was and he would be disappointed in you if you took a beautiful healthy plant and destroyed it. So instead, you cried yourself to sleep that night. The night after the funeral too. Most nights really.

About two weeks after your grandfather’s funeral a new neighbor moved in on your floor. When you saw him carrying boxes into his apartment your first impression was based solely on appearance and he was extremely handsome, like ridiculously so. His eyes and nose were sharp and yet there seemed to be a softness about him, you weren’t sure why, maybe because of the three cats you saw him take in to his place in carriers.

Not much had changed from your childhood, you were still awkward and chubby and with your grandfather gone, now more than ever, you preferred solitude. You didn’t stop to say hi or introduce yourself as you walked past the new neighbor to leave to see your parents.

Your mother had insisted you start coming once a week for dinner with her and your father. Your grandfather’s passing had reminded her that you only get so much time with your family and she wanted to see you more often. Your mother had never asked for much from you, always letting you run off with your granfather doing this and that, because of that you agreed.

So, you were leaving to go to her weekly dinner and walking past your new neighbor who you refused to even look at the closer you got. He looked over the boxes he was carrying and saw you just as you were passing him.

“Oh heyyy.” You stopped and hesitated to turn around because; why would he be talking to you? You didn’t know each other and the color beige is more noticeable than you.

“You live up that way yea?” You faced him this time when he spoke and pointed at yourself.

“Me?” He scoffed and laughed.

“No, the supermodel behind you, yes you.” Your second impression of him was that he was snarky and rude. You shook your head answering him that yes you did.

“Great! Should I be over for dinner when I’m done unpacking then?” Your eyebrows scrunched together.

“Excuse me?” He smirked, cocking one of his sharp eyebrows at you.

“Well, you seem like the type that cooks well. I’ll be hungry. I like pasta or chicken would be oka-...” Was... was he making fun of your weight?! He hadn’t even introduced himself! What an ass! You thought to yourself. You turned and walked away unwilling to let him finish his teasing remarks.

“Is that a no?!” He called after you and laughed a little as he took the boxes he had into his new apartment and you continued on with your dinner plans, thoroughly irritated by the first meeting with your arrogant new neighbor.

Your next run in with him didn’t fare much better or any other after for that matter. You had managed to learn that his name was Minho and he had cats. That was all you knew and honestly all you wanted to know. Every time you saw him, he always had a smart-ass remark or teased you. It got under your skin which seemed to just fuel him. You didn’t know why he had zeroed in on you but he was relentless.

It had been a particularly rough morning for you. Everything you saw reminded you of your grandfather that day. You decided to put on a floral printed dress that you didn’t wear often for just that reason, it was one of your grandfather’s favorites but it reminded you of fond memories so, you decided to wear it to run your errands for the day.

When you were on your way out you ran into Minho in the hall yet again. It was like he staked you out or something. You were always coming or going at the same time it seemed. If you were on your way in, he was leaving, you were heading out, he was just getting home. ALWAYS! This day was no different apparently. You were just going to ignore him and walk past when he called out to you.

“Hey y/n?!” You stopped and turned to him against your better judgement.

“Yes?” You spoke flatly. The way your morning had been you didn’t have the energy to fake pleasantries, especially not with Minho.

“Nice dress.” You were shocked. That was the first time Minho had ever said anything that wasn’t sarcastic or borderline insulting. He complimented you, actually complimented you! You wouldn never tell him but you were glad to hear the compliment from him, you really needed it after how the morning had been. Then his eye brow quirked and that smirk crept onto his face.

“Very Little House on the Prairie chic.” He laughed at his own joke and you could feel the beginning of tears prick your eyes. You weren’t giving him the satisfaction of seeing you cry that was for damn sure. You turned and walked away from him while he called after you.

“Come on! y/n! That was...” The stairwell door slammed closed behind you, cutting Minho off.

“A joke...” Minho said, even though you were long out of ear shot. It was just a joke. When you walked past him that day you looked great in your dress but you also looked upset, well you always looked down but especially so that day. So, he tried to make you laugh.

That’s all Minho ever tried doing. Getting you to loosen up and laugh a little, you always looked so serious. When he had first seen you the day he moved in, his attempt at flirting and asking your out for dinner had epically failed. Minho had a weird sense of humor and tended to deliver his jokes rather dryly so, sometimes they came off as rude or his genuine thoughts when they were not.

Minho decided maybe it was time to try a different approach, he needed to find out something you did or you liked so he could bring that up instead of trying to land jokes that clearly, failed. He sought out the help of the old lady that lived on the same floor as the two of you. She had practically fallen in love with Minho and his three cats as soon as he had moved in.

The next time he saw her he managed to casually bring you up in conversation and she mentioned a couple of things. She knew you liked gardening with your grandfather and that he called you Poppy because it was your favorite flower. She knew you worked from home quite a bit but traveled from time to time also but she wasn’t sure what exactly you did for a living and you stuck to yourself mostly. She’d never seen any friends coming or going only your grandfather mostly and your parents on occasion.

Perfect that was the in Minho needed. The flowers. Minho did some research and found a nearby nursery that happened to have a bunch of different poppies in stock. He asked if they would set one aside for him and he left immediately to pick it up.

It was a Himalayan blue poppy apparently from what the owner of the nursery said. Minho thought it was pretty. He could see why it was your favorite. He saw a pretty blue pot that matched the color of the flower and decided to get that along with some potting soil. He would put it in the new pot and figure out a subtle way to give it to you.

When Minho got back home, he got started on transferring the plant into the new pot immediately. He had just gotten a little dirt in the pot and taken the poppy plant out of the old planter when you came walking out of the building.

You saw Minho and tried to ignore his presence as you walked past him making some kind of mess. As you started to pass him, he didn’t say anything to you. He always had a little quip to throw at you but today was the first time he didn’t. You chanced accidently getting his attention by glancing over and saw your Meconopsis Betonicifolia you had gotten rid of in his hands as he started to put it in a pot with zero drainage holes in the bottom.

You remembered exactly when you had gotten Blue, your Himalayan poppy. It was a graduation gift from your grandfather when you had finished high school and announced you would be going to university and majoring in plant biology, just like him.

When you saw Minho go to throw more dirt into the pot you walked over stopping him.

“No, no, no do you have any idea what you're doing?” Minho hadn’t heard you come out so when you walked up behind him, you caught him off guard. He wasn’t ready for you to see the plant yet and he definitely wasn’t ready for you to know it was for you.

“Wha-” You cut him off.

“There are no drainage holes in that pot, do you even have any rocks in the bottom to prevent over saturated soil and root rot? You want moist but well drained soil for that kind of plant and the soil should be acidic to neutral. You should really do your research on a plant before committing to buying one especially one as temperamental as Meconopsis Betonicifolia.” Minho looked at you absolutely gob smacked. The way you just rattled off all that information was impressive and the way you talked about plants like they were pets was endearing. Clearly gardening wasn’t just a light hobby for you.

“Holy shit what are you THE plant nerd of the whole fucking universe!?” Your face contorted, then turned into a frown and you scoffed.

“You’re such an asshole all the time, whatever, just don’t plant it in that, you’ll kill it.” You mumbled, rolled your eyes and walked away. Minho wanted to say something but everything he said always seemed to be wrong, so he just let you go. You decided you were going to do everything in your power to avoid Minho at all costs from then on. He was just so crass and teased you all the time. It was like he couldn’t be serious, or nice for that matter.

You had been successful at avoiding Minho for a whole week. Well into your second Minho free week you had been doing well. Still not great but not tormented on top of being miserable. You were doing well until your mom’s weekly dinner. Apparently a little before he had passed away, your grandfather had written you a letter. Your mother wanted to wait to give it to you until you seemed better and that night at dinner was when she decided it was time.

The letter sat on your counter, unopened. You weren’t sure if you could open it. You didn’t know if it would ever be time. It sat there for days after your mother had given it to you, taunting you.

At the end of your second Minho free week, you got a knock at your door. When you opened it, you found Blue on your door step; in the same blue pot you had told Minho wasn’t right for the plant the last day you had seen him. Had he not listened to a word you said about this pot? This plant? Or did he do it on purpose to get at you for ignoring him? It made your blood boil. You avoided him and he still managed to taunt and tease you.

You picked up the plant and brought it inside. You wanted to go over to his apartment and tell him off but you knew all that would happen is you would lose it on him and he’d get the satisfaction of seeing all his hard work pay off. No way.

You sat the plant on the counter by the letter from your grandfather and went to get in the shower. You had hoped a nice hot shower would relax you, calm the anger bubbling inside but what it did was give you more time to think, stew, and get angrier. By the time you got out of the shower you had convinced yourself you had to confront Minho RIGHT then.

You put on your kimono robe, grabbed the plant, and stormed out of your apartment to give him the ass chewing he deserved. By the time you got to his door ready to pound on it, the haze of anger had already started to lift and you stopped yourself before your fist made contact with his door.

You looked down at yourself, still half wet from your shower, in a floral silk kimono that didn’t do much to hide your... assets, holding a potted plant like a baby on your hip. You came to your senses and quickly made your way back to your own apartment. When you grabbed the handle of your door it wouldn’t turn.

“You. Have. GOT! To be SHITTING ME!” You, in the midst of your blind rage, walked out of your locked apartment with no keys and there was only one thing you could do about it without calling the super or a locksmith, both of which were timely and a head ache you didn’t want to deal with.

You walked back down to Minho’s door and knocked, still holding Blue. When Minho opened the door and saw you standing there in a little silk robe, towel dried hair, fresh faced and a little flushed from your hot shower still, his eyes went wide. When his mouth fell open to say something you put up your hand and interrupted whatever insult you were sure he was priming.

“I don’t want to hear whatever little dig you have. I’m locked out of my apartment. My patio door is unlocked I just need to climb over from yours. So please will you let me on your patio so I can get inside my apartment?” Minho kept his mouth shut while you explained. It had been two weeks since he’d seen you.

He didn’t really get to see you much to begin with and he had missed the small interactions he’d gotten with you from time to time when you started avoiding him. When you explained the situation, he didn’t hesitate to help. No matter what you had knocked on his door for he would have helped but he still tried to make a joke, make light of the situation, to break the tension.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting YOU use MY balcony.” Your face scrunched up into a disgusted look and you were just about to tell him exactly what you thought of him when he gave you that sharp eyebrow and smirk that made your blood pressure rise.

“You’re in that little robe and it’s not safe. I’m not letting YOU climb my balcony. I will climb over and unlock your door for you.” He stood there like some knight in shining armor and you pressed your lips together tightly, letting out a heavy breath through your nose.

“Okay fine, will you please just do it quickly?” Minho nodded and gave you a little salute.

“Right away Chloris.” Before you could even ask, he turned on his heels and headed towards his patio. Once you saw him climbing over you checked to make sure his door was unlocked, not about to make that mistake twice, pulled it closed and waited by your own door. Just a few seconds later you heard footsteps and then your door opened. Minho leaned against the frame, blocking the way in, looking down at you with that god damn smirk again.

“Sorry no solicitors Chloris, thank you.” He went to shut the door but stopped and opened it letting you into your apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat. You took a deep breath trying to be nice since he just helped let you into your apartment.

“Chloris?” You asked with a disgusted look,

"What kind of name is that? It sounds like a venereal disease." Minho laughed he'd never heard you talk like that.

“Not up on your Greek mythology I see? Yes Chloris, otherwise known as Flora? The goddess of flowers?” You failed to realize he was trying to call you a goddess, only hearing snark as usual. You shrugged, wanting the interaction that had already lasted too long, in your opinion, to end.

“Alright well thanks Minho, won’t happen again.” He shut the door standing on the wrong side of it and started walking in to your apartment behind you. You set the poppy plant down on the counter by your grandfather’s note again and turned facing Minho as he stopped in front of you.

“It’s no problem if it does, happy to help, but you don’t think it’s unsafe keeping your balcony door unlocked? You know weirdos?” He wiggled his fingers at you and you rolled your eyes.

“You're the only weirdo with access so, I think I’m safe.” Minho smiled shrugging his shoulders and nodding his head back and forth in agreement. You started to walk towards your room so that you could finish drying off and put some clothes on hoping Minho would get the hit and leave with out you having to be rude.

“Well thanks agai-” Minho interrupted with a question.

“How did you get locked out in the hall with that plant again?” You froze.

“Cause see earlier after I left it on your door step, I took my garbage out and saw that you’d taken it in. So, I’m just wondering if you had already brought it inside why were you out in the hall with it?” You turned facing him again and tried to think of a quick excuse but you are a terrible liar and Minho was answering for you before you could come up with one anyway.

“You were coming to give the flower back?” Your mouth fell open a little, ready to deny the accusation but stopped. Minho looked down at the plant on the counter and saw the letter signed To Poppy from your grandfather. He picked up the letter and held it up.

“So, what’s up with all this, Poppy? Why’d you want to give the plant back? What’s the deal?” The use of your grandfather’s nickname set you off. The last bit of patience you had with Minho was now gone. The explosion that you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing was rearing its ugly head. You snatched the letter from him.

“WHAT IS YOUR FUCKING PROBLEM! Why are you SUCH a dick to me ALL THE TIME!?” Tears were welling up in your eyes and Minho stood there stunned and speechless.

“You want to know the deal, Minho?! FINE! Poppies are my favorite fucking flower, okay?! But you already guessed that huh? You got the plant! You want the real headline of the story yea?! Poppy is the nick name my grandfather gave me, my HERO! AND HE’S DEAD NOW! So yes, Minho I was bringing the plant back, the exact same plant my grandfather gave me as a gift! The plant that I TOLD you were going to kill and you proceeded to plant it in the wrong pot anyway! Yes, I was bringing back the exact same fucking plant that I already donated to a nursery ONCE! I brought it back because I don’t want to see poppies! I don’t want to hear the word, poppy! AND NO ONE GETS TO CALL ME POPPY BUT MY GRANDFATHER! ESPECIALLY NOT YOU!” You broke down crying into your hands uncontrollably and Minho felt horrible. He hadn’t realized. He was too busy trying to tease and flirt, trying to get you to loosen up.

He didn’t know you well enough to know you weren't just kind if serious and grumpy, to see that you were actually struggling, that you were grieving, that you always looked so sad because you were.

The old lady had told him were close with your grandfather and that she would see him visiting you. Only now did Minho think about the fact that, all this time, he had never once seen your grandfather visiting you. You had been on the edge, in danger of falling, and Minho had been nudging you closer and closer over that edge until you jumped.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I crossed a line, several, unknowingly but that doesn’t make it alright. I apologize. There is no excuse for it. I’m truly sorry for what I said and for hurting you and I’m... I’m sorry about your grandfather also.” You lifted your face from your hands, tears still welling in your eyes and streaking your face.

You looked up and saw Minho looking directly at you, his face was set like stone, you had never seen him so serious. The look on his face, you knew there was no teasing remark coming next, no sarcasm. He was well and truly sorry.

As mad as he had made you the last couple of months you knew it would do no good to hold a grudge with the next-door neighbor, especially when he was genuinely apologetic. You wiped you face with your hands and took a deep breath, calming yourself.

“Okay Minho. Your apology is accepted but from here on out don’t just act and talk any kind of way. Don’t make fun of the chubby nerdy neighbor girl about her weight and clothes. Just enough is enough with teasing me. Okay?” Minho frowned.

“I... my teasing was never meant to be malicious, I just wanted to make you laugh. You always look so down. I wasn’t trying to make fun of your weight or the way you dress. There’s not a thing wrong with the size you are or your clothes. I got you the poppy plant as an olive branch when I realized that I was not getting anywhere with my ‘humor’. If you look,” He picked up Blue and held it up a bit for you to see.

“After you gave me all the information about potting that plant, I drilled holes in the bottom of the pot and added a mixture of pebbles and bigger rocks for better drainage. I ordered a treatment for the soil pH too. When I had it all done, I was going to give it to you the next time I saw you, but then you started avoiding me. So, I put it on your door step. Anyway, I am clearly very bad at humor and even worse at flirting.” Your tears had completely subsided by then and you raised an eyebrow at the last part of his statement.

“Flirting?” Minho nodded and you scoffed rolling your eyes.

“Give me a break I just admitted I’m bad at it.” He pleaded. You shook your head in agreement to that statement.

“Yea I’d say telling a bigger girl that she looks like she can cook well, is probably a fairly shitty way to flirt, or telling her she looks like a pilgrim or whatever, or asking if she the biggest fucking nerd in the universe...” Minho nodded again and again putting up his hands in defeat.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it like that but in hindsight I can see how it all came across that way. I’m sorry I made you feel poorly about yourself. I think you’re really beautiful y/n.” You shook your head.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing Mi-what?” Minho walked towards you and grabbed one of your hands slotting his fingers between yours.

“I think you’re beautiful y/n and I’d like to spend more time with you, aside from our run ins in the hall, and get to know you better.” You gave him a small smile and considered it before squeezing his hand gently.

“Okay. But no more teasing. Alright?” Minho gave you that eyebrow smirk combo he did when he was about to say something stupid and you braced yourself. He leaned in close to your ear, his breath fanning across your neck making goosebumps prickle your skin.

“No teasing?” He asked, his free hand played with the edge of the opening of your silk robe, his fingers gently grazing the soft skin on your chest as he looked down at you with lust filled eyes. You started blushing profusely and took your bottom lip between your teeth before you moved even closer, putting your arms around Minho’s neck.

“Well maybe a little teasing wouldn’t hurt.” Minho gave you a sly smile, leaned down and kissed you. It was a sweet soft kiss, just feeling each other out at first but when Minho’s hands weaved through your hair, tilting your head for better access to your lips, things heated up quickly.

When he finally pulled away you were breathless, blush now painting your cheeks, neck and chest. His fingers toyed with the closure of you robe, slightly pulling to untie it.

“Is... is this okay? Tell me to stop if-” You cut him off.

“Don’t stop Minho.” You kissed him as he pulled more firmly on the silk tie until it totally came undone. He dropped the thin strap and ran his fingers under the fabric, sliding the shoulders of your robe down, letting it fall and pool on the floor. His fingertips ghosted your skin as he traced them down your arms, his dark eyes soaking in every curve of your full figure.

“Fuck.” He managed to finally breath out and you smiled as he held your face and kissed you again. You lead Minho to your bedroom attached to your lips the entire time his hands gripping and caressing soft supple flesh.

When you crossed the threshold to your room it was like a fire ignited in you. You pushed Minho gently and he fell down on your bed laughing. You climbed on top of him and straddled his waist as you unbuttoned his shirt before gently running your nails down his chest.

Minho’s eyes scrunched closed and he bit his lips. Every touch from you made his cock swell. You started peppering kisses down his chest as you made your way to the waist of his pants. You started to undo the button and zipper and looked up at him.

“Can I...” Minho couldn’t wait for the rest of the question before he was answering you.

“YES! FUCK YES! Whatever it is YES!” You gave him a smirk that was very similar to the one he always gave you and pulled his pants and underwear down freeing his painfully hard dick as he tossed his shirt aside and leveled the playing field, leaving him just as naked as you were.

“Tell me what you want Minho.” He looked down at you and the sight of your thick thighs straddling his body was enough to make his cock twitch.

“Oh god, fuck, suck me off beautiful. Please!” You licked your palm and wrapped your fingers around his hard on.

“Suck on this?” You asked as you blew air on his cock and watched him twitch in your hands. Minho nodded with his eyes closed, gripping his hair with both hands.

“Please.” You took him into your mouth and he let out heavy breath.

“Fuck.” You sucked and slid up and down his length taking more into your mouth each time. Minho pushed your hair to the other side of your face so that his view wasn’t obstructed and he could see you suck him off.

“So pretty, feels so good y/n.” You hummed around Minho’s cock in appreciation of his praise and he groaned letting his head fall back into the sheets.

He looked back down at you and cupped the side of your neck, running his thumb along your cheek as you continued bobbing up and down his cock. You started stroking what you couldn’t take, sucking and licking Minho’s dick while you did.

“Fuck baby I’m gonna cum, don’t stop.” You hummed and started rotating your wrist as you jerked him off and focused on sucking the tip of his cock and teasing it with your tongue.

“That’s it! Yes! Fuck can I cum on your lips gorgeous?” You puckered your lips and rubbed the head of his cock against them as you stroked him faster. You felt his warm seed covering your lips as he climaxed, his cum dripping off them, down your chin, back on to Minho’s crotch and thighs.

“Holy... oh my god. How are you so good at that?!” He laughed and huffed out deep breaths coming down from his orgasm. You grabbed some tissue from your night stand and wiped your chin off, laying down next to Minho and handing him some tissue as well so he could clean himself up. Tissues were tossed in the trash and suddenly Minho was on you kissing you again, groping you.

“Time to return the favor kitten.” You melted into the bed as Minho left a wake of kisses down your soft tummy towards your dripping cunt.

“So wet, all for me.” Were his only words before sliding his tongue between your folds making sure to get a good taste of you. He started with light teasing flicks of his tongue against your clit, then his tongue, flat, lapped at you like a thirsty animal.

“Mmm right there Minho, mm yes harder.” Minho pressed his face into your pussy and slurped and licked at you, taking two of his fingers and sliding them inside you as he did.

“FUCK Min-Minho! God please just fuck me already!” Minho hummed and pulled away still curling and pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“Cum for me first kitten, wanna taste you, cum on my face and I’ll fuck you so good baby.” He attacked your clit with firm quick flicks of his tongue, the tips of his fingers hitting your g-spot with precision. It was the groan and humming against your cunt that sent you reeling into another galaxy.

“OH My god! I’m coming Min fuck! I’m coming!” He gently kitten licked you through the tremors and aftershocks of your orgasm before placing a gentle kiss on your pussy and crawling back up to kiss your lips.

“Such a good kitty coming just like I said, God my cock is so hard right now hearing your pretty moans. Are you ready for it kitten?” You pulled him down into another passionate kiss and whispered against his lips.

“There’s condoms in my bed side table.” Minho leaned over and pulled the drawer open, fishing around blindly until he felt the box of condoms. He took one out ripped the package and rolled the rubber down his shaft before slotting himself between your thick thighs again.

“God this pussy is so pretty baby, so wet, can’t wait to fill it up.” You bit your bottom lip and spread your legs more for him. Minho took his cock and ran it up and down your slit, collecting your juices. He rubbed the tip over your clit that was still a sensitive from your last orgasm, making you clench around nothing.

“Please Min stick it in, fuck, I need you.” Minho cooed at you and leaned down to kiss you as he slid his cock inside you making you moan out as he filled you.

“Ohohoh fuck kitten, you’re soft all over, god...fuck!” Minho sat up, gripped your cushy hips and started to slowly sink into you deeper until his cock was buried deep in you.

“Please move Minho! Fuck me baby!” He would do anything you asked to stay locked inside your warm soft walls. He slowly started sliding his cock in and out of you, rolling his hips trying to hit that one spot inside you that made you crazy, make you melt on his cock.

“So sexy underneath me like this kitten, taking all of me. ” He started fucking you harder

“Fuck your tits look so good bouncing every time I pound into you.” He grabbed both of your full breasts, squeezing gently. Minho’s hands slid back down your sides to your waist, then under you. He pulled you up into a kneeling position, his cock still inside you, now impossibly deep.

“Oh Min-fuck so big... gah! So good, feels so good!” One of Minho’s arms stayed wrapped around your waist holding your plush body against his as the other cupped your jaw, making you look him in the eyes while you took his cock deeper than you thought possible.

“Go on kitty, move for me.” You did as you were told and started rotating your hips as you slid back and forth on Minho’s dick.

“Good kitten, fuck yes just like that. Ride me.” The position you were in made it so Minho’s cock never stopped rubbing against your g spot and you thought your body might combust.

“Minho kiss me.” He could never deny you or resist your lips. He pulled you in and kissed you, his tongue sliding against yours, messy and wet, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before gently pulling at it with his little front bunny teeth.

He pushed his forehead against yours and his free hand, not holding you against him, gripped your squishy hip tightly making you grind on his cock faster.

“I’m gonna cum Min fuuuck please, make me cum baby.” Minho grunted as he started matching your rhythm giving you small deep thrusts as you rode him hard. A roll of Minho’s hips and your body was lit on fire with ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body went lip as you came hard on his cock.

Both his arms wrapped around you pulling you in, your soft breasts pressed against his firm chest, your sweat mingling as he worked you through your climax. You started coming down slowly, rolling your hips against his still. He threaded his hands through your hair and pulled you in for a sweet kiss. Plump lips pushed together and then pecked again and again.

“You’re so fucking sexy y/n god damn. Coming like that just... FUCK! I didn’t think I could get any harder. You look like you just ascended and came back a blushing angel.” You wrapped your arms around Minho trying to pull him closer although it didn’t seem possible and kissed him.

“Can I cum on you beautiful?” He kissed you so sweetly considering what he just asked while being buried balls deep inside you.

“Where do you want to cum baby?” Minho licked his lips at the ideas of where he’d cum on you going through his head but only had one in mind right then.

“Your tummy? I want you to keep sliding your wet pussy against my cock until I cum all over your sexy soft tummy.” You lifted your hips up enough allowing Minho’s dick to slide out of you.

You grabbed it, slid the condom off him, and pressed the tip of his cock up against your cunt, your hand pressing it firmly against you causing the most delicious friction for not just Minho but you too.

Minho pulled you close again your bodies pressed together. You held onto him tightly both arms wrapped around his neck fingers tugging the hair at his nape as his cock was pressed between you both.

“Fuck kitten I’m gonna cum.” You were panting rubbing yourself against Minho harder.

“God me to Min fuck! Fuck!” Minho could feel your pussy clenching even though he wasn’t inside you and you came the third time that night.

You felt warm spurts of thick cum start to paint your belly as Minho came on you, the way your cunt quivered around him being too much for him and finally pushing him over the edge. More streaks of cum shot from the tip of his cock across your belly and landing on his.

His seed kept leaking from his tip and dripped down your stomach. Once you were covered in Minho’s cum you fell back on your bed breathing heavy and laughing. Minho rolled and fell on his back next to you laughing as well.

“That was so much cum Minho look at me I’m covered.” Minho snaked his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I’ve got some on me too. We should probably shower.” He suggested as he nibbled your ear and neck. You giggled and shook your head, jumping up from the bed and racing to the bathroom, Minho fast on your heels.

You and Minho laid in your bed holding each other after washing each other and fucking in the shower again. You laid in the dark in a comfortable silence, soothed by each other's slow deep breaths. Suddenly a question hit Minho that he had to know the answer to.

“Oh yeah! How the hell do you know so much about poppies?” You laughed at the sudden question.

“I’m a botanist but poppy plants are my specific field of study. I wrote the book on it.” Minho laughed this time.

“I’d say so the way you rattled off all that info!” You shook your head laughing even harder and Minho looked like a confused kitty cat.

“No Minho I literally wrote the book on it. The current textbook used for plant science courses was written by me.” Minho quickly grabbed his cell phone and pulled up Google. When he typed in your name and saw all the awards and honors you had received in your field as well as the book you wrote, his jaw dropped.

“Damn so you really ARE THE plant nerd of the whole fucking universe.” You pinched Minho’s arm and he laughed tossing his phone and pulling you close again, kissing you and relaxing back.

That little google search sparked a slew of questions from the both of you. You carried on talking about anything and everything like two kids at a slumber party until you drifted off to sleep. You’d never had anything like that before with someone.

In the middle of the night, you woke up and couldn’t get yourself to fall back asleep. You sat up and looked over at Minho who was still sleeping peacefully and you couldn’t help but shake your head at the turn of events and how you had ended up there.

Even though it definitely didn’t start the best, in the end, you were happy that everything with Minho happened because it led you to where the two of you were now. As you sat there in your dark room you thought of the unopened letter your grandfather left you sitting on the counter.

You got up and walked into the kitchen, grabbed it and went back to your bed. When you crawled back in you sat crossed legged and Minho shifted, turned over towards you and wrapped his arms around your waist squeezing your soft body, sound asleep. You looked at the letter in your hands. You were still apprehensive but if now wasn’t the time, it never would be.

You turned on the small reading lamp by your bed and tore open the envelope that held the last words your grandfather left for you before dying. You took a deep breath preparing yourself and read.

Dear Poppy,

My sweet little poppy plant. I am so proud of you and the amazingly talented and beautiful woman you have grown to be. You are by far the most precious flower I tended to in my garden. I found the radio station for the college you’re speaking at. They’re going to broadcast your lecture and I’m going to listen to you while I lay here and maybe I’ll learn something from the smartest scientist I know.

I know you don’t want to hear this next part Poppy but you have to and I hope you won’t be too angry with me but, I knew. I knew today would happen while you were gone. I could feel it coming. The selfish part of me wants you here with me now but I’m glad you’re not here Poppy plant, because I want you to remember us in the green house and in the garden. I didn’t want this to be your last memory with me.

You had to go, speak, and show everyone else what I already know. That you are brilliant, amazing and beautiful. y/n, promise you’ll try to be happy. Your happiness is all I want. So, think of me when you see the poppies, think of me when you see Blue. I’ll always be with you my little Poppy plant.

Love always,

Your Pop

You choked back a sob as tears streamed down your face. Your body shuddered as you cried and it woke Minho. He sat up quickly holding your face gently in his hands.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” You held up the opened letter and he understood immediately. Minho held you and let you cry it all out.

When you were done you explained what you had read in the letter to him. How your grandfather had listened to you on the radio up until the moment he passed and how he told you he wanted you to remember him.

You thanked Minho for saving Blue from the nursery, even if he hadn’t known what it meant to you when he did it, because it meant you still had that piece of your grandfather. You both laid back in bed. Minho holding you, your head resting against his chest listening to his beating heart and it was the first time you really felt okay since your grandfather had died.

“Minho?” He squeezed you, kissed the top of your head and hummed.

“You can call me Poppy.”

*magnoliophyta- a division of plants comprising flowing plants that produce seeds enclosed in an ovary.

@caroline-ds-world @jquellen27 @chansynie @ughbehavior @hyunelixies @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny

*tracheophyta- a division of plants comprising green plants with a vascular system that contains tracheids or tracheary.

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[stalkedbytrains]

Stone Face Sorrow

The mourners were all there, in their elaborately carved masks. Each carved face covering was unique to the person, to the family, to the emotion the wood conveyed for flesh. All of them showed sadness or regret or, in a few cases, sorrow.

All of them were draped head to toe in black, not a piece of skin showing, only masks, frozen in a single emotion. The procession started, passed the freshly dug grace, passed the coffin, passed the crying masks of a tall figure, passed the three smaller sad masked figures, the husband and the children of the deceased.

A processional of carved mourning faces moved passed the grieving family, offering flowers on the grave and hushed, muffled words of condolences. The masked family nodded their acceptance of the comforts but didn’t say anything, the masks conveying their emotions for them.

With the processional was almost done, only one person was left. There was no billow of breath rising from beneath the elegantly carved sorrow mask. Not a single indication that it breathed, or if it did, the breath was warm.

Empty, sad eyes of the mask looked over the small remains of the family and placed a small statuette on the coffin, before turning to leave. The footprints left behind in the semi-frozen mud were much deeper than the others of the processional.

The tall remaining figure, the husband of the deceased woman, looked at the statuette only to see the small representation of the Wailing Father.

That would mean…

The man quickly turned to see where the last person went, the one with the heavy Sorrow mask, but they were gone, off into the late evening mist that was rolling off the mountains.

He was nervous now, was it possibly they were just visited by The Sorrow?

He didn’t know, didn’t want to know.

With the processional, and the funeral over, the husband took his children out of the cemetery and back to the house.

Once inside, in private, the family could remove their masks and cloaks. They sat together in silence. The twins hugged the little one, a girl no older than four.

The father was just about to rise from his seat to fetch something. He was dimly aware that the girls needed to eat, but he wasn’t hungry. That was when they heard the loud footsteps on the front porch. Slow, heavy footsteps.

Then the door burst open revealing in the Sorrow masked figure, dressed all in black, with a cold, late winder wind blowing in behind it.

The figure stepped in, crossing the threshold with heavy, steady steps. Then with a black clad hand, reached back and closed the wooden door behind it before standing in silence.

In the absolute silence that radiated from the being’s presence the family could hear a quiet, raspy, labored breathing despite seeing no breath coming from it earlier.

The father moved, stood in front of his daughters and yelled, “We don’t want you here! We didn’t pray to the Wailing Father! Leave us in peace! Please!”

But the hollow eyes of the Sorrow weren’t directed at the father, or at the older girls, the twins with the dark hair, past them to the smallest girl, the four year old with the shock of bright blonde hair. The instant girl felt the attention on her she ran away from her father and sisters and into the back bedroom.

“Just leave us alone! We thank the Wailing Father for sending you in our hour of despair but we don’t need your services, please. My wife… my wife is dead. There’s nothing to be done. She drowned,” the father choked out.

Suddenly the younger girl was back, this time she was holding up a much too large mask of dark wood, painted red, with an angry snarl carved into it.

With the wooden barrier between herself and the masked Sorrow, she spoke up, “Will you find out who killed mommy?”

Sorrow descended, resting on knees that were hidden the large dark robe. With a voice like air escaping from a long sealed tomb it answered, “Yes.”

“Good,” the girl said. “I’m mad at them. Mommy was supposed to come home. We was gonna read the end of the Princesses story together. But now she can’t.”

Sorrow’s empty eyes stared back at Anger held up by the four year old. For a long moment there was silence.

The Sorrow stood up and exited the house with a slow but determined gait.

The next night was just as cold and windy as the night of the funeral, but today had a sleety, half frozen rain to add to it.

The tavern’s fireplaces were all roaring and the food was hot. All of the patrons were dressed in their warmest, their masks were often the woolen or knitted variety, politely hiding half their faces while leaving their mouths exposed as to better talk and drink.

Through his informal, dull, half-faded mask that showed off his cheeks and mouth and chin, the bartender surveyed the bar.

All of the masked faces turned when someone burst through the door. All of the people that were usually here were here, and everyone else was in the safety and warmth of their own houses. It was either an out-of-towner or bad news.

The new arrival threw off their clock, soaked with freezing rain and before the tavern stood a tall, red cheeked, auburn hair elf with pointed ears, high cheekbones, bright eyes and no mask.

After shaking out some of the water from their curly and graying hair, the elf took a seat at the bar.

“What do you want here bareface?’ the bartender asked unkindly.

They always started with the maskless insults before they moved into the racism.

But the elf was tired and having none of it. They reached into their pocket and produced a hand sized piece of metal. The second they slapped it on the table it glowed, white, and brilliant and outshone everything else in the tavern. After a second the light faded and the metal returned to being just a highly polished metal star.

The bartender’s attitude changed. “What can I offer you Lady Investigator?”

“Whiskey,” they said. “You may refer to me as Investigator Stalking Heron.”

“Start with what?” he asked nervously, adjusting his mask to sit correctly over his face.

“I heard Sorrow is in town. Has anyone in town died recently? Or anyone seen the Sorrow faced being?” they asked loudly.

Once again the silence filled the room like smoke, choking out the sound.

“I’ll take that oppressive silence as a yes. Any one seen The Sorrow? Anyone pray to the Wailing Father?” Heron asked.

They were only greeted with more silence.

“Do you want me to break out my mask? I’ll get it and conduct this investigation all proper like if that’s what you all want,” they threatened.

When the elf was met with only silence, the mysterious Investigator started to reach for their coat when the man slumped on the bar next to them drunkenly raised his head.

“It was me! My wife died three days ago. Drowned in that damn lake out back. My littlest prayed to the Wailing Father himself and he sent The Sorrow down on our heads. Maybe we’ll find out if a godsend can fight a lake.”

Heron sighed heavily. “I’m sorry,” they said with genuine sadness. “But if Sorrow is here, then I hate to tell you that your wife was murdered.”

The drunk and bereaved man broke out into a fresh round of sobs.

"I’m going to need a room somewhere,” Investigator Heron said. “I’ve got to solve a murder quickly before you’re burying someone else.”

“If they killed my wife,” the drunk shouted. “They’ll be lucky if there’s anything left to bury!”

“Alright Elijah, I know you’re grieving, but it’s time you went home,” the bartender told him.

The drunk was already asleep.

“Silah is dead, someone prays to your damn elven demon god, Sorrow is here, and now a barefaced elven Investigator here. How can it get any worse?” the bartender muttered as he looked at the passed out man on his bar.

“The barefaced elf is Inspector Heron,” they said with a menacing finger pointed at the bartender. “And as if your ignorance couldn’t show any further, the Wailing Father is one of the very few gods that exist in all six major pantheons. Now, if you’re done choking everyone with your extreme aura of stupidity. I need to get to the bottom of this, get to the murderer before Sorrow does. If I do, there’s a chance that Sorrow will back off. They usually stand down when the murderer is brought to justice. Otherwise it’s just a death sentence. And it’s only a matter of time.”

At that moment, outside the bar, the figure in the Sorrow mask stood silent into the rain, empty mask eyes fixed on the bank of the slowly defrosting lake.

It stood there for some time, just looking without eyes or perhaps waiting.

Elijah stumbled out of the bar, with the help of one of his neighbors. The light spilled out of the open doorway for just a moment, illuminating the Sorrow, but in the next moment it was gone.

The two men walked through the slush and frozen rain towards Elijah’s house, masks keeping out the worst of the rain.

Neither of them noticed the Sorrow outside the house down the small lane from the both of them. If Sorrow had eyes to read it held the posture of something reading the name sign posting on the outside of the house.

But the men were too drunk and too eager to be out of the weather to notice the dark figure lurking.

Back in the bar, Investigator Heron started questioning patrons. They held the shining star in their hand at all times, metal gently pricking into their hands, as they passed from patron to patron. The human’s masks and half masks made it difficult to tell if someone was lying to them, but that’s why they had the star.

Every time someone lied to them the star started to glow. It made it easier for them. Even though Heron was a master liar at one point in their life, mask or no mask. But it still didn’t change the fact that they were no investigator, not really. So they held on to the star all the tighter.

They discovered that the deceased Silah was in the bar the night she died. Her husband was at home with the children. Silah and some of the other wives met once a month in the tavern for some time away from their usual duties. The last one to see Silah alive was the barkeep since she stayed till the tavern closed. The innkeeper was rapidly moving up the list of Heron’s suspects. He was right behind the husband, because it was always the husband.

Heron moved to put on their own mask, the terrifying bird shaped mask all investigators wore, their head a bit too small for it, even with their hair. The long beak and dark wood made it the long and thin elf look even more avian.

They’d barely got it on when someone burst into the tavern looking terrifying.

“Sorrow! It’s here!” the frightened young man yelled. “It’s in the cemetery!”

Heron swore, not bothering to take off their mask, and ran out into the driving rains, barely taking time to put on their clock as they ran.

If Sorrow was in the cemetery, then there was a chance. A slim chance, that maybe Sorrow would be occupied with the body of Silah. Hopefully they’d get there before Sorrow left.

They spoke a quick word that rolled off their tongue and a bright little marsh light appeared before them, lighting their way through the darkness.

Sorrow was in the cemetery, seemingly looking at headstones. Black shrouded fingers traced lettering on gravestones. The figure stood for several moments surrounded by the dead, a bit of it was touching their gravestones as if absorbing their lives through the tiny little epitaphs that sum up entire existences in as few words as possible.

By the time the marsh light got to the cemetery, Sorrow was already gone.

Heron swore, their tongue flying other lilting syllables in elvish, cursing everything, mostly themselves.

There was a statue of the Wailing Father in the cemetery, for the dead center. A grief stricken father kneeling over all the graves in the cemetery. Permanent, unending anguish over his finely sculpted face.

“You’ve already figured it out haven’t you?” Heron asked the statue, dropping the mask in the mud. “I’m not even half the investigator you were. Not even close. I don’t even know if I should go after the bartender or the husband.” They sank to their knees, falling into the freezing mud. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’d give anything to trade places with you. You should be the investigator everyone knows and fears. I should be the one that’s… that’s… Why? You were always the good one, the better one. I was the fuck up. I never wanted your job, your name, but you’re gone. And I’m trying, I’m trying so hard to be a better person, to be you, but I’m not. I’m just still me, and I’m awful at it. Just… just come home? Please? I can’t do this without you.”

The elf with the assumed name Heron knelt in the half melted snow and mud and midnight night rain before the Wailing Father. They knew it was too late. Sorrow had their target and was probably on its way. And they didn’t even know where to begin.

The rain blurred away the tears as soon as they fell, but it didn’t wash away the cries of anguish and failure.

Heron was alone, cold, tired, and failing more than they succeeded. All of that barefaced, raw emotion was coming out as they mirrored the emotions set in stone before her.

The weather did not care. If the Wailing Father cared, he didn’t show it.

“We’re closed!” the tavern keep called as he heard the door open and shut behind heavy footsteps.

He turned around to repeat the phrase, but instead found himself face-to-face with a pale weeping mask of sadness and stone.

“Fuck!” he cried and fell backwards.

“Murderer,” whispered the voice from behind the mask like a stale breeze being let out of a cave.

“I did nothing!” he yelled as he reached beneath his bar for the short sword hidden there.

He held up the sword between himself and Sorrow. The being did not move, save for the masked face that followed him as he slipped out from behind the bar.

“I did nothing! Ya hear!” he yelled again.

Sorrow took a single step towards the tavern keeper but he slashed out with steel.

That rebounded. Bounced off whatever passed for flesh beneath the black shroud.

“Cursed, demon elven gods! I didn’t kill her!” he cried once more before attacking.

But the blows bounced off once again. This time Sorrow reached out and grabbed the blade in one hand and ripped it from the half masked man.

The man yelped as the other hand rose and knocked off his mask revealing all of the barkeep’s worn, terrified, scratched face. He had several scratches by his eyes, which were concealed by the mask he wore.

The touch of the frozen hand of Sorrow caused him to leap out of the way and over to the fire. Her grabbed the hot iron poker from the dying embers and brandished it like a sword.

Still Sorrow advanced slowly.

The tavern keeper lashed out with the glowing poker. It connected with Sorrow causing a dull thud.

Nothing seemed to even affect it till the hot poker caught the robes on fire, then it only warranted a brief look down.

Sorrow took another step forward. It continued advancing, unceasing.

Until the tavern keeper struck with the heavy iron rod, right in the mask of Sorrow.

Two blows in quick succession and Sorrow stopped moving. The stone mask cracked. Heavy cracks like scars spread across the mask.

The tavern keeper laughed and smashed the iron into the mask once more, deepening the cracks and wounds.

A dark, thick red substance started to pour from the mask and a sound like rocks groaning before being split under pressure escaped Sorrow.

Another attack came from the over confident tavern owner. He tried to strike the figure with the bleeding stone mask, but Sorrow’s hand intercepted his own.

The hand was heavy and strong and it squeezed and the small bones in the attacker’s hands snapped loudly.

Sorrow took the weapon from the man and threw it into the bar, shattering liquor bottles and catching it on fire.

“Oh shit,” he swore.

The blood was pouring out of the cracks in the mask. Sorrow reached up and removed the wounded mask, dropping it heavily on the ground, then removed the burning, smoldering clothing.

Before the tavern keeper stood an ethereal beauty.

An elf, naked, pale skin looking exactly like porcelain stone. But the stonework was so perfect, so smooth, it looked like flesh transmuted or, perhaps, silk made stone.

Slowly, with all the ease of chiseling stone, Sorrow’s face turned from one of neutral interest to one of abject rage.

The figure raised its hands and advanced upon the innkeeper.

Sorrow didn’t stop until the murderer’s face matched the Sorrowful expression on the mask it wore.

A little while later Sorrow knocked once on the door of the residence that once belonged to Silah.

The father was passed out in his bed. The twins were up in a moment, the little one rising a little slower.

Sorrow entered the cabin, shrouded in black with the sad, broken expression on the mask it wore.

“It is done,” wheezed the voice behind the mask.

It held out a hand towards the youngest girl.

She nodded solemnly and turned back into the bedroom.

A moment later the girl returned and placed a well worn, much loved stuffed bear into Sorrow’s waiting hand.

“Thank you,” the girl said. “Take care of him. His name is Bubbles and he needs lots of hugs.”

Sorrow’s hand disappeared with the bear back inside the robes, then it turned and left without another word.

Once outside Sorrow’s mask turned towards the smoldering tavern fire. Heron was watching, forlorn and sad. Another missed opportunity.

Sorrow stood in the dark, watching the light for some time until the rain had stopped.

Then, as dawn was breaking, moved on.

In a little network of roads beneath a great tree, in a small area that formed a little cave Sorrow built itself a little fire, hung up the cloak and mask beside it.

It sat down, orange flames dancing across the pale porcelain skin that was gently reflecting it back. Then, very carefully, like it was reaching for a holy object, Sorrow grabbed the stuffed bear. In the dim firelight Sorrow examined the bear, almost as if it was trying to remember the object’s significance.

After several seconds the stone lips parted and Sorrow said in a rough, cracked voice becoming a being of stone, “You need lots of hugs.”

Then gently embraced the bear like Sorrow was once a small child with an animal.

[hacked-by-jake]

I'm so excited for moonvale that I'm getting procrastination paralysis for everything else in my life 🫣 I was supposed to work during the day of the release but my grandfather sadly passed on Monday (fly high 🙏🤍) and I thankfully got some bereavement leave so I can completely engross myself in the game tomorrow. Ain't that some bittersweet luck haha

I wish we had a countdown cuz Imma be refreshing the app store every 5 minutes 😭 but fr imma need to be on my best behavior and not fall for anyone besides Jake during this game (Richy almost got me last time 🫡)

First of all, all my condolences for the loss. It can always be a big cut in life and it’s hard to just live over it, it’s always in the head. I hope you’re doing reasonably well given the situation. 🫂

But I really hope that Moonvale can be a positive and nice distraction and will help you.

I am also glad that your work allows you to take some time off. It's really great to do that.

Yes, I feel you. I also thought they would make make another posts or already showing the trailer or similar. Just a little thing before the release. Maybe today. Of course, earlier would have been great as well. But maybe as little reminder that tomorrow the new case starts for us. But with duskwood, it was the same. They mostly only uploaded the trailer to announce that the episode is out now. And I also guess they have lots of things to do now. Like giving the game the really last cherry on top.

I won't lie, Richy got me in the end. But Darkness as well. Oh, and Alan. Oops. And I'm 100% it will happen again. But the important difference is, that no one got me like Jake. Jake is over everything and everyone. And I'm also sure it will stay this way. Unless they have someone new just like Jake. xD But in my defense, Jake is not the first fictional character on my list and not the last. So it is absolutely foreseeable that it will happen again. And I will never abandon Jake. So as long as he stay on top, even if someone else joins him, he will still he main part of my blog. Hehe.

And I mean, even if Jake won't be part of the main game or whatever it's going to be with his character, he will be included in fanfictions etc. This is a firm assumption.

I still relate to you because even if I know it's not unusual for me, I will feel bad. Because, Jake, our hacker man. Beloved hacker man. Awkward but lovely dork.

I just hope that everything can be brought together well. And please nobody hate me if I fall for another one. 😂

But I keep my fingers crossed that we will get out of the game "unscathed".

As always, it's good to see you here again. It's always wonderful. And I'm sending you big hugs and lots of love. Oh, and of course I hope Moonvale will catch you like duskwood did. And thank you for always passing by to leave an ask. I really appreciate it. Have a great day/evening/night. Take care of yourself and stay healthy and safe! 💚💚🫂

[d-rxse]

Jackson's POV

"Nurse Aubrey is going to give you a Lolly and then you're going to get some rest for me, okay princess?" I whispered to the little girl who just recovered from a terrible fever. "Okay," she nodded. I looked to the nurse who smiled, and I had walked off a smile crossing my face. This is what I loved, making these little kid's smile.

"Uhm, Doctor Xiang-Parker?" I heard as I walked to my office. "Yes?" I said turning around to see one of the nurses on reception duty walk towards me. "Uhm, your father is here to see you." He said, his expression uncertain. "Dennis is here?" I asked, confused, but all he did was shake his head. Oh God, why was he here. "Okay, it's fine, is he in my office?" I queried, as the nurse nodded. For god's sake, how did he even find out which hospital I worked at.

As I stopped in front of the office door I contemplated just walking straight in and grabbing my keys and walking out again, whether he followed me or not I would ignore that and just get home to my Dae and my son. But on the other hand, I needed to face him. To show him I am no longer that scared little boy anymore. "You can do this Jackson," I whispered to myself, pushing myself forward, the door opening to reveal his tuft of salt and pepper hair. "Father." I spoke dismissively walking straight past him and to the chair behind the desk.

"Jackson, son," I flinched as he called me that, he didn't deserve to call me that, he didn't deserve to be called 'Father' either." "What brings you here?" I asked, leaning back in my chair, twiddling my thumbs. "Ah, yes well I tried calling you, but it seems your phone was switched off," He started, looking directly into my eyes, the eyes I inherited from him, although his appeared more bloodshot than mine. "I changed my number three years ago," I said. "Oh, yes off course, we-" "Cut to the chase Dr Xiang, I don't have time for this." I said, stopping him mid-sentence. I couldn't stand him being here, crowding one of the few places I loved.

It was silent for a few minutes, and the silence was killing me. "For heaven's sake, say something," I said, breaking the silence. "Your mother is no longer with us Jackson; she passed on last night from a weak heart." Well, he finally spat out the news. "I see." I said, staring blankly at a Pikachu figurine I had on my desk.

"You see!? This is your mother's death we are talking about Jackson!" He spoke, his voice raising, it was the same tone he used when I introduced Dae. "She loved you more than herself, and all you can do is nod your head!" " If she loved me so very much, she would have accepted who I was! Accepted Amber when she announced that she was pregnant with my niece!" I shouted back, my eyes wide as my blood boiled. "Yet she didn't, you didn't, I'll speak to my husband, if our schedules are free, we will come, but if it's not I send my condolences." With those final words he had stood up from his chair, he took one last look at me and walked towards the door. "If you can bring Beckett along," those were his last words before he disappeared out the door, and away from me. Thank God.

@prongspie

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 Bookstore

5. "There is another Entity, more malignant, pulling the strings in Martinaise. Perhaps in my travels I will cross paths with it."

PLAISANCE - "A *third order* presence, yes..." She lets go of the pendant.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - A great, dark relief washes over her.

PLAISANCE - "I've heard of these *tri-actors*. In certain occult literature that's too dark to dwell on for too long -- and definitely not in the presence of my daughter." She gestures for you to be silent.

"I understand everything, sir. Thank you for descending into the maelström. I will keep fort up here -- strengthen the wards, do my best. And if you happen upon the Third Entity in your travels…"

Task complete: Investigate the Doomed Commercial Area

+70 XP

Level up!

PLAISANCE - "May the Lord be with you." She performs an x-shaped cross on her chest.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Well, this has been absolutely *educational*. If we happen on the *Third Presence* in our travels we will certainly come back to tell you."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - Yes, the venture continues. In other waters. Darker waters.

KIM KITSURAGI - He turns to you. "Should we get out of here -- before the *vortex* collapses?"

SHIVERS [Challenging: Success] - The shop around you feels ancient suddenly, damp and saturated by the coastal air. The books are rotting, a great cold lives here. And there, too -- 1200 metres away, on the urban coast. The dark shape of a church is reflected on the water, calling.

3. "Farewell for now, book peddler!" [Leave.]

Let's take care of a few *small* tasks while we're still in Martinaise. We're not going to do anything that will take a significant amount of time, like painting the wall. Mostly I want to reattempt some checks so we have things to spend levels on.

We're going to start by checking in with Gaston and René.

Or... just Gaston?

GASTON MARTIN - "Officer..." The jolliness is gone from Gaston's face. "Care to play a game with a lonely old man?"

"Actually never mind... Wouldn't be the same..."

"Hey, Gaston, I found you a new *boule*." (Hold out the ball.)

"Where is René?"

"I wanted to ask you about the Union again."

[Rhetoric - Legendary 14] Convince Gaston to relinquish his sandwich.

"Bye for now." [Leave.]

GASTON MARTIN - "The prick is gone," he replies, trying to smile. "I... I can barely believe it, but he's really gone."

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - He is trying to retain his jolly façade, but the underlying sadness casts a deep shadow over his wrinkled face.

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Do you know what happened to his medals?"

"May René rest in peace." (Conclude.)

GASTON MARTIN - Gaston sighs and mumbles, more to himself than you: "Hell, most likely. He was an absolute cunt..."

🎵 Live With Me

"How did he die exactly?"

"Was he really that bad?"

"Do you know what happened to his medals?"

"I offer my sincere condolences." (Conclude.)

"Old people die, you better get ready too." (Conclude.)

GASTON MARTIN - "His angry little heart finally gave out." He sighs. "The dockworkers found him in the guard booth this morning. Wasn't even supposed to be working for another week, but he just had to prove how tough he is..."

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] - Wait... did he push himself to prove he can pull his weight and doesn't need hand-outs?

GASTON MARTIN - "Guess he was about to head home, 'cause when the dockworkers found him he was wearing civilian clothes and not the cockatoo uniform I saw him in all the time."

"Sometimes I thought he was wearing it just to piss me off." Gaston smiles a sad smile. "Now the joke's on him, 'cause he's gonna be buried without it."

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success] - That means the uniform could still be in the guard booth -- something to keep in mind if you *really* plan to give yourself to Revachol.

"Do you think our conversation about his job pushed him to go out there?"

"The irony isn't lost on me, but I wanted to ask about something else."

GASTON MARTIN - "No," he replies quickly. "René was the most stubborn man in Revachol. Nothing you or I could say would ever *push* him to do anything. The man was completely immovable."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He has doubts, but right now he just wants to move on and not think about it.

2. "Was he really that bad?"

GASTON MARTIN - "I repeat -- an *absolute* cunt." He turns to look at the crater. "Even his old army buddies didn't want him around. He was like an old viper."

"The only people who could stand to be around him were Jeannie and me…" He pauses. "She saw something in him when we were just kids, and…"

His voice trembles. "...a-and she never lost sight of it. And I thought if the most beautiful being in the world can love him, then there must be something worth holding on to..."

3. "Did you love him?"

GASTON MARTIN - "We've hated each other our entire lives. So much in fact that..." He falls silent and looks at you, eyes filling up with tears.

"Yes. I... I loved that angry prick. He didn't deserve it, but I did." He wipes his eyes with a sleeve. "You know what his last words to me were?"

"Something mean?"

"That he's sorry?"

"Some right-wing royalist slogan?"

"Something forgettable, like 'See you tomorrow' probably?"

"Tell me."

GASTON MARTIN - "'In Guillaume's time you'd have been shot without a trial'. That's what he said to me." The old man gathers himself and wipes his eyes again. "He lived a cunt and he died a cunt. Let's leave it at that."

4. "Do you know what happened to his medals?"

GASTON MARTIN - He looks at you for a moment and then speaks quietly. "I took them for myself. Took them to remember that old cunt. Nobody knew him better than I did, and I want to remember that old cunt by something."

RHETORIC [Medium: Success] - Strange how *old cunt* sounds almost gentle when he says it now.

We're not going to be able to convince René we're a war hero now.

5. "Here, something to remember your friend by…" (Give him the photograph of René and the girl.)

Item lost: Photo of a Happy Couple

GASTON MARTIN - "Let me see..." Gaston takes the photo, hands trembling. "This was 60 years ago! We all went to that parade. Young René looks so happy and Jeannie..." Eyes blurry with tears, he has to stop.

"I'm sorry, officer, I just..." He dries his eyes. "Thank you, *thank you* for this little memorabilia. It really means the world to me."

+5 XP

KIM KITSURAGI - "That was nice," the lieutenant smiles. "A small thing for us, but invaluable to him. He probably didn't even know René had the photo."

+1 Reputation

6. "Old people die, you better get ready too." (Conclude.)

GASTON MARTIN - "Yes..." A strange expression runs across his wrinkled face, then vanishes without trace.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - He finds comfort in the thought.

GASTON MARTIN - "We all got to go some time, officer. Everyone I love is already there. Probably waiting for me." He smiles faintly. "I'm not afraid to die. It's been a good run and I really miss my friends..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "We are both very sorry for your loss," the lieutenant bows his head. "Death of a friend is a terrible thing."

GASTON MARTIN - "It is what it is... part of life," he mumbles, only half-listening to you. "But to know someone for 79 years, then one day they're just *gone*..."

"I just don't know anymore... about anything really." He slowly shakes his head, then remembers your presence. "But you... you must need something?"

"Too bad René's gone, I was hoping to ask him about May bells..." (Hold out the flower.)

GASTON MARTIN - The old man stares at the flower, then sighs and says: "René wasn't really what you'd call a botanist, officer. And believe me, he didn't like Insulindian Lilies."

"Wait, Insulindian Lillies?"

"Why didn't he like them?"

GASTON MARTIN - "Mhmh," he replies with a slight nod. "That's their old name, dating back to the time of kings and crests and all that other stuff he loved so much."

"Why didn't he like them?"

GASTON MARTIN - "There were many reasons, but mostly it was the communards. They called them 'The Bells of Revolution'." A sad smile passes his face.

"I guess in the end the Insulindian Lillies were just another piece of the Old Insulinde, the royalists had to surrender to the Mazovian insurgents. It doesn't really matter anymore."

INLAND EMPIRE [Medium: Success] - But you feel the dried flower in your hand somehow still *does* matter. Although not to this sad old man.

"Hey, Gaston, I found you a new *boule*." (Hold out the ball.)

GASTON MARTIN - Gaston glumly stares at the shot put ball. Several seconds pass. Then he speaks: "It's too late now, officer... you got back too late. René is gone."

"The prick survived all the bullets, swords and explosions just to die of a heart attack..." He sighs deeply. "Ironic, isn't it -- even his own bitter little heart couldn't stand him."

"Keep it, it's not even a real *boule*." He waves you away. "Besides, it doesn't really matter now. I've never seen anyone else play pétanque in Martinaise."

Task complete: Replace lost boule

+10 XP

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - He will never play pétanque again.

3. "Bye for now." [Leave.]

Now that we know this, we also lose the option to try and take Gaston's sandwich. It just wouldn't be right.

The next check we need to retry is...

KNICK-KNACKS STAND - You see rows of toy soldiers guarding the rest of the trinkets displayed on the table: some on horseback, others in rags, others yet in bright blue uniforms. All are stern and unyielding in their duty.

4. [Interfacing - Medium 10] Dig up a truly *cool* figurine in the box under the table.

INTERFACING [Medium: Success] - Why, what's this? A headless man riding a horse? A headless man wearing futuristic track suit trousers that say FALN!

"What is this?" (Show it to the shopkeep.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Oh, that's the Headless FALN Rider."

"*Who*?"

"Of course." (Nod knowingly.)

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "There's been a lot of *interest* in that particular figurine. I had to hide it so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands."

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - He doesn't elaborate on these 'wrong hands' -- it's unlikely that he ever will.

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant studies the tiny figurine in your hand. "I've heard about it," he says with amusement, "I've heard the Headless FALN Rider rides a headless bull."

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Yes, there are several competing versions of the story, but I believe this figurine is a more canonical representation."

(Look at Kim, then back at Roy.) "Sorry, what are we talking about again?"

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "The Headless FALN Rider. It's an urban legend -- about a man who rides the streets of Revachol sporting a FALN tracksuit. As you can see, he's missing his head." He points at the decapitated figurine.

"Fifty cents. Bargain-priced! I'll throw in the tiny cap too -- I think he's looking for it, or something. That part of the story has many interpretations."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - He lost his cap when he lost his head. Perhaps he's looking for the *head*?

4. Purchase the Headless FALN Rider and his cap.

BIRD'S NEST ROY - "Did I mention that this figurine is supposed to be lucky? Always carry it with you." He grins.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] - That was a very smooth salesman's grin that almost comes off as earnest. You should learn from him.

4. Step away from the table. [Leave.]

FIGURINE SET "HEADLESS FALN RIDER"

The plastic Headless FALN Rider sits atop his equally plastic bull, his posture indicating either desperation or pride. Comes as a set with the infamous FALN cap for which he lost his head. (The head is not included.)

🎵 Martinaise, Terminal B

NIGHTWATCHMAN'S BOOTH - This is the nightwatchman's booth. The name on the door reads *René Arnoux*. René left his uniform neatly folded on the table.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - Generally speaking, it would be *dishonourable* to take it. But then... it looks like a military uniform! And wearing that is very honourable. So, a conflict of honour. It's up to you.

Take the uniform.

[Leave.]

Item gained: Royal Carabineer Jacket

Item gained: Royal Carabineer Pants

Let's just not let Gaston know we have these.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I suppose René is not going to be needing it anymore." He studies the uniform. "It's a bit too colourful for my taste, though."

"It's, uhm, needed for work and all that."

"This is gonna take my shit to the next level."

"I'm done here."

+1 Superstar Cop

KIM KITSURAGI - "Fantastic. Try not to wear it with other similarly colourful clothes, okay?"

ROYAL CARABINEER JACKET

+1 to Revacholian Nationhood: Proud nationalist

The beautifully adorned jacket of the Royal Carabineers has three stars on its shoulders and the word Capitaine written on the chest. Neatly patched here-and-there, it's impossible not to feel love for the Fatherland when you wear it.

Maybe we shouldn't have taken these at all, actually.

ROYAL CARABINEER PANTS

+1 Reaction Speed: Vigilance!

These pants are made from synthetic lightweight fiber and designed to let the carabineer's legs and groin breathe. Red stripes are there to inspire courage, while the golden stripe symbolizes the patriotic flame in the wearer's heart.

CARGO CONTAINER DOOR - You're back before the cargo container. Its draw has not lessened since you were last here. If anything, it seems to have grown slightly.

3. [Rhetoric - Impossible 18] Persuade the door to open.

+1 Erratic, yet thorough. +1 Been in the world for two days. +1 Been in the world for many days. +1 Precarious world. +1 One more door. +1 Icosahedral Dice Set "Sirens"

RHETORIC [Impossible: Failure] - Aaaaand as it's always been -- it's impossible to open a container with rhetoric. Maybe you're losing your mind?

*Still* not enough, despite having almost every bonus to this check it's possible for us to get. The only way for us to open this door is going to be to put more points into Rehtoric.

Ok, that's all the things I wanted to take care of. Let's move on.

[dyns33]

Flufftober 31 - Daniel Hall

Morpheus x Reader - Dream x Reader (careful, spoilers if you didn’t read the comics !!) 

Happy Halloween, with a story that has nothing to do with Halloween !

Like all the other dreamers, she had attended the funeral.

But when she woke up, Y/N refused to believe it was more than a dream.

Not seeing Morpheus again for the next few weeks proved absolutely nothing. They hadn't spoken since their separation, there was no reason for him to come and visit her.

Of all the lovers he had had, Y/N was probably the one with whom things had ended the best. Calmly, without any drama.

No doubt they had been sad. Y/N had been anyway. But after several years, she had felt that Morpheus no longer loved her like before. He was often away, absorbed in his work, no longer looking at her, not visiting her in the waking world, and not offering for her to rule alongside him.

The discussion had been complicated. Morpheus was a proud being. His heart was fragile, as was his ego. With a lot of patience and tenderness, Y/N explained to him that she wasn't really leaving him. She also knew that he wasn't asking her to leave. This was nobody's fault. It was just better if they parted ways now, before things got dark and cold.

           "You do not love me anymore." he whispered.

           "I will always love you."

           "Yet you say you think I don't love you anymore. Why would you love me, if I don't love you anymore ?"

           "... That's not how love works. Have you ever been in love ?"

           "I... I'm not so sure now."

He hadn't banished her. He hadn't cursed her. He hadn't sent her to hell. There had been no shouting, no insults.

Y/N had opened her eyes, alone in her bed, and that had been the end.

And now whispers were saying that he was dead.

No, she refused to believe it. It was not possible. Not now, not like this.

Not without seeing each other at least once again.

So Y/N continued to live normally, not worrying, not thinking for a second that this dream meant anything. It was only a dream.

When she passed Matthew, she greeted him, like every time their paths crossed. She had always been very fond of the raven, who sometimes visited her when his master didn't need him.

           "Actually, he needs me now. I think so at least. I don't know where he is. That kid, I swear, he's a real pain sometimes. I can't keep up with him at all. One day everything is fine, and the next he disappears and it's almost impossible to find him. Lucienne will end up losing her mind, she would probably tear her hair out, if she had any."

           "I don't understand. A kid ? Morpheus... He has a new child ?"

           "No, he's a child. But not a child. You know, after the funeral. Since the Dream can't die, there's a new one. His name was Daniel before, but now it's Dream. Sometimes he's like before, and sometimes... He's weird. Probably a bit lost. I'm trying to help. Did you see him ?"

           "... The funeral ?"

           "Yes, the funeral. Everyone was there. I saw you, from afar. I didn't want to go. I imagine it wasn't easy for you. You... You loved very much. My condolences."

           "Shut up." she said a bit nastily, unwittingly. "He's not dead. He can't be dead."

           "Oh. I thought you knew. Like I told you, he's still there, a bit. It's complicated. I don't always understand everything. His sister said it doesn't happen often that an Endless dies."

           "No."

           "Sorry, really." Matthew sighed, coming over to pat her foot, trying to comfort her, probably not knowing what else to do. "So you haven't seen the kid."

           "I haven't seen Morpheus since our separation."

The raven didn't bother her any longer, leaving to look for his new master, who was also his former master. He apologized again, but didn't dare ask her if she was going to be okay. He already knew the answer.

For several days, Y/N was unable to leave her bed. She cried a lot, unable to do anything else. Even sleep. She was afraid of what she might see, who she might meet, if she closed her eyes.

Then, without knowing why, there came a time when she found the strength to get up and drag herself into the kitchen, to get a glass of water, which she almost dropped when she turned around and found a man sitting on one of the chairs.

His hair was white, like his clothes. His skin was pale. His dark were eyes, with what looked like the universe in the background. His face was familiar.

He was wearing his face. Just, maybe a bit younger.

           "I'm greeting you, Y/N." he said simply, with his voice, but slightly younger too.

           "What are you doing here ?"

           "You have been in my younger sister's domain for several days. This is worrying. I came to see if I could help you."

           "Why ?"

He didn't answer, remaining impassive. Y/N could have ignored him, going back to her bed, but she pulled out a chair and sat down across from him.

           "We do not know each other." she continued. "You're not him."

           "It's not wrong, but it's not true either. I remember everything. I remember how much you meant to him, to us. I worry about you."

           "But you didn't come sooner."

           "I... I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. I met a lot of people who knew Morpheus. They don't know how to behave with me, they are confused, angry. I understand, I don't blame them. You thought he was still alive, I didn't want to upset you. Then you found out, and Matthew told me I had to give you some time to grieve. But Despair holds you now, and I must intervene before it is too late."

Y/N nodded, holding back a sob.

She couldn't put herself in his shoes, but she could imagine that it wasn't easy for anyone, and certainly not for him. He was loved or hated for things he hadn't done, people were looking at him with pity, treated him like a child, and he must not have known what to do at all.

Curled up in her covers, she'd been ashamed for a moment, for she'd thought she wanted to meet him, then that she didn't want to see him at all. She couldn't figure out how she should feel for him.

She wanted to love him, like before. She would always love Morpheus, but this was different.

It might hurt the new Dream, to be loved only because he was a memory. It could be a betrayal for the one who was no longer there, if she loved him for himself.

What if she didn't love him ?

What if he didn't love her ?

           "You talk about him like he's not you." she noted.

           "Morpheus was Morpheus. I am Dream."

           "That was also one of his many names."

           "It was above all his title. I took it, with his kingdom and his responsibilities."

           "It's very confusing. Hello Dream."

This made him smile. A sad smile, but a smile. Morpheus hardly ever smiled.

           "My brother-sister came to tease me before I came. They say you miss him."

           "I missed him, even when he was still there. I have some regrets about him. Things that I would have liked to say to him. I... I would have liked to see him one last time, before he ... Before his departure."

           "It was not possible. He thought about it. He wanted to, but it was too dangerous. He knew. He knew what you wanted to tell him. He knew you would be sad, and that you would have difficulties with me."

           "Difficulties ? I'm not having any difficulties, it's not your fault."

           "You're nice." he whispered, still with his sad smile. "You've always been nice. That's one of the reasons we love you. You can dream about him, if you want, and I won't bother you."

Having spent a lot of time by his side, very close, Y/N knew that Morpheus had never really liked being touched. Or he wasn't used to it, and he refused to admit it.

Dream didn't move when she took his hand. He watched her without saying anything, letting her took it gently like a little bird fallen from the nest.

           "Matthew is right, I need some time. To say goodbye to him. But I want to get to know you. I want to help you. It's not normal that you also often runs away from your raven and your responsibilities. If you need someone, I'm here."

Dream sighed, as if he had been holding his breath since arriving, still looking sad.

           "It's not pity." she added immediately. "It's not love either. We don't know each other, not yet. But I want to help you, Dream. If you want my help."

He didn't answer, but he put his other hand on hers.

They didn't know what that meant. What this might lead to.

They just knew that they cared about each other, and that they would be together to face the rest, no matter what.