Multifandom Oneshots

Sweet Red Rose (WKM Universe)

(Collab by myself and DeviantArt User MantaDrifter)

    Valentine's special bc why not
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Damien had never really been a fan of Valentine's Day. He didn't hate it, and those few girlfriends of the past hadn't much changed his perception. It was just...

Well, too sappy for his tastes. That, and some people really went over the top. Will's front room once looked like a florist in their senior year of high school. But the funny thing was, William hadn't been the one who bought those flowers. That had been the first time William's "tastes" became painfully obvious to all and sundry. Not that the man minded, though he seemed more annoyed that his house had been taken over by these tokens of affection. He brushed off any concern from Damien by reminding him this was senior year, and the chances of seeing these girls again was slim to none.

That was certainly better than nagging on getting something for their mutual friend.

"You have to do something for her," William said, reclining on his bed one evening in their dorm. It was Will's first year of college, as well as the girl's. Although Damien was a year ahead of them, all three shared many of their classes.

The older man frowned at his bespectacled companion. "I-"

"Damien," he cut in, louder than the other, "V-day is coming up."

"Will..." Damien went as red as a rose at what the man was insinuating. "She's just a friend."

Chuckling, William turned back to his paper. "A friend that turns you into a lost puppy with a flutter of her lashes."

"I... u-um..." Damien's voice died as he spotted her in the distance.

She was no doubt heading to her usual haunt, the library, watching her go Damien's chest felt a touch tighter. Will giggled. "My point exactly." Damien made a voice that sounded vaguely like a strangled cat. "Look, just do something other than torture yourself. Buy her something nice," he suggested kindly, reaching over to his nightstand for some chocolate.

Damien sighed. "What do you suggest."

Mustache twitching, William rubbed at his nose. "Well don't get flowers or chocolate, she hates that stuff... you both are alike when it comes to it."

He winked, and Damien felt like groaning. "Will..." He tried not to sound like he was begging for the answer.

"Come now, Damien. You've known her for a few months to get a basic idea of what the lady likes." He bit down on another chocolate. "So I am not holding your hand on this"

"... You are terrible."

"Tick tock Dami, Tick tock," William teased in response.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid, I know she's been looking for another Shakespeare. I'll find something."

"See that you do. I can't wait to see the look on her face~"

So a few days later he had pick up a gift from the local book store and almost died 10 times over from embarrassment with the looks the shopkeeper was giving him. It did not help either that a few girls were following him like he were catnip. Wasn't this already hard enough? Why the need to add the extra attention?

Ducking around a corner, he felt he would have more luck with a fake beard and dark glasses. This was an annoying, common occurrence- was it too much to want to be left alone?

Shaking his head, he nearly bumped into the woman in question, sending a few books beelining for an escape. As it was, the young woman had an odd moment of deja vu.

"We should stop meeting like this," she teased, both working to retrieve the books from the floor.

Damien was glad it was cold outside; camouflaging the reason for his red cheeks. "Sorry."

"It's alright, I wasn't looking where I was going," she said, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder. "As usual."

Looking off the the side, Damien mumbled, "That must be nice... I can't go five steps without people seeing me," he replied with a weak chuckle.

Her hand skimmed the package. "Ah, perks of popularity. Light reading?" Blanching, Damien covered the title before she could see. "Pretty thick book for light reading."

"You don't know the half of it," he muttered.

She looked at her own books, chuckling softly. "Who am I to judge?" Her laugh turned his heart to jelly. Somehow, his cheeks began to burn even more, and Damien scrubbed at them quietly. "So, what are you doing after?" The girl asked him.

"Not much," he admitted bashfully. "Mostly handling William's gifts from his friends."

That prompted an eye roll from the girl, and a good-natured shake of her head. "How does that man not gain a pound with the truck loads of candy he eats?"

Damien shrugged. "Metabolism, or something."

She laughed. "Then that must be why he gets all that attention.... his "friends" want his secret." Neither could help but giggle heartily at that, earning jealous looks from the girls around them.

They got up then, all items back in their proper place. "Listen if you want to join us on Thursday.... get away from things..."

She smiled slyly. "Damien, people will talk."

The young man smirked. "They always do..."

Before she could retort, the clock chimed above them. "I need to get ready for class," she explained, and was gone before he could get in another word.

"... Bye," he called after her. He pressed the book to his chest like it were a lost kitten. Hoping she would come.

Sadly hope was out that day. It was a combo of things that made Damien either want to scream or bash William into the wall. He had "better" things to do than referee an argument between three friends of William's. He wouldn't be surprised if the noise alone had scared the girl away like a timid cat.

He would try again next year. At the very least, the book could be a salvaged birthday present.

That was the first time he'd failed at Valentine's.
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The second time, he tried to think in advance. It was his final year, and who knew what might happen after that. So this could take a while.

Experience with Celine told him another book definitely would not do. Not that his friend was a material or vain person, but, well... there are certain unspoken rules that men knew not to break in courting. This would be the equivalent of bringing socks to a child's birthday. Fortunately, inspiration decided to cut Damien a break with a poster on one of the bulletin boards.

The university was opening a temporary greenhouse for the season. And if there was one thing Damien knew, it was that she had started to appreciate flower language. It was about the only girl thing she would do overtly and not feel deeply embarrassed about it.

Damien and Will would argue that flowers weren't that girly. Feminine, perhaps, but never girly. Granted, it never helped that some girls covered themselves in the plants, like a walking flower store during formals and other special events. Still, there was nothing wrong with wanting to be simple and elegant.

Looking through a book Damien knew he had to pick carefully. Flower language was such a finicky thing. Just because it looked pretty didn't mean the gift would be appreciated. Then again, something simple would just be cowardly. But too overt and you would offend and scare her off his brain reminded calmly.

Yeah... best stick to a middle route.

So after skimming the greenhouse, he figured out the best thing to go ahead with. There were apparently plenty of activities inside, such as photography sessions, a lily pad game for a prize and bouquet craft booth, which seemed to be like the best option. Now he just had to convince the girl to come along.

Unfortunately, it was again not to be. She had come down with the case of the stomach flu. He couldn't be mad at her, and sulking in the cafeteria when the source was not totally known was pointless to. So, once she was well enough he paid her a visit. It was a small consolation.

Though, it was almost funny to see her fussing at her trashcan overflowing with tissues. It wasn't the best but, being with her even in this way was nice... even his heart now craved something special.
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A few years later he got another chance. Ironically, it came by way of the girl's mother.

Granted, where that woman was involved a git by way of free weekend to a private hotel screamed a trap. Damien's heart, however outweighed common sense on this one. Not the largest mistake he'd made in a while.

Besides, William had been the original second choice, so that eased his suspicions. Will was still in training and had not been able to get leave, and the girl did not have that many female friends.

So, the girl's mother had rationalized that there was no point in letting an invite go to waste, especially when the hotel was that rare mix of old world and new. The girl had marveled for a good twenty minutes at the gramophone in their room.

"How do you even work something like this?" She asked him, eyeing the thing like a strange tool from another world. Damien had to admit it looked far too fancy to even work.

"I think you must use the needle."

"I don't there are even any records to play," she mumbled, looking in the cabinet beneath. Damien finished putting his things away and went over to help her, curiosity about the player outmaneuvering embarrassment at their proximity. Being in a corner would do that. "Oooh... I do love that song..."

"Isnt that a bit... romantic?" He half tested, half teased her.

"Not if it's just instrumental," she replied, like it made all the sense in the world. The two giggled quietly. Sitting back on the ground, they watched for a bit while the music started to play, the record had needed a little dust but they managed to get it working.

Damien's hand lightly skimmed hers and she pulled away in surprise "Sorry ... its a little cramped here".

She turned so he couldn't see the blush on her face. "This... this is nicer than I expected," she admitted quietly, her voice quivering with embarrassment as it searched for a stable topic.

Damien chuckled nervously. "Agreed."

Looked over to the clock, she murmured, "So... you want to head down to dinner or should we wait till the crowds clear?"

"I don't mind either way, whatever you want."

A small bloom of a blush struck her face. "Um, well... honestly..." Her tounge took the moment to turn to taffy.

"What? I mean, is its both our holiday." They both settled into an awkward silence, seeming to remain there for a good few hours. Were William here he might have knocked their heads together to get the ball rolling. Or, just hit his own head against the wall several times over.

Eventually, her shoulder nudged against him. "Why not some room service?"

"I wouldn't mind that," he mused. So they had a small picnic of sorts, not exactly the candlelight dinner his heart and imagination were betting on but it was adorable none the less.

It was okay.

At least he hadn't fallen flat on his face, and they got to enjoy a non-traditional meal together. Even if it was, at the time, the last one they would have before that dreaded day.
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February 14th and October 13th were in competition for Dark and Damien's most hated day, and the fusion was arguably more dangerous with the first. Not even Wilford could pacify him, and if anything, Will worked like the devil to avoid Dark on that day.

The other egos would joke (under their breath and out of ear shot) that, as a 'demon', it was in Dark's nature to hate a day dedicated to love with a passion. They had no clue, not even poor, damaged Wilford, of the true reason for the rage; that it was Damien and not Celine who flooded Dark with a bitter anger for the day.

He had failed. Every time.

Every goddamned time.

Not even Dark himself could get through to Damien on that day. The man seemed to sink in a pool of bitter anger that had the demon rabid every February 14th. On one memorable occasion, Dark had ransacked the kitchen after catching sight of Chefiplier's innocent cupcake creations. The egos ended up having to lock him inside to get all off the rage out. Hours later, he'd finally emerged, covered in frosting- no one had dared to laugh at him.

And when she came back into their lives? Forget it.

For one, after what they put her through it would be beyond insulting. She was still tender and fragile; coming to grips with so much that had changed that trying would feel like a joke.

So why in all that was rational was the calendar mocking him?

The clocks counted down the days, at louder intervals as the months rolled by. Even Wilford, despite his minuscule common sense, was dropping hint like William of old. This attraction was dangerous. It wasn't fair, and it wasn't right. She was never going to forgive him.

Just because she hadn't screamed or clawed his eyes out in the months they had been "together", did not mean they could go back to how they once were. Dark suppressed a groan at the warm tingle at his chest the old days brought.

Something that would only serve to mock the days he had now. Yet, as they passed, the feeling grew stronger, wrapping around the iron shell Damien had erected on their heart on this matter and probing for a way in.

Make her happy.

She seemed happy enough, he would answer back.

Keep her safe.

He did, he kept them all safe!

Show her she's important.

Dark couldn't deny he held her above the others in certain instances. Even Celine had to roll at her eyes at her brother at that. Were they both still physical beings, she might have slapped him or being so dense. "This problem won't go away if you ignore it."

"Well, confronting it never worked. Why should now be different?" he bemoaned.

For once, Celine's features softened to something other than a scowl, or in a mask of arrogance. "In a roundabout way, you've been given another chance. So, let him take it. You've been tormenting Dark for years, now give him something good for once," she added, arms cross like a mother dealing with unruly, squabbling children.

She kind of was.

"So do something before I make both your eternities hell." ...Wow. So even Celine was tired of their mess. Groaning, Dark looked out the window; quietly wondering what to do. Damien was pacing like a caged tiger; past failure dancing in his mind's eye.

Celine was standing in the corner of Dark's mind, her arms crossed and rolling her eyes. "Take it slow," she advised.

Damien swallowed quietly. "You've thought about it for a long time," Dark probed, reaching out his hand to the mayor. "Just let me see?"

Linking hands, the fusion smiled as memories played back. "We have some work to do," Damien mused.

"Just... tell me what to do."

Damien nodded quietly. "First..."
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A few days later, the wraith awoke to find herself alone in the room. Not too odd but, the parcel on the bed was a surprise.

It was loosely wrapped, secured together with string. There was a faint scent of lavender. Kitten like curiosity gripped her as she placed the package on her lap and unwrapped it.

Oh.

This was absolutely gorgeous.

Handcrafted books were rarity in this day and age... well, this was a little treasure to be certain. She was almost afraid to touch it, the cover was so rich. Flipping carefully through the pages, the wraith was a little surprised to see that the text was handwritten, as well as the illustrations inside.

Tentatively touching the page, she could practically feel the time and effort placed into the book. On the inner page was a hand written message. For you, Darling. She smiled softly- the wraith would be blushing now if she could.

Instead, she held the book close like a precious child; uncertain of the reason for such a gift, but touched to the core.

Now, it was only right to thank the giver. After dressing and finding and a place of honour and safety for the gift she went in search of him.

She asked around- nobody had seen him. Not even Host, though he hinted the Garden might be worth a shot. It was as good of a guess as any.

What hit her first was the smell; the flowers seemed stronger... fresher.

He'd grown lavenders. It was a tad too early for them, and yet a fresh bed stared up at her, overlooking the mirror pond of the garden.

This... this was going beyond touching.

Especially given how much she knew about Dark's patience levels. The fact the garden had not been scorched was a surprise in itself. She smiled, taking in the scent... nearly yelping has a pair of familiar hands settled on her shoulders.

"Does it please you, darling?"

Reaching up and turning around, she placed a hand over his. "I love it."

Dark leaned in, brushing his lips against her cheek before softly nuzzling her neck. She responded with a soft nuzzle of her own. "Happy Valentine's," he whispered into her ear. The wraith smiled briefly.

"I thought you hated Valentine's Day?"

He didn't answer at first; simply held her tighter before planting another peck, migrating down to her jaw. "Well, this time I have a reason to enjoy it..."

"I wasn't expecting this," she murmured.

"Then you're going to enjoy the meal tonight," he assured, with almost a teasing purr.

"What..." he shushed her with a kiss. For now, he wanted to enjoy a perfect moment that had taken decades to achieve.

Yet, for all those decades, it was worth it.