#on my grave I’d like sunflowers thank you

[voilaammayi]

I was worried that the retired colourman case won’t be as compelling as the others - reduced just to the detective part - but then I was thankfully unceremoniously killed by a gunshot in the heart when sherlock jumped to strangle an old (murderous) man the moment he started laughing at john being blown up.

incomparable experience, would recommend it to everyone. my funeral is on wednesday, you’re all welcomed.

#sherlock and co #on my grave I’d like sunflowers thank you #also please do dance during my funeral reception #sherlock is unmatched don’t risk it with (john) him #I refuse to believe he did it to uncover the cyanide pill that was a coincidence #I’ve got my eyes on you mister holmes and your little unhinged activities #john watson #sherlock #sherlock holmes #goalhanger #goalhanger podcasts #sherlock & co #johnlock #sherlock and co spoilers #sherlock & co spoilers #the retired colourman spoilers #the retired colourman #the retired colourman pt1 #the retired colourman pt1 spoilers #the retired colourman part 1 #the retired colourman part 1 spoilers

[inuhalfdemon]

Dirty Dealings (6/21)

Word Count: 6,508 Words

Chapter 6: The Confession

“Adeline…dear Adeline….I believe that I,” He flourished his hand, pressing it to his chest “…am fucked up.” - Alastor

New Orleans, Louisiana

June 25th, 1976

One year later - on a warm sunny early afternoon - Alastor came back to New Orleans to find Addie staying in a cabin outside of the city. It was small, but quaint – especially to someone for his taste of aesthetic. It was surrounded by marshland and well away from any neighbor within a mile. He paused briefly at the door, appreciating the rustic-ness of the sturdy, old building. He had come this time already in his form that was his norm as the radio demon from Hell. Adeline had made a point of really not being bothered or overly concerned by this appearance and he favored it anyway. Turning one large ear toward the swamp, he listened to the familiar sounds of the bog. It was all very nostalgic for him.

He knocked at the old wood that was the door and Addie soon was there opening it.

“Happy Anniversary, Adeline,” He bowed at the door, smiling widely. “I’m quite surprised to find you here. I thought you might make me travel somewhere terribly ungodly…Sweden, perhaps.” He chuckled at his own joke. “But, instead, I find you here. Seen it all already, have you?” His voice playing to her as if someone had cranked on an old radio.

Addie stepped back so that he himself could step into the cabin. “Not even close.” She told him with a small laugh, smiling back at him. “I just knew you would be by to visit and I wanted to make sure I was here to meet you. You haven’t been out to the cemetery yet, have you?” She asked him. 

Fiddling with his monocle, he was surveying the interior of the cabin: noting the old kitchen and stove; a small dining area that was really just a very rickety table with matching chairs; the short hallway that branched quickly to one room and another, likely a bathroom and one lone bedroom.

“Not yet.” He told her, appreciating some antique furbearing animal traps that were hung along one wall.

“Well,” She told him. “I was in town earlier…I picked up some things for a quick supper and I found a beautiful bouquet of flowers that I thought you could take with you when you went.”

“Ah!” He said happily. “I thought I could smell shrimp and grits! You are too kind, dear Adeline.”

“I hope that’s ok,” She said, “I’m not the best cook…”

“I’m sure it will be splendid.” He assured her, his smile as large as it had ever been.

They took their supper out on the small back porch that was attached to the cabin. Along with the shrimp and grits, she had made a lemonade which they both continued to enjoy following their meal. They sipped at cool, sweet drinks chatting and enjoying each other’s company underneath the warmth of the sun.

Addie told him about her traveling; how the documents worked perfectly and how she already had gotten to see so much more than she ever could have imagined possible. He was curious about the history of the cabin. She told him that it had been left abandoned for some time and she had found that there was a rather messy paperwork battle ongoing for the land surrounding it. Addie figured it might take some time to get sorted so she was squatting upon the property for the time being.

“Hm,” He commented. “Rather resourceful of you. That a girl.”

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I…really appreciate it.”

Soon following, Alastor was taking his leave. Addie gave him the flowers – a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers - to take with him to his mother’s grave; without touching the flowers themselves, he snapped his fingers and they disappeared in a cloud of green. “I’d carry them along with me if I could, of course.” He told her. “But, I’m afraid they’d wilt at my touch. Best that I take them this way. It will be nice to have something much more colorful to bring than one of my…hellish…roses.” He chuckled, happily enjoying another one of his own jokes.

“Your cooking was delectable, darling, and very much needed.” He thanked her.

“I’m glad.” She said, going with him to the door.

“Forgive me,” He paused at the door. Reaching for her, he lightly took her right hand, pulling it more into the light. “But, I only just noticed that you are wearing your ring. I don’t recall seeing you with it before.”

“I was afraid I might lose it…” She admitted. “I was very careful with it and ended up losing it anyway…twice. Both times, it came back. It would be gone and then…it wasn’t.” She was looking at the wooden ring, a small smile touching her face.

“Well, it looks lovely on you, Adeline.” He gently let her hand go. “Before I go, I offer to you another anniversary gift. Should you ever need me, should you ever require my presence – twist the ring around your finger, any finger. Three purposeful twists should do it.”

She looked at the ring, wondering if she would ever actually dare to do it. At the surface, it was a kind gift for him to offer but she worried too, that like anything, it would come at a cost.

Then she realized, “You haven’t asked me.”

He stood smiling at her, saying nothing.

“Every year you find me and you make a point of asking me if I’m ready to give up yet. If I’m ready to give you…my soul.” She explained.

“My, dear…” He grinned back at her. “I meant no rudeness.” He told her. “I simply assumed to know what your answer would be. It would be a lie for me to tell you that this is the first time that I’ve made an ass of myself.” He cackled.

When he had stopped, he regarded her more seriously. “Have I been terribly…mistaken?” He asked her, obviously expecting no real surprises from her.

“No.” She said. “It’s just…something I noticed.”

He turned a long ear slightly at that and she wondered what he must be thinking.

“Well, I do have one more matter to discuss with you before I take my leave, dearest Adeline.” He told her. “I’m afraid our yearly anniversary celebrations will have to be….less frequent from now on. I’ve become rather busy and these visits are becoming quite…tedious for me to attend to each passing year. Now, now, my dear – please- don’t fret too much,” He was saying, though she hadn’t really reacted to his news at all. “I will still be popping by from time to time, of course; purely to check in and see that you haven’t yet changed your mind in regards to your...answer.”

This was something she - in fact - had anticipated for some time. She fully expected him to grow bored with their yearly visits. If anything, she was surprised he had kept up with it as long as he had. “Sounds good to me.” She told him.

“Fantastic!” He exclaimed. She was watching his expression closely this time; not his smile – that never went away but his eyes and ears often told a different story. She read nothing in them now, but she suspected that he had been hoping for a much different response from her.

“How does our 30th sound?” He asked her.

“Four years…” She said. “Yeah, that’ll work.”

This time both ears shifted position, ever so briefly.  Laughing, he said, “It’s a deal then.”

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

New Orleans, Louisiana

June 25th, 1980

Nearly 15 years came and went. True to his word, Alastor did not find her again until the year 1980; marking 30 years since Addie LaRue made her deal with the radio demon. He found her again, staying within New Orleans; this time in a rather high-end apartment within the city. He visited her during the day again – coming true to his form- and she had a crawfish pie waiting for them to lunch with.

“Can I make a request?” She asked him as they ate. “I mean…for my gift this year. Is that allowed?”

He smirked, taking a sip from the lemonade she had made to go with their meal again. “Perhaps…but it will depend on what it is you have in mind, of course. Rather bold of you to assume you’d be getting a gift…” His voice crackling behind a filter of radio.

“Shut up.” She told him, “I want..” She paused, trying to decide how to approach it exactly. “I would like…” She began again. “I would like for us to spend some time together.”

His smile curled oddly across his face, his head tilting at her…odd request.

“I mean, I’d really like some company…and I could tell you about all of the traveling I’ve gotten to do in the past four years. I could get wine, we could play games… I don’t know.” She stopped, sighing. “That probably sounds really boring to you.”  

“It sounds horrendously boring.” He told her. “Do you, by chance, own a radio?”

“Yes…” She told him, unsure of why he might be asking.

“Well, if nothing else.” He speared a bite of pie with his fork. “I could stand an evening ‘in’ listening to some good jazz - of my choice - of course. And, if you’re promising alcohol, well, I suppose it will be somewhat bearable.”

“Really!?” She hadn’t actually thought he would entertain her idea. “Would you have some time tonight?” She asked him.

“Actually, yes.” He told her, going for another bite of the food. Finishing it, he told her, “I just have my – errand – but, after that I’m all yours.” He snickered.

“Oh, yes!” She said, remembering he would be visiting his mother’s grave today. “I got you some more sunflowers to take…I mean, if you want to. I’m not even sure if those are ones you even want-“

She really was needing some company, he noted. She normally wasn’t so worried about what he thought.

“They will be perfect, Adeline.” He assured her. “Sunflowers were her favorite.”

 “Oh,” Addie smiled. “Good.”

They finished their lunch and Alastor left with the sunflowers to visit the cemetery. They planned to reconvene later that evening at her place, him telling her not to worry about preparing another meal for them as he had…other…dinner plans. Addie briefly remembered the very first form she had found him in; remembered hearing the sharp cracking of bones from somewhere in the darkness; the sounds of something gnawing on soft, wet flesh. She shivered. She still hadn’t figured out what she made of him quite yet.

That evening, Alastor arrived to her apartment promptly. He came, in human form, with a bouquet of red roses and was dressed rather handsomely in a fine black pinstriped suit.

“Good evening, Adeline.” He told her as she opened the door.

“Good evening, Luc.” She offered him inside.

His spectacles caught the light of the room, his head tilting sharply as he eyed her coyly.

She ignored his carefully veiled look of disgust, asking him “Wouldn’t you rather a more comfortable…ensemble?” She herself, was dressed in casuals but she also was just surprised to find him not in his strange tall, red demon form.

“I felt like cleaning up a bit for tonight, I hope that’s alright.” He told her, going to a small coffee table, he produced a vase like he had back at the hotel in Lafayette years ago and began arranging the flowers.

“Fine with me.” She shrugged. “I’ll go get the wine.”

When she returned he was seated comfortably at one of the sofas within the living room, her radio playing soft jazz.

She filled two glasses of wine, handing one to him, she then curled herself into one of the lounge chairs across from him. They spent the remainder of their evening in that fashion; she telling him all about the traveling she had gotten to do since they last saw each other; he listening and enjoying the soft tones of music playing from the radio. Later, they chatted amiably about things that really held no great importance, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Adeline couldn’t have expressed – even to herself – how much it meant to her to have this. To have someone here that she could spend time with…someone that knew her. Someone who remembered her. Someone she could have an actual conversation with without ever having to worry about them turning away, even for a moment; where she did not have to carefully and meticulously navigate a single interaction, forcing it to remain completely intact and stretching it for as long as she possibly could before…inevitably…it was broken. 

When the wee hours of morning came and Addie found herself starting to fall asleep from the wine and fine music, Alastor politely excused himself. They planned to meet again in 5 years, their 35th anniversary.

Their 35th anniversary was very much a repeat of the 30th, almost exact in many ways. Alastor found Addie again in the same apartment, in New Orleans. They lunched, Addie provided him with more sunflowers for his mother’s gravesite and she requested that he spend the evening with her. He agreed - willingly enough - and arrived just as he had years before, coming as a human and dressed handsomely in the same black pinstriped suit; carrying a bouquet of roses. He again played jazz from her radio as they drank wine and spent their evening catching up and getting to know each other a little more.

It’s no surprise that in 1990, their 40th anniversary, Addie made her request to him again; that he accompany her that evening at her apartment for them to spend time together. Alastor willingly accepted. This evening, however, when he arrived; it was as the red, radio demon. Addie wasn’t sure if she should be surprised by this or if it just was that he was becoming more…casual…with these evenings they were spending together.

Her radio immediately tuned to a smooth jazz station and she left to get wine. When she returned he had made himself comfortable, his long body stretched across the sofa leisurely. She brought out two wine glasses and a bottle of pinot noir. “So, dearest Adeline, what wild tales of adventure do you have to share with me this evening?” He asked her. 

“Actually,” She said. “I wanted to see if you’d be interested in playing a drinking game tonight?”

“Ugh,” He groaned disgustedly. “I am NOT playing that wretched game of ‘Never Have I Ever’ again.” She laughed at that. She learned quickly that she held the upper hand in that one the last time they had played; there wasn’t much he hadn’t done and he wasn’t very good at finding the right questions to ask her in order to win the game.

“Well,” She sat down in the lounge chair beside the sofa. “I am NOT playing 20 questions with you ever again. You made me work through 5 whole separate rounds just for me to be guessing for ‘a dead man’s left kidney’.”

He shrugged. “So, what do you have in mind?”

“One I thought of…” She shifted in her seat, hoping he had an open mind tonight. “One of us asks a question. The other can either; answer it and the person who asked the question has to take a drink OR they can skip the question but then have to take a drink themselves.”

“Eh…Why not.” He sat up and she reached for the bottle of wine.

“If we are doing this though, I may need to actually be drunk.” He snapped his fingers and a whiskey glass filled with a liquid appeared upon the small table. “A nice rye, I think.” He reached into his suit jacket, retrieving a flask and promptly poured another type of liquid into the glass. “Don’t think me impolite, I’d offer you a taste but if you consumed merely one drop…well, it would kill you.” He stirred the drink with one long, clawed finger. “Mortal liquors don’t quite have the kick that I’ll need tonight.”

“Wow, are you really planning to let that loose?” She asked him, only half-teasingly.

“Honestly, Adeline, I could use it. I have had quite an aggravating time of it lately” He began muttering, “…obnoxious…pompous...piece of shit….television...”

When she didn’t have anything to say to this he continued, “Tonight, I think I will properly let myself become completely and utterly sloshed. I don’t have anywhere I have to be, anyway. Depending on how the night goes, I may need to take up residence somewhere…maybe that corner of the room over there. I promise, you won’t notice me. The shadows will just seem darker over there until I’m gone.”

“I guess I should have gotten more wine.” She glanced at the bottle. “I could run out quick and-“

“No need, my dear.” He told her, already nursing his whiskey. “It’s not just holy hands that can turn water into wine, after all.”

She starred at him. He sipped again at his whiskey, then setting the glass down, “What? Do you think that I’m kidding?”

“You won’t…you won’t put any of that-“ She nodded at the flask that was still on the table. “In it…will you?”

“Heaven’s no!” He told her, lifting one of the empty wine glasses from the table top and handing it to her. “Here, fill it with water and bring it back to me.” He reached down and returned the flask that was on the table back to where he regularly kept it within his jacket.

When she came back, he took the glass. Holding it by the round bottom; the stem between his fingers; he swirled the glass with a smooth, gentle motion. The clear liquid within spun into a small whirlpool before turning a vibrant red. Stopping the movement, he offered the glass back to her.

She took it tentatively, watching him watching her. She raised the glass to her lips and sipped. The liquid was pleasurably cool but a soft, radiating heat followed it down as she swallowed. The taste was inconceivably delectable upon her tongue, and she could already feel the promise of a buzz coming as she drank more.

“This is…amazing. Is-is there more?” She asked, worried she’d want more than just the one glass.

“Oh, yes.” He told her, going back to his whiskey. “Drink as much as you like, the glass will not empty.”

She shook her head slightly, still baffled by his small surprises.

“The lady may ask her first question.” He told her, stretching back out onto the sofa, his whiskey glass in hand.

“What year was it when you died?” She asked him.

“1933.” He told her and she sipped from her wine glass.

“What year were you born in?” He asked her.

“1918.” She answered and he drank from his whiskey.

“Did you have any siblings?” She asked him.

“No.” And, she drank again.

“Did you have siblings?” He asked.

“No.” She said and he tilted his glass.

“What music do you prefer?” She asked him.

“Jazz, usually.” He answered and she tipped her glass.

“How about you?” He asked.

“Now, hold on.” She said, “You can’t just keep asking me my questions.”

“I can’t think of any! And, you’re actually asking some good ones…”

She laughed.

“Jazz, naturally.” She answered his earlier question and he drank. They continued for some time, going back and forth. Soon, the effects of the alcohol started to make their appearance.

“Ok,” He sat up, seemingly serious now. “I want to know…have you ever thought about murdering someone?” She started to answer when, he stopped her, “Now, mind. I don’t mean in a this guy has a very disagreeable personality, I should get him drunk then push him off a building and tell everyone that he simply tripped and fell.... No. I mean like truly and actually wanted to string them up by a meat hook - using that white cotton butcher’s twine for wrapping meats so that they can’t get away; but all circulation is cut off  slowly and painfully from their hands and limbs; and you can hear their joints and ligaments popping and pulling from the weight of them just hanging there and you take a sharp knife, slowly and purposefully cutting through and into the cavity of their soft belly, spilling their warm and wriggling guts into your open hands before you take a slice at their jugular, their blood raining hot and red onto you and the concrete below while they scream and struggle into violent and jerking death throes…?” He was almost out of breath, his smile entirely gleeful as he asked her this.

“Um…no.” She said.

“Oh.” He said, disappointed and they were both quiet for a moment.

“You could ask me if I-?”

“I think I know that answer, thank you.” She told him and he chuckled darkly.

She swirled her wine glass, trying to think of her next question. On the sofa beside her, his chuckling had turned into a fit of giggling. She was holding back her own laughter at his sudden antics when he told her, “Adeline…dear Adeline….I believe that I,” He flourished his hand, pressing it to his chest “…am fucked up.” He burst into another fit of it.

She watched him, amusedly, knowing she wasn’t very far behind from being in the state he was in. As promised, no matter how much she drank, the wine glass never emptied; never dwindled in volume in the slightest. It was impossible to tell how much she had drank already but she could feel the alcohol singing through her veins; a comfortable, consuming buzz pressing in on her and draping a warm, but pleasant fogginess around her.

“So, what did you find to do for fun while you were alive?” She asked him.

“You mean besides killing people?” He asked her.

“Yes, besides that.” She told him, briefly wondering if he actually had killed anyone while he was alive but then deciding it was an area best not to delve into.

“Hm…” He thought for a moment. “I was quite a good dancer, back in my day. Why, I could really cut up a rug…and not just one soaked in blood.” He laughed.

Yep, he definitely had killed some people, she decided.

“Ah, yes,” He went on. “I could waltz and jitterbug like nobody’s business. I could sing too. Hell, I could dance and sing; both at the same time.” He was smiling softly to himself. “The Charleston…however, that one was a personal favorite of mine.”

Addie sipped her wine, “I can’t say that I can appreciate what any of that really means. I’ve never danced before.”

“WHAT!?” Her radio erupted in static loudly from across the room and he appeared suddenly just to the opposite side of her, his face very close to hers as he leaned over the arm of the cushion, his eyes wide. A crackling static was emanating now from him as well.

She gasped, startled, nearly falling out of her chair.  She had inadvertently fumbled the wine glass, it turned end over end briefly before she caught it back by the stem. Miraculously, the glass neither broke in her hand when she caught it back much too firmly; nor did any of the liquid spill from the rim.

“How does one be raised in the early, roaring 1900’s…in New Orleans, of all places-no less, not know how to dance!?” He demanded, rather sharply.  

“My family was poor.” She told him. “We never made it into town to do things like that…My father worked as a carpenter, so we only really went into New Orleans for jobs and supplies when we needed to.” She explained and he continued to stare at her, as if he was having trouble comprehending this concept. “That counts as a question by the way…” She pointed. “You’re supposed to take a drink now.”

He stood up straight, ignoring her last comment. “Well, that simply won’t do,” Pulling at the lapels of his jacket and straightening it he smoothly shifted into his human form; his red suit fading into black, the antlers and ears disappearing completely, his dark brown eyes glinting behind spectacles.

“I am much too drunk to go out-“ She started.

“Who says we are going anywhere?” He asked her; the radio filter completely gone from him now that he had changed his appearance. Snapping his fingers, a lively jazz number started playing from her radio now.

“I don’t thin-“ She was blushing deeply now, both from drink and embarrassment, realizing he meant to actually dance with her; here and now.

“I hold your soul within my possession, Adeline.” He told her and she wondered if he really was going to use that against her, when he continued, “Knowing said soul never got to experience – to appreciate - the true absolute passion of the fine art of dancing greatly decreases the value to me. I can’t have that.”

“I guess you could always cancel our contract.” She told him, not moving from her seat.

“Nice try.” He smirked. “Now, come here.” He was standing in a more open area of the room, offering his outstretched hand to her.

“Well, you sobered up quickly. Were you even ever actually drunk?” She asked him, annoyed.

“Adeline…” He said it in a low, warning growl. A smirk still across his face.

Sighing, she carefully stood up from her chair. She never wobbled but her head was swimming from the wine. She tentatively took his hand and he immediately began pulling her into a swinging dance with him around the room.

He took both her hands in his, and with smooth movements, he had her stepping with him through a quick routine. She slipped and stumbled into him and out of the rhythm several times but he patiently guided her through the awkwardness until she found somewhat of a flow to their movement. Her steps were clumsy and hardly in time with whatever this was supposed to look like but he led and spun her about with such ease that she actually felt like – had they really gone to a club - they wouldn’t look half-bad.

Soon though, the spinning and dipping was too much and she stopped him, “Ok…I really am too drunk for this.” She admitted, the room still spinning slightly despite her no longer moving now.

“Hm..” Not letting her go, he kept one hand in hers as – again, with a snap of his fingers – the radio shifted into playing a new song.

“Perhaps, something slower,” He told her, pulling her against him and starting her moving slowly into an easy, swaying Cajun two-step. With their left hands clasped together, he led her with his right hand pressed to her waist; her own right hand resting on his shoulder.

The jazz playing from the radio was soft toned but still had a kind of swing to it. The steps were easier for her to find this time and on they went, working their way about the room. She was pressed close to him; she noticed his eyes were closed as he visibly enjoyed the sounds of the music that were playing with the movement of their dancing.

“I still haven’t heard any of that singing you were bragging about.” She told him.

He laughed, spinning her with him as the music shifted slightly, soft vocals coming from the radio. Matching the tones perfectly, he sung along:

“Careless…now that you’ve got me loving you,

You’re careless. Careless in everything you do

His voice melded into their dancing so richly; the vibrations of his chest sending gentle, muffled vibrations into her own.

You break appointments and think you are smart.

If you’re not careful, you’ll break my heart.

Careless. Now that my bridges are all burned,

You’re careless. Careless in things where I’m concerned.

Are you just careless, as you seem to be,

Or do you just care less for me?”

              “Careless” – Tommy Dorsey (1939)

The smoothness of the jazz continued beyond the vocals of the song and they continued their way around the room. When it had ceased playing, he deliberately stopped their steps; their dance ending perfectly with the music.

He opened his eyes, smirking.

It was her turn to have her fit of the giggles. Whether it was the wine, the brief embarrassment of learning to dance for the first time or just her being completely unable to fathom anything about him; laughter was bubbling from her.

He assessed her mood briefly for a moment before erupting into another fit himself.

They wobbled back to the chair and the couch together; their laughing growing more uncontrollable.

Addie pulled herself into the lounge chair, pulling her legs up into a ball as her body shook with her laughs. Alastor – shifting quickly back to his red demon form – collapsed, still laughing, back onto the couch, his long legs draping over the top cushion, he slid so that his head was hanging off of the seat cushion, the tips of his ears folding flat against the carpet. Through the tears of her laughing, Addie saw how stupid that he and his smiling face looked in that position and her laughter went into uncontrollable guffawing. They both were in absolute hysterics.

After a time, they slowly regained some composure. Alastor had moved himself back into a comfortable lounging position against the arm of the sofa and Addie stayed curled in the cushion of her armchair, wiping the streaming tears from her face. The muscles in her face and her chest ached painfully from her merriment. She about decided she really shouldn’t have much more to drink this evening. Alastor, however, had his whiskey readily in hand again.

“More questions?” Addie asked.

“If you wish.” He shrugged complacently.

“Hm.” She thought. “Were you ever married?” She asked.

“Never.” He answered. She reached for the wine glass to take a drink.

“A toast…to your annoyance,” He said, lifting his glass in gesture before tilting it to his lips. “But, I’ll ask you the same.”

“No, never.” She answered and then she thought of a very interesting question to ask him. “Have you…- did you ever have sex?”

The radio, still playing the soft notes of something jazz briefly rattled with an irritating static, before tuning back in clearly to what had been playing. He was holding his glass, still close to his smiling face, but his eyes were sharply on her.

“Isn’t that a rather…distasteful question, Adeline?” He held one eyebrow raised.

“What?” She wasn’t really sure why he seemed so bothered by it, but he was almost glaring at her despite the grin he held in place. “You could just skip it…” She told him. “And, I really only meant to ask if you had while you were human. Is it really that big of a deal?”

He slumped into the couch, taking a dragging swallow from his whiskey, all the while holding his other hand up, giving her one raised long and very pointed middle-finger.

“Oh, wow.” She said, laughing. “You really didn’t like that question.”

“No.” He said darkly. “I didn’t.” The radio filter completely absent from his voice for a moment.

“Ok, well, your turn.” She gestured, expecting him to ask her the same question and ready to give him her honest answer.

“Do you regret the deal you made me with me, Adeline?” He almost purred wickedly.

“Fuck you.” She said

“Well, that one struck a nerve…” He noted.

 Setting her wine glass down on the table, she told him. “I was playing nice.”

“Were you?” He hissed.

“Yes!” Her voice rising now. “How was I supposed to know that that would bother you so much?” She demanded. “And don’t you already know the answer?” She demanded. “With you, ‘holding my soul within your possession’ and everything?”

“It doesn’t really work like that.” He snapped. “Our contract makes it so I know more about you, yes, but I don’t know everything.”

“You know when I’m in danger.” She pointed out. “So was that trick with the ring you told me completely pointless?”

“I mean…” He really was drunk enough that he was having trouble keeping his thoughts straight, here. “I should think that I’d know you’d need me there well before then.”

“What a fucking joke.” She was growing angrier, somehow completely unafraid of any truly threatening consequences from him from it. “This is all just one big game for you. What else did I expect?”

‘Is it really that big of a deal’ He mocked her. ‘You could just skip it-‘

“Fine, you know what.” She was well and truly pissed now. “Yes. I regret it. I regret it every fucking day. Does that make you happy? Happy to hear me fucking say it?” She asked him.

His smile was stretching in response, giving her the answer to the question she was asking now.

“I don’t age. I can’t die.” She told him. “I have as much time to live by as I could ever fucking want; I can travel the world, see things and do things I never could have dreamt to in what was supposed to be ‘my lifetime’. I have all of this ‘freedom’. But, what is the actual fucking point of any of it if I can’t really, truly talk to anyone, know anyone or have any kind of an actual relationship with anybody!?  I’m so fucking lonely, all of the time. Forty years. Forty years without anyone to know or care about me. There is no one. No one that I can share any part of my life with now.” She could feel the heat of angry tears, just barely brimming her eyes. She hated knowing that he damn well knew the only one that she could say was the exception to this – of course – was him. 

He was laughing again now. His smile stretched to the fullest.

“Oh, Adeline.” He laughed. “You must see the irony in all of this?” He jeered at her.

“Please, do tell me.” She seethed. “What exactly are you finding so funnily ironic in all of this?”

“Why,” He had stopped laughing now but was obviously more than happy to share this with her, “Do you think that I believe that you came to the swamps that night just to strike a deal with a demon like me on a whim? You, my dear, were running from something. Something that made you completely and utterly…desperate.” He was telling her this in a kind of sing-song-ish tone, enjoying himself immensely.

“So desperate, in fact…” He continued, a shadow casting over him now; his ears curling and his antlers lengthening long above his head; his voice taking a deep, dark and demented tone. “You were willing to sell your soul.”

“And, how incredibly lucky for me.” The shadow dissipating and his appearance going back to what it was, as he continued on happily. “Otherwise, I doubt I shall ever had found such an easy claim for something with so much….potential”. He said the word, greedily.

“So,” He went on, taking a drink from his whiskey and setting the glass down beside hers at the table. “What were you running from, dearest Adeline? An abusive boyfriend, perhaps? Or, even, an arranged marriage – not as common back then, mind you but-“

“I was pregnant, asshole.” She told him, darkly.

He stopped talking. The smile never left his face, but his eyes were wide; watching her.

“Wow. You really can’t stop smiling, can you? Weren’t ready for that?” She asked him, the hot, angry tears spilling down her cheeks now. “And, I was actually kind of excited about it too. For a little while. But, the guy…he skipped town. My dad was gone and my mother she…well, she told me the gators could have their way with me next for all she cared.”

“I had made a mistake…” She went on, when he hadn’t said a word or moved an inch. “I was desperate.” She admitted. “I-I didn’t know what to do. So, I made the deal. Like I said: I can’t age, I can’t die… But did you know that I also can’t get pregnant? That I can’t maintain a pregnancy...”

She thought she saw him tense visibly; but she also couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just her trying to humanize him.

“It doesn’t really make a difference.” She told him. “I’d have found a way to…to deal with it anyway.”

She looked at him, brushing the tears away now. “Yes. I regret our deal. But it’s just another regret that I have. Regrets on top of regrets. That’s what my life has become.”

Both of them were silent for a moment; jazz still playing continuously from the radio.

“Ugh…” She exclaimed, her hands cupping her forehead. Her head was pounding painfully now. “I’m sorry…This isn’t how I wanted this evening to go.” She told him. “I shouldn’t have pressed you earlier. It was a very personal sort of question, and I can understand why it upset you. I’m sorry that I asked it.”

“Yes, well,” He cleared his throat, finally visibly relaxing. “I suppose I was…rather ‘careless’ myself tonight. You have my apologies…Adeline.” His smile had become much smaller, his eyes much softer.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” She told him. “I understand if you don’t really wish to stay here tonight though.”

“Do you want me to leave?” He asked her.

“No, I-“ She hated how honest this was. “I really don’t.”

“Then I’ll stay.” He promised.

He sent away their glasses while she got up to change into more comfortable clothing and get blankets. He politely turned down the one she had gotten for him but offered her the couch to stretch out on so that he could have her armchair, nearer to the radio. She noticed it had just begun to rain outside; going to the window, she lifted it open; the sounds of rain and thunder rolling in from the very early morning darkness. The smell of a warm, summer rain filling the room. She climbed onto the couch, pulling the blankets close as he reclined beside her in the chair.

“Luc?” She asked him after some time, listening to the radio and the rain outside.

“Hmm?” He responded to the name with no sounds of disgust or comment.

“Would you-?” She started to ask, a little shyly. “Would you sing to me? You do have a very lovely voice.” She told him. “If you don’t really want to though, I’d understand.”

He laughed lightly, clearing his throat. The radio shifted, an eerie music melding smoothly into the sounds of rain and thunder. With no accompanying vocals this time he sang: 

“I can feel you sweet song of summer

Your music comforts my lonely reign

I can hear you in evil darkness

That empty feeling, I’m near you again.

I am your forever and this I emphasize

Your never ending hurting and criticize

We are friends forever and this is emphasize

Your never ending hurting and criticize”

             “Sweet Song of Summer” – Bee Gees (1972)

And with his voice, there within the darkness, she drifted off.

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 7

#hazbin hotel #fanfiction #hazbin hotel fandom #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #dirty dealings #my fanfic #addie larue #the invisible life of addie larue #dirty dealings fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #funny #comedy #humor #angst #alastor x addie #alastor is an ass #frustrating alastor #friendship #confrontation #confession #fluff #soft alastor #human alastor #demon alastor #the radio demon

[nancypullen]

Oops

Yesterday got away from me.  I ended up organizing a few more boxes (yes, we still have stuff in boxes).  I haven’t put anything away in the grandgirl’s room because it still has to be painted.  I haven’t put anything away in the living room because we’re still waiting for flooring.  The master bedroom has a couple of boxes in one corner, but those will be organized into baskets in the closet - they don’t count.  Most pictures and mirrors are still in boxes because the floor installer requested that anything on the walls be removed.  Our living room furniture will be delivered the 31st so we’re still in limbo there.  We have a few pieces that we brought up from Tennessee and they look sad and lonely.  

Notice the paint samples taped to the far wall.  I have to see them in bright sunlight as well as evening shadows.  The left is Comfort Gray, the right is Sea Salt.  They’re both wonderful, calming, blue-green-gray tones.  Sea Salt is my favorite, but in strong light can look downright minty and that’s not my goal.  Also, neither looks great with the cabinet and the cabinet stays. Dare I chalk paint it?  Hmmm. Anywho - I processed a couple of boxes, then ran up to the grocery store for a few items, then puttered in the yard a bit. I chatted up the tomatoes, letting them know that they’re in good hands.  I’m already seeing blossoms.

Looks like they handled the transplant process okay, so I’m hoping for a bumper crop. I scattered a few sunflower seeds and a handful of zinnia seeds on the lavender hump/grave.  It’s not the perfect location for either so we’ll see what happens.  Zinnia has a way of powering through adverse conditions, so I may have some cutting flowers out there. I didn’t pop into the library, turns out you just register online and then they zip you a message when your card is ready.  I filled out and submitted the form and they’ll check my ID when I pick up the card.  Pretty sure I don’t need an appointment for that.  I hope. Better call. I’m really loving getting to know our new town. Downtown on Market street there are shops, businesses, and restaurants.  I’m looking forward to the patio dining at Caroline’s of Denton.  The menu looks tempting.  For casual dining there’s a very popular “Irish Public House”.

BUT, the place that I’m most excited about is The Foundry.  It’s an art gallery that hosts weekly classes for all sorts of things - everything from painting to sculpture to weaving.  I signed up for a beginners mosaic tile class tonight!  If I have a knack for it I’d like to attempt a pretty bird bath.  The Foundry is in an old building with interesting art just outside the doors.

I’m excited about getting involved with the artsy folks here - I can learn so much! Down by the Choptank River sits Steamboat Wharf which is home to the heritage center 

and a really neat store called The Denton Mercantile at Steamboat Wharf.

I didn’t have a great photo of the place, so here’s one I swiped from their Facebook page.

Looks like autumn, just pretend that there are hanging baskets of flowers instead of cornstalks.  Anyway, that store has everything from antiques to local artisans stuff, pretty kitchen items, gourmet groceries, you name it! You can get a darling tote bag or local honey.  You could also spend hours exploring.   Because Denton is so small, just about everything is 5minutes from our house.  My class today starts at 5 o’clock.  I can probably leave home at 4:45 and still have plenty of time to check in and get settled.  I love it.  There’s a Food Lion and a Super Walmart on opposite sides of the street, just 1.5 miles from our front door.  Plenty of unhealthy food options as well - McDonalds, Taco Bell, Dunkin’, Burger King, and so on.  We’re very fortunate to have a good-sized North Shore Medical facility less than 2 miles from us, as well as U of M Shore Regional Health.  All we lack is a Sephora and a Home Goods and for that Mickey is probably sending up a prayer of thanks. So, this is day 13 in our new spot and I’m feeling very good about our choice.  Did I mention that we’re surrounded by farm stands where the goods are picked and sold within hours?  I’m already putting a dent in the local strawberry crop. I took this screen shot the other day when I was checking to see if we’d be seeing any rain.

We’re the blue dot. Seems that, just like in Mt. Juliet, bad weather seems to break up and go around us. Is it because of the bay? Maybe the Choptank River? Or was that just one lucky instance? Both nights that storms were predicted we didn’t get more than a few sprinkles.  Interesting. Alright, time for me to work my way through a box or two and see if I can get some stuff put away in the grandgirl’s room without messing up the painting plan. Settling in, making this place a home, looking forward to a sweet summer.  Fingers crossed! Stay safe, stay well, take good care. XOXO, Nancy

[softliebgott]

— my wild irish rose

about: hey can i request "it's nice that your voice was the first thing i heard today" with toye? thanks ♥️ — anon

warnings: fem!reader, mentions of death, IT’S COLD AS HELL

word count: 913

once or twice a week the company got hot food. you didn’t care what was in it as long as some part of you would be warm. in your fetal position next to a sleeping joe, your limbs were rigid as if overtaken by rigor-mortis. pressed against joe, you had enough of each other’s body warmth plus two blankets to stay alive. frost had bitten him, turning him into a pink spotted dalmatian. you didn’t want to leave him alone, but you were determined to get hot chow for him and you.

moving at all prompted the unforgiving cold to skewer your bones. you painstakingly wrapped your blanket around joe, and your joints creaked as you crawled out of the foxhole covered with snow topped branches. you peered through the sea of fog, eyes watering as you walked.

hunched figures appeared, faceless due to their bowed heads, and then vanished like ghosts in walls. you passed by men using shell craters as foxholes. most of them were so still they were statuesque. everyone was afraid to move in the eyes of this cold. snow might have washed the world innocent and white in a child’s eyes, but this was purgatory; grey and teeming with armed ghosts.

the snow made the ground too hard to dig through. some used hand grenades to get foxholes started while others made do with the craters. the grease in guns would freeze. soldiers killed were frozen solid within an hour. many were left were they fell, buried in the snow. their comrades would stick their rifles barrel first in the head of the corpse so they could be found when the spring came. those lucky enough to be assigned to vehicles like half-tracks and trucks would stay inside with the engines running, but some died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

every soldier had countless kinds of death; of innocence, of good dreams, of hope, of body, and they have only one grave to hold it all.

you approached a couple of men. they had painted their helmets with white shoe polish to blend in. “i’m shakin’ so god damn much,” one said. “i feel like i’m dancin’.”

“hey, boys,” you greeted, peeking over your coat collar. “where’s the hot chow?”

one of the boys gestured by tipping their body to the side. “over there. i’d hurry. everyone’s grabbing seconds and thirds and fifths.”

you joined the line.

in front of you, skip muck glanced back to you. “hey, y/n. how’s joe doin’? gettin’ any better with those irish tunes of his? got the time for how much we’re sittin’ around, freezin’ our asses off and more.” skip hugged himself tightly, shuffling forward as the line moved.

you smiled. joe’s irish songs gave you the type of warmth no sunlight or hot soup could deliver, even when he’d occasionally miss a note. “better since he got boots from doc.”

“ah, jesus. you know they want to give us galoshes now? you don’t want those. a lot of guys are freezing their feet.” skip held out his cup for a spoonful of soup. “they’d walk, sweat, stop walking, and get frozen toes.” cradling the cup, he broke from the line and faced you. “meanwhile general taylor gets an aching back from sitting in a warm office all day.”

“or an itching ass from joe’s boots bein’ shoved up there.”

skip laughed, his eyes squinting up. “christ, so that’s where they went. wonder if taylor’s got room for another pair or two.” he turned and dissolved into the fog.

you vibrated from your own laughter, or were you trembling from the cold again?

hands warmed by the cups of soup, you returned to yours and joe’s foxhole. you slid in. he hadn’t awoken yet, but he appeared as peaceful as a baby in its first throes of slumber.

“joe,” you murmured. “joe.”

his eyes opened, and they were as soft as spring kissed earth. you loved the color of his eyes. brown was common, but even something as common as a sunflower attracted the heart.

“it’s warm.” you handed him a cup of soup.

he smiled. “it's nice that your voice was the first thing i heard today.” his tired voice was warm and tender like a lover’s embrace. “c’mere, it’s colder without you.” he adjusted the blankets around both you, anchoring you to his side with an arm. he took his cup of soup, huffing out visible breaths.

“how are your feet?” you asked.

“hell with my feet, as long as you’re good i’m good.” joe sipped his soup.

“sometimes i wish you weren’t so selfless.”

“you mean as much to me as the heart i call my own.” he looked down at you, smiling. he was always the first to look at you. you’d catch him staring and he wouldn’t stop. “hell, you’re my heart and everything else.”

his words put the sun in your chest, and you thought, so this is what true power feels like; a consuming love. i open my mouth and i speak its light. you nuzzled your face in joe’s neck, and listened to him softly sing, “and i call her my wild irish rose. my wild irish rose the sweetest flower that grows. you may search everywhere, but none can compare with my wild irish rose. my wild irish rose, the dearest flower that grows, and some day for my sake, she may let me take the bloom from my wild irish rose.”

you didn’t mind that he missed a few notes.

@general-taylor @mgdln97 @gottapenny @morgan108 @thegermansarebad @snafus-peckuh @wexhappyxfew @scarecrowmax @ineffablewants @junojelli @inglourious-imagines @sunflowerchuck @alienoresimagines @fandomscenariosforyou @ray--person @noneofurbusinez @tvserie-s-world @keoghans @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @mrseasycompany @mrsalwayswrite @meteora-fc @order-of-river-phoenix @thoughpoppiesblow @50svibes @alejodi0nysus @now-im-a-belieber @mads-weasley @multifandomlover01

#this one feels all over the place lmao rip #HOPE Y’ALL ENJOY #😭😭 #joe toye x reader #joe toye imagine #band of brothers #joe toye #hbo war #easy company #gore tw

[kenzumekodma]

18+, minors & ageless blogs dni

apothecary witch reader au; chapter two

summary: “You fucking poisoned me,” the scrawny man repeats. “What the fuck are these?” In his cupped palm he holds ten or twelve small, bright red berries.

pairing: izuku midoriya x fem!reader, katsuki bakugou x fem!reader, tomura shigaraki x fem!reader

wc: 2052

warnings: quirkless fantasy au, plot with eventual smut, still introducing one more crucial character here, more warnings to be added as they arise in future chapters

chapter: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Pine needles… dried cranberries… cinnamon… anise… that’s coming together nicely…

You scribble notes into the book at your desk. It’s been a few weeks now, and you’ve come to tell the time based on who was knocking at your door. Around 9 o’clock in the morning it would be Izuku, looking for salves, poultices, mixtures, and on the odd occasion just some simple healing magic on superficial scrapes and cuts. You never questioned him, and he never gave an explanation, just shot you a sheepish grin and a “Me again, sorry.”

Katsuki comes around 9 o’clock at night. He looks for nothing, asks for nothing, and speaks freely in a way only the night permits. Sometimes he comes with fresh bruises. But you’ve come to know that bruises and Katsuki Bakugou go together like bread and butter. Little tiffs are still as common as they’ve been over the years you’ve been on the edges of each others’ existence. Week by week, though, you come to an agreement a little sooner.

“I’m just saying, if you’d chew on some of these, you’d feel better. I know my shit,” you insist, holding out a handful of yellow flowers to him.

“And I know my body. It’s just a bruise. I’ll be fine,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Fine, be a stubborn brat,” you say, rolling your eyes at him. “At least have a cookie.”

“ ‘M not a fuckin’ brat,” he mutters under his breath, but reaches for the plate anyways. He’s quiet as he munches on the shortbread. “Shitty Deku still coming to you?”

You hum an affirmative. “I ought to give him a discount, he’s my best customer,” you chuckle.

“He’s not a charity case,” Katsuki shoots back. “He can afford it as well as anyone.”

“Maybe you’d get a discount too, if you were nicer to me,” you tease.

“Like hell. I’d end up paying you back like I used to.”

You let out a small half laugh. Silence falls, thick and tense between you. Minutes pass, with Katsuki looking towards you but avoiding your eyes. And you, focusing more intently than necessary on attaching your little sunflower squares together. Abruptly, he stands.

“I know you put it in the cookies,” he says. “Thank you.”

You smile a halfhearted smile, and he leaves.

It’s just after dawn when you find yourself waking. Much earlier than you’d have liked and much more unsettled. The dream you’d had is quickly fading from your memory, just the image of two freshly filled graves in a clearing and the feeling in the pit of your stomach that one of them was yours.

“That’s the last time I doubt the amount of nutmeg in anything before bed,” you grumble to yourself. Your heart is still beating low and slow in your throat, stuck on that mental picture burned into your brain. Can’t hurt to look… you think.

Pulling a housecoat over your shoulders, you venture out around your cottage to the window box in front of your shop door. You rub the sleep from your eyes, swearing you see a scrawny form scurrying away into the edge of the forest bordering on your garden. Shaking your head, you continue on. Human or not, they’d be long gone by the time you got over there to investigate. It had best know what’s edible, you think.

The sight of your chaotically loved little box settles your soul. You pluck a red toadstool with white spots on it, and a few coarse, silvery leaves of sage. Birch bark catches your eye on the ground across the cobblestone road. Perfect. You shuffle over and gather up a handful.

Back in your cottage, you set your collection on the table. You pluck a dried amanita muscaria hanging from a beam in front of the window and replace it with the fresh one, and repeat with the dried sage hanging across the room. Never hurts to be prepared. Taking your mortar and pestle from the back counter and two dried bay leaves from the jar beside it, you place it on the table beside your haul with a grunt. In goes the dried toadstool, in goes the dried sage, in goes the bay leaves. Shit, right, the bowl.

You sit, sure that you’ve got everything you need now. You place a piece of bark in the bottom of the footed bronze bowl, building a tent shape with the rest. A couple of small pieces of wood from the fireplace work for filler. And you set to starting a fire.

You strike the flint with a piece of steel curled around your knuckles with practiced ease. The sparks jump to life, catching on the edge of a piece of bark. With a deep breath, you focus your mind and your energy on the freshly turned soil. Will yourself to smell it, to feel it surrounding you, will yourself into the vignette. The flames crackle and groan as they wake in front of you. You take a pinch of the powder and scatter it over the bowl. Small pops resonate through the quiet room. Deep breath, you think as you inhale through your nose, letting the smoke from the powder enter your lungs. It takes a moment, but you know it’s working.

The flames ebb and flow till you can see a gaunt young man. His eyes are hidden in the dark, but you see a wide, chapped mouth with a scar running down the left side. Honestly, you’ve never seen lips more in need of clove oil and lanolin. The fire flickers, and his eyes are revealed, tugging at your core like a thread. Familiar and strange all at once. He bores into you, as if he can see your soul, though he’s not really there, you’re not really there. Black wool cloaking his form lends a stark contrast to his pale skin. Mentally you start compiling a list. Cherry flesh, lime juice, that man needs it. Rum and a little sugar to make the lime juice go down… Deep scratches adorn his neck. Hell, a spruce tip tea twice a day would even be a good start. His bloodshot eyes roam around, looking at you can’t see what. Trembling light gives way to darkness, and the fire falls.

You set your kettle on the hook of the tripod over your fireplace. The water takes its sweet time to come to a boil, giving you time to dress yourself. A practical skirt of lightweight grey wool hits just above your ankle, showing well worn taupe boots, laces tied around your ankles. A dark, woad dyed shirt carelessly tucked into your skirt, something you can fix before anyone sees you this morning. As it stands, if anyone dares to see you right now, they get what they deserve. You run your fingers through your hair. Right! mug!

As the water comes to a boil, you pull a mug off the shelf by your kitchen basin board. The last of your ground coffee beans and some dried chicory root get tied up into a neat little scrap square of muslin, perfect for infusing into the water. A spoonful of sugar cut from the cone and some cream you’d sealed away make for a comforting drink to properly start your day.

Your morning is uneventful, as is your afternoon. Like clockwork, Izuku and Katsuki show up at 9 and 9. Izuku stays for tea, bearing fresh milk from Ojiro’s farm. Sure, his hands linger on yours, he gets closer than usual when saying goodbye, but it’s nothing too far out of the ordinary. Katsuki keeps quiet. He sits pensively across the table from you, seeming to take comfort more in knowing you’re there than anything else. You can tell there’s countless things he wants to say, but you also know that Katsuki Bakugou will not be persuaded to say anything he’s not ready to say yet. So you sit. Silently, sure, but with him.

It’s nearing midnight by the time Katsuki leaves. He puts all he can’t bring himself to utter into a squeeze to your hand. You watch his retreating form from your front room window, blond hair disappearing into the darkness. A sudden rap on your side door jolts you back to your senses. You hurry towards the noise and open the door. Your eyes widen at the sight of a man in a hooded black jacket. Tall, thin, and looking worse for wear. The glint of carmine eyes confirm what you suspect. The same man from the vision this morning.

“You. You fucking poisoned me.”

“Come again?” you ask, bewildered.

“You fucking poisoned me,” the scrawny man repeats. “What the fuck are these?” In his cupped palm he holds ten or twelve small, bright red berries.

“Oh,” you say.

“Oh,” he mocks. “Oh’s right. Been sick all day.”

“You know what? That’s on me. Not my brightest move to put a cherry tree and a bittersweet nightshade shrub next to each other.”

“You don’t say.”

“Hey. Keep up that attitude and I won’t help you,” you scold. The man huffs indignantly, but sits in the chair you’re gesturing to nonetheless. “Now, there’s not a whole lot I can do about the nightshade. That’ll have to finish running through your system. The bright side is, if it hasn’t killed you by now, you’ll be fine.”

“Then why am I still here?” he hisses.

“Attitude,” you tut. “I don’t know why you’re still here. But while you are, you’re going to eat a couple of these.” You open a drawer in your medicine cabinet and pull out a couple of rose hips. You set them on the table in front of him before busying yourself with preparing a concoction of lime, honey, and bruised spruce tips.

“And why should I trust you? You nearly killed me.”

“Look, if I nearly killed you, I’d remember. Trust me. I know the difference between my plants. Unlike you.”

“Why would I need to know the difference between plants? It’s in someone’s yard, therefore it’s edible,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You have a point, but you’re missing a tiny, crucial detail.” You set the brew in front of him.

“And that is?”

“Some things are only edible once.”

He rolls his eyes. Regarding the liquid you’ve left for him with suspicion, he twiddles with one of the rose hips. It’s in his hand, that’s a start. You point at the fruit between his fingers.

“Will it help if I eat one too?” you bargain. He purses his lips, but nods. If his hair was blond, I’d swear he was a second Bakugou, you think to yourself. You pick up the remaining rose hip, making sure he watches you. “No tricks here, stranger,” you say, then deposit the fruit on your tongue. Chew, chew, chew, swallow, open. “All gone. And I’m still standing. Now go on.”

Reluctantly, he brings the fruit to his lips. He pauses a moment to look in your eyes, as if to search for a shred of deceit. Finding none, he slides it between his teeth. He chews, and chews, and scrunches his nose, but he swallows nonetheless. He opens his mouth to show you it’s gone. “Good boy. Now, drink.”

“Not your good boy,” he grumbles.

“Who are you, then?” you challenge.

“Not your business.”

“You’re sitting at my table, I think it is my business.”

“If you need to know, you’ll know.”

You pull the mug towards your end of the table. “Alright then. If you need to live, you’ll live,” you say, pettiness creeping into your voice. You could swear you’ve had nearly the same argument with Katsuki word for word, years ago. He scowls at you.

“Tomura.”

You hum, a smug smirk slinking onto your lips. “Tomura who?”

“Tomura nothing. That’s all you’ll get.”

“Fine, I can live with that. I’m --”

Tomura holds his hand out to stop you.

“I don’t need to know,” he sneers.

“Alright then. Drink up and be on your way,” you snap. In the time it takes him to finish the drink, you have your supplies put back away neatly. You turn your back to him to stoke the coals in your fireplace. When you turn again, he’s gone.

#my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha fanfic #mha fanfiction #mha fanfic #deku x reader #deku x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #midoriya x reader #midoriya x you #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #quirkless au

[with-love-from-hell]

Music Accompaniment for Vermillion Skies (parts 1 & 2)

First off, thank you all for the interactions and love thus far for the Vermillion Skies fic! It was very relieving to write the first two parts as a survivor- and again, something that I do quite enjoy is when Abusers get served their comeuppance after the trauma they inflict on someone else- but unfortunately it doesn’t happen all that often. 

In regards to my writings, my motivations can sometimes vary. However, I took a really interesting quiz once that was titled “What emotion do you write from?” or something of the like. For the life of me, I cannot find the post where I took the quiz (if anyone has it, let me know!). But I ended up getting the result of “Pain,” which was surprising to me at first- but then I looked through my original draft of Vermillion Skies and thought...yeeaaah accurate lol 

However, I do think that while I tend to utilize pain a lot in my writing, something that glares behind it is the idea of hope and comfort. I like instilling that in my audience, because I think it is necessary for us to endure the pain of just....living in general. 

I have gotten a lot of asks on where the inspirations come from- and in a broader sense, my own experience, desire to see abusers suffer, and need for a good depiction of a masculine person's response is pretty much it. But I also use Music as a way to inspire my writings. When I think of a scenario/subject, I will often play music that may match the vibe of the situation, and run with it. So for those who want to know in a more detailed way where my inspiration comes from- or for those who have similar inclinations and would like an official soundtrack to Vermillion Skies, here is what I listened to while writing it! I broke it down between parts and scenes (scenes are within the breaks in the writing, parts are the separate posts). If there was a particular part of a scene the music relates to more, I will specify that! Hope this gives clarity to those asks- I figured I’d make one large master post of it rather than answering individually!

Part One

Scene 1

Sunflower - Swae Lee ft. Post Malone (Introduction)

Bury a Friend - Billie Eilish (Something Isn't Right)

Save Me - Globus (Assault - Her Perspective)

The Handler - Muse (Assault - Her Perspective)

Emperors New Clothes - Panic! At the Disco (Assault - His Perspective)

Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (Discovered Body)

Scene 2

Running Up That Hill - Placebo (Initial Fear/Running Home)

Warning Signs - The Anix (We Need To Find Her) 

Magnum Bullets - Night Runner ft. Dan Avidan (Discovered Body)

Hit and Run - Abused Romance (Waiting for Simeon)

Waking the Demon - Bullet For My Valentine (Realization/Other Matters)

Scene 3

And the Snakes Start to Sing - Bring Me the Horizon (Stalking)

The Wolf - SIAMÉS (Stalking)

Wolf Totem - The Hu ft. Jacoby Shaddix (The Scent is Stronger)

You’re Going Down - Sick Puppies (Finding the Attacker)

Take Back The Fear - Hail the Villain (Taking His Tongue)

Baptize - Atreyu (The Whole Beating)

Out for Blood - Sum 41 (The Whole Beating)

Rise - A Skylit Drive (The Whole Beating)

Blood on My Hands - The Used (The Whole Beating)

Face Down - The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (Begging for Mercy/Mutilation)

Grave Mistake - Ice Nine Kills (Begging for Mercy/Mutilation)

Throne - Bring Me the Horizon (Taking to the Sky)

I Hope You Suffer - AFI (The Fall)

Part Two

Scene 1

Warrior - Atreyu (Back Home)

Failure - Breaking Benjamin (Back Home)

Wreckage - Ben Jelen (Entering His Room)

Valentines Day - Linkin Park (She’s Resting)

Hurt (Cover) - Johnny Cash (She's Resting/Trying to Touch Her)

All Fall Down - OneRepublic (Rest)

Scene 2

Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby - Cigarettes After Sex (The Dream)

Everything Stays (Cover) - Amanda Pedersen (The Dream)

Shadow of the Day - Linkin Park (You’ll Never Laugh Again)

Scars - I Prevail (Lucifer's Woe)

Pale & Naked Name - The Pusher (Lucifer’s Woe)

Just Stay - A Skylit Drive (I Don’t Blame You)

Sleepwalker - The Anix (The Dream is Now a Nightmare)

My Demons - Starset (The Dream is Now a Nightmare)

Last to Fall - Starset (Come Back to Him)

Without You - Breaking Benjamin (Come Back to Him)

Scene 3

Talk - Coldplay (Conversing with Mammon)

Comes and Goes in Waves - Greg Laswell (Mammon’s Break Down)

Foreigner’s God - Hozier (Mammon’s Break Down)

Brother - NeedtoBreathe ft. Gavin DeGraw (Comforting Mammon)

Coming Home - BUNT. ft. Sons of the East (Will Things Be Different?)

Through Glass - Stone Sour (Everyone is Resting)

Kristy, Are you Doing Okay? - The Offspring (Watching Over You)

Scene 4

Nothing to Lose But You - Three Days Grace (Whole Scene)

Unwell - Matchbox 20 (Barbatos is Suspicious)

How it Feels to Be Lost - Sleeping with Sirens (Diavolo's Joke/How Does He Explain?)

Falling Apart in a Crowded Room - A Skylit Drive (Trying to Keep Composure)

Pity Party (Cover) - Vigils (Lucifer’s Break Down) {{I absolutely abhor Melanie Martinez, but this cover is good and a better take of the original}}

Without You - Breaking Benjamin (Lucifer's Break Down)

Grave Mistake - Ice Nine Kills (Lucifer’s Break Down)

Heavy - Linkin Park ft. Kiiara (Comforting Lucifer)

Read Vermillion Skies here

#obey me #Obey Me! #Obey me swd #shall we date: Obey me #obey me fic #obey me fluff #obey me comfort #obey me lucifer #obey me dark #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #Vermillion Skies #obey me angst #inspirations #Music

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Your Protector ~ Gloxinia x Reader

Someone explain to me why do I love this beautiful boy so much.

He used to be such a cry baby, always clinging to his mum’s skirt, not wanting to learn how to properly use his powers...No, he just wanted to play around, sniff flowers or make flower crowns out of them, bask in the morning sun and watch clouds float away...

But he’s the future Fairy King, how can I let him alone? His parents asked me to always be by his side, now that they’re gone...

And he’s so cute, especially when he does those puppy eyes, pleading not to get him to practice offensive magic, although he was the one chosen by the Sacred Tree.

I know he’s scared, it’s a lot of responsibility to look over everyone...But, after all, he’s not truly alone, and he will never be.

Cute little Gloxinia...Cute little Gloxinia who’s both taller and older than me, but still loves acting easy-going and child-like, especially when he hang around his sister, Gerheade.

“Hey, Gloxinia, wake up.” I kneel by his side, as he was sleeping on a huge sunflower, high into the sky, to not be bothered by anyone, and to bask in the warmth of the sun. “Hmmm...? Ah, Y/N, it’s you. I don’t feel like training, come again later.” he sighed, turning to the side, so he won’t see me. “...Okay. I’ll try later.” I hung my head, flying away, trying to get myself something to do, so I won’t get bored.

Sometimes, I don’t realise how boring life can be, which is why I have to always keep myself busy...I wonder, how is it like to be able to be so outgoing, so sociable, so friendly and able to relax and do...Nothing. Nothing at all...All day, just laying down and admiring the world around you.

Being one of the few fairies who can use her powers to the fullest, because of all the extensive training, and since I’m so different from everyone around me, I feel like an outcast, even though I know nobody wants to make me feel that way.

For some reason, I found myself sitting in a bed of beautiful, colourful flowers, and letting myself fall down on my back, I start watching the clouds move. But it was boring, and I felt restless. I had to move, in some kind of way, to keep my mind occupied, so I started picking up flowers and attempting to create a flower crown.

But, by the end of the 10th flower crown, I got frustrated since they all looked terrible, so I threw them away and went back to practicing my magic, until I started feeling a dark presence, and when I looked back, a huge white and green demon, for some reason, came out of nowhere, ready to attack our Forest.

Not on my watch.

I flew in front of the demon, pissed off that it dared get close to our home and threaten it, and taking out my weapon, I start attacking it, while yelling out for Gloxinia, hoping he’d hear and get everyone to safety, since things were going to get messy.

Only the Goddess clan can naturally take down demons so easily, so I could only hope it was going to go away before destroying out home. No demon ever came to disturb us before, so needless to say, it was disturbing.

That blasted demon so easily slapping me away in a tree trunk as if he was swapping a headless fly, but that wasn’t going to throw me off my game to drive it away.  However, a familiar cry of fright brought me back from reality, when I saw the demon’s other hand trying to attack someone...That someone being Gloxinia himself. That was the last drop for me, as I pried myself off the tree and stretching out my wings, I flew at full speed and picked up the wingless fairy, getting him to a safer spot.

“Go find your sister and make sure everyone is safe. Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Take care.” I kissed his forehead, wiping away his tears, before getting up, ready to fly again, but he stopped me. “Wait, no, don’t go! That thing is too powerful, even for you! You can’t fight it all alone!” poor darling, I’ve never seen such fright and despair in his eyes, it broke my heart. “I’m not the future Fairy King, dear. You are. You are the future of our kind...And even if you weren’t, I’d still gladly give my life to save you. Now go, that thing is going on a rampage.” I pushed him away as I flew up again, using all the power I could muster to keep the monster away, but each time, it would swat me away, and each time, I’d fly back to fight it again.

That is...Until, as the demon threw a blast of dark power at me, and I knew I wasn’t fast enough to fly away from it, so I maximized my own power, hoping it would counter it... But next thing I know, I was pushed out of the place, and, on the ground, a little fairy with 4 little wings lay there, injured gravely.

It was Gloxinia.

Damn it, Gloxinia, you reckless kid...You just can’t stop getting into trouble, can you?

Flying to his side, and kiss him, giving him the Kiss of Life, one of my specific powers as the Guardian of the Fairy Forest, and he was back in perfect health.

“You, idiot...Never do that again, got it? You got me worried sick...Especially now that you got your wings.” I smiled at him gently, holding him tightly to my chest. “My wings...? Wait, really, I got them?! I didn’t even realise!” he gasped in shock, prying himself from my arms, looking at his back, grinning at his achievement. “You’re the best, Gloxinia.” I said, and feeling another dark matter approaching, I quickly figured out another dark blast was going to hit us again, so I spread out my wings and wrapped them around him, protecting him from the blast. No matter what, he has to live.

With the last bit of my power, I reflected the attack at the demon, which went back at it with double the power, which thankfully, managed to drive the demon away to its realm...But it also managed to fry and pierce me pretty good, so I had no idea I fainted, until I woke up, the passing clouds being the first thing my eyes captured.

With some difficulty, I manage to push myself into a sitting position, realising that I was sitting on a flower, very high in the sky. My body was still aching, but my wings were in perfect shape, as if nothing happened.

“Yoo, you woke up. Finally. I was beginning to worry.” a familiar voice called out, and Gloxinia appeared, holding some flowers in his arms as he sat down next to me with the same chill face as usual. “Uhm...The demon went away, didn’t it?” I asked, feeling a bit nervous. “Yes, of course. You defeated it, remember? Anyway, feeling better?” he asked as he started fidgeting around with the flowers. “Yeah...I’m okay. Are you, though? And everyone else?” I asked again, as a way to calm myself down. “Yees, don’t worry about us. Everyone’s okay, thanks to you.” he said cheerfully as he placed a flower crown he just made on my head. “Thanks for protecting us. You were right, instead of slacking off, I should have trained. I will be the Fairy King, and I have to be brave and strong, just like you, so that next time, I’ll be the one protecting you, not the other way around. So...Will you please continue staying by my side and helping me?” he cupped my face, his expression soft and gentle, like I haven’t seen him before with anyone but his sister. “W-Well, of course. I’m not going back on my promises.” I looked down, feeling my cheeks warm up a bit. “Ehhh~? You’re surprisingly soft, aren’t you? You’re cute, Y/N, I want to see how much cuter you can get.” he chuckled, playing with a strand of my hair. “Talk to me when your wings are fully developed.” I jolted to my feet, flying a bit farther away from him. “...Like mine.” I looked back at him with a teasing smirk, which made him laugh. “What is it, you want to play tag?” he crossed his arms, as if accepting a challenge. “With those tiny wings, can you even keep up the pace?” I giggled, propelling myself far away from him, and going through the cramped spots so it would be more difficult for him to follow. “Gotcha~!...OH-” I eeped in shock as Gloxinia somehow ambushed me and threw himself at me, only for both of us to lose balance and fall tumbling on the ground, in very awkward positions, away from each other. As we turned to look at each other, we started laughing at how silly that was, especially considering we were the best flyers in the forest, and yet, we ended up like this.

“See, Y/N? You can be lots of fun, if you want to. You just need someone who gets you. Now then, since we’re so far away from the others, help me figure out how to properly use my Spirit Spear Basquias. Only you can help me out.” he said, taking out his weapon. “Okay, kid, let’s see what you’re made of, now that you’re finally serious about your training.” taking out my Sacred Sword, ready to properly train for the first time in a long time.

The next training sessions went surprisingly smooth, now that Gloxinia finally took his responsibilities seriously and easily picked up everything I taught him, and sooner than expected, his small wings grew to be the most beautiful ones I’ve ever seen in my life, beating any species of butterflies.

He was so happy that his wings completely developed, that he started laughing gleefully, doing loops in the air, before snatching me up and going as far up into the sky, and as soon as he stopped, he put his hand on the back of my head and pulled me into a deep kiss, leaving the both of us with pink cheeks, but different reactions altogether.

“I...Well...Wasn’t expecting that.” I looked away, hiding my face with one of my hands. “You’re the one who kissed me first and said to talk to you when my wings developed, right?” he hummed in amusement, teasing me. “W-Well, yes, but I did that to heal you!” I tried to defend myself. “Then...You don’t want me to kiss you again~?” he tilted his head to the side, a side grin growing on his face. “Oh, you’re such a jerk.” wiping that nasty grin from his face, I rest my hands on his shoulders, bringing him closer to me, so I could properly kiss him back. “Nice try, Gloxi, but you can’t tease me.” I winked at him, as I held his hand and dragged him to a beautiful field of flowers. “Can I braid your hair, dear?” but before I could say anything, he got behind me, on the ground, holding me in his arms, between his legs, his chin resting on my shoulder, as he quickly pecked my cheek. “Sure, go ahead. You’re much more talented at that than I’ll ever be.” I chuckled lightly, letting my hair cascade down my back. “Thankfully, there are tons of pretty flowers and I can put them in your hair...Although, there’s no flower that’s more beautiful than you.” he spoke so nonchalantly that he almost shocked me. “Says you, butterfly boy.” I smiled, feeling at peace, letting myself relax as his fingers running through my hair so skillfully were weirdly soothing.

For a long time afterwards, I and Gloxinia have been together, and he promised to marry me once the Holy War was finally over, as he didn’t want anything to happen to either of us.

However...Due to certain circumstances, Stigma was a complete failure, thanks to the humans, demons and archangels who messed up everything...And massacred my people...And Gloxinia...

My Gloxinia disappeared completely.

There was no body, no evidence, no hint that he ever was in the forest anyway, except for Gerheade who told me he killed Rou and then left...So we were convinced he died somehow.

Years passed, and I had to train more Fairy Kings to reach their full capacity, and yet, there was nothing that allowed me to feel any ounce of happiness or fulfillment in my heart.

There was nothing more than an empty void that nothing could complete, and it appeared as soon as I couldn’t feel his presence in this world anymore. Not to mention, after 3 millennia passed, the new King is a complete, irresponsible child who left his little sister to take care of the Fountain of Youth, which is result led to her death, and a human had to replant the Forest Seed, otherwise our whole realm would have died.

This guy...He looks so much like Rou...The one who protected Gerheade long ago...And now, he tried, and still tries, to save Elaine, to bring her back to life. To think that some humans could hold so much love for some fairies like us, it’s almost unbelievable, but so beautiful nonetheless.

But then...Something unbelievable happened...And I felt this weird feeling in my heart that only occurred when Gloxinia was alive. Why would it happen...? He’s long dead, isn’t he?

I have to test this feeling I have, so I went in search for the Seven Deadly Sins, who claimed to be fighting the Ten Commandments who, for some reason, were brought to this world, and Meliodas, whose demon rage took over him, needed help in his fight.

But then...There he was...

A little fairy with long red hair, sitting on the shoulder of a blue giant with four arms.  If I weren’t as old as I am, I wouldn’t have had a clue who they were...But I remember...Gloxinia and Drole, they used to be best friends, as they were both the leaders of their people...

And there I was, floating in the middle of ten demons, looking with shock at the fairy, who stared at me with demonic eyes, with the same expression I had.

“Gloxinia...?” I wasn’t sure if he heard me, for my voice was barely above a whisper, before one of the demons attacked me out of nowhere, sending me tumbling to the ground. “DON’T ATTACK HER!” his voice echoed throughout the place, anxiety surging through it a bit too obviously. “Gloxinia...Is that really you?! What happened to you? I...I thought you were dead...!” I pushed myself off the ground to get back in the air to his level. “Yes...Yes, it’s me...But what are you doing here?! Go back home, I don’t want to see you hurt!” he tried to care for me, but that was the last thing I cared about.  “No! I’m not going anywhere without you! You already left me once, I’m not letting you do that again.” I frowned at him, determined to get him back home. “That’s enough talk! If she doesn’t wanna leave, or join our side, then she’s gonna die!” one of the demons roared, and attacked me. “No! There’s no way I’m leaving without Gloxinia! Never again!” no matter how many times I got thrown around, stabbed, hit or blasted away, I’d get up to fight, because death is a better outcome than not having him by my side for another day. “That’s enough!” but the Fairy King flew over, taking my form in his arms, his wings protectively covering me.  “As naive as always.” I smiled weakly, putting my arms around his neck, and in an instant, I teleported us far away from that place, which shocked the fairy beyond belief. “Forgot about my powers, didn’t you?” “Why’d you do that?! I have to go back, otherwise-” he kept looking behind him with a worried look, and I could only push myself to kiss him, not realising tears were streaming down my face. “Why did you leave me? Why did you leave us? You have no idea how devastated Gerheade was...” I bit my lip, making him sigh and hang his head. “...I’m sorry, Y/N. When I saw you and my sister in that state...I thought you were dead. I thought there was no more reason to live...So I and Drole joined the Ten Commandments. We wanted revenge on the humans who destroyed everything we held dear to us. And...I was too afraid to check if you were alive or not. I was afraid of knowing you might be dead...So I ran away. I’m a real coward, aren’t I?” he chuckled weakly, his face showing the sorrow he held in his heart. “Then...Can’t you come back to us? Return your commandment and come back. Drole can do the same. It’s no big deal, is it? ...Is it?” I asked with hope, gently cupping his face. “I...Yeah, it can work, but...Who will accept me back? I’m the Fairy King who abandoned his people. I know I did a terrible mistake from which I couldn’t turn back.” he explained, as I raked my fingers through his beautiful hair that remained as soft as always. “Everyone will accept you, I promise. You were the best and most powerful King we ever had. And, besides...Gerheade would be so happy to hug you again. She hasn’t danced or sung since that day...But she’s been a great adviser for all Kings. She grew up as a fine lady.” I put my forehead to his, trying to calm him down. “And...And you? Do you really want me back, after everything I’ve done to you? After all the promises I broke to you?” his voice was more of an usher than before. “I’d want nothing more than to spend my life with you by my side, no matter what.” I replied, which made him raise his head up, his demonic eyes turning back to his gorgeous, amber like ones, and the demon mark on his chest disappeared completely. “Then...Would you still want to marry me, even after I abandoned you for more than 3000 years?” he asked, and my heart burst with warmth and happiness. “Of course I would. As long as you are by my side, everything will be okay.” I threw my arms around his neck, too afraid to let go of him. “Thank you...Thank you for not giving up on me, even though I deserve it. I love you so much, Y/N. I promise, this time, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” he held me close to him, one hand on the back of my head, while the other was holding me tightly. “I will always love you...My dear Gloxinia.”

#gloxinia #fairy king #fairy king gloxinia #harlequin #fairy king harlequin #nanatsu no taizai #seven deadly sins imagine #seven deadly sins x reader #seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai x reader #nanatsu no taizai imaginr #gloxinia x reader #gloxinia imagine #ten commandments #demon #fairy #goddess #archangel #human #giant #drole #meliodas #elaine #gerheade

[openforjean]

her dad’s birthday

Bucky Barnes x Mexican!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, a lil sad

A/n: this story is mostly for me but I hope u can enjoy it too

for the love of god pls reblog with ur thoughts

Bucky’s pov 

Y/n. 

I’ve been seeing her for a four months now. We’ve been on ten dates to dinner and eight movie dates. And I don’t plan on letting her go. 

Today is her father’s birthday, and I know this because Y/n has mentioned it a hundred times now. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I forgot her dad’s birthday? 

“What do you think I should wear?” I ask. she whips her head to me and she sizes me. “He won’t care, I promise, so don’t worry,” she says. I look down at my shirt and flatten it. Yes, I’m nervous. I’ve never met her father nor her mother, she doesn’t have much a connection with her mom but it’s different with her dad. She loves her dad, she talks about him a lot, she visits him often too. She buys him candy and balloons. It’s sweet really, she’s a great girl. 

I really scored with Y/n. I don’t think I’ll ever meet someone better than her. She’s it for me.

“You look good, okay? Don’t be nervous, he won’t test you. Just be yourself,” she says, pulling my waist to her. She kisses my cheek and smiles. “I’ll try, I just don’t wanna mess up with him. I just- I really like you and I’d hate to ruin it,” I admit. Her face falls but her hand goes to my cheek, “there is no way you’d mess anything up. You’re a gift Bucky, you are a gift to my life. The past month has been the best month of my life in...a long time, you won’t. He’ll have to like you cause I lo- I like you. I like you a lot, now let’s get going. I need to buy him some stuff,” she says. She rubs my cheek, I take that hand and I kiss her knuckles. I love her too. And it might be too early to say but that’s what I feel for her. 

We walk down the street hand in hand, it feels right. Her skin is soft and warm, she glances at me sometimes to see if I’m still staring. Which, I am mostly likely am. She’s too beautiful and captivating to look away from, and if people got to know her personally, there’d be a fight for her hand. 

We walk into the local grocery store and she immediately went straight to the flower section. I follow her and she begins to browse. “Maybe roses?” I suggest, she simply responds “nah”. 

“I got him roses last time, I’m thinking sunflowers and daises. What do you think?” She asks, picking up both bouquets. “I think you should get both?” I suggest. She gives an approving hum and takes them in her hands. 

“You can pick out a balloon as I go get a cart, okay?” She says. “Yeah. that’s okay. I’ll be at the balloon section,” I answer. Y/n walks off and I head to the balloons. 

I scan the balloons, deciding which one to get. But my eyes catch something even better, a SQUARE balloon. That’s awesome, this is my first time seeing one. Kinda freaky...anyways, I’ll get that one for him. 

“Excuse me, can I get the green squared happy birthday one filled up?” I ask, the man nods and takes the balloon from the drawer and begins to fill the balloon up. I hope her dad likes it. 

“That’s a cool balloon, Buck,” she says, pulling up next to me with the cart. “You think he’d like it?” I ask. “He’ll love it, it’s whimsical,” she responds. The employee hands me the balloon and I take it. I turn to Y/n to place it in the cart, since it has a weight at the bottom. But...I get distracted. A big smile and bright eyes take over her face, I could just feel her happiness and excitement. I place the balloon in the cart and the flowers are in there too. 

We check out and we head to the next stop. Guadalupe’s Produce, a small Mexican store that is farther down the street. I’ve been there before, they have great vegetables and wonderful fruit selection. Y/n also knows the owner.

I’m holding the balloon and the flowers as Y/n watches the cars go by. She does that, she admires people. It’s interesting. 

We get closer down the street and she sees a taco truck parked right across from the store. “Bucky, we should get tacos. Real tacos, not that Taco Bell shit,” she suggests. Of course I’m going to agree, her taste is way better than mine. 

We arrive at the store and the owner greets us. Y/n starts a conversation with her and I wander around as they speak. I take a basket and place the flowers in there, holding the balloon in my right hand. I walk down the first aisle, it’s filled with books, magazines and comics. All in Spanish. I know Spanish, fluently too. I only whip it out in certain places though. The second aisle is full of chips and candies. Sabritones, Chicharrones, Gansitos, and Paleta Payaso’s. I take three of the clown and a bag of Chicharrones. I couldn’t help but grab a box of Duvalin’s and de la Rosa’s too now. How could I not? 

I walk back near Y/n, it seems she’s almost done talking to the owner. I could hear the owner say, “come to the register” in Spanish. Y/n looks my way, her eyes fall to the basket in my hand. Y/n walks up to me with parted lips. She peeks inside the basket and spots the snacks, she looks back up at me. She takes my face in her hands and brings my lips down to hers. The kiss is like fire, passion and her lips taste like cherry cola. I could live in this moment forever.

She pulls away from my lips and she reaches for my metal hand. She holds it to her heart, “you got his favorite, Bucky”. Her eyes water but she pushes them back. She leads me to the register with her hand in mine. I place the basket on the counter and the owner, Angela, rang them up. But before she could finish, Y/n took a little bottle from next to her and places it on the counter too. I don’t recognize the candy. I hand Angela my card before Y/n could pull hers out her phonecase. Angela takes it and prints the receipt, Y/n pinches my butt.

“Do that again, Y/n,” I joke. Angela bags our snacks and flowers.

She quickly does it again as I take the bag. Y/n smirks as she dropped a ten in the tip jar.

We exit the store biting our tongues, waking across the street to the taco truck.

Once we cross, the entire mood shifts. The music got louder and voices too. People stood around conversing, children playing and families eating on benches. We get closer to the truck and the food hit my nose, it smells so good. The spices and the tacos. The sun barely hits the truck, it’s shady and windy. It’s a perfect spot.

We walk up to the truck and Y/n leans on the counter, squinting to read the menu.

“What kind of tacos do you want, Bucky?” She asks, turning back at me. “Surprise me,” I answer. Y/n smirk and turns back around. That smirk could diet her lead to a good surprise or a prank. I sit in a bench next to a family.

“¡Hola Marco! ¿Come estas? - ¡que bien! - yo qiuero dos platos de tacos con dos Jarritos, por favor,” Y/n says. I can understand what she’s saying, and she knows. So she’s not going to sabotage my tastebuds. Wait- what about her father? Is she getting him food too? Or are we eating here?

She pays the man and walks back to me, I smile. She sits next to me and I wrap my arm around her with the balloon in my hand still. I kiss her temple. “Thank you, Bucky. Thank you for coming with me to visit my dad, I appreciate it. You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” she says, looking down at her hands. I could hear her heart race as she spoke.

She looks at me and I peck her lips. I rest my forehead on hers and look into her eyes. “Y/n, you don’t need to thank me. I rather be with you than anything else, so really... thank you. I can’t wait to meet your father, I can’t wait to meet the man who raised such a great woman,” Bucky says.

Before Y/n could respond, her name is called. Y/n jumps up and takes the food in her hand. She tilts her head to come to her and I do. I take the bag and the balloon follows. She takes my free hand and she begins to lead me up the street.

“Where does your dad live, Y/n?” I ask.

“Not far, just a few minutes away from my apartment. It’s an easy walk but a long train ride, surprisingly,” she answers.

“You took the subway to your dads house?”

“ONCE! My legs were hurting so bad and I didn’t think it’d take half an hour to get there!” She exclaims, I laugh and she pulls her hand away from mine. “Y/n, I’m kidding. You’re so precious,” I say, pulling her shoulder to mine. “We’re almost there, sorry it’s taking a bit,” she says.

“It’s okay, I’m used to walking,” I answer.

I look ahead and on the left is a cemetery, on the right is a street full of houses. Her father’s place must be on the right. I pull her hand towards the right so we can cross. She stands still as I drift. She looks deep into my eyes and I look at the cemetery. Shame and fear take over her face, her head drops to the ground. I come back closer, realizing what’s going on. I pull her close and I hug her.

Her dad is in the cemetery.

Her father is dead.

We’re visiting his grave.

She’s been visiting him at the cemetery all along.

I hug her tight and I whisper “it’s okay” in her ear. I know she feels guilty, and she shouldn’t feel guilty on this day. She should feel happy, like she was before. She pulls away, wiping her tears and I push her hands down and I wipe them. “Let’s see him, Y/n,” I say.

Y/n nods and leads me to the cemetery. We pass the gate and we walk up the stairs, she leads me to the stone. She places the food down, gently. She immediately drops down to her knees and hugs the stone. Rubbing its back, I remain standing.

“Hey papa, happy birthday. I love you and I miss you. This is Bucky, he’s my boyfriend and we have something for you,” she says. She looks back at me and I hand her the snack bag. She removes the dead roses and pulls out the sunflowers and daises, and places them in the vase next to his stone. She arranges them neatly. “We also got some snacks to eat, we got your favorite...well, Bucky got your favorite,” she says. She looks up at me, her eyes are begging for me to sit on the ground with her.

I sit.

She take the balloon from my hand and ties it around vase. “He seems to know your favourites before he even met you. Crazy, he even got you this balloon. Isn’t it cool?”

Oh man. My heart. She’s talking to the grave as if he’s alive. I think I might cry.

“You can talk to him too, Bucky. He’s friendly,” Y/n says. I nod and I scoot closer to her. “Hi Mr. Y/l/n, happy birthday. I’m honored to meet you, you have an amazing daughter...she’s been a blessing to my life. I hope you like the balloon, it’s green and a square! It’s cool, but yeah, anyways...I’m glad to be here celebrating your birthday,” I say. Y/n’s hand lays on top of mine and she leaves it there.

“We’ve been dating for five months, he makes me very happy. He’s only been good to me and so much more, he’s the guy I’ve been telling you about for so long,” Y/n says. I didn’t know she talked to her father about me.

“We also have tacos! I got him some regular tacos though, nothing too spicy. I don’t want his tongue palette to die,” she says as she takes the drinks out. Now, I’ve had these before. Jarritos. A classic Mexican drink. My favorite flavor is the same as Y/n’s; mandarin.

She passes me my plate and sets my drink next to my foot. She does the same for herself. But before she opens her box, she does this thing and it’s a great thing. She recycles. She takes all the plastics and places it in one bag, so she can recycle it all. It’s admirable.

She hands me her drink because she knows I have a bottle opener on hand. I take it and I open it for her, and mines too. She opens her box and begins to eat.

I take a bite out of my taco. Holy cow, it’s so good. The smell is one thing but the taste, wow. Bucky is in love.

“Oh dad, I forgot to tell you. I paid off my credit card, I’m proud of that. I thought I’d die in debt, but no- I paid it!”

Y/n spoke to her father as I ate, I spoke too. I told him about how Y/n caught her first fish and her first tien going on the Cyclone. Now, she’s finishing her food.

“We need to eat the candy, Bucky,” Y/n says with her mouth full of food. “I’ve been waiting to hear those words all my life Y/n,” I ramble out. I dig into the snack bag and I take out la paleta. I hand one too Y/n, and we unwrap it. They definitely do not look like the packaging and neither of us have hope they ever will.

Y/n holds hers up and says “to you papa, happy birthday”. I hold mines up too and we bite into them.

She finishes her paleta and she takes a small green bottle out from the snack bag. She takes the plastic off and she pushes it into the plastic bag. She twists the bottle and little crystals fall out into her hand, she purposely lets it fall. She licks it off?

“Y/n, what’s that?” I ask, eating my paleta.

“Lucas,” she answers, pouring more onto her bare palm.

“Ummm, sure,” I place my hand out and she licks hers off first. She pours some in my hand and it looks like sugar, I quickly lick it off.

As soon as it hit my tongue, it was too late. The saltiness and sourness hit like a train, I was not expecting that. I wipe the remaining “candy” on my jeans. I take the soda and chug it down to get rid of the taste as Y/n laughs her ass off.

The soda runs out and I put the bottle down and I wipe my mouth. “You’re lucky I love you, Jesus what was that?” I say.

Y/n’s laughing stops. I get concerned and it hit me what I just slipped out.

“James Buchanan Barnes, I’ve been waiting to hear those words all my life”.

Sorry this isn’t so good, been really down lately. Hopefully it’s decent💗 pls leave some feedback💗

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x mexican!reader #bucky barnes x poc #bucky barnes x woc #bucky barnes x woc!reader

[princesssarcastia]

okay, I'm intrigued... why are roses Of The Devil

roses and I have a long and storied conflict. i hate them. just generally, I think the fact that a flower covered in little thorns meant to slice us open whenever we touch it became like, the symbol of romance and probably THE most iconic flower in history is fuckign dumb. daises/sunflowers/peonies/hydrangeas are right there and they don't want to kill you, thanks.

on a more personal level though, I hate them because my mom planted them alll along our hosue growing up, on the side of the house and in a trellis. those motherfuckers grow like weeds and they grow everywhere; they need constant upkeep to make sure they don't crawl through your window to strangle you in the middle of the night with their pointy, pointy stems.

and then one year our household decided roses were no longer in vogue. I had the unique pleasure of digging them up, maybe four or five individual rose bushes. it SUCKED and im petty enough that i've never forgiven them. did you know rose bush roots can grow three feet deep? imagine, if you will: it is the height of summer. you can see the heat in the air around you. you are locked in a battle of wills with four plants bigger than you are, covered in a thousand little knives, while you yourself are only armed with a pair of shears, a trowel, and several lawn bags. the gardening gloves cannot protect you. the cloying smell of rose petals and that weeping green scent from dozens of cut stems fill your nose. every time you put your shovel in the ground you think, surely this must be the end of them. it never is.

you win, eventually; the hole in the ground where your enemy used to live is big enough for a shallow human grave. you win, but god, at what cost?

anyway. tl;dr if im feeling reasonable i'd just say that roses are high maintenance and, in my opinion, low reward. you want a pretty flower, go buy a hydrangea bush or some peonies.

#ROSES SUCK #i admit this is largely because of my personal experience with them #and grounded in petty bullshit #but you know what i stand by it

[captainjimothycarter]

Soft steggy prompt: the first time Steve gets flowers for Peggy

Soooo not what you wanted but ??? this is what came out.

--

Steve took in a deep breath as he looked down at the rows and rows of flowers, all arranged in beautiful bunches. Around him, there were a few people still in the store in the late evening. He knew the owner was getting ready to close soon, he had to make his choice and go.

But what was the perfect choice then? 

This was Peggy they were talking about. She would know the language of flowers because she taught him. He understood the basics and didn’t want to show up with a bouquet that said ‘i hate your guts.’ He wanted to show up with the perfect one that said everything he couldn’t.

That would take the words right out of his mouth. He wanted Peggy to just know exactly how he felt.

When he chose the flowers, the florist simply stared at him for the longest second of his life, looking thoroughly annoyed. Maybe it was because Steve had been over here for an hour and he chose some of the most awkward looking flowers for any bouquet that made no sense.

“Special night?” he asked, using scissors to cut the flower stems and neatly arrange them in a bouquet. 

“Yeah, actually. It’s our anniversary,” Steve laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “First time getting her flowers too.”

The man blinked, trying to connect the two before his shrug told Steve it wasn’t his problem. “Well good luck with that. Here we go.” 

Steve got the sense he wanted him out of there. Thanking him and taking the bouquet underarm, the blonde found himself stepping outside the shop in the brisk, cold air. The sun had long set, making the walk down the street cold and empty.

The flowers seemed to be the only thing of color in this place. The only thing that brought joy to an otherwise dreary neighborhood. 

Kneeling by the gravestone, his fingertips brushed the fallen leaves off and set the bouquet in their spot. His eyes fell onto Peggy’s name, tracing over it before a shuddering sigh left his chest.

“Seems to be that I’m always late, darling,” he whispered, bending down to press his forehead to the cold marble. Just a year too late for her, just a year too late to tell her he was alive so she could go in peace. 

She died, believing he was dead and Steve didn’t know which was worst.

Peggy didn’t deserve to die at all. She deserved to be immortal. To live a long, healthy life, not to die in her sleep.

“Hey, Pegs,” he breathed, sitting up to look down at the white marble again. “Things are-are going okay, I guess. SHIELD is working me pretty hard, but it keeps me busy. Don’t get much time to think about anything, so I suppose that’s good. Looked up Bucky’s family - his sister is still alive. Just barely, she’s a fighter, like she’s always been. She’s been telling me about all that you did for her after...after the war ended. They wouldn’t have survived without your help.”

The marble is cold to touch, the sun has done nothing to warm it. The evening wind and the threat of snow sap any warmth that should’ve been there. 

“Looked into the-the Howlies. They’re all gone, Pegs. Dugan died shortly after you did, ole fucker didn’t want to...to be the last, I bet. Hurts like hell, but I-I suppose that’s life. People grow old and die and forget and...and…” His breath hitched and he bit the inside of his lip, trying his best not to cry. 

“I shoulda told you I loved you from the start. Or maybe it’s best I didn’t, maybe it’s best the way this happened, me crashing the plane and waking up here and wondering what could’ve been. Not leaving you with the reality that I-I said I loved you. Would that had been harder to move on from? Hell if I know. Feels like anything I know is taken from me. The whole world knows me and yet I don’t know a damn thing about it. Truth is…”

He adjusted the purple bow and stroked over the soft material before dropping his hands. 

“Truth is, Pegs, I do love you. I ain’t gonna stop loving you. Been goin’ to therapy cause I know that’s what you’d want of me, to get better for myself, to stop this moping. Ain’t much but a bunch of us veterans sitting around in a circle. They do most of the talking. I can sympathize with them, but I don’t know much of what they went through. Found a few World War II veterans and we’ve been talking it’s...so odd to see faces I barely remember in the 107th...they can relate more.”

The tears are the only thing warm on him, not for long. They dry and nearly freeze to his skin. He’s not even aware he’s crying right now. He doesn’t want to cry. There’s no point in crying.

“I don’t know what to say, what I-I should say. There’s so much I want to say but I can’t find the words. So much I wanna ask about you, about your life. Did you know Howard has a son? Of course, you do...you were on top of him. Or-or...that I love you. Gods, Pegs, I love you. I think about you far too much and yet not enough. I think about what could’ve been. Our dance. I would step on your shoes. You would laugh. Our life. Working together to make a better future. Peggy, I...am so proud of your work…”

The bouquet bristled in the wind and Steve sniffled, rubbing his nose on the back of his hand. Right, the bouquet. He nearly forgot about that.

“I gotcha a bouquet. Promised you I’d get you flowers back in the war, but they were...never right for you. It’s got daisies, means innocence, right? Sunflowers cause you said my hair reminded you of sunflowers, but-but it means loyalty, adoration. Tulips they-they means love too and oh roses because you...you deserve the best. Shoulda saw me, Pegs, I was helpless choosing…”

Steve could sleep here. He had before when he first woke up. Slept right on top of her grave, didn’t mean to either, his body just felt too exhausted to walk home. He’d taken the time the next day to clean hers and his ma’s, even take time to clean Bucky’s. He carefully avoided his own. It felt wrong to look at when he stood outside of it here.

The moon was high above them by the time Steve left, nose dripping with snot and eyes burning with tears as he stumbled out of the graveyard. Too dark to try to see around him, too much into his head to check his surroundings.

He didn’t see the figure that stepped out from the trees or watch it approach the newly laid bouquet. Later that night, he would be fast asleep, unknowingly aware that someone was in his room. Fingernails that were painted red would stroke through his blonde hair before adjusting the sheets around him. They will lay the rose and bow on the bedside table, directly over the compass.

A soft kiss, the barest of touches would be laid on his temple, and for once, Steve’s face smoothed out of all wrinkles, for once he looked so at peace.

#Steggy #Stevepeggy #Steggy Prompt #@womenarethesequel #For womenarethesequel

[snakeboistan]

Flower Power

Karmagisa Flower Shop AU

“How do I passive-aggressively say f*** you in flower?”

Nagisa blinked. It was just an ordinary day at the flower shop he worked at; he opened the double doors and greeted his co-workers, tied his baby blue apron around his waist and started his shift. The morning was quite slow as they only had three customers: a frantic man desperately looking for an anniversary gift for his wife, a teenaged schoolgirl who wanted to cheer up her hospitalised best friend, and a young lady who was headed to her goddaughter’s birth. He was standing behind the counter, arranging the bouquet of lavender-coloured roses and alstroemeria when he walked in. Like a man on a warpath, this tall red headed stranger in a black blazer strode in like he owned the place, the sound of loud confident footsteps reverberated through the empty store as he made his way to the counter and slammed down two a thousand yen notes onto its surface, almost causing Nagisa to drop the posies of purple stock and purple statice in his hand in surprise.

“Um, excuse me?” oh right, he had a job to do.

“Oh sorry, sir,” Nagisa said, still completely perplexed by the events that had unfolded during the last minute. Why, out of all times, did Maehara decide to go to see ‘the cute barista with the most dazzling brown eyes that suck you in and most adorable antennae and beautiful smile that leaves me weak at the knees’ that worked at the coffee shop opposite them and Fuwa chose to work on her commissioned bouquet in the storage room in the back? “I just - um, excuse me - but do you think you could repeat what you just said, please?”

Mr Tall Stranger scoffed, “It’s one of my classmates’ birthday tomorrow and I positively hate the guy. He thinks that just because he got higher than me in midterms last week that he’s sooo much better than me - as if one point is such a difference. Well, the whole school positively adores him and since it’s our last year of High School, I thought it would be a kind gesture for me to put aside our differences and just give him a parting gift for the last birthday he’ll ever be able to spend with me.”

“By … giving him a floral arrangement that would be the equivalent of flipping him off?” Nagisa raised an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” the other replied brightly, “so can you do it? I swear I can pay extra if I need to. Trust me the look on Asano’s face would be worth every yen.”

“Well, I can see what I can do, sir.”

“Karma,” the young man said, “please don’t use any of that ‘sir’ business.”

“Sure, Karma.”

“Thank you, Nagisa.” If it weren’t for the fact that he was wearing a name tag, Nagisa would’ve jumped five feet in the air at the fact that Mr-Karma used his name. It certainly didn’t help that he was somewhat attractive with his sharp golden eyes, stylishly ruffled crimson locks, cocky smile and an aura that screamed confidence. Pushing down the feeling of interest that curled in his stomach and seemed to be targeted towards the other male, Nagisa put down the flowers in his hands and stated, “well, you could use geraniums, which symbolise stupidity, foxgloves, which symbolise insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, orange lilies for hatred and finally some yellow carnations.”

“Really,” Karma was grinning widely, placing his elbow on the countertop and resting his chin on the back of his hand, “and what do they mean.”

Nagisa smiled, “disappointment and disdain.”

Karma threw his head back and laughed (and no, the sound did not make Nagisa blush all right, no matter what those pesky store cameras said. Everyone knew that they weren’t working anyway), “that’s brilliant. You sure know your stuff, don’t you? I’m going to need to remember that for the next time I do a group project with Terasaka.”

“Consider it a gift,” Nagisa said, “I like reading and the language of flowers interested me.”

“Is that why you work here then.”

“Not really,” he didn’t know why he was explaining this all to a person he just met, but something about the dashing redhead made him feel … safe, in a way. He didn’t know why but the golden-eyed gaze captured him and drew him in and he wanted more, “I’m trying to save up for University and my own place once I graduate high school and this store pays really well for part-time work. You don’t have to know a lot about flowers to work here but I thought it would be a fun hobby to try to learn and I was curious so I taught myself all about it.”

“You must be really smart, to learn all of that,” Karma smiled, causing him to blush.

“Not really,” he replied sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, “trust me I’m not. I’m kind of not doing well in school right now. At this rate, getting a 70 percent in maths would be nothing more than a miracle.”

Karma just hummed before saying, “I see. Well, any chance we could get started on my ‘F*** You, Asano’ birthday gift?”

“Which I assume is coming straight from the heart?”

“But of course,” Karma said solemnly, placing a hand over his heart and winking. Nagisa rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement, as he walked around the counter and began searching for the flowers required.

“So, what do you study in school?” Karma asked when Nagisa was gently pulling out a handful of coral coloured foxgloves.

“Hmm? Oh, just the usual, you know: Maths, Science, English. Oh, and also Psychology. You?”

“The same as you but Economics instead of Psychology, which, I’ve got to say is really interesting. Can you, like, read minds?”

“Unfortunately, no, I have not yet unlocked that skill,” Nagisa replied gravely with a shake of his head, “it appears that my dreams of becoming like Psyren and taking over the world by using mental waves are currently on hold.”

“‘Psyren’? Like the villain in the Sonic Ninja: A Soldier Returns comic?” Karma sounded impressed.

“You read Sonic Ninja?”

“Yeah, I got to admit I’m not too big on the movies though. The director they had for the last one was kind of terrible.”

“I thought it was alright,” Nagisa quipped back as he gathered all of the necessary plants and made his way back to the counter, “sure the special effects weren’t that great but the plot was good.”

“Eh,” Karma waved his hand down, “I still think that the villain only won because the plot called for it and not because he was necessarily skilled.”

“Are you kidding me?” Nagisa’s head was down as he wrapped the flowers but he was sure that the incredulity in his voice conveyed every emotion on his face, “he’s one of the most powerful characters in the franchise! He survived a literal nuclear bomb! He was able to create a forcefield so powerful it wiped out an entire village!”

“Yeah, but to say that he’s stronger than an entire army is just pushing it.”

“I suppose so. By the way, that would be two thousand yen, which you already gave me earlier. Would you like a card to sign?”

“Sure,” Karma shrugged, “I’ve got to show how much I mean this thoughtful gesture, you know.”

Nagisa laughed and handed him a card and pen so that Karma could write whatever it was he wanted to write.

“By the way,” Karma asked as he picked up the bouquet, “what would you suggest I get if I wanted to ask someone out?”

“Oh, umm, well. Roses are usually the go to, even if they might be a bit clichè. The best option would be to go for the person’s favourite flower but you have purple lilacs, which mean first love, pink camellias, which mean longing, and chrysanthemums, which mean long lasting love. Personally, I’d go for sunflowers, which mean loyalty and pure adoration, or forget-me-nots, which mean I’ll never forget you, but I think that that one’s pretty obvious.”

Karma hummed and nodded to himself before cheerily saying “goodbye” and leaving the store, ringing the bell as he went. Nagisa sighed and smiled.

“So what was that about?” Fuwa asked smugly from her place near the doorway of the storage room. Nagisa gasped and turned around in shock, not expecting her to be there.

“How long were you standing there?” Nagisa’s tone was accusing.

“Long enough to know that someone’s got a fan.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, he’s just a customer.”

“Mmhmm, keep telling yourself that ‘Gisa. I saw the way he was looking at you. It was pure shoujo manga with the flowers and the banter and the teasing.”

Nagisa rolled his eyes as Fuwa started to go on in another one of her tangents. He loved her, he really did, but he often wondered if she actually lived in the real world.

“What’s got her started?” Maehara asked later when he returned from his break.

“She thinks a customer is into me,” Nagisa replied, “which is stupid because I’m not really the type of guy a person asks out.”

“Ohohoho, that’s what you think, young one,” Fuwa wagged her finger, “the romantic tension between you two was so palpable I could almost taste it. And don’t deny it, you think he’s hot.”

Nagisa blushed, “I, well, I - I have eyes okay! It’s not like he’d be interested in me though. He might not even like guys that much.”

Maehara gave him a knowing look, “that’s what I thought about Isogai but guess who just got a date for next weekend?”

“Really?” Fuwa beamed and clapped her hands giddily, “Oh, you must tell me all about it.”

Nagisa just looked at his friends and sighed.

————

The next day, when Nagisa turned up at his shift in the afternoon, there was a bouquet of sunflowers and forget-me-nots lying on the countertop. With his heart beating like a drum, he fiddled with the card that was attached to the ribbon that held them in place.

Hey Nagisa,

Heard that the new Sonic Ninja movie is coming out in a week, wanna go watch it together?

Here’s my number: xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Karma

P.S: if you ever need help with maths, I’d be glad to lend some assistance ;)

P.P.S: the flowers were great!

#assassination classroom #my writing #karmagisa #shiota nagisa #nagisa shiota #akabane karma #karma akabane

[chestnut-b]

Himawari Chapter 6

This man will be the death of you.

The first time Iruka had laid eyes on Kakashi’s figure in that field of sunflowers, a voice had whispered in his ear, as if carried by the wind.

Chapter 6 of a Demon Slayer AU.

Iruka, I’m sorry.

His mother had smiled at him sadly the first time he’d mentioned hearing voices. She’d taken him into her warm arms and sang a sweet but melancholic song, her hands running through his hair, the sound of the waves breaching the shore outside eventually lulling him to sleep.

It wasn’t until he was older that he was made to understand the nature of being born a Senju. 

Descendants would always be born with bodies that would fail them.

Their karma from having produced a great demon would haunt their line till the day Orochimaru was wiped from existence. 

But the gods, in some twisted form of consolation, decided to bestow their kin with exceptional foresight, allowing them to amass their fortunes, and continue their fight till this day, leading the demon slayers.

Of all the voices Iruka had heard throughout his life, the one that would have saved his parents never reached him. 

Iruka had been a sickly child, too weak to lift a sword. He could manage a kunai at least, much to his father’s relief, and soon, he began his training in the shinobi arts. Poisons, traps, diversions and an almost inhumane focus on accuracy made up a large part of his childhood memories with his father. Bittersweet, but precious nonetheless. 

Ikaku hailed from a small shinobi village on the Izu coast, its destruction eventually leading him to the demon slayers. He’d been reporting to Sarutobi at his estate when he came across a visiting Kohari.

“He was as red as a tomato.” Sarutobi would chuckle, grinning widely as he recounted that first meeting. His father’s dour demeanour had been well-known amongst his comrades, but so was his sense of duty. It made his desertion with Kohari all the more shocking.

“The burden of being a Senju is not an easy one to bear, Iruka. She wanted to protect you, however she could.” 

It was the night of his thirteenth year. He was managing a squirming Naruto in his arms when Sarutobi had said that. Had Iruka followed the path he was meant to walk, he would have already been married to a wife chosen by the temple, and the baby in his arms would have been his own, one who would eventually endure the same cycle of karma as their ancestors before them. 

If being thankful for avoiding that fate made him a coward, so be it.

His parents had brought him to Sarutobi several times as he grew older, despite the lingering fear of retribution for deserting. With his instruction, Iruka had eventually worked up the strength to even wield a sword, something Sarutobi considered an achievement in itself, even if his stamina would always be left wanting.

“If something happens to us, go to him.”

Those were the last instructions they gave him before they had set out from their home. A week prior, a talking crow had appeared, bearing news of the coming birth of an Uzumaki, and the hoard of demons and familiars who were beginning to gather. His mother, already in a weakened state, simply looked at her husband resolvedly. 

Perhaps she too, had received her own revelation. Ikaku had deserted the corp, but never his will to protect the weak from demons. His blade had never seen a dull day, and this time, he would not let his old comrades face the coming threat alone. 

They’d died fulfilling their duties.

Iruka was proud of them. He’d told them as much, praying before the empty grave markers he’d made outside their home.

He’d just wished they hadn’t left him behind. 

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

If he closed his eyes and focused, he could hear the beat of Kakashi’s heart.

Like the rumbling of a storm forming in the distance. 

As a child, he’d run out of the house to stand on the edge of the cliff where his parents’ graves now stood, watching with fascination as the darkening clouds gathered where the sea met the sky. 

If he closed his eyes, he’d find himself there yet again.

“Naruto, keep yourself together. Not much longer now.”

Surprisingly, the boy nodded obediently without complaint. He’d been strangely quiet. They were passing through another wisteria grove, and Iruka found himself being carried on the Hashira’s back as they made the last of their way back to the school. Kakashi had insisted; he wasn’t in good shape, despite the rest he had gotten. 

An hour ago when they’d left the cave, he’d slipped an arm under his knees and back, lifting him up as easily as one would a child. Resistance at this point was futile, and Kakashi’s amusement seemed to grow the redder he got.

This man will be the death of you.

The first time Iruka had laid eyes on Kakashi’s figure in that field of sunflowers, a voice had whispered in his ear, as if carried by the wind.

It wasn’t said with any kind of discernible malice, nor was it tainted with foreboding, like so many of the voices he’d heard before. 

It was gentle and lined with warmth, almost as if it was meant to comfort him. 

Mother?

Iruka had been so shaken by this, he’d forgotten to offer his name to the Hashira when they finally met.

Nearly two months later, here he was, flush against a warm and broad back that reminded him painfully of his father, Naruto trailing sleepily behind them.

If this was what that voice was referring to, perhaps it wasn’t the worst way  to go.

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

They moved at a steady pace amidst the rain of falling petals overhead, and he was just about ready to doze off before Kakashi’s musings reached his ears.

“I was thinking...we’re not too different after all, Iruka-sensei.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The Final Selection. I didn’t pass either.” He admitted softly.

“I’ve heard Naruto tell better lies, Kakashi-san.” Iruka couldn’t imagine a world where it could be true.

“You wound me, sensei. I’d never lie to you.” Iruka thought he almost sounded serious for a moment, but Kakashi sighed wistfully before continuing, a little more subdued than Iruka was used to hearing. 

“After my father died, I ended up at a school. I met a boy, Obito, and a girl, Rin there. Minato-sensei eventually came and took us as his apprentices.”

“Obito was an idiot, but we became rivals. We entered the selection together. I’d always made fun of him for being a crybaby and a goody-two shoes, but he ended up saving many of the entrants that year.”

“We ended up against a demon who’d survived on the mountain for over three decades, eating humans and absorbing other demons. We were outmatched, and I’d lost an eye, but...Obito managed to activate his Sharingan.”

The Sharingan; so Obito was a descendant of the Uchiha, Iruka realised. Like the Uzumaki, they’d come from a long, ancient line of demon hunters. Their eyes were said to have granted demon-like perception, but at a steep price. Much like the Senju, none with an activated Sharingan would live to see old age. By now, they had been all but wiped out, after one of their members had become a demon, slaughtering and sparing not even a single child,

“We thought we’d defeated it, and I’d let my guard down. The cave we were in collapsed on us.” Kakashi continued. “Obito protected me and took the blow, but his right side was crushed.”  

Iruka’s hold on Kakashi’s shoulders tightened on reflex. He knew what was coming. The eyepatch over Kakashi’s left eye, along with his fame as a Hashira, was more than enough.

“Rin was skilled enough to fulfill his last request, but I lost consciousness right after, and when I came to, the selection was over. Obito was the only one who failed to make it that year.”

Kakashi looked up at the wisteria flowers overhead.

“So you see, sensei, I don’t deserve to be standing here right now. I didn’t pass the selection like I was supposed to.”

Iruka pressed closer.

“Please don’t say that. It hasn’t just been Naruto and my life you’ve saved.” Iruka whispered. How many lives had Kakashi rescued since becoming a slayer, too many to count, in all likelihood.

Passing the selection meant you had to survive a week on that battlefield, and Kakashi had, by all means, passed. Most of the entrants would have been children.

The demon Kakashi had faced might have been an outlier, but the thought of Naruto having to go through the same ordeal was almost too much to bear. 

“You don’t resent the Senju for all this?” 

It was a question only a Hashira could answer. They were the only ones in the corp who knew the identity of their leader; it was a secret as closely guarded as the location of the family estate. The rest of the corp knew him only as “Oyakata-sama”.

“I can’t say they’ve done everything right, but they are doing their best.” Kakashi stated. There must have been more he wanted to say, he’d refrained from doing so.

They continued walking in silence for a while more, but a question had been circling in Iruka’s mind since Kakashi had mentioned it the night before. 

“Kakashi-san...your father, did he...look like you?”

He felt Kakashi’s pace hitch for just a beat. 

“Why do you ask?” It was barely a whisper.

“If he did...I might have seen him before.” Iruka admitted.

It was one of Iruka’s earliest recollections. The man had hair much longer than Kakashi’s, and though Iruka had yet to see most of the Hashira’s face, the aura they projected was remarkably similar.

The man fought Ikaku outside their home. It had been a fierce battle, and the first time he’d seen his father fight another human. Kohari had been holding him, and she’d been more scared than Iruka remembered being. 

“I think he’d been sent to find us. Father called him -”

“Sakumo.” Kakashi finished. Iruka nodded. 

“He didn’t say very much. They fought, and after a while, he just left.” 

Kakashi snorted. “That sounds just like him”

Iruka smiled wryly. He’d left out the fact that Sakumo had beat his father half an inch from his life. With a wave, he’d left with a satisfied look on his face, together with the hound he’d arrived with. 

“He’d found us, but nothing ever happened after that.”

Kakashi chuckled softly. “So he was testing your father’s resolve then.”

Iruka smiled. 

“He must have been a good man.”

“What makes you think that?” It almost sounded like a test.

Iruka had only ever seen his father cry twice. The first, when he had to accept there was nothing he could do for his wife’s declining condition. The second…

“My father cried when the news came.”

That Sakumo had killed himself, having been turned a demon. Even if it had been against his will, his village would have shunned him, even in death. His family too, would have been made outcasts. 

Kakashi remained quiet, and Iruka was slowly beginning to regret bringing up the subject.

“Thank you. It’s good to know I wasn’t the only one.”

Gods. 

He closed his eyes, feeling like the child he used to be, watching the storm brewing on the horizon. Sakumo and Kakashi, watching them in battle, had felt exactly the same way. 

He thought of his parents, who were watching him from wherever they’d gone.

Father...Mother…

If there is any happiness out there meant for this man…

Please, guide him to it.

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

Iruka had requested for the last of his dignity to be spared, and so just before they’d arrived at gates, Kakashi set the teacher back down on his two feet. Strapping his sword back into his belt, Iruka checked on his young charge, who had been almost unnervingly quiet since they’d set out this morning.

“Naruto, something wrong?”

“I’m fine, sensei.” He could have been a lot more convincing if he’d looked Iruka in the eyes. Iruka’s expression grew more concerned, and he placed a warm hand on the boy’s head.

“You must be starving. I’ll have them fix you something as soon as we get back.” The boy nodded in response, and the three of them walked towards the gates. 

“What the heck happened to you?” Izumo and Kotetsu had run up to them as soon as they were in sight. Iruka scratched the back of his head and sighed.

“We ran into some trouble on the way back. One of the entry points’ been destroyed, and we encountered a demon at the cave by the ravine.” 

“You’re serious. It’s the second one this month. We’ll have to let the others know. You look like crap by the way.” 

Iruka rolled his eyes in Kotetsu’s direction.

“Who took over my class today?”

“Oh, Mizuki did, he wasn’t too happy about it either. He says you owe him a main dish at dinner.”

“Right.” Iruka sighed. 

Behind them, Izumo went up to Kakashi, holding up a slip of paper to the Hashira.

“A message arrived this morning for you, Hatake-dono.” Kakashi thanked the man, and looked at the letter’s contents.

The Snake Pillar has arrived. Your presence at headquarters is requested. Your debriefing will be held in two days.

So Anko had returned. A debriefing…

Kakashi’s gaze found Iruka’s back. He’d gone up ahead with Naruto, but turned around to send a tired smile his way. 

Was this feeling...Disappointment? 

Perhaps. 

Despite the realisation, he found himself smiling too.

It had been a long time since he’d had something to feel that way about. 

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

“I see.” 

Iruka was staring into his tea cup again.

“Naruto’s in good hands, Iruka-sensei.” Kakashi said, sipping at his own tea. He’d spent the afternoon packing his belongings. 

It had been years since Kakashi had spent this much time in one place, but it wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected. Two months had gone by in the blink of an eye, and he’d been given precious time to think about things he’d brushed off before.

Like why he was still alive. Why he was still a demon slayer. 

Despite everything he’d lost, living the life he did, it was easy to forget. 

“I’ll send Bisuke and Guruko when I can.”

Iruka laughed softly. “Not that anything exciting happens around here, but I’d like to hear about your adventures, Kakashi-san.”

The teacher’s face seemed to brighten at his words. His face was faintly flushed, and his smile was warm. It was different from the one he’d seen the day they’d first met, the one that was meant to greet a superior. Kakashi liked to think they could be friends. 

That night at dinner, when Iruka gave up his dish as compensation to Mizuki for covering for him, he’d laughed when half a grilled fish appeared on his empty plate. 

It was a worthwhile sacrifice to hear it. 

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

“Naruto’s resting in bed. He’s still pretty out of it I’m afraid.” 

Iruka scratched at his scar sheepishly.

They’d walked together till the gates were out of sight. Guruko was trailing behind Kakashi, but when they’d stopped, Iruka kneeled down to give her a satisfying rub. 

“Don’t let Kakashi-san work you too hard, Guruko.” He whispered. Guruko barked happily in agreement. Iruka laughed, and rose again to face Kakashi. 

“So this is where we part.”

“For now.” 

“For now.” Iruka repeated, nodding. 

He reached a hand out towards the Hashira, who took it firmly in his own.

“It’s going to be a bit lonelier now. Keep safe, Kakashi-san.” 

It was a hard ask for someone who’d lived to throw themselves into battle.

“Well, I’ll do my best, Iruka-sensei.”

He would. Kakashi had to stay alive, now that he’d found a new reason to fight. 

“Maybe I’ll find a way to defeat Orochimaru, and you’ll finally be able to leave this fancy cage you’ve built for yourself.”

If the gods are willing, you’ll get to see Naruto grow up, or even have a family of your own.

Iruka’s eyes widened, before softening again. He let go of Kakashi’s hand. 

“I’ve never thought of it that way, but thank you, Kakashi-san.” 

“I’m really glad I got to meet you.”

Kakashi smiled at him one more time before he started walking. Lifting an arm, he gave a lazy wave before eventually disappearing from sight.

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

It should have only been the two of them, so why did he feel a third presence?

Iruka felt a burning sensation in his chest. 

It hurt to breathe. 

He pried his eyes open. 

Naruto lay in his futon an arm away. But he was wide awake, and he was staring at Iruka wordlessly; not with his sky-blue eyes, no.

The eyes that bore into him now were slit, and glowed orange like a molten fire.

“Naruto...?” Words struggled to leave his throat, but the boy didn’t respond. Iruka felt despair grip him. If this wasn’t a nightmare, what was he to do? 

He did the only thing he could think of. 

Reaching an arm out to Naruto, he pulled the boy to his chest. It was as if he’d held his hand to a naked flame. His entire body burned.

He heard a faint growl and felt the child struggle under his arm, and despite his burning lungs, Iruka held him closer.

“Naruto, it’s alright. I’m here.” Iruka cried. 

No matter what happens. I’m here.

The boy stiffened in his arms, but soon relaxed into his hold. The heat emanating from his body dissipated, and Iruka found the strength to take in air once again. The third presence he had felt faded from his senses, and the boy was soon breathing in the relaxed rhythm Iruka had come to know. 

Closing his eyes, he recalled Kakashi’s words the day before.

Naruto’s in good hands...

I can only pray you’re right, Kakashi-san.

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

End of Chapter 6

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Author’s Notes:

Ohh, I wasn’t kidding when I said this was going to be a slow burn. ;_; 

It’s not a chapter with too much going on in it, but I hope it was an enjoyable one nonetheless! I’m curious as to what you think (if you’ve read Demon Slayer) and how it’s been used as a backdrop for this fic. Of course, things have been changed a bit. : )

I’m really happy with how the art turned out for this chapter though! I’ve had to teach myself how to draw again after a long hiatus, and this was the first time I’ve been satisfied with the end result, so I hope you enjoy it too!

#kakairu #iruka #kakashi #iruka umino #umino iruka #demon slayer au

[thegizka]

Smile

Writer’s Month Day 1:  Flower Shop AU

Hitsugaya takes particular notice of one of the flower shop's regular customers. It turns out she's taken notice of him as well.

Read it on Ao3.

Note: I do not own any aspect of Bleach.

The first time Hitsugaya saw her was his third day on the job.  She came into the shop with her sister to pick up an order under the name Kurosaki--lilies and ferns and pink camellias with sprigs of baby’s breath.  There was a note to cut them to fit a grave’s vase, so he snipped the stems and wrapped the tips in a damp paper towel before handing them over.  The sisters paid and thanked him.  He met her eyes briefly as she turned to go but thought nothing of it.  She was just one of a sea of customers.

A few months later, the sisters returned to pick up another order.  The blonde wandered around the shop for a bit, her sister trailing behind her.  Hitsugaya was on the other side of the store inspecting some arrangements for wilting.  He saw the blonde stop and smell a chrysanthemum before saying something to her sister who shrugged and said something in reply which caused her to frown.  They picked up their order from Matsumoto and left.

In another few months, she came in by herself.  She barely glanced around before heading to the counter.

“Pickup for Kurosaki please.”

“Sure, one moment.”  Hitsugaya turned to the shelves of orders, scanning the names until he found Kurosaki.  The bouquet included some zinnias instead of lilies this month.

“Do you need this trimmed?”

“Please.”  She stood with her arms crossed, leaning her weight on one leg like someone who was used to moving, not waiting.  She struck him as a person who didn’t fare well in idleness.

“You’re not with your sister today.”  Hitsugaya wasn’t normally one for small talk, but Matsumoto kept telling him facilitating an enjoyable experience was part of customer services.

“She has to help our father with an emergency, so I’m running the errands today.”

“It’s not a serious emergency, I hope.”

“No, not really.”  She exchanged payment for the bouquet.  “Thanks,” she said and left.

A few weeks later, he saw her on his day off.  Ever since he had moved away from Momo and Grandma (she wasn’t really his grandma, but he had nothing else to call her), he had taken to walking around Karakura Town on his own.  He didn’t enjoy staying in his tiny apartment alone.  It was too quiet.

Matsumoto had decided to take him under her wing, which was nice, but she was loud and bold where he was quiet and calculating.  Sometimes her company was too much.  Besides, they didn’t always have the same days off, which left him frequently alone with his thoughts and memories.

On those days, he’d wander Karakura Town, partially to get to know his new home and partially to distract himself.  It was a strange new place.  The town charaded as an average residence with a decently sized shopping district, a school, and a hospital on the outskirts.  Hitsugaya was noticing a lot of quirks, though.  The residents were pretty eccentric, and there was a higher than average amount of accidents.  He couldn’t decide if there was something greater at work or this town just had bad luck.

He was walking along the river when he saw her.  She was on the other side where the bank was wider.  He’d seen kids playing on the swaths of grass and couples picnicking there.  She wasn’t alone when he spotted her.  Her sister was sitting further up the embankment watching while she and an older boy with orange hair kicked a soccer ball.  Hitsugaya had never played soccer, but he could tell just by observing that she was good.  She had control of the ball and excellent balance.  The guy she was with had fast reflexes, but his movement indicated he didn’t usually use them for soccer.  He was chasing after the ball more often than he was guiding it.

Hitsugaya stopped in his walk and watched them for a while.  He found their interactions fascinating.  Whenever her opponent missed, rather than be triumphant, she appeared to berate him as though he wasn’t taking it seriously enough for her.  She always seemed so disinterested in the shop that this passion was intriguing.  She was expressive and energetic.  When she kicked the ball into the boy’s chest hard enough to make him stumble, she laughed.  Her sister got up and went to the boy with concern, but she went after the soccer ball.  When she rejoined the others, the boy ruffled her hair without a sign of anger or resentment.  She pushed him away with long-suffering annoyance.

He found his thoughts turning to Momo.  Their interactions had never been this natural or energetic.  He wondered if that was because they weren’t blood-related.  He could tell from the shape of their faces that the orange-haired guy was most likely their brother.  As they gathered their things to leave the riverbank, the boy kept a careful eye on his sisters, walking half a step behind them to keep them in sight.  Hitsugaya wondered if that was instinctual.  He wondered if Momo had ever done the same with him.

For Hitsugaya, their interactions had always been distant and calculated.  It was hard to pretend to trust after experiencing life alone for so long.  He had never adjusted his walking pace to match Momo’s or felt any form of fondness when she called him Shiro-chan.  But he couldn’t deny that he cared that she had been around for him.  She had kept an eye on him even when he forgot to keep her in sight.  He recognized that this gave him no right to consider her move away to college a betrayal, but the emptiness and regret he had felt had driven him to move away on his own.  The maturity he had gained helped him see how foolish of a boy he had been.

The Kurosakis had long left the opposite bank, and Hitsugaya bade his feet continue walking.  He redirected his thoughts to designing a new flower arrangement.  It would feature peach blossoms and forget-me-nots.

The next time they met, she caught him off guard.

“Do you like working here?”

He paused in his trimming to look at her.

“Karin,” her sister scolded, “that’s rude!”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I’ve been in here a dozen times since you started working, and you’re never smiling.  Why do you work here if you don’t like it?”

“Karin!”

“There are more important things than enjoying my work,” he replied, finishing the preparation of their bouquet.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t have fun.  Pleasure and responsibility aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“I take pride in my work.”

“You’re dodging my question.”

“Karin!”  Her sister looked furious.  “We have to go.  I’m very sorry.”  She bowed to him.  “Thank you for the flowers.”

He watched them leave, whispering and bickering together.  Why did she seem to care so much about his answer?  Not smiling didn’t mean he hated it here.  He rarely smiled at anything.  He was a little surprised she had noticed.

Two days later, Karin came back to the shop.  She wasn’t picking up an order; Hitsugaya noticed every time a bundle was set aside for Kurosaki, and there hadn’t been anything on the pickup shelf that morning.  He was assembling a new arrangement at the work table near the back of the store.  She wandered between displays, periodically pausing to inspect a flower, but she seemed disinterested and unsure.  Matsumoto was busy helping another customer, so Hitsugaya approached her.

“Hi,” he greeted.  “Can I help you find something?”

“Oh, hi.”  She seemed started.  “I was just looking for something for my sister.”

“Did she tell you what she wanted?”

“No,” she sighed.  “She doesn’t know I’m here.  I messed up, and Yuzu’s really mad at me, so I figured I’d get some flowers to apologize.”

“Ah.”  He briefly wondered what rift between the sisters warranted flowers, but it wasn’t his business.

“She understands a lot more about this than I do,” Karin mumbled, twirling the stem of a lily gently before putting it back.  “All I see are flowers, but she gets the meanings behind them and knows what care they need to last longer.  It makes her extremely difficult to shop for.”

“Not many people know the language of flowers nowadays.”

“Do you?”  She looked at him with genuine curiosity.  For a moment, he had her full attention, and it sent a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“Sorry, dumb question,” she said, looking away quickly.  “It’s probably a requirement for your job.”

“It’s not, but I did learn it.”

“Then do you know of any good apology flowers?”

“Sure.”

She looked at him with relief and expectation.

“Just get her flowers she likes.”

“Seriously?  I thought you’d point to something and say ‘This means I’m sorry, please forgive me’ and I’d be good to go.”

“I’ve never come across a single flower that says all of that,” he replied, his bemusement bringing a slight grin to his face.  Karin blinked before grinning herself.

“That’s because flowers don’t really speak, dummy.”  She shook her head, possibly to hide the hint of color in her cheeks that accompanied her lame joke.  “Get her flowers she likes?  Hmm.”

She wandered the aisles, and Hitsugaya followed, offering suggestions and advice when she seemed unsure.  They collected sunflowers and pink carnations, lilies of the valley and white daisies.  He chose some foliage to fill out the bouquet and highlight the blossoms.  She browsed the ribbons while he trimmed the stems and finalized the arrangement at the work table.

“Thank you,” Karin said, running a strip of ribbon between her fingers.  “I was totally lost in here on my own.”

“You’re welcome.”  He tied the yellow ribbon she had picked out around the stems, finishing it with a bow.

“Did you do this?” she asked, indicating the arrangement he had been working on when she entered.

“I did.”

“I like it.”  She leaned down to sniff one of the flowers.  “I recognize the daffodils, but what are these purple ones?”

“Salvia.”

“They work nicely together.  You have a good eye.”

He wanted to tell her it was just part of his job, but his usual blunt reply died on his lips.

“Thanks.”

They looked at each other for an indecipherable moment before he thrust the bouquet at her.

“Thank you again,” she said as she handed him payment.  “I think Yuzu will like these.”

“Is it enough for her to forgive you?”

“Oh yeah.  She doesn’t stay mad for very long.  And if she’s not satisfied, I’ll just come back and buy some more.”

“I’ll brainstorm some other combinations just in case.”

“Thanks for your confidence in me,” she snorted, but there was a grin on her face.  “See you later.”

Hitsugaya watched her leave.  A little part of him hoped he’d see her again soon.

#writersmonth2020 #day 1 #flower shop au #hitsukarin #hitsugaya toshiro #kurosaki karin #kurosaki yuzu #kurosaki ichigo #matsumoto rangiku #hinamori momo #bleach #I'm not really satisfied with this but I'm already two days behind #fanfiction #my words

[cultureisdarkbeer]

The Beginning - Chapter 3 

Three Meals and a Liberty Bell

Conduit/Jersey Devil/Shadows

Read Here

It had been two weeks since Ethan walked out.  Scully missed him, but she knew it was time.  It was nice to not have to answer to anyone, to concentrate only on herself.   She was going to take advantage of this time to decide what it was she wanted out of life.  When she left Daniel it was the hardest thing she had ever done.  This breakup was not the same. It had been on the verge of happening for a while now.  Scully felt smothered as she eventually always did in her relationships. Being emotionally close was not something Dana was comfortable with. Ethan was another victim in the wake of the great Dana Scully.  She knew that to leave headquarters would be a mistake.  Now she would focus on her career, on herself, and enjoy the alone time.  Especially the joy in having to answer to no one, having to explain herself to no one, and having the whole wonderful apartment all to herself.

Then she got to work.  As with every day, she started in Blevin’s office.  On the surface the powers that be made it seem all too innocent.  Their justification for their actions was simple.  Exorbitant expenditures, flimsy reasons for expense and case requests, all under the guise of concern for appropriations of federal funding.  If any resistance was given they would follow up with accusatory statements concerning Mulder’s obsession with looking for his sister.  Instead of a spy, she felt more like his defender.  At the time, she wasn’t sure why she had such an intense urge to protect him.  Did Mulder portray a certain bad boy image?  A rebel with a cause.  He was fearless of consequences, focused, and determined.  She couldn’t bear to think of being responsible to put out such a fire.  Were his pursuits truly unfounded?

[Post Conduit]

Mulder lifted his head and dried his eyes.  This was getting him nowhere.  He prayed one last time to the God that never spoke back.  A quiet bystander overseeing all.  He had prayed for the signs that would lead to his sister.  Was she out there alone and afraid?  Had she been abused?  Experimented on, part of some untold testing and torture?  He wanted to believe he could still find her and save her.  Pain emanating his heart and infuriating his mind.  “Please God help me.  Give me the strength and the wisdom to find my sister” He got up. Mulder didn’t have much faith in religions and with each passing day he was losing faith in the God that would allow such sinister plots to torture innocent children. Was free will really the culprit in all this? With the sign of the cross he left the church, picked up his cell phone and pressed the redial button.

*

Scully listened to Mulder’s Hypnotic Regression Therapy session cassette from the case file. Convincing herself she was doing it out of necessity to gain deeper knowledge into her partner and not from sheer nosiness sated her conscience. It squeezed at her heart hearing his voice so fragile and vulnerable speaking about her crying out his name and him being unable to help her.  He wanted so badly to believe he could find her. Even though she did not believe beings from another planet came to claim his sister, she felt empathy and knew she was abducted by someone just the same.  What a terribly traumatic experience for him to have to go through at such a young age.  She pictured him as a boy, watching helplessly as his sister was taken and it caused her to shudder and shed a tear as raw emotion enveloped her.  The cellphone rang startling her.  “Scully”

“Hey Scully, it’s me, Mulder.”

“Hey Mulder” She inserted the contents and quickly closed the file even though logically he had no way of seeing her.  She felt like somehow she was violating his privacy, his innermost demons, even though it was part of public record.

“It’s around dinner time and I really don’t feel like eating alone tonight.  Care to join me?”

She could hear the continued sorrow in his voice and she didn’t have the heart to turn him down.  She knew how badly this case had affected him and now she was able to begin to understand why.  The wounded expression when he relented, knowing how much he wanted to help that family.  How he saw himself in that boy.

“Sure Mulder, wherever you’d like.”

There they sat in another dimly lit restaurant at a corner table.  If someone didn’t know any better they would probably assume they were on a date.

“Mulder, I want to apologize to you.  Twice today I laid my hands on you and I shouldn’t have done that, it was inappropriate of me.”

Mulder frowned. He wanted to play innocent and ask what she meant, but her touch spoke to him.  It was soothing and warm.  Electrified and magnetic.  “No Scully, I should thank you.  Both times, when I was pulling those rocks off of that makeshift grave and when I was going after the boy in the hospital I was out of control.  You brought me back.  I need you to do that for me, that’s what friends do.”

He looked at her and his eyes sparkled, they reached out to her heart and she felt them hug her.  She closed her eyes to absorb it all and opened them with a warm smile that made Mulder stare down at his pasta to break away from the intimacy.

She asked him to share some stories of the good times he remembered with his sister.  As he expounded, an intense pained look came across his face.  It was the same look he had while he was opening up to her in the car.  She knew without him saying it that he had never spoke like this to anyone before.  She recalled his lips twitching and eyes trembling as he told her about closing his eyes as he walked into his bedroom in anticipation that he would open them and his sister would be there lying in the bed.  Her heart pained for him as she imagined him waking every day waiting for her return.  His love for her pure and innocent.  As he continued to speak she realized it wasn’t just about his sister, but having his family together again.  This tragic event eventually led to his parents splitting up and with it his childhood.  Scully wanted to reach out to him, comfort him in some way, but she had to remind herself that they were very much strangers.

[The Jersey Devil]

Scully wasn’t sure what to believe anymore with the uniqueness of the cases and Mulder.  She was beginning to think that was the point.  The fact that something could occur without explanation frightened her to the core.  In her world she needed structure and proof. None of which meant anything to an x-file case.  This week it was the Jersey Devil. Folklore becoming truth. Instead of enjoying the afternoon with her new found regular, dependable boyfriend, Scully found herself walking the halls of the Smithsonian with Mulder speaking to an ethnobiologist.  As they returned to the car, Mulder walked around to open the door for her. “Didn’t want to be a Neanderthal” he chimed, closed it and walked to his side of the car. As he got in he asked, “Do you like Chinese food?”

“I’ve been known to eat it from time to time.” She was hesitant not knowing where he was headed.

“I was thinking we could get some take-out and head over to my place.  I want to show you where I keep the rest of my files and there are some details I’d like you to know in case anything ever happens.”

With any other human being, one might interpret his invitation as one with sexual connotations.  Scully had learned that emotionally Mulder was still a twelve year old boy and had not progressed much since his sister’s abduction.  It was both frustrating and enduring simultaneously.  “Sounds like a plan.”

Scully followed Mulder into his apartment where he gave her the grand tour.  It hinted of old wood and leather.  His kitchen was small, but efficient and it was obvious he waited for the dishes to stockpile to a certain level before he deemed it necessary to clean them.  With the exception of living like a bum for the weekend in Atlantic City, Mulder’s grooming habits did not match his housekeeping.  Lucky for her since he liked to speak to her an inch from her face.  The more intense the conversation, the closer he would get.  His breath was either minty or had the fragrance of sunflower seeds.  The clean soapy smell of his skin was augmented by his cologne. Pleasant but not overpowering and complimented by his Mulderesque aroma.  He kept himself well groomed, although his five o’clock shadow was nothing to balk at.  As she continued to look around she noticed his desk which was cluttered with mail and files.  “You want dishes or should we eat from the containers?” He asked from the kitchen.

“I’m not above eating from a container.” Scully replied. Besides, she wasn’t completely confident in Mulder’s dish cleaning abilities.

Mulder returned with two forks and two glasses of iced tea.  Handing a fork to Scully he stated, “I didn’t peg you for a chopstick kinda woman.”

As they ate he turned on a football game and went into detail concerning how he was able to secure his connections in congress and how they in turn protected the x-files and provided legitimacy for them to stay open.  “Senator Matheson is my biggest proponent.  He has helped tremendously.”  As he spoke his intense gaze remained on Scully.  His passion on the subject was unquestionable.

Scully looked around and realized something was missing.  “Mulder, do you have a bathroom?”

“Yeah…it’s uh…right through my…uh, file room”

Scully got up and opened the door.  Pornographic magazines fell open at her feet.  She chuckled. “Good filing system Mulder.”

“There not mine I swear.  If they are it’s for investigative purposes only.”  She turned squinting her eyes at him, raised one eyebrow, then stepped over the pile and squeezed her way into the bathroom.  Scully was getting use to walking in on him at work with a magazine or something interesting on television.  Certainly HR would have a field day with him, but she didn’t mind.  He was always making some kind of excuse or trying to hide it, but she thought it was the most normal thing he did besides his fondness for sports.  If he would stop being so shy about it at some point down the road she may even consider watching one with him.  The thought made her teeth dig into her bottom lip. After all, she had needs too.  When she finished in the bathroom she decided to be nosy and have a look around.  What should have been the bedroom was covered from floor to ceiling with papers and newspaper clippings, files, filing cabinets, and magazines.  When she walked back out to the couch she noticed a pillow and blanket stuffed neatly in the corner.  “Mulder, can I ask you something personal?”

“No, of course not Scully.” He said with a grimace and slurped up his lomein.

“How do you…um…entertain without a bedroom?”

“Oh” He laughed. Then a real sullen expression came over his face and she was almost sorry she asked the question. “I usually don’t.  Woman don’t particularly gravitate towards you when you’re spooky.  Besides, I told you, finding my sister, this” He held up several x-files cases, “Is all that matters to me. My dedication doesn’t afford me the time for anything else.”

This was clearly a subject he didn’t want to discuss.  You could see his invisible wall erecting and he curled up around his Chinese container making his body appear to shrink. Of course, Scully pushed forward anyway, “You’re a good-looking guy Mulder.  I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who would be interested in you.”

He reached over and picked up the last dumpling.  “You’re not going to eat this are you?”  Scully shook her head and he popped it into his mouth.  “So Scully,” he asked chewing a mouthful of dumpling, “What was wrong with Mr. Right?  How come he didn’t pass muster for a second date?”

Scully picked up her fork and played with her food as she stared at it. “I don’t know.  I just got out of a relationship and the idea of starting another one with a ready-made family….I don’t know.  I told myself I would give myself time to focus on my career and that’s what I’m going to do.” She looked up at Mulder with her big blue eyes and smiled playfully. “Anyway, if I’m going to keep up with my partner I don’t have time for that kind of tomfoolery.” And with that she reached over and snagged one of his shrimp with a devious smile.

“No tomfoolery huh?”  He lifted an eyebrow laughing at the expression and stole a forkful of Kung Pao chicken from her container.  

“Hey!” she shrilled.

“I almost forgot.” Mulder got up still crunching a peanut and handed her a key.  “This is to my apartment.  In case I need to go on another extended leave.  I’ll need you to feed my fish.”

She took it graciously.  It made her happy that he trusted her enough with the keys to his place.  Little did she know his place was like Grand Central Station to anyone with an inkling and a hair pin.

[Post Shadows]

“Hey Scully, do you believe in an afterlife?”

“I’d settle for a life in this one.”

“Have you ever seen the Liberty Bell?”

“Yes.”

“You know, I’ve been to Philadelphia 100 times and I’ve never seen it.”

“You’re not missing much. It’s a big bell, with a big crack, and you have to wait in a long line.”

“I’d really like to go.”

“Why now?”

“I don’t know.  How late do you think they stay open?”

Closed at 5 P.M. read the sign to Independence National Historic Park.   “Well, I guess you’ll have to wait to see it some other time Mulder.”

“Maybe” The tires screeched as the car propelled forward into the park around the protruding arm of the entrance gate.  Securing a spot he set the car in park turning it off and removed his seatbelt.

Scully’s face held a soured expression, “Really Mulder?  Why is it that we can never go a day without breaking some law?”

Mulder smirked as he opened the door, “I’m just putting some life into your life.”

“Mulder, the park is closed and now we’re trespassing.  I’m sure there’s cameras and security everywhere.”

Motioning her towards him he ducked down besides the bushes.  He noted the security at the entrance and stood up puffing his chest out displaying his badge with a serious expression, his mouth in a line with eyebrows to match. He knocked at the glass door purposefully deepening his voice.  “Sir, FBI, we were informed there were some possible suspects in a crime that visited the area today and we would like to take a look around.  Make certain there was no sabotage or evidence of explosives left behind.”

The guard looked instantly shocked and worried.  Obviously he wasn’t use to any kind of excitement on the premises, especially at that hour.  Scully took out her badge and half-heartedly displayed it.

Mulder strolled down the hall with Scully in toe. Throughout the expansive, light-filled center, stood larger-than-life historic documents and graphic images depicting the facts and the myths surrounding the bell.  Inside the quiet alcoves, the two read on and watched some short films on replay as well as gawked at x-rays of the inner-workings and the bell’s crack.  Mulder’s hand slid into Scully’s and tugged her towards the grand hall. There stood the liberty bell in all its majesty.  The glass wall providing Independence Hall showcased in lights as the backdrop underneath the night’s sky.  Scully felt Mulder squeeze her hand and didn’t release it as he stared in awe.  She wondered what was traveling through his genius, but chose to stay in cozy silence. His index finger caressed her own lighting up her chest. When he let her hand go it twitched in protest.  He threw his arm around her squeezing her shoulder and whispered in her ear, “Is this really such a bad life?”

She looked up at him and her mouth fell open, a warming sensation filling her heart. This was his response to her earlier statement. Wow, it was an incredibly romantic gesture even if it was meant only in friendship.  Which led her to pull away. The unbridled intimacy between them sending her off kilter. “Mulder, when I said I wanted a life, I wasn’t referring to one in a prison. We may be overstaying our welcome.”

As they left Mulder nodded to security which seemed indifferent to the whole situation and headed out for some dinner.

Scully looked across from her rebel with a cause partner as they bit into their cheese steaks.  "You never told me, what it was like to witness spectral phenomenon first hand.”

“It was everything I could have hoped for and more.  A little frightening.” Their eyes locked and they shared a smile.

“I’ll never get you to believe will I” Mulder looked almost sad.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say never Mulder, I only require you to substantiate your theories.”

“I think that ghost could have shook hands with you, danced around the room, and gave you his key to the pearly gates and you still would say it was only a figment of our imaginations.”

“Does that bother you Mulder?”

He sat silently for a moment in deep concentration. Carefully he spoke. “It can be slightly frustrating at times, but you add the validity to my work that I need.  You force me to justify my theories and conclusions with proof.  I can never argue with that. Plus, you respect my process and me.”

“I may not always agree with you Mulder, but I’ll always support you.”

As they drove off into the night headed back to D.C., Mulder set the dial to sports, his thoughts on spiritual unrest and its impact on society.  Looking over he found that his partner had drifted off to dreamland.  The comfortable, calmness in her face highlighted her youthful appearance.  She looked happy.  He hoped that he was partially responsible for that.  Knowing what was in store for them when they arrived in D.C., she would need her moment of peace to last as long as possible.

Continue Reading

@ms31x129 @today-in-fic @season4mulder @babygirlmulder1018 @muldermakesmehorny @kyouryokusenshi @wholeperson @enigmaticxxbee @kunataiporablog @baronessblixen

#rooted in friendship #xfiles #x files #xf fanart #xf fanfic #txf fanart #txf fanfic #txf

[bitnotgood28]

Thank you @hometothecanyonmoon for tagging me!!

1) When did you become a Louie?

Embarrassingly late. I’d say around mid-April 2020, since that’s around the time I learned about Larry and joined the 1D fandom. I focused mostly on Louis and Harry and whatever they got up to, so during that I just noticed little quirks and started to pick up on their personalities. Harry is sweet and dorky and I adore him, but I love Louis’ wit and his sarcasm and his compassion, basically his character in general. Afterwards, I learned that Louis has recently released LT1, so I downloaded the entire album to give it a listen and have not stopped listening since. His whole album is a blessing, all of his music is so meaningful and touching; you’ve heard his songs and lyrics, yeah?

2) Why did you become a Louie?

Multiple reasons, the two main ones being his music and his personality. I’m not greatly interested in the type of music that’s mostly being released at present (no offense meant), and Louis’ voice is just incredibly unique, something I really like in artists. Everything that he’s written has been sincere and expressive, like a touch of rawness in them, especially when he sings. There’s just so much emotion behind every word and note, and his voice!! It has the sweetest rasp to it and his voice has gotten stronger and more powerful over the years, yet it can still be soft and light like during the bridge in Defenceless. He is also such a sweetheart, treating everyone kindly and with understanding unless he thinks they’re undeserving of it. The way he socialize with children and animals makes my heart melt, he looks so happy and excited during those interactions with his crinkling eyes and his smile-goodness, he is truly God’s gift.

3) One thing that drew you in specifically?

Easily his charisma and satire. His humor and jokes always stood out to me during interviews, his quips are just hilarious, that sweet boy. He draws attention to himself and leaves an imprint on you, and you get attached to him and his personality and his cheekbones-essentially his entire being. I was also kind of irritated with the amount of lines he and Niall were given compared to the other boys, so I paid more mind to the two of them (along with Harry) at the beginning. I think it’s also because I tend to notice those who aren’t as noticed or not quite under the spotlight-is that they proper description? Anyway, between Louis and Niall I wound up taking more of a liking to Louis with his sass and his cheek and his eyelashes. Man, is he even real? He’s so sweet and genuine, he’s endured so much and has continued to stand strong after each blow; it’s as heartbreaking as it’s inspiring. I just want to wrap him in a blanket and take him far away from all the cruelty present in the world, maybe feed him some tacos and stroke his hair until he falls asleep. He can still joke around and enjoy life while also doing his job and doing it brilliantly, might I add. I feel like he’d be a wonderful best friend to have, empathetic and supportive, someone you’d be able to stir up chaos with but also who’d keep your moral compass pointing in the right direction. Honestly, I’m quite certain that God created him with the thought of sunshine and sunflowers in His head.

4) Favorite song on Walls?

Oo, that’s difficult. I love Always You, its tempo and it’s tune are just really lively and upbeat. I’ve also got a special place in my heart for the lyrics of Fearless (God, that second verse and chorus and first verse - the whole song), Defenceless (“I come running to you like a moth into a flame,”? “I’m too tired to be tough, just wanna be loved by you,”???), Only For the Brave (“It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray,” “All the lonely shadow dances from the cradle to the grave,” this song is so lyrically poetic and I love every second of it), and Two of Us (the bridge.. God it’s so melancholy yet somewhat hopeful[?]). Kill My Mind also has this great indie rock sound to it, I’d gladly listen to it for hours. I.. am realizing that this absolutely does not answer the question, but I hope you now understand how good Louis’ songs are and how much I love them <333

5) Who would you want Louis to collab with?

Okay, I took a bit of time on this and I think one would be Alessia Cara. I’d really like to hear how they would sound together, considering how unique and distinctive both of their voices are individually, and how the music they produced would mesh with each other. Another would probably be Ed Sheeran, lyrically I think they’d be quite powerful like Louis and Alessia, but I’m not sure how they’d sound as a unit. It’d be interesting to hear though, I’m sure. Last is Harry, and if you’ve heard edits and that duet in the chorus of Truly, Madly, Deeply, you know what I’m talking about and you know how good they sound together.

6) Favorite Hairstyle?

Peaky blinders is one, he looked like a sweet little hedgehog during that time. Cinnamon swirl is also high on the list. He looked like actual royalty (I mean when doesn’t he, but this is god tier princely) and everything was right in the world. He was just- the living embodiment of delicate. His messy quiff and messy fringe back in 2013-2014 were just.. so attractive? Those hairstyles also make me miss seeing his full face :((

7) Back to You, Just Hold On, or Miss You?

(where is the Just Like You option)

I love the lyrics and meaning behind Just Hold On, it’s all really hopeful and motivating. The whole song was really well done, Louis and Steve Aoki did such a good job. Miss You also has a great sound to it, and you can really hear his accent throughout the whole song (fook, luv, anova, need I go on). I also love the bit of violin (I think it’s a violin) they added in the second pre-chorus and final chorus? It adds kind of like a lighter factor to the heavy guitar and drums already present in the song, and some sort of assurance that everything will be okay (I’m bad at describing things I’m sorry akdjsjdj). Back to You, God the notes they hit during that song.. beautiful (“We don’t know how to make it stop,” and “I love it, I hate it and I can’t take it,”). Can I also just say that Louis and Bebe both looked really, really attractive during that music video? Like damn please hold back on the extra chili, it’s already hot in here.

8) Louis in suits or sweaters?

Louis in suits is just.. all his assets (ha) are accentuated and he looks so sharp and beautiful, his shoulders just a bit broader, and his curves more defined. Then when he wears blue suits, his eyes are just that much more blue. Louis in sweaters, on the other hand: sunflowers incarnate, sunshine and kittens, a soft heated blanket with socked feet and a fireplace while snow falls softly outside the window. He looks so, so warm and huggable and sweet with his sweater paws- imagine being his friend and being able to cuddle him? Just snuggle and chat about what he’s got prepared for LT2, maybe watch a horror movie. God truly has His favorites. In conclusion: Louis in sweaters.

9) Favorite tattoo?

I think the compass was really well made, like the shading and the contours make it look almost lifelike. Then it points to HOME, which I think is so sweet and personal, like he already knows what ‘home’ is to him and he’s sure that that’s where he’d want to go back to, every time without a doubt. I also like the “It Is What It Is” tattoo, it’s written elegantly, kind of like a Ballantines font and it’s definitely an eye-catcher, displayed on his chest. The stag one also isn’t bad, its right eye is just a bit more bugged out than the other. It makes it a lil more special though, it’s easily identifiable as Louis’ tattoo because of that and the antlers are sort of majestic.

10) Favorite Louis photo (currently)?

I am going to pretend I read that as ‘photos’ because I am an indecisive little shit :))

(HELLOOOO HE LOOK LIKE THE SWEETEST HEDGEHOG // He is just- in his element, he is living up there)

(He makes the tousled hair look so good what the hell // Does this need elaboration, I mean, his smile literally powers everything on earth, and the crinkles by his eyes, and his sweater, and his lil canines, and-)

(Please God he is. Ethereal. Stunning. Perfect. In both photos, his eyes are just. Bright. And the cinnamon swirl, I- I’ve ascended to a higher plane of existence. He’s just so beautiful. Gorgeous really.)

11) Random extra?

When one is given the opportunity to express their love for Louis Tomlinson’s accent, one must accept.

His accent is like. Familiar, a bit like home (no, I’m not English), and I love that he’s been able to keep it even after years of living abroad. He has one of those accents where you can tell it’s present even when he sings, and when he uses endearments, God, it’s just so charming and sweet. It’s also really strong and distinctive, you can tell who he is by the first syllable or word he says. It’s a part of who he is and I love it so much and I love him so much, Jesus Christ akjskjd

I had fun being able to talk about Louis in this, there’s so much to him and every bit of it is another ray of sunshine <333

I tag @adorelou-28, @makethebestofwhatyouget, @28-oops-hi, and anyone else who wants to do this, no compulsions :))

#thank you Rae!! #i swear its been weeks since ive been tagged to do this and i am so sorry aldjakdjjd #tag games

[shipersanonymous]

One Hit West

Chapter 5

Author's note:

Took forever!!!! But for a 4000 word chapter I think the two week wait was kinda OK? I hope? Of course as always this chapter will leave you with more questions then you care to have and all building up to the great answer!

Hope you all like it!!

Cliffhanger warnings apply 😉❤️

P.S There’s a bit of a flashback within a flashback here. Hope it doesn’t confuse you! 

XOXO

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[Iris]

The doorman holds the door open for her and Iris thanks him with a smile as she pushes the stroller in. Her mom jeans hang loosely around her legs, concealing the armada of weapons strapped to them and years of practice allow her to walk without acknowledging the extra weight. It’s an easy enough target, mistaken identity style kill, but she’d rather be prepared then to get trapped with nothing but a rifle. Iris walks into the lift and keeps on her act. Bare hands (except for her ring); large, square shades obscuring her face and a short wig that’s styled into a generic “mom-like” messy bun.

As the numbers on the little screen change, taking her closer to her destination, she finds herself taking deep breaths and completing her transition into her work persona.

Cold.

Cruel.

Calculated.

The transition is almost ritualistic. Usually she switches within the blink of an eye but this evening her mind is pestered by memories of the night before…

“Iris,” her father greeted calmly, without turning his head towards her. His relaxed attitude aggravated her further and she found herself forcing deep breaths in order to stay as composed as possible.

“Where’s my daughter?”

“Upstairs, fast asleep, but…”

Iris stopped in her tracks.

“…before you go up and get her…”

Joe put his cup down and stood up to face her for the first time.

“…you owe me an explanation.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Iris spat, and turned around to ascend the stairs when her father’s bellowing voice stopped her mid-step yet again.

“Don’t you dare turn your back on me Iris!”

“Or what? Huh?” She challenged, her cool seeping out of her with every passing second.

“What are you gonna do dad? In a matter of hours you’ve attempted to kill my daughter’s father then kidnapped her. How are you planning on topping that off?” Iris kept her voice down out of fear of waking Nora and having to face questions she wasn’t as yet ready to answer.

“What were you doing at the casino?” He asked, ignoring her question. Iris looked at him incredulously then let out a half-hearted chuckle and answered:

“I felt lucky, thought I’d have a go at some poker.”

“I’m going to ask you, one more time. What? Were you doing? At the casino?”

“I already-”

“Iris.” Joe’s tone came out as a warning and he turned his head to the side, closing his eyes shut like a man trying to hold back an outburst.

“Hasn’t that boy ruined your life en-”

“No dad! He didn’t ruin my life, you did! You ruined my life when you kicked me out!”

“I gave you an option God damn it! It was your decision to walk away!”

Iris couldn’t believe her ears. To this day her father still thinks that the alternative to her packing her bags would have been the better choice.

“I’m not in the mood to have this conversation for the billionth time. Now if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get my daughter and go home.”

“Where is he?” Joe demanded, once again paying her statement no mind. His ability to hear what he wants to when he sees fit never fails to surprise her.

“We both know I’m not going to tell you. I didn’t save him just to have you kill him.”

“So you were interfering with my hit?”

Iris sighed, tired and exasperated.

“Yes dad I was. Is that what you wanna hear? That I was doing what’s right for my child like any good parent would? Do I have to explain how this works since clearly good parenting is a language you forgot the minute I told you I was pregnant?”

She regretted the words the minute they left her lips but it was too late and the grave expression that fell over her father’s worn features told her that she’d pressed the mother of all buttons.

“Get out,” he growled under his breath.

“Gladly. After I get what’s mine,” she answered without letting her regret show through.

The lift dings on her floor and Iris pushes the empty stroller to apartment number 64, the very apartment she pretended to be scouting a week before as she took notes of the building’s important features: emergency exits, security cameras, fire alarms etc. That’s how she knows that the hallways are monitored with cameras while the apartments are kept safe with motion detectors.

The stair ways are dead zones and are basically the least secure places save for the automatic locks on the doors that can only be opened with access key cards. The stairs are also the only way to reach the basement and that’s where the screen room is located. Not that she needs any of this information. Her father has a Loyal in almost every building in the city. These are people that either owe him, work for him or are too afraid to test him and therefore grant him any and all means of access into a number of places. Apartment buildings, restaurants, entertainment destinations, tourist attractions – you name it. And all she needs to get in is her red ruby ring. It’s a simple stone, common enough not to draw suspicion if worn by many and yet unique enough to be used as a distinguisher. Although in her case the red makes it special. The rest of her father’s hit family have rings with much the same design but their stones are green emeralds instead. Red rubies are reserved for those with the last name West.

They were her mother’s favourite gem stone.

The walk up the stairs threatened to bring back memories she didn’t need roaming through her mind at that very moment. Memories from before. Before loss turned her father in to a cold hearted killer. Before she saw the way his face changes just before he pulls that trigger.

Before she became him.

Iris walked into her old bedroom, all the details giving her a sense of Déjà vu. It was all exactly as she’d left it, from the positioning of the furniture to her high school photo frames (considerably emptier than they were when she still called the room hers), to the paint on the walls. It was like stepping into a time capsule of some of the greatest moments of her life…

Her freshly painted toes wiggled in the air as her feet rested (crossed at the ankle) against the wall. The still hot curls in her hair, cascaded over the edge of her bed like a water fall and she passed the time with a book in her hand. Getting dressed with three hours to go seemed like over kill and even though she was excited to see Barry, she wanted the moment to be perfect.

Perfect didn’t include her looking sweaty in a wrinkled dress. So she practised the art of patience as she dove into the third of the Twilight books. A knock on her door drew her attention away from Bella’s latest inner turmoil and she asked the visitor to come in. Barry’s fresh shaven face popped into her room, his hair neatly slicked back and as he stepped inside, the space was filled with a deliciously masculine scent. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets as she took him in, pressed suit with a bouquet of sunflowers in his hand, ready to go and earlier than ever.

He was up to something.

“Barry what are you doing here so early? We’re not supposed to meet for another three hours!” She asks, putting her book down without saving her page, she’d already read it three times any way, she’d be able to find that page with just a few flips.

“I just couldn’t wait to see you.” He smiled, though she noticed the glimmer of nervousness in his stare.

“But - ” Before she had a chance to finish her sentence Barry dropped down on one knee and Iris felt herself grow pale.

“Barry? What are-”

“Just, hear me out ok? I know that we’ve only known each other for a year and that we still have a life a head of us – graduation and college and work - but Iris the truth is, within our first week together I already knew that no one would ever complete me the way that you do,”

“Barry,” was all she could whisper out as she tried to keep her tears in. She was shocked out of her mind and had no idea what to think but her heart felt every word that slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you Iris,” he said as he reached into the bouquet and pulled out a tiny red velvet box.

“And I know that we’re too young to get married, but I can’t stand the thought of a possible future without you. Which is why I found a compromise.” He opened the box and inside rested a single silver band with tiny red jewels imbedded into it.

“This isn’t an engagement ring, not yet anyways, but it is still a symbol of my promise to you. My promise to love you, be there for you, support you and take care of you for the rest of our days. And someday, hopefully soon, I promise to replace this ring with a much more permanent version.”

Iris found herself struggling to breathe and if it weren’t for the fact that she was still standing paralysed in front of him she might have thought her legs had magically disappeared because she couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t feel any part of her body except for her roaring heart.

“What do you say Iris? Will you take this ring as a symbol of my promise of forever?” he asked and at that the tears made their debut on her yet to be made-up face. She nodded, unable to speak and covered her mouth with her left hand as she slipped the delicate piece of jewellery on her right hand’s ring finger. Barry rose back onto his feet and she half laughed, half sobbed as she noticed the moisture in his eyes before she pulled him into her and hugged him tight. They parted a few inches, just enough for him to lean into her and offer her a tender kiss.

“I’m guessing this means that she liked it?” came Joe’s voice from the door way and the young couple took a reprieve from their embrace to look at him, though they remained in each other’s arms.

“Dad?”

Joe smiled and folded his arms over his chest as he leaned side-ways against the door frame.

“And I thought I had a hard enough time gift shopping for you, but this young man right here second guesses everything when it comes to you. This was the longest jewellery hunt in the history of man.” He commented with a chuckle and a look of fondness directed at the youth before him.

“Wait a second, so you knew?” Iris asked.

“I kinda asked your dad for help shopping for the ring,” Barry admitted, sheepishly.

“Right after he asked me for permission to give it to you and promised never to break your heart.” Joe added proudly, there was nothing Joe loved more than a respectful young fellow with good old fashioned morals. Except of course if that young fellow happened to look at his little girl like she hung every star in the sky. That was reason enough to have his old heart smiling for the rest of its beating days.

Because she’d found someone who would love her as much as he once loved his wife.

“Hold on to this one baby girl. He’s one of the good one’s”

“I know,” Iris said, her twinkling gaze glued onto Barry’s just before he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to hers.

Her eye’s drifted briefly to the jewellery box on her vanity table and almost as if she had x-ray vision, in her mind’s eye, she looked past the white jewelled exterior and could picture the ring where she’d left it. Hidden from herself at the very bottom. Almost as if she we’re trying to bury the memories and emotions that came with it.

The whiskey burns its way down her throat and warms her up from the inside out. It’s the only thing she currently feels as she waits for the tiny buzz of her watch.

Beep – beep.

There it is.

With one last look at the city she downs the rest of her dry drink and turns around to make her exit, grabbing the diaper bag and travel seat that rested on the couch. Her “busy mama” act has her power walking to the nearest stairway exit where she uses her access card to disappear from the cameras view. The stairs offer her all the privacy she needs to slip out of her baggy sweater and jeans to reveal the black leather, skin tight suit she has on underneath. Her weapons are still carefully attached to the sides of her legs.

Iris pulls on her gloves and ankle length trench coat then whips off her wig and reaches down for a gun as she gazes at her watch. A door on the wall to her left opens up to a storage closet that she uses to hide away her baby seat and diaper bag then up the stairs she goes, screwing on her silencer as she takes the stairs two at a time. All the while she takes deep breaths and pushes down the last of her humanity, the last of her thoughts of her baby girl.

Her focus shifted from the Pandora’s box on the table to Nora’s sleeping figure. Cecile, who was seated on the edge of the bed beside Nora, looked at Iris and smiled sadly. Iris’s heart went out to her, she was the only one who could get her father to feel anything other than hatred at the world since her mother’s passing and yet she couldn’t get him to be the old Joe, the Joe she deserved.

“How long has she been asleep?” Iris whispered, kneeling down beside her bed and stroking her daughter’s hair gently. All at once the action soothed her every insecurity and it felt like discovering how to breathe a new. She leaned in and planted a tender kiss to the child’s warm forehead and breathed her in.

She smelled like home.

“Not long. Go ahead, take her, I’ll help you out with her chair.” Cecile whispered back, smiling sympathetically. Iris thanked her with a smile of her own and shifted so as to slowly lift her daughter up. She was careful not to make any violent or miscalculated movements, almost like she were handling a rare doll made of glass.

But the caution was needed.

Nora curled into her mother’s arm burying her face in Iris’s chest and no words could describe the paradoxical feeling of fear and security that came with having her baby in her arms. With one arm under her daughter’s knees and the other supporting her back, Iris walked down the stairs and out the door towards her car, her father paid her no mind as she left and she did her best to ignore the sting his lack of attention injected into her.

“Thanks Cecile.” She said once Nora was safely strapped in and her chair tucked away in the trunk.

“Not a problem, and don’t worry about your dad. He’ll come around.” She said.

“Not if he keeps hating on everyone with the last name Allen,” Iris pointed out in a matter-of-fact tone.

“That name, it’s taken a lot from him.” Cecile tried to reason with Iris and the other woman’s eyes seemed to say ‘form us’ though she dared not speak of her loss. It hurt too much to think about.

Iris wouldn’t budge. She knew better. She knew that her father didn’t know the half of what he’d lost, of the nightmares she attributed to that name. And with the way that things were going he would never know. Not from her mouth anyway. So as she steps into her car she responds:

“Not me, he pushed me away all by himself.”

The jog up the three flights of stairs help circulate the adrenaline in her system so by the time she steps out into the hallway of the 28th floor she’s fired up and ready to strike. She takes calm steps towards apartment number 81 and stands in front of it like she’s ready to knock. With a subtle movement she tucks some stray hair behind her ear, flashing her ring at the camera and a few seconds later, the red recording light dies out.

She’s got five minutes.

Her actions gain a certain fluidity as she turns back towards apartment number 83 and knocks as gently as she possibly can. A tall man with a 6 o’clock shadow and a head free of hair answers the door. His dress shirt is half undone yet still tucked into his black suit pants, under different circumstances Iris might have stopped to allow herself to take him in but her mind is elsewhere and she’s still pissed about last night. She needs to blow off some steam. His seductive smile slips from his lips when his eyes land on Iris giving away that he was expecting someone else.

In his confusion he asks:

“Who the he-”

But Iris has no time for chit chat. Before he can blink, she’s moved into the apartment, closed the door behind her, pressed her weapon against his forehead and pulled back the trigger. Pieces of cerebral tissue redecorate the space behind him and he falls to the ground, painting the white tiled floor with blood. Iris approaches without hesitation and stairs at his wide eyes with indifference.

“Your wife sends her love,” she says before firing two more shots. The hit brief she got requested that this be staged as a crime of passion. Hence the foreign gun and overkill. Some poor unfortunate side piece is about to get some major jail time while the “weeping” widow cashes out the prick’s life insurance. All’s well that ends well in the game of hearts. Iris discards the weapon on the floor and walks out with a minute to spare. She sees the numbers above the elevator light up as it brings a passenger closer to her and she smiles, assuming that it must be the unsuspecting mistress. Just before the lift reaches her floor she walks back out into the stair way and follows it down to her disguise with a reassurance that a few seconds later the cameras rebooted and set the perfect trap.

…

[Barry]

Earlier today…

It’s a weird feeling, waking up in a strange bed at a strange house and yet somehow feeling completely at home. This notion haunts him all morning as he stares up at the white ceiling and tries to make sense of it.

Maybe it’s the thought of it being her house. Or the fact that her scent lingers in every little corner of the place. Maybe that’s why it all seems so strangely comfortable. Like getting to share her little secret.

Getting to be her little secret.

Yet, as good as that all might sound Barry can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach, the dull ache of his heart’s every thud. The gut twisting sensation that she’s hiding something from him, something life changing. He plops one hand underneath his head and sighs. It’s mid afternoon and Barry is wasting his day away in bed. He tried to do a little cardio, made some breakfast, read a page or two but every action put him down a path of what ifs.

What if Iris were there? Would he be making her breakfast? Would she be reading him a passage from the book as he poured her coffee? Would she be wearing one of his old t-shirts and chuckling when he pressed a random kiss to her cheek?

Sigh.

More questions without answers.

It’s times like these that Barry normally turns to his brother. Bart is most definitely the most rational of them both. Barry always thinks with his heart despite his superior intelligence but Bart always finds a way to act with rationality. They always joke that their personalities came with their middle names. Bartholomew “Barry” Henry Allen took after their father, flexible mind but much too large a heart. Bartholomew “Bart” Harry Allen took after their ‘uncle’ and legal guardian Harrison, kind at heart but ever the critical thinker. It’s a trait that Barry, at times, envies in his twin brother: the ability to disconnect from emotion in favour of science. Barry can’t bring himself to do it.

He always wears his heart on his sleeve.

The sound of keys turning in the lock draw Barry’s attention back from his differences with his twin and he turns his head towards the sound while listening intently.

“Can we get the purple tights and my STAR Labs sweater aunt Anissa?”

A young girl seems to ask and the innocence in her voice brings a smile onto his face.

“’Course you can baby. Since your mom forgot to pack your clothes this morning you get to pick what ever you like.”

That voice is unmistakable. It’s definitely Iris’s favourite cousin Anissa. Barry hasn’t seen her since that random run in, a year after the break up…

It had been a year since he’d last seen her. Their anniversary was drawing near and he hadn’t so much as glimpsed her across the street or bumped into her at the grocery store. It was hard but nothing compared to those first few months.

The confusion as to what could possibly have gone wrong. The multitude of questions without answers. The heart ache, so strong at times he’d wake up in the middle of the night fighting for breath. He’d sunk into a depression so deep that his uncle had him seeing both a psychologist and psychiatrist. He’d been prescribed antidepressants and moved to England because a “change in scenery” would do him good.

All it did was provide him with enough isolation to feed his loud mind. So during the brief Christmas break, when Harrison summoned him back home, Barry made a habit out of wondering aimlessly about the streets of Central City. He blamed his sleeplessness on the time zones but he knew better. A good night’s sleep hadn’t formed part of his routine in a while. Power naps and unhealthy amounts of coffee were what kept him afloat in college.

In England he’d found an escape in his academics, burying himself in pile after pile of literature. Completing assignments way ahead of the due dates and prepping tutoring material to help a few nameless faces after class. So when the holidays came around he suddenly found himself spoiled for time and with nothing else but his neglected heart ache to occupy his mind.

That’s when the endless drives around the city became routine. He’d managed to convince himself that he was simply trying to pass time but he knew – he felt – that in reality he was looking for her.

Iris.

It was on one of these drives that he ran into Anissa. With no where to go, Barry found himself at a 24hr convenience store, roaming through the aisles of all things comforting and deadly. On his way to the freezers he glimpsed a familiar profile in his peripheral and stopped mid step. Low and behold there she stood, with a tin of powdered milk in her hand and a shopping basket filled with baby supplies. The tin she held grabbed all her attention so she didn’t notice Barry approaching till he was a few steps away and asked:

“Anissa?” She startled, which was expected, but when her face turned towards him it didn’t instantly flood with recognition and a drop of sympathy. Instead her eyes widened and her face paled with fear. Without warning she dropped her basket on the floor and took off running. He chased after her, too desperate to pay the questioning looks any mind.

“Anissa wait! Please!”

But she didn’t slow. Instead she knocked down a stack of canned food in an attempt to leave the tin of milk that was still in her hand. Barry chased her outside but couldn’t catch up to her. So eventually he stopped and simply watched her make her escape. Jennifer, her younger sister, was in the car with her and she seemed to have a baby in her arms…

Barry remembers wondering who’s baby was in the car that night. Now, doing the math, he realises that it could have been Iris’s little girl. Which leaves the question: Where was Iris when her cousin was playing house with her daughter?

“Do you want to get any books while we’re here?”

“No it’s OK. I’ve read all of these already. Mom promised she’d take me book shopping on my birthday anyway. I can wait till then.”

The little girl’s voice held a note of sadness at the mention of her birthday, but a sadness brought on by hope. Almost as if she wanted to believe that the statement was true but knew otherwise.

“Does that mean you’re not coming to see aunt Jen and me? You know she’s been working real hard on your surprise.” Anissa tries to cheer the little girl up, all the while Barry listens intently from his new vantage spot behind the door.

“I like cup cakes better the next day. Aunt Jen can just put them away for me.” She answers, by the sound of it she seems distracted.

“Cupcakes? Who said anything about cupcakes?” Her aunt sounds surprised.

“Come on aunt Nissa. I practically live with you and I know you barely get enough time to bake. I also know that you only get one bag of flour to last at least five months if the expiry date permits and only get enough chocolate chips to cover one batch of pancakes or cookies when you feel up to the task. That being said, last week you bought a fresh bag of flour, a dozen more eggs when you already had in your refrigerator and enough chocolate chips to either make three batches of cookies or aunt Jen’s double chocolate cupcakes. You’re out of shortening so that can only mean you’re making cupcakes. Conclusion: aunt Jen is making me cup cakes for my birthday.”

Barry’s jaw drops and it isn’t till he sees his own shock reflected on Anissa’s side profile that he realises he’s stepped out of his hiding place. His ears couldn’t believe what they were hearing so he subconsciously walked towards the sound of her voice only to find that the person giving out such a detailed explanation is in fact a little girl.

Her back is to him as she’s sorting through some clothes in a drawer and her hair is done in two loose fish braids that disappear into the back of her wheel chair.

“Are you sure you’re five?” he blurts out, unable to suppress his own shock and startling them both. The little girl manoeuvres her chair so that she can face him and Barry feels his mouth go dry as he takes in her face.

He’s suddenly lost in her little green eyes.

#The Flash #westallen #iris west #barry allen #barry and iris #the gold standard #fan fiction #fanfic #flash fanfiction #flash fan #flash fiction #angst #danger #eventual smut #romance #hitwoman