#Big Man didn't seem THAT bothered by their hatred and they didn't seem to still have a grudge

[colorfuldream]

Try as they may but they will not be anything close to Splatocalypse's resolution with Pearl demanding the cameras were on her so that Marina could cry peacefully

[loupy-mongoose]

This writing got long, so I'm putting a Read More. There are no content warnings.

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This did end up very long for what I normally do, so be prepered.

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The Mews and Lavender settled in the shade close to the house. Lavender, still holding her little siblings, noticed the uneasy looks on her parents' faces. It was clear that this story still bothered them.

Randy and Akoya exchanged a lengthy look before beginning.

So... Lavender is a Pokemon known as a Mewtwo. As far as we know, she's the second of two.

There's... not much information out there about Mewtwo as a species. Lav only recently managed to Psychically connect with the first one.

Persim, now bunched up into a loaf with his little daughter nestled in his shoulder fur, tilted his head. So she's not a Mew? I always thought she was. A big one, and kinda weird lookin', maybe, but still a Mew. I mean, she feels like one.

Lav twitched her ears. She had never really thought about how other Mews might perceive her. With how rare they were, she'd never really considered the possibility of meeting another. And Uncle Perzi had never asked, so nobody had said anything.

What we do know about Mewtwos is... They're man-made.

Lavender was... Randy went quiet and grimaced. Akoya gave him a soft look and took his hand in hers.

Lavender was modified while I was pregnant with her.

By humans?

It wasn't easy to get Persim riled up, but he was clearly perturbed by this.

How did you let humans get close enough to do that to you??

Randy winced, and Lav felt a wave of guilt blast from him. Guilt? What did he have to feel guilty about?

Akoya must have felt it too. She leaned her head onto him, and wrapped her tail around him. They seemed to have a private telepathic chat.

Randy nodded, and Akoya met Persim's eyes with a determined, almost defiant look. Randy wasn't always a Mew. He was a human when we met. She smiled a little. Do you happen to remember when our island was visited by a couple of humans?

Perzi appeared thoughtful. A bit? I never saw them, because Mom wanted me to stay out of sight.

They were Randy and his dad. When I left the colony, I went back to the island. I met Randy for real there.

As a human?

Akoya nodded.

And... he didn't do anything to you?

She shook her head. Nope. He was so different from what the colony believed humans to be. He was kind. He was funny! I followed him home from the island and hung around.

You forgot something.

Akoya looked at her mate in surprise. He tapped at his left shoulder with a smirk, and the blue Mew's ears fell back in embarrassment.

She bit me. As a Mightyena.

I thought he might be a threat.

I mean, he was a human. I'd say you had that right.

But I was wrong. The colony was wrong. Humans aren't all the threat they make them out to be.

Randy's expression turned hard. But the ones who are sure know how to make a show of it. His voice was drenched in hatred.

Akoya gave him a tail hug. The humans that wronged me wronged him as well. Randy only ever wanted to do good for our species. He put in years of research for these people, thinking that they wanted the same thing. To help us repopulate.

Persim narrowed his eyes. When exactly did you decide to become mates?

This time it was Randy's turn to shrink in embarrassment. Akoya rolled her eyes. It wasn't like that, Persim.

We tried several times and ways to get her pregnant. His voice cracked. But not that.

But...

I won't deny that I was in love with him.

Persim's ears flicked. You do realized that the colony would flip if they knew that, right?

I'm sure they would. But they can stuff it. Our life is our choice.

To their surprise, Persim smiled. Well, it's clear that you two are very close. Much closer than Dad and any of his mates were. Then he grew serious again. But how did you go from human to Mew? Did those bad people do that, too?

This was the part Lav knew her dad had the most trouble with. It plagued him constantly, even when she was a kid. Not that she'd known it at the time. She never got the full story from them. By the time she learned the rough idea of what had happened, she also knew how much it had hurt him. So she didn't want to cause him any more grief...

Maybe this time...?

But as she'd expected, neither of them spoke immediately. Randy's hand moved up to his shoulder, where the scar would be if he were in human form. Akoya placed her hand on his.

We... He sighed, seemingly trying to calibrate himself. We knew another Mew, named Mo. H-He and I, we... He gritted his teeth.

We went to destroy the computers... It... It was my idea, but he came along... We lit the room on fire, and teleported out... But it exploded.

I... I don't... very well remember what happened after that... I was... trapped. Pinned under burning debris... Mo was with me, and I know we talked some, but... I don't remember what was said...

And after that... I woke up in Sinnoh. Lav was three weeks old at the time, and... somehow I'd ended up bringing her with me. And years later I learned, with Akoya's help, that...

That I wasn't Randy. At least, not the way I'd thought I was...

He went quiet, and they sat in silence. Randy was shaking.

I don't know what he did, for sure. I... My guess is that... somehow he took my memories.

The... The actual Randy didn't make it out of the fire.

Again, silence. Persim had a look of contemplative horror on his face as he processed what had been said.

After a while, he spoke. So... so this human form you take... is it the same as the... the one who...?

Randy nodded. He appeared fatigued. Well, more so than usual.

Right down to the scar, which Mo didn't know about. And he remembers his childhood as Randy. So we know that there are memories beyond what Mo could've known. She paused for a moment. And his energy is the same as Randy's.

In all ways but his eyes, he's the same man.

Perzi narrowed his eyes again. Let me get this straight. You fell in love with a human, but didn't become mates until he was a Mew? He turned to Randy. And what about you? When did you fall in love with her?

Randy fidgeted a little, and mumbled his answer. After she fell for me, but before I was a Mew.

He didn't want a Human-Pokemon relationship, so we never were more than friends when he was human.

Perzi smiled warmly. Well there you go! Him becoming a Mew was a good thing for you guys.

Randy and Akoya looked at him, shocked. You're not... That's not weird at all to you?

What I see is two Mews who love each other very much. I don't know how I'd feel if he were still human. But as it is, I'm happy for you guys!

I know that Akoya wanted more than the colony could offer her. So to see that you found it, it really warms my heart.

Lav's parents were quiet for a moment. Akoya smiled back at her brother. Thank you, Perzi. Your support means a lot to me.

Persim shrugged, jostling Rosemary. She had fallen asleep, and gave a sharp shrill in protest before resettling.

Honestly I don't think I fully understand it all. But you two seem happy in the now, at least mostly. And I don't have a problem with that!

The Linden parents smiled. But soon Randy became serious again. You should know, though... My mom is a human.

Perzi flicked his ears again. So I'll occupy my time elsewhere. I can show Rosie the Hoenn sights!

Randy's face took on his typical look of concern. Are you sure she'll be safe?

I spent a long time before meeting up with you guys floating around. I'm capable of protecting myself. How much harder can a kit be? Besides, you guys'll be nearby if I need help.

You bet! You can always give a telepathic holler for us!

So it's settled? We're all going?

Yeah!

Great. I'm going to take a nap.

Randy stood up and began to float away. But he stopped a good ways out, and turned to look at Lav, who was sitting quiet and thoughtful with the twins sleeping in her arms.

~Lav?~

She looked up at her dad, startled by the word in her head. He motioned with his head for her to come with him.

Lav handed the twins to her mom, and went to follow.

Once they were alone, Randy sighed.

I'm... I'm sorry it took us so long to tell you all that. I don't like keeping things from you, but... it's... hard for me to talk about.

Lav smiled at him. You don't need to apologize. I get it. That's... why I never asked. She tilted her head, thinking of something. You never told Uncle Perzi about Mom getting sick.

I can only handle so much of it at a time, Lav. If she wants to tell him, she can. But I'm not ready right now.

His voice sounded so beat. Lav's heart ached for him, as well as her mom. Her parents had been through so much, in such a short span of time. And the waves of guilt she'd felt from him earlier crossed her mind. He must feel like it had all been his fault...

She walked up to him and pulled him into a tight hug.

I'm proud of you, Dad. I know that time is hard for you, but... You've come a long way since it all.

He didn't respond, but she could feel him shivering. Soon she heard him sniffling, which turned into weeping. She didn't know if it was tears of guilt, or sadness, or relief, but she wanted to let him get it out.

Akoya checked their bedroom, her twin children asleep in her arms. Hoy, you guys are getting big. And heavy.

She left the room. Randy hadn't gone to the bed to sleep, so he was likely in his other spot of choice.

And there he was.

Cozied up in the corner of the couch with Lav's arms around him. The blue Mew gently set the sleeping kits down before turning to her mate and daughter. Akoya smiled as she approached them. She leaned in to give her mate a kiss, when she heard it.

The elusive but oh-so-wonderful sound of his purr.

She gave him a soft peck on the head and, purring herself, attempted to squeeze into the sleep pile. Randy woke a bit, and met Akoya's eyes. In that brief moment, they felt the pain of their past fade in the strength of their unity, before settling down to sleep.

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[blueberrypancakesworld]

Day.26 ~ Sinfully Sweet ~ Hallowtober

Father Ignatius x nun!reader

warning: kiss, fluff, comfort, no use of Y/n

Summary: October, as soon as the year got darker, seemed to be the devil coming… she had been taught that. Father Ignatius wants to change that, he wants to show her that even though it's dark, this dark time can also be sweet and loving instead of full of blood and pain and fear.

info: I actually wanted to write more for him but haven't gotten around to it yet, so have fun reading the day for him :)

masterlist

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October and its predecessor September seemed to be the months when the sun was getting shorter and shorter, when the darkness grew ever greater, and above all, they seemed to be the sweet months of the year when her temptations to evil grew ever greater.

After all that had happened, after all the blood and pain, the nightmares and truths and lies. Truths about how horrible this world was and lies that everything was bad, even though she often thought that everything was dark, she tried to get to herself.

This did not apply to the light that she had found in her darkest hour. Her angel, her guide… the man who, like her Adam, had led her into the Garden of Eden to show her the wonders of the world that she missed when she only listened to the harsh voices of her sisters.

He was there when she came off the island, she was with him when he helped her into his car, gently took her hand and ignored the blood that stained them both, still from all the fear that had happened, she saw what she was: a woman, a normal woman, and not a “disturbed sinner” as the voices had called her.

It was he who, in his kindness, stayed with her in the darkness. His greenish eyes looked at her with understanding and no hatred as he slowly embraced her.

His fingers burned warmly on her skin as he slowly washed the dirt of the past from her, always with sweet, soothing words on his tongue…and as the pages of the Bible and survived for thousands of years.

The initial time between them also passed before she moved in with him, and it quickly became clear that she still couldn't live alone for a long time without calling him every two minutes at church or at his house and asking what ghosts, devils and demons were doing outside in October.

A fact that amused him. ,,Not at all, my dear, these are just costumes for children to dress up in to get sweets,” he explained, showing her pictures in the news and newspapers in which she saw families in these costumes. She only slowly understood that it was done for fun and tradition.

However, there were plenty of scarers and laughs later before she and Ignatius went to the supermarket to get sweets that had previously only been raw sugar or honey for her.

Now they were sitting together on his couch and watching the TV, which was like a miracle itself for her, scary episodes of children's series were running and she liked the group with the talking dog, even though the demons were really creepy. ,,This is a Mars bar and this is candy corn,” he explained to her, putting the two sweets in her hand. She found the colorful triangular candy interesting and the Mars bar crackled beautifully.

But most of all, she was pleased with herself when she finally tasted the candy and saw the blonde's smile. of the blonde, who was holding her hand joyfully and was simply relieved that the whole thing had a happy ending, ,,You can eat as many as you like, you don't have to hold back…it won't bother the big ones.” Ignatius assured her and she believed him, didn't she?

He was a godsend and those creepy creatures out there would never get her, not when she felt that connection, that love in another kiss on her lips and lay in his arms to enjoy this new life and the horror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[moonknixght]

Chase of Cat and Mouse [Jake Lockley x Cop!Reader]

Summary: Jake Lockley is a smug bastard who enjoys watching you struggle to find the murderer responsible for Arthur Harrow's death. But it becomes evident that his overconfident façade is not that strong when you manage to catch him after work. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Enemies to lovers kinda, Suggestive, Swearing, no mentions of marc or steven (sorry guys), mentions of death (?) A/N: this took wayy to long and my sincerest of apologies to all my lovelies. I’m unfortunately a huge procrastinator, but I’ll try working in more fics in the coming days :) ! Requests are open, so feel free to talk to me or suggest something for the next fic!!

You lean on your chair with a distrustful look, eyes twitching at the cocky grin that your suspect, Jake Lockley had on his face. If only you could just reach over the damn table and smack it right out of his face, but unfortunately with no permission from the higher-ups to hurt people under custody, you were pretty helpless to his conceited expressions.

It's just been an hour of going back and forth with the male; where you would propose something incriminating that could possibly involve him, before he would defend himself with a cheeky statement, which worked a bit too well in his favor.

For example, When you pointed out that the man who suspiciously led Arthur Harrow away from the hospital to be never seen again was wearing a cap similar to his, Jake responded with a chuckle; "Is there no one else in London who wears a newsboy cap?"

And it didn't help that every once in a while, he would make a mockery out of you, arrogantly sneering as you struggled to find solid evidence for an arrest. You tried to pay no mind to it as you distracted yourself with the papers lay on the desk in front, trying not to be bothered by anything he says.

"Running out of hurtful accusations, amor?" It was getting increasingly frustrating, the periodic visits of Jake Lockley to the questioning room almost once every week, where every time you insisted it was him. Your superior, an old bloke named Martin was understandably getting tired of it, ever so slightly wishing that he had just taken this rookie case to his hands instead of having his junior over-analyze it so much. London is a big city; the death of another old man was no exciting news, but it seemed to be of great importance to you. A knock on the door snapped you out of your deprecating thoughts, breaking that eye contact that danced with a fiery spark of hatred between you and Jake while you jumped to your feet to answer the door. A familiar figure with a head full of grey hair with an equally grey mustache stood, with a fed-up expression on his face. Speak of the fucking devil. "Cut short for the day, I need you in my office in 10." Martin commanded, a breath escaping your lips quietly as he said so. "But—" "No buts. My Office. In 10. Let 'em go." You turn back to the male who was still sitting nonchalantly on the uncomfortable basin of the stool; but almost immediately as your gaze fell on him, he looked up with a tilt of his head, his lips curling at the end to form a smirk. He managed to get out of your grasp again.

Stepping into Martin's Lair, which most acknowledge as his office, you felt yourself think of the many ways he could possibly question you— as well as all the ways you could retaliate and justify your fixation on this specific suspect. All of your defenses led to a dead end, but how exactly were you supposed to explain how Jake looks at you when he sees you falter? How his sharp, tinted brown eyes sparkle with a glimmer of amused smugness to it every time you found yourself searching for more clues in front of him? You know he did it. You know that he knows very well you're aware of that. Yet, he seemed to be enjoying the effort put in to prove your conclusions.

Arms crossed, your supervisor eyed you as you walked in and did your regular routine of a salute to your higher up, before he motioned you over to sit. Martin never was a person who gave much trouble, and that was an understanding that ran between the both of you, but that didn't mean he didn't have moments where he would be highly critical of your actions and decisions.

"Where are the final reports, (L/N)?" "I.." You pause, bracing yourself. "I don't have it. Yet." The older male sighed in response to your answer, rubbing the base of his temple while you shifted uncomfortably on the cushion-y seat, preparing yourself to hear the lecture that was incoming. "I assigned this file to you nearly 3 months ago, (Y/N), and you have nothing except a raging suspicion on this one guy who you can't even prove is the culprit we're looking for." He leaned onto the desk. "What happened? You were one of my best students. That's why I trusted you with this."

Oh, Jake Lockley is done for once you catch him again. You part your lips to say something, but the guilt of letting down such a placid and reasonable figure that was your superior was really starting to settle down. Had it been anyone else, you would have stubbornly defended yourself about how you were absolutely sure of your intuitions. But it was a war that you would not come out victorious from anyways; possibly hurting the respect Martin gives you was just an added loss.

"Be more attentive, (Y/N). I know how hard these tend to get but I've been having people show up and make a fuss about finding the culprit—probably some distant family of the victim and—"

"I'll have the reports down to you by Sunday." Martin spared a look of surprise, taken aback by the sudden tone of determination. It took you 3 months to make even the slightest of progress, yet you seemed positive that you'll manage to nail the report and hold the felon accountable within the matter of a day and a half. How were you supposed to do that?

You would've been a little more confident if you knew the answer to that question yourself.

Stripped out of the authoritarian uniform, You found yourself clutching onto your jacket as the cold autumn weather in the streets of London brushed against your skin. The night was young as always, and you wished there was time for you to go stargazing, laying under the bed of shining pricks in the dark blanket that was the night sky. Barely 8pm by then, you realized as you checked your watch, but the gloom of a midnight sky was already settling in. It was an uncomfortable feeling since you've rarely never gotten out all that much, for a stroll nonetheless, ever since you started working on the case, with the exemption of the travel from and to home to the station or vice versa.

And that would have been the fate of today, if it weren't for the fact that you were hunting down Jake Lockley. This time not with the help of a colleague, but by yourself as you hurried through the busy streets of the city. You were given the location to an apartment towards the north of town, which was presumed to be his address and where you were hoping to run into him for a talk. Not another interrogation, at least in his point of view, but you were aware that this case was far from salvageable with just mildly threatening questioning.

You watch as the neon sign of a convenience store just below the building your heading for shine brightly; stopping momentarily to check your phone and prepare before taking a sharp breath to turn the corner— to almost immediately run into a figure in the dark and brooding alleyway.

Despite the crescent moon towering above his frame, Jake's face was lit solely by the cigarette hooked between his fingers, revealing a familiar facial structure that you loathed. But, despite having strong emotions which can only be described as hatred, you did find him to be conventionally attractive, but that's just stating the obvious.

Another thing that you took to notice was his dark, slicked-back curls that almost stuck to his neck, carefully combed as to not to seem disheveled and obviously missing his signature cap. It was.. certainly a look. Something out of the ordinary, which made you wonder if you even were looking at the same person.

At the echo of your footsteps, it was destined to catch the attention of the male, who squinted at the sight of you, before a relaxed expression took over his stiff posture. At his notice, you paused just a few steps away from him, pondering where you're gonna begin— only for him to beat you to it. "'m afraid I can't make it to another questioning, officer." He sneered, but shrugging it off has almost been second nature to you at this point. "I have.. plans for later tonight, 'Can't spend that time rotting away at the station." "You're not being taken to the station, I just want to talk." You say firmly, To which Jake reacts with a raise of his brow, prompting you to continue. "Look." You shift your gaze away, sighing. "I might've been wrong about you, but I think you know something I don't. And if you know, anything, and I mean- anything on Arthur Harrow, I need you to tell me it. Now." Jake looked at you with not much change in his expression, but his hand brought the cigarette back to his lips as he leaned by the hood of the car, facing you. If you were any hopeful about Jake abiding by your commands, you would have said he was considering it, but the silence was becoming overbearing and you still needed to pitch your case.

"His family's been very active in trying to find the culprit and.. It's—"

"Mentirosos.." ("liars..") He grumbled lowly, but thanks to a pretty good sense of hearing, you were able to catch it.

"Pardon?" "Do you actually believe them?"

Jake's question did falter your figure for a moment, especially since his voice was a little bit more.. commanding. But it did send you back to really put your thought into it. Arthur's file and your personal research on his background did not list any names that may be dear to him, so who were those claiming to be his family? Maybe even friends? "Whoever they are, They're concerned, and I don't have any answers but I know that you know something." Jake chuckled. "So, You're desperate." You glare at him, but at the same time, you can't exactly deny his accusation. The only other reaction was the sequence of words you managed to grumble out. "Spill it, Lockley." The manner in which you spoke was dominant, commanding as you were beginning to be reminded of all the trouble Jake has given you. The cigarette that brightly burned between his rough fingers was left neglected until now, when he opted to drop it on the floor before the heel on his shoe extinguished the leftover flame within it in order to make his way towards you. You stood firm in your stance as he took light strolls towards your frame, with a light tilt of his head. You stand firm in your stance as he lightly strolls towards you, with a slight tilt of his head. "I know you're not just a pretty face, You'll figure it out eventually. Without my help." You were almost face to face now, standing parallel against each other, the eye contact unwavering between the two of you. As always. "I did figure it out. Either you did it, or you were involved; So if I'm asking you anything now, it's because you know what happened." "Why didn't you just take me in again?" "Because I wanted to talk to you. Not to the unbothered, innocent cab driver who I'm apparently tormenting." The corner of his lips couldn't help but curl just a little bit, as he stared down at you for a moment. Jake was quite unsure if you had anything incriminating against him, or whether you were going off pure instinct, but for you to be so stubborn about being right, you got to have been confident about something.

Jake's intense gaze bore into yours, a silent challenge passing between you two. Despite how lightly he seemed to take everything, The air grew thick with tension, and you found yourself fighting the urge to step back. His proximity was disarming, but you refused to let him see any vulnerability in the stance you put out. "And If I don't cooperate?"

"You're dancing on the edge, Lockley. One wrong move, and you'll find yourself in a place you won't enjoy."

You warned, your voice low and laced with a subtle threat in the off chance he did have any malicious thoughts. He was a unpredictable character, despite the many interactions you've had with him. Jake's laughter rumbled, low and deep, sending shivers down your spine.

"I've been on the edge my whole life, Cariño. It's where I operate best."

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, it seemed like the world around you faded away. The charged atmosphere crackled between you two, and neither was willing to back down.

The dimly lit alley provided a secret backdrop to your confrontation. The distant city sounds and the occasional flicker of a neon sign were the only witnesses to what was unfolding. Jake's hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You're playing with fire being here, detective." he whispered, his lips dangerously close to your ear. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart raced, and for a split second, you forgot the reason you sought him out in the first place. The lines between rivalry and attraction blurred. The charismatic aura surrounding him was magnetic, and undoubtedly, you were drawn in. But perhaps, You could use this to your advantage.

"Maybe I prefer it that way with you." You retorted, your voice betraying a hint of defiance. You could feel the weight of his gaze, assessing, challenging. With a blink of your eye, you notice how close he is to you, your face nearly touching as his gaze bore into yours. It was hypnotizing, even if you were planning to play him entirely, your knees couldn't help but feel a little weak.

In a charged moment, the air crackling with unspoken tension, Jake closed the remaining distance between you. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both unexpected and electric. Time seemed to stand still as the world around you melted away, leaving only the sensation of his lips against yours.

The rhythm between the two of you was picked up almost immediately; led mainly by him, as he quickly dashed at the opportunity to deepen what already existed. Being amused as well as surprised, you allowed your hands to trail up his back with a smile, grazing along the rough fabric of his trench coat. Your hands didn't stick around there for long though, eventually finding it's way up to entangle itself in his astonishingly soft curls, earning a light moan of satisfaction from him.

With just a light push of your body weight onto his, you maneuvered him over to one of the stone walls that sandwiched the two of you in the alley, barely leaving any space for your lips to be left untouched. Back touching the wall in a firm grip, Jake's hands fell from cupping your face to having a rough hold on your waist, pulling you closer to the warm of his body in a mesmeric embrace.

"I didn't know you wanted me this badly, (L/N). Is this why you had me come in so often?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?" "With the way you're acting right now? Of course not." You engulf him in another bombardment of kisses, which he accepts greedily, like a man who's waited years to do this. If anything, It's almost like he wanted to hold you in such a way the moment he set his eyes on you. On second thoughts, Maybe that's why he's been obediently showing up every time he was summoned back at the room. Sly fuck. You separate for the second time, panting as you gently lay your hand on his chest, soaking in all of his perfect features. Amidst all the chaos of the case, the face you've seen almost once every week had way more to offer than you remembered. Whether that was his hooded eyes that loomed over his chocolate colored eyes, or his lips that glistened perfectly as he licked up the rest of your taste from the corners.

Perhaps you were lost a little too much in awe of his features, still breathless but unsure if everything was from the sudden fire of desire in your heart, or the intense make-out you just had with your suspect. "Harrow brought it upon himself." Jake murmured amidst his gasps to catch some air, giving into his temptation of giving you hints.

"What?"

"He's a cult leader."

Your nose crinkles at the information, brows knitting as you sunk in to the realization. Jake looked away for a moment, a clicking of his tongue could be heard as he cursed himself for just.. giving information to a police officer. Khonshu would probably eat his head for this later.

"So.. That means—"

"—The people bothering ya' at the station are his followers, and they're likely looking for me."

You were right, but you couldn't help but feel.. bad? Is that what that was? No, protectiveness, like you suddenly didn't want to give Jake's name away to the persistent visitors. But what if Jake is lying? He's still a conniving character. Maybe this is just justification for he has done. "They're looking for you.. so.. I was right.." "Felicidades, muñeca." ("Congrats, Doll.") Jake spoke with that same grin, but this time, with a clear admiration for your intelligence. It was hard holding back the same grin every time you accused him back at the interrogation room. "You got me."

To be elated or not, was the conflict that clouded your mind right then. This was it. Jake took the opportunity of your realization to swiftly move from under your grasp, knowing that sticking around would only trouble him more. Once again, He needed to disperse into the shadows of the night like the many times he's been completely caught, to go and only return when the dust had settled. Things were not as easy as that this time. Not when you were involved. "Wait." Before he could completely pull away, You held onto his arm, with a surprising amount of strength. With a slight struggle, Jake could've pushed you off and fled, but he didn't, pausing as he stared at you. You had a look that could only be identified as a mischievous plea, like you completely ignored everything he had just revealed. "Stay. I don't want us to be cut short." The male couldn't properly respond to that before you leaped at him once again, crashing your lips onto his with a more deeper passion. Your previous contacts were slow, yet this kiss bought in a new category of roughness that he could definitely get used to. His hands once again latched onto your body, admiring your sides while the same position was restored for a second time. The kisses from Jake were way more messier, his hands and lips trying to cover all of what it can reach in a restricted amount of time. He was hungry, and that's exactly where you wanted him. As he littered your jawline with sloppy pecks, you huffed in the stimulation as you felt his arms fall down and trace along your body. He was distracted in an effort to grasp at your rear, earning a soft grasp that escaped your lip at the sudden contact, which only bought a smirk of achievement in his features. In honest truth, all of Jake's little mannerisms when in almost full control of your body had butterflies fluttering in the pits of your stomach; heart racing while he maintained his pace in just driving you crazy. Though you promised yourself just a moment ago that you wouldn't falter, that pledge was getting way harder to keep with every passing second of indulging in him. On the other hand, Jake was enamored, savoring every sense of you he can get himself hooked on. Perhaps that was why he didn't notice how your hands brushed over his tight grip, pulling it away from the sides of your stomach or how there was mild jingle of something that echoed through the alley amidst their breathless pants of fervor. Click. Or maybe, He didn't notice how something restrained his hands together. No, that's a stretch. Pulling away from a kiss that he could have for an eternity more, his gaze fell the palm of his hands, sweeping down until it spotted the chained collars that strapped the two of his hands together. It didn't really take him long to recognize what it was. "Jake Lockley, You are hereby arrested for the murder of Arthur Harrow." Your cleverness of leaving him so vulnerable to you was undoubtedly smart, but that was an essence of your charm that Jake simply couldn't get enough of.

[cebwrites]

fuck it we ball. woe team shisui be upon ye

returning to this old flame is. wild.

tae and shisui were put on a genin team with someone else from the academy, but they quit a few months in (times of war were tough on a kid) and rio was assigned to them instead; the first two are around the same age, rio's a couple years older

i'll have a proper design for rio eventually, this is more or less just a placeholder for me to see if i could still draw in the naruto style - rio is also their team's medic

if rewatching this show has taught me anything it's that small children can be SO nasty for no discernable reason

tae had a lot of pressure on his shoulders to live up to his old man's name, people telling him from birth that he was gifted or spoiled or never did enough so eventually he just stopped putting in the effort until his team gave him the confidence to try again - for himself rather than anyone else

tae was a gloomy little ghost in the academy; he'd keep to himself a lot, freaking out some of his peers with eyes a little too wide and an unwillingness to be vocal unless it suited him, a complete contrast to his cheerful "normal" twin brother

even though it's widespread and pretty vital, there was, and to some degree is, a stigma that healing jutsu are reserved for mostly women, partially because tsunade was a big proponent for getting medics put on four man teams as a necessity (even though dan was right there with her), so growing up rio caught a lot of flak for it even though it wasn't a particularly new practice by then

the exclusion shisui faced was a lot more subtle and had less to do with his demeanor or personal choices, rather the fact of who he was to begin with - no matter how kind or cheerful shisui was, there'd always be a trail of hushed whispers talking about how he was so pleasant despite being an uchiha, or maybe rumors that he was some meanspirited asshole all along

some folks kept up the niceties, others didn't hide their wariness, but was was clear from the start was this undercurrent of distrust between konoha and uchiha clan that went both ways

tae never bothered with rumors (unless it was to pick a fight with whoever was spreading them about his friend) and rio was a refugee taken from outside the village unaware and indifferent to their politics - uchiha were usually assigned to teams of other uchiha upon request, but shisui could really feel at home with these two after they all got over the initial awkwardness of having to trust someone new

their sensei (not pictured) was a huge factor in these kids getting along at first, he seemed to genuinely love them up until the mission where he was found guilty of treason - a small part of them still wants to believe he actually cared for them (he did, he really really did) but at the end of the day their teacher's hatred for konoha was more important

they were given a replacement leader after that, a man who was less put together but tried hard to teach and nurture all the same

they had a solid handful of years together before the coup, after that everything sort of fell apart - shisui was gone, danzo had tae "interrogated" for potential associations with the uchiha which shut him down emotionally, and after a mission gone awry that resulted in rio getting held captive by enemy nin for a week and heavily tortured, they went on an indefinite hiatus from shinobi duty

[bookishtheaterlover7]

Lately I see him in every photo and sighting and what I feel is like a great resentment and hatred towards him and not because he is married, but because he knows that he is a great disappointment to himself and that makes me feel disappointed in him; It ended with the smiling and happy Chris that I fell in love with years ago, now everything about him is so fake, nothing is genuine about him anymore and his sad look is at the extremes, those photos with the fans in the Emerald City were so pitiful, in Each one of them only showed a man who reflected immense sadness in his eyes, that is something that people who are perceptive grasp immediately (I have met many people like that, who pretended happiness and deep down carried great sadness to them. hills, I even had a friend who was an extremely happy person and always transmitted that great energy to everyone she met and when she emigrated to another country, every time she published her photos on Facebook I was able to detect the sadness in her eyes, that person committed suicide at the beginning of this year) looks never lie and a person's body language is infallible and in that aspect he is an open book, he is always tense and anxious when he is seen next to her, as if he did not want to be and that bothers me so much, it makes me think that he is a huge idiot for agreeing to that miserable show, he has fallen so low, now he shows himself as a Chris afraid of being in public because it seems that he feels judged at all times and the worst is that now all his public appearances must be made hand in hand with his supposed wife, which means less Chris Evans happy and smiling for me and his fans.

I can no longer see his photos without feeling great disappointment, because now more than ever I am aware that now he is a big lie.

I really hope to see the real Chris Evans again one day, the one he was before he got involved with that woman and I also hope that his mental health goes well, because in each new photo in which he appears more miserable he looks more miserable, he is still a prince beautiful, but a prince who carries a great weight on his back.

I'm sorry about your friend, An🫶n. That must've been difficult. 😞

And I see what you mean. For most of the ECCC pics, he had the same, dare I say, copy paste smile.

You could scroll through the pictures, and Chris looks like he hasn't moved a muscle. And that's why, the rare photos of Chris where he has the biggest smile, are ones to treasure. Because it's the only glimpses of old Chris that we can get in this messy period.

I'm also hoping for the best. And that this didn't destroy his mental health, as well as, praying that he knows he's got Fans who supports him.

Don't get me wrong, we'll still get disappointed in his choices. But it's nothing compared to the anger we have towards the people who are pushing this way past the line.

Thank you for venting, An🫶n. I hoped it helped you 🥺

[moobloom-mention]

Heart-To-Heart (What Heart?)

BINGO Post

It's said you can feel your soulmate's heartbeat. In the quietest of moments, when you're completely alone, during your darkest times.

Char A wants to believe there's someone out there for them. That there is a light at the very end of the tunnel.

If there isn't...then what really is the point?

OR

Tommy's not that butt-hurt he doesn't have a soulmate. After all, who needs the comforting knowledge that there's someone out there meant for him? That someone will always wish that he survives the next encounter with the Syndicate?

Pfft, big men don’t, that's for sure.

Content Warnings: Cursing. Violence. Near-death experiences.

Word Count: 5704

----------

"What does it mean to have a soulmate?"

It was a question that'd always been flung around the city of Manberg, closely followed by entourages of cameras and influencers subjecting the public to their latest attempts at becoming famous.

"Work" - April 14th, 5056

"It's coming home after a long day of work," one person had grinned, a fond expression on their face. "And being able to tell the moment your soulmate knows you're home, their heartbeat getting faster and faster until you open the door to their smiling face."

"Cute Comparisons" - April 9th, 2057 

"To be an animal who's too young to see anything," another confessed, abashed they'd yet to meet their soulmate. "You can't see them, but the drum of their heartbeat is enough to know they're still there, just waiting for the moment you can finally open your eyes."

But to Tommy? To Tommy, it was all bullshit.

Even still he's shocked how much the public swoons over each response, eager to judge whether someone's response was too dull or far too poetic to be original. He'd lost faith in humanity the moment he noticed the uptick in influencers bothering the elderly, hopeful for a story about a soulmate they'd outlived.

Sorrowful speeches paid the bills- the sheer amount of views proved that -even at the expense of morality.

The only interaction that seemed to perform better than tearful grandmas were the "Bitter Ones": people who were heartbroken, pissed, and milked endlessly by the media for clickbait titles.

"Influencer Assaulted by a Bitter One!" - June 17th, 2058

The video opened on a two-minute chase sequence between some prick of an interviewer and a well-dressed man. Even the editor's choice to blur the man's face didn't stop the sheer amount of hatred radiating off the man's expression, waving the young girl off in spite of her never-ending, "Sir! Excuse me, sir!"

It was almost disappointing when the interviewer got what she wanted, the man whipping around to furiously shout at her.

"Could you fucking stop? Some people don't want to talk about how, 'Oh, my soulmate? Mine was a piece of shit that cheated on me with my own best friend-'!"

What wasn't disappointing was the girl being shoved aside as the cameras faded to black.

It'd been a well-deserved response if Tommy had anything to say about it.

Just about anyone would grow pissed over being harassed, let alone being demanded to broadcast their pitiful story to the world. The icing on the cake, however, was the implication that the poor bloke could still hear the heartbeat of his cheating soulmate.

Shit like that was just another reason as to why everyone had grown to favor platonic soulmates in place of romantic ones. It was easier to venture through life's bipolar mess with a best mate versus a partner you felt obligated to marry.

At least, that'd been the opinion of one of Dream's shitty magazines.

"Prime's Attempts at Arranging Marriages is Soooooo Last Decade..."

Tommy had just barely poked his head into his mentor's office when he noticed the headline, eyes wide as he found Dream at his desk and engrossed by an article some poor writer had probably killed to get a spot on the front page.

The scene was more interesting than awkward, especially considering Dream's original hesitance over divulging in anything soulmate-related. Tommy had practically had to strangle the name "George" from Dream's throat when he'd first started his apprenticeship at the Tower.

Shame Dream's attempts at secrecy failed the moment Tommy knew their Number-One-Hero's guilty pleasure was cheesy gossip meant for preteens.

"Trouble in paradise?"

The room had burst into chaos, Dream flinging the magazine into an adjacent wall as mindless paperwork made its home back in the man's hands. If the magazine hadn't practically framed itself on the wall, Tommy would've assumed he imagined the whole ordeal.

"Y'know, usually we get offices only for shit like paperwork."

It'd been hilarious to watch Manberg's Number-One-Hero burrow his face into his desk with a muffled plea of, "Don't tell Schlatt."

It wasn't like Dream would get fired over a little bit of soulmate talk, but the fear was well-deserved considering the Tower's manager would never let Dream live it down.

"I dunno, Big D. He'd give me an office for finding out about this one."

Dream's head lifted, faux hurt in his expression. "Tommy, c'mon-"

"An office, Big-Man."

Dream's eyebrows pinched.

"I can't fucking believe this- done."

Tommy grinned.

"Aaaaand an invite to you and Gogy's wedding?"

"We're not having a- y'know what. Fine. But this-"

The magazine flopped uselessly to the ground.

"-this never happened."

"I don't even know what you're talking about," he agreed with ease.

Life wasn't quite the same following the "Magazine Incident Circa 2060". Yeah, life would never be the same after getting his own office, but something changed in the way Dream progressed their trust in one another, training sessions interrupted by Tommy's curiosity over George and Dream's sudden willingness to let details about his soulmate slip.

Trust had already become mandatory when Tommy first became Dream's apprentice- it demanded they their life in one another's hands amidst combat for fucks sake- but this crawled beneath the surface of contractual agreements.

Dream had once coined it as "friendship", a thought which instantly earned the hero teasing remarks over how George would be jealous.

There'd only been a handful of times Dream had tried to dip into the subject of Tommy's own soulmate, attempts that'd been dismissed with a shrug of "I haven't met 'em yet."

Not everyone was lucky enough to meet their soulmate in second grade, Dream.

It wasn't long before even other heroes amidst the Towers warmed up to the idea of discussing their soulmates. Even in spite of Schlatt's decade-long policy prohibiting it, it seemed the strict dickhead grew to agree that passing comments and stories were more beneficial in trust-building amidst coworkers.

"Long as media shit-heads don't find out, it's fine."

It was an easy catch.

Not so easy for Fundy, apparently.

The hero had barely been around for a couple months before he took his first interview, selecting TMZ of all fucking media outlets. Sure, the network did well to spark publicity for new heroes, but if Tommy noticed anything about the redhead amidst their first battles with one another, it's that the man can't see a trap to save his life.

"Soulmates in the Tower?" - August 8th, 2060

"Well," the interviewer had begun, quick to soothe her previous bout of laughter. "I'm sure you've heard the trends going about in regards to soulmates."

To give credit where it was due, Fundy did hesitate before shaking his head. "Ah, no. Soulmate business has never been a strong suit."

The woman's smile twisted into that of a shark's as she leaned forward. "You must have at least some input when it comes to the big question on the streets. 'What does it mean to have a soulmate'?"

There'd been a beat of silence, one that'd originally elicited hope that Fundy hadn't fucked up and instead cut the interview there and then.

But there's a reason the holler of reporters had changed from, "Hey, Karma! Karma! How'd you manage to evade the Angel of Death?" to irritating parrots of "-soulmate? How do you feel about them? Surely the Big-Man himself wants to speak about his soulmate-"

"To finally feel complete," Fundy replied lamely. "To rush into battle with your heart racing, and feeling the pound of theirs following."

Tommy's phone slipped back into his pocket.

(It didn't matter how much his mind screamed to correct such a careless response. To mutter, you feel cared for, dickhead. You know that every time you put yourself in danger, you know damn-well your soulmate's praying for your safe return.)

Prime knows how the fuck Fundy only received a slap on the wrist for his stunt. Schlatt's screams following the interview still haunt his nightmares, with words over how Fundy barely managed to follow the bare minimum of his contract.

Apparently, the policy was meant to stop identifiable details from coming into light, and considering Fundy's lame-ass response had been, well, lame, the hero kept his job after acknowledging the severity of the situation.

Even the careless mention of blonde hair could've put citizens matching the vague description under the surveillance of villains. Killing a hero's soulmate was a one-way ticket to solving a life-long rivalry, a chance that as Tommy mulled over it, explained Dream's original concern for discussing George.

There isn't room for trusting the wrong person when a single soulmate is all someone gets, especially when said someone has an iconic rivalry with the Blade himself.

He definitely didn't preen after putting together that thought, every mindless reciting of George's antics now found to be another support beam added to their undefeated bridge of trust. The bridge's completion arrived only six months following Fundy's fuck-up, when Dream hesitantly invited Tommy out to dinner with him and George.

"Gogy finally get tired of hearing all about me? Don't worry, king; I'll even get my suit dry-cleaned."

First impressions considered: George was an odd fellow. Short, blunt, and- in spite of the very nice restaurant Dream had selected -dressed in pajamas. Tommy can still recall the moment he noticed Dream's limo pull up, the hero stepping out in a suit and dark green tie whilst George stumbled about in a grey t-shirt and plaid-blue sweatpants.

With the apologetic expression on Dream's face, Tommy could imagine this was less of a prank and more-so a typical outing for the duo.

It'd been admittedly odd to be seated in front of Manberg's Number-One-Hero and his soulmate. He tried not to compare himself to nosy influencers the whole night, even in spite of how the answer to the media's, "What does it mean to have a soulmate?" sat mere feet away, etched into reality.

It was written in the way they offered fleeting glances toward one another amidst conversation. How they sat there, endeared by one another's attire as they dined beneath diamond chandeliers. How they laughed and snorted at jokes undeserving of being found humorous, amused only because the other had uttered it.

When the night eventually came to an end, Tommy found himself trapped with an odd pit in his stomach that definitely wasn't jealousy.

If it was jealousy, then why would Tommy go the lengths to torture himself and ask for more stories about George's antics? Why would Dream then fall into a habit of talking about his soulmate unprompted whenever patrol nights got a touch too quiet.

"It's funny," Dream had commented one night, kind enough not to mention the way Tommy's eyes lit up. "How good his poker-face is. His heartbeat will grow erratic, even though his expression never betrays anything-"

Still, Tommy elbowed the hero aside with a groan. "I don't want to hear about your make-out sessions, prick."

"You know it's not like that," Dream laughed. "Besides, you'll have to put up with it 'til you get the balls to talk about yours."

Damn, a rare L for Big D.

Tommy scrambled to dismiss the sudden tension. It was all in vein, attempts vanishing the moment Dream noticed it.

"You don't have to," he back-peddled, almost frantically. "This was never an info-for-info arrangement, I'm more than happy to just talk about George-"

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't considered the offer.

Dream had opened a door that night, one demanding payment of complete vulnerability should Tommy walk through it. He'd have to share the only thing the blonde could truly claim as his secret to own- something that Dream had been openly sharing for over a year at the time.

It was...enticing.

Tommy's mother tongue might be that of a sailor, but there'd always existed an undesirable itch to spout metaphors like Dream did about George. He is, in spite of Dream's shock, a poet at heart. It was his pride that prohibited the publishing of his thoughts.

Well, his pride and the fact he was nothing if not the spitting image of stubbornness. The moment he'd soul his soul on a lie was the moment he refused to depart from it.

"Fuckin' rude," he huffed. "Maybe Schlatt should hear of that magazine incident-"

The topic was dropped in favor of teasing laughter, and Dream never learned that Tommy had spent the following morning pacing his apartment with a question in mind.

What does it mean to have a soulmate?

To influencers, it was to milk them for all their worth, to regard them as winning lottery tickets and divulge in profit.

To Fundy, it was to matter, to seek comfort and validation in his life meaning something in the eyes of another.

To Dream, it was to hold them in the space between his heart and lungs, to immortalize them in the minds of others through childish stories.

And to Tommy-

To Tommy it wasn't just bullshit.

It was to sit on his shitty excuse for a couch, to strangle a notebook and pencil within his hand.

(To etch amidst blurring blue lines:

It is to ask a mentor about theirs,

And for a moment, pretend you have the same.)

It'd been easy to smother the notebook beneath shopping lists and nervous chants of "Just kidding, just kidding-" as though it were someone else he were attempting to convince instead of the lonesome thud of his own heartbeat.

It never mattered how how many times the mantra filled Tommy's empty apartment. He'd always been destined to retire beneath the covers of his bed, an old pair of white headphones glued to his ears as though they could heal the song of mourning that'd torn his heart to shreds.

And they could, ever-so-eager to echo the soft, rhythmic thump of a looped heartbeat not meant for him to listen to.

A part of him hopes the original owner of the audio has long been put to rest, unable to handle the guilt that he'd intruded on two soulmate's heartbeats for the sake of curing his loneliness.

It's pathetic.

But being pathetic wasn't as lame considering how much easier the routine made going about his day without a second heartbeat to contrast with his own.

It was a tiny secret he'd kept hidden beneath the covers of his bed, harmless and easy enough to contain within the walls of the apartment.

But of course, Prime loved fuck-all if not ruining a good system.

Hero work had always been dangerous- hell, he had his own set of previously broken bones to prove it.

Having a brush with Death was bound to happen sooner or later.

Dream and him had been roaming about when a report came in, spouting of how two members of the Syndicate- Manberg's most effective group of organized villainy -were stalking the streets. It hadn't raised too many red flags; with so many members amidst the Syndicate's ranks, hearing only two of them running errands wasn't unheard of.

Especially when the two were Phantom and Blade, names that'd proven they could defend themselves quite well.

It was dumb-luck alone Tommy eventually managed to successfully pin Phantom in place whilst Dream was distracting Blade, his arm pressed against the villain's throat as he attempted to wrestle Phantom's freezing cold hands into a pair of power dampeners.

He'd nearly jolted over the sudden realization he couldn't feel a pulse against his arm, Phantom still very much alive and struggling in spite of the revelation.

"No heartbeat? That's creepy as fuck," Tommy muttered, as though he wasn't panicking feeling Phantom's hands warm in his grasp. He really didn't need the villain dematerializing right as he was this close to success.

"Don't tell me you heroes hold grudges against dead people," Phantom grinned. As if he wasn't about to be sent to Pandora's vault for a CVS receipt of crimes.

"Prime do I have bad news for you, king-"

There'd been the soft sound of scrapping metal before he found himself stumbling onto concrete, Phantom long forgotten as his fingers instinctively grasped the metal feather that'd embedded itself in his chest.

Somewhere to his left Phantom scrambled upright.

Even nowadays he can't grasp together a cohesive description of the events that followed, only recalling how quiet the atmosphere had grown. Phantom and the Angel of Death had to of been talking, right? Shouting if what little of what Tommy could see explained.

But there'd only been the deafening crash of silence, interrupted only by the head-ache inducing pound of his heart.

Suddenly, Fundy's fondness over the racing of his soulmate's heartbeat made sense. Dying alone was terrifying.

He learned two things that day:

The Angel was not a force to fuck with, and maybe therapy was a good thing to invest in.

Tommy would've been back on the battlefield the moment the hospital discharged him if it wasn't for Dream. The man had been relentless, convincing Schlatt to force Tommy on two weeks of paid leave.

Day 18 of being out of commission and Tommy found himself walking through the Tower's lobby, white headphones secured to his ears.

Only Dream questioned it, convinced it was a joke.

"You're not actually taking them into the field, are you?" the man had asked, frowning over Tommy's shockingly serious expression. "Tommy, you just got back from dying. You seriously expect me to let you go out there with these things?"

"Mhm."

A sigh.

"Can you at least let Sam downsize them-?"

"Nope."

Tommy loved nothing if not giving Dream a heart-attack.

"How the hell are you going to hear our call-outs then?"

He shrugged. "I will."

And Tommy had done well with that promise.

Unlike Dream's suspicion that he was blasting music amidst life-threatening confrontations, the soft echo of a heartbeat never did much to phase out barked commands and shouts for backup.

"Tommy- for fuck's sake!"

Said hero can't help but wince as Dream suddenly flies down the street, the man just barely catching himself before his face can greet pavement.

Tommy jerks back, confusion echoing within his brain when a fist doesn't appear to knock him back a few feet as well. Blade and Dream's rivalry might be iconic, but Tommy would be an idiot if he wasn't at least slightly aware how quickly he could become Blade's newest target.

He's only a little wounded that Blade pays him no mind, the villain following Dream's footsteps to land unwavering blow after blow. Tommy's shoulders sag with relief, a grin on his face even as he watches Dream's desperate attempts to avoid getting knocked out.

There'll be a riot if they're both not awarded raises following this shit-show. He'd like to see Schlatt try and fight the Syndicate himself.

"What was that? Sorry, can't hear you over my headphones!"

Despite his words, Tommy finds himself naturally falling into a defensive stance, a knife primed in his hand as he tracks Blade's movements with caution. It's almost comical how much he feels like a dog, prepared to lung into action the moment Dream deems it necessary.

What's even funnier is the fact that this has to be the eighth time they've doomed 180th Street to Syndicate shenanigans.

"Well, isn't that a pity?"

His knife slices through the air at an instant, eyes searching valiantly for the source of the new voice.

The tone hit all the wrong notes- playful, yet screaming of imminent danger.

He'll die before he lets Phantom of all people get an easy hit.

As much as he wants to call the ghost a massive bitch for hiding in plain sight, his mouth feels like cotton, mind far too focused on the steady rise of his heartbeat.

Thump-thump-thump-thumpthump-

A scoff erupts by his ear once more.

Tommy nearly shouts at the asshole who'd managed to sneak up on him again, forcing down the terror that'd begun to creep into his veins.

Panic was never a good mix when trying to locate an essential ghost.

Fuck Prime for giving a villain such an overpowered ability. "Recall" might not be among the worst powers to have, but even Dream's manipulation over gravity is nothing in comparison to walking through fucking walls.

"I thought you would've loved to hear Dream nearly get a face-full of pavement."

Well now that you mention it-

Tommy's joints lock as the distinct of metal on metal returns, a sound that'd only just begun to disappear from his nightmares.

Phantom's sudden lack of continuous banter only confirms his suspicions that this isn't just a typical Blade and Phantom scenario.

The teenager ducks just in time for a handful of metal feathers to imbed themselves into the alleyway wall instead of his back, breath hitching at the sight of the Angel of Death staring down at him in amusement.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump-

"Th-That's hardly fair, you fuckin' prick!"

He feels drunk on the adrenaline rush that flows through him, his knife thrown toward the son of a bitch with practiced ease.

There's disappointment in the way his weapon never finds a home, effortlessly batted away and making a near-perfect arch back into Tommy's hand as his power wills it to return.

It's fantastic that he has his weapon back.

Terrible that it'd came whizzing toward his heart point-first.

Shadows loom as Angel's metal wings extend, creating a barricade between them and Dream's ongoing struggle.

Ha, as if two dangerously sharp wings are going to stop him.

"'Fair' isn't exactly in my vocabulary, mate."

"Almost forgot," Tommy grunts. "Blade's the dictionary fuck."

There's a flash of light before Tommy dives forward, metal clashing as his knife meets Angel's wrist-guard.

Satisfaction bleeds into the villain's cruel smile.

It almost makes him miss Phantom. At least with him Tommy isn't forced to look too hard at the bastard's ugly face.

Tommy wrestles the yelp from his throat as Angel's wings fling forward, boots digging into the ground to counteract the sudden powerful gust of wind.

An uproar of debris greets his attempts to stand firm against the violent force, triumph igniting as Tommy stands his ground.

Apparently, his success is a crime straight out of Phantom's book.

The dust barely settled when the heel of the ghost's boot meets his chest, lungs squeezing as he's sent flying onto the pavement of Ox Avenue.

He's unable to swallow back a totally-manly noise of pain- head pounding as the world roars back to life.

It's far too loud, overwhelming at this point.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.

He can faintly hear Dream's distinct grunts from the street over.

Fuck, that means-

Tommy's eyes widen as he locks onto his headphones a few feet away, split damn-near perfectly down the middle.

"What a shame, folks," Phantom's voice sings, the villain in all his vintage-glory appearing not far from Tommy.

If he wasn't so pissed, he would've asked whose dead grandpa Phantom stole the trench coat from.

"Looks like Karma's headphones are officially down for the count!"

Live now. Mourn later.

Sweat drips down his forehead as Tommy lurches backward, Phantom's fists connecting with the pavement Tommy had laid upon only a second before.

"Oo, but Karma makes a shocking return!" Phantom cheers. His form flickers once before it returns full-force, much less passive than the ghost's usually fighting stance.

Tommy's teeth grit.

The saying isn't "Karma's a bitch" for nothing.

"You're gonna regret that, fucker."

Phantom flickers back into existence, and Tommy takes kindly to the way their fight falls into hand-to-hand combat.

It's a dance he'd practiced for years, the consistent art of feigning left and dodging right.

The meticulous thoughts firing every time Phantom leans a little too much on his left-side.

Tommy's leg sweeps beneath the villain, fury forever caught in Phantom's eyes as the villain stumbles to the ground.

His power surges as he calls upon his knife, hand reaching out to snag the handle as per usual.

Tommy's grin drops the moment his hands grab something, something that ignites the nerves in his hand aflame.

That...that is not his knife.

He groans as the metal feather rips itself from his grasp, snapping back into position on Angel's wings.

"You mother-"

The world turns.

Tommy flails as his feet leave the ground, eyes widening amidst his attempts to twist mid-air. A quick glance proves that Phantom and Angel have joined his non-consensual ascent to the sky- a very black sky that totally isn't scary as fuck in the middle of the day.

Blinding white strips creep along the avenue's road like veins, the sidewalk now a pale shade of black.

Well, that's never happened before.

Tommy's heart stalls as gravity takes reign once more, the world flashing back to normal in time for the trio to crash onto pavement.

True to his luck, he doesn't land on his feet like Dream always does.

Instead he's left in a tangle of limbs, and silence that definitely should not be there.

"What the fuck-"

Tommy forces himself to his feet as his gaze fires on instinct.

White concrete.

Black roads.

Kicked dust settling.

Still Angel of Death-

Woah, woah, slow that down a bit.

Tommy's brows furrow.

Dust should not be settling whilst two supervillains stand tall.

Oh, and the Angel of Death probably shouldn't be standing in place either.

Tommy almost wilts beneath the odd storm crashing in Angel's eyes as the villain gazes toward 180th Street. If he didn't know any better he would've deemed it an odd mix between panic and possessiveness.

It can't be panic over Dream's abilities, Tommy had spent way too much time combing through his mentor's files to of missed such a crucial detail in the man's powers.

The Angel takes a step back, pupils blown wide.

Oh.

This isn't a Dream problem.

This is a Blade problem.

For once, it seems their Number-One-Hero might just have the upper hand.

How the turn-tables.

Tommy's powers howl as he throws his knife, pride unaffected as the Angel's wings once-more deflect the blade without so much of a glance.

The air freezes as the villain slowly turns his head toward Tommy, leveling the hero with a death-glare.

If this wasn't a such an opportunity, he would've fled the scene in an instant.

But Dream needs time, and Prime will Tommy buy him some.

"Oi, dick'ead! I wasn't finished with you."

Gone are the grins, the playful woes of battle.

This is personal.

"Phantom."

A hand appears to his left and Tommy's lunges.

He barely makes contact with Angel's left wing before Angel staggers back, landing a solid punch against Tommy's cheek in the hopes it'd dismantle him.

Like hell he's giving up this easily.

"Reca-!"

His power dims as a hand clamps around his mouth, the eye-watering scent of gunpowder flooding his senses.

"Oh no you fucking don't gremlin," Phantom grunts, voice heavy with the sheer amount of effort it takes to wrangle Tommy against his chest.

Good, nothing should come easy to that prick.

He definitely doesn't flinch as the wing in his hand dissembles, the feathers following in Angel's hurried footsteps as the villain takes off toward 180th.

Fuck.

Dream better hope Angel and Blade just have an extremely beneficial partnership and aren't two extremely dangerous soulmates.

Tommy's teeth sink into Phantom's hand.

Y'know, for being a classified ghost, Phantom's hand tastes grossly similar to normal flesh.

And like a human, the ghost's hand snaps away at an instant.

Tommy doesn't give Phantom the time to register his fuck-up, the metal feather he'd managed to snag oddly light as he digs it straight into the villain's thigh.

There's a hiss before Phantom disappears, the bloodied feather falling to the ground.

His chest erupts with triumph.

"Haha, bitch! How does it feel to get stabbed-?"

A fist connects with his face.

He's just barely able make out the familiar blur Vintage Road's boutiques as he's sent flying, his hands providing a sufficient block in time for Phantom's next incoming hit.

It's evident that they're moving farther from Dream, Tommy forced backward with every punch Phantom lands.

The ghost really shouldn't be holding this well after being stabbed.

Tommy yanks on his powers, desperation lining his features as he prays for his knife's arrival.

It never comes.

Fuck- this is the last time he tries to recall something on impulse.

He won't even get another chance to recall anything if Phantom's brutality says anything.

A hand grabs his shirt and yanks, pulling the duo onto the unforgiving ground.

Phantom's hands find a home at his neck, squeezing in spite of Tommy's flailing limbs.

"Just stop- struggling!"

You're trying to fucking kill me!

Tommy's breath comes out in wheezes, eyes wide as his mind struggles for some plan.

Phantom isn't supposed to be a lethal threat and the tension lining the ghost's stance proves it. There's an ongoing battle told in the way Phantom's eyebrows furrow with discontent.

His foot kicks out, choking as his feeble attempt only gives Phantom an excuse to add pressure to his throat.

His vision tunnels.

Damn, what a shitty way to go.

"Fuck!"

Instinctively he cringes away from Phantom's hiss, flinching as he expects his small struggle to be reprimanded.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump-

The hands on his neck disappear, replaced by the violent mantra of, "Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck-"

Tommy gasps, rolling onto his side as he forces air into his lungs.

Boots and nervous laughter echo as Phantom circles him. The villain's mouth moves, Tommy straining to comprehend the words.

"Of all people," Phantom was muttering. "Of all people, it's the biggest fucking pain in my ass."

His throat aches at the thought of speaking, and he can't tell if it's from being choked out or being completely helpless should Phantom decide to do something.

Tommy whines as fists tighten at his uniform, briefly registering the fact that they're moving. If the two building rising into his vision say anything, his deathbed is going to be in some dingy-ass alleyway.

It'll be poetic, if he thinks hard about it. Phantom finishing what the Angel of Death couldn't.

Dream isn't around to save him, nor is there a secondary heartbeat to care.

A hand knocks at his skull.

"-hello? Anyone home?"

Tommy forces himself back into reality, petrified as he meets Phantom's irritated expression and neon green eyes so inhuman that his mind prays they're only contacts.

"Welcome back to the land of the living."

Ironic coming from a ghost.

Damn, what a shame he can't deliver that zinger.

"Stop zoning out," Phantom huffs, kneeling at Tommy's side.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump-

Tommy isn't sure how long they stand there for, his heart slowly beginning to calm in spit of the clear danger still in front of him.

Phantom's mouth is still moving- the villain ever liked shutting up anyway.

"Thump-thump-thump...thump-thump...thump- there you go...just calm down."

Tommy bolts upright, eyes wide as his hand rubs at his throat. Phantom's hand isn't there to stop him.

"Thump-thump-thump-thump."

Phantom's hand isn't there.

"Oh fuck," he grunts, eyes wide as he scrambles away from the villain. "You're my-"

"Took you long enough. Thanks for stabbing me, by the way."

Tommy's jaw twists open to retort, the soft crinkling of paper interrupting him as cold hands land in Tommy's own. A quick glance finds a poorly written note in his grasp.

"Niki's Bakery, 120th King's Rd. 5:55PM, don't be late."

His expression morphs into that of confusion.

Kinda odd to have that on hand.

"I- uh, had a suspicion after y'know..."

I almost died?

At least his soulmate has comprehension skills.

"Karma!"

Both of them flinch at Dream's voice, eyes wide as they scramble away from one another.

This- this would look extremely bad.

There's a soft crackle of static from Phantom's trench coat.

"Phantom?"

"All good on my end," the villain mutters into the speaker. "We may have a Code Blue on our hands, though."

"What?"

Blade.

"Mate, you better have an explanation."

Angel.

"Yeah, yeah," Phantom huffs.

Tommy winces as the villain rises, an odd grin on the ghost's face.

"Guess I'll be seeing you soon, hm Karma?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Karma!"

With a salute, Phantom's figure fades just in time for Dream to come skittering around the corner.

Tommy finds his fingers shoving the note into his pocket.

This was...big.

An opportunity to report Phantom's civilian identity. To finally land the villain a ticket to Pandora's vault.

But this meant Tommy wasn't alone anymore, that he did have a soulmate, even if he couldn't feel the secondary drum of another.

He can be selfish just this once, can't he?

"I'm fine," Tommy grunts before Dream can say anything.

"You look like you just got hit by a bus."

The teenager grins, "What if I did?"

Dreams eyebrows pinch. "Don't make me think about that- lets just...lets get you patched up and home."

"You read my mind, king."

---

Out of all the ways he'd unwilling dreamed of meeting his soulmate, standing idly in front of a café was not one of them.

It felt like the beginning of some cheesy rom-com, especially with the giant ass scarf he'd forced on himself to cover Phantom's handprints. The last thing he needed was his soulmate feeling guilty over it.

Actually, maybe that would be some decent blackmail.

Tommy forces himself to breathe as he pushes the cafe's doors open, dismissive of the anxiety stirring within his chest.

The cafe's tall-ass cashier instantly turns to the door, dark brown eyes following Tommy's approach to the counter.

It's unmistakably Phantom, with dark eyebags and a stylish mess of brown hair. A part of him sighs in relief that the ghost's green eyes had just been contacts.

Oh Prime, unless these were the contacts-

"Hey."

Not the best start to formally meeting his soulmate.

"Hey."

It's awkward, half because the cafe's dead quiet, and half because it's weird as fuck to stand in front of one of Manberg's most-wanted criminals, unmasked.

Gone is Phantom's famous black eye-mask and trench coat, exchanged for a cozy brown sweater and green apron with a weird ass nametag.

This isn't Phantom. This is-

"Wilbur, huh? You don't suppose there's still time to change that-"

"Don't push it, gremlin."

[destinyc1020]

Honestly, I’m glad someone else is team patrick in this because I felt the worst for him by the end. It’s funny that you say you didn’t understand tashi’s hatred for him because that’s exactly how I felt about art’s treatment of him. At least in tashi’s case, it was clear she never emotionally healed from her injury, and I think a part of her always blamed patrick for it. Like in her mind, if they hadn’t fought and if he had been at the match, her injury wouldn’t have happened. It’s not fair, but it at least made sense to me. But art deciding he hated patrick because tashi hated patrick bothered me, especially because it was clear how much patrick loved him, even when they were no longer friends. Also, I’m very curious as to if other people agree, but I feel like even art’s romantic pursuit of tashi felt manipulative. I’ve heard people say he was only manipulative when he tried to orchestrate patrick and tashi’s breakup, but I can’t help but feel like pursuing tashi knowing the only thing she really loved about him was his tennis playing was also manipulative. He played tennis for her, knowing that she was living her dream vicariously through him. There was no justification for cheating on him multiple times (which is why I unfortunately have to agree with that interviewer that tashi ain’t shit, sorry z🤭), but I can’t help but feel like he knew he was pulling the rug out from under her by telling her he wanted to retire. Idk if what I’m saying makes sense lol, but I guess I just feel like he was selfish in pursuing her and selling her a dream he knew deep down wasn’t really him

Hmm.... interesting perspective! 🤔

Idk why Tashi would blame their fight on her injury. I mean, she said some pretty nasty things to him as well.... Even taunted him about another man while they were getting frisky, and when he wanted to talk about smthg other than tennis while they were getting sexual, she immediately hopped off of him and wasn't turned on anymore rofl 😂

Idk, to me they were both in the wrong? 🤷🏾‍♀️ It just seemed like any ordinary fight that any couple who's dating each other might have. To me, the fight wasn't even that deep? Sometimes, you say some things you wish you could take back when you're in an argument with someone, but it wasn't anything I didn't think they could get over.

To blame her whole entire injury and lack of being able to play tennis in the big leagues on Patrick is just... 🥴 (imo)

I do agree with you that Art was def manipulative. Idk if I'd say that he was sell her smthg he knew he wouldn't be able to deliver forever though? At the time, Art seemed to love tennis too. But then again, I haven't read the screenplay, so maybe there's more info on their motivations in there?

To me, his question to Tashi was basically him wanting reassurance that if he lost the match tomorrow, that she would still love him and stay with him. 🤷🏾‍♀️ I think he knew that she really really wanted smthg that he could probably never be, and wanted to know if him just being himself would ever be enough for her.

That was my take on it at least. 🤷🏾‍♀️

[burntcyanide]

i hate htis man

there is no hell hot enough for him. not because he's super evil or anything but because APPARENTLY the FIRE IS STILL TOO SMALL? you do NOT need this super jumbo jenga tower abomination of a campfire! are you friends with the entirety of a small town??? does everything have to be localized on this ONE FUCKING HILL ???? and dont you DARE say the camping trip's not ""extravagant enough"" because the KATAMARI was too small!

in my HONEST and GENUINE OPINION your camping trip is FAR beyond """extravagant enough""" !! you have already asked a COSMIC ENTITY to LIGHT A FIRE. sure, yes, you're a fan! the King of All Cosmos would never turn down a fan (well, as long as the mission is fun enough/you compliment him)! BUT have you considered that he will either send down his son or his many cousins with the stakes being, oh i don't know, LASERS????? besides you CLEARY have the tools to start a fire! you have FOUR SMALL CAMPFIRES AROUND IT. JUST LIGHT THE DAMN THING YOURSELF.

yes, sure! i've never been camping before! sure, i don't know what it's like! but what i do know is that you want a massive ball of FIRE to be rolled around an area with A LOT OF FLAMMABLE OBJECTS. oh, you have like, fifty fire extinguishers? TOO BAD because that's just FUEL. there is too much of a chance you'll get a big """"extravagant enough""" fire because oh no! you've set the ENTIRE CAMPSITE ON FIRE! that is, of course, if the campsite isn't already being used as fuel! KATAMARIS ARE USED FOR MAKING FUCKING PLANETS OUT OF RANDOM OBJECTS!! speaking of the campsite, you didn't even BOTHER clearing out the campers for this! are you really a fan or do you only occupy your mind with campfires and only used the King's drive to impress everyone as an opportune moment to fulfill your big fire fantasies? you should KNOW that the majority of the campers will NOT be spared. sure, yeah, maybe enough do to slide in out of thin fuckin air to dance around this Monstrosity, but that doesn't mean the others weren't set on fire because they were in the way of some delicious little flammable objects they were using!

[as i become more used to having my thoughts being out in the open i will be making more of them out in the open. you may all be a Little Terrifying but that doesnt spare you from my hatred for this fucking camper] [[i dont actually hate him that much (he seems like a nice guy) but this level is really hard and ranting about it should be enough to give me the power to fuel me through this thing]]

[yanderefairyangel]

How different do you think Sombron and Fell Xenologue Sombron are ?

Well

first off we know 0 thing about Xenobron's past. In Sombron's case however we know that he used to be a scared and timid child much like Alear and Veyle so the first big major difference is that our Sombron is a man trapped in the pact whereas it is likely not the case for Xenobron seeing how making him a Native to his Elyos changes this one detail. Since he is born in his Elyos and descendant from a common ancestor with Lumera, he cannot have endured what our Sombron went through which is to say the destruction of his home town, the genocide of his tribe which made him reliant and dependent on 0 Emblem and entrapped in his past, hatred and revenge. So the reason that lead him to try to conquer Elyos are... unknown. According to Rafal, he might have tried to collect the bracelets to open a portal (if I recall) but that's not saying much.

When it comes to their relationship with their children, the biggest change is that Sombron calls Alear and Veyle defect whereas Xenobron calls Nil and Rafal failures. We know that both had a lot of kids with Xenobron having more children, however whereas Sombron and Zephia couldn't bother recall their face and name safe for Alear, Xenobron, despite the fact that there was sooo many of them that they couldn't be identified was SOMEHOW able to tell that Rafal wasn't Nil. When they look identical.... and Sombron in chapter 24 didn't really care about what was happening and was just waiting for Alear to do the dirty job. In fact, he wasn't watching over Veyle either as she was able to easily wander aroung and since Sombron is the eptiome of "I don't care" with his monotone voice and his lack of reaction (dude has a much tension as a starfish) it's easy to see that he doesn't really pay attention to his kids. Xenobron however seemed to at least watch over Nel and Rafal because they interested him. Which I repeat, this never happened with Sombron. Even Alear, who is declared the "best of his children" never caught his attention until the day Alear killed him.

From this we can see that Sombron never acknowledge or recognized his children has having any potential and always underestimated them, such is also evident in the fact that he only gave Zephia the helmet in chapter 18, thinking that her brainwash and his power would be enough to get rid of Veyle only to realize that she was harder to get rid of then he though and thus leading him to make the helmet. Even then, the only moment where he actually had something let's say for Veyle and Alear was when both killed him. See chapter 22, see his boss quote against Veyle. Xenobron however does notice the potential in his children since it's in this mindset he approached Nel and latter Rafal.

Likewise, the brainwashing of the children is completely different motives. Sombron wanted to get rid of Veyle because he considered her kind nature to be a nuisance since it lead her to openly defy him. Rafal however was already the kind of person that he could need so the reason why he brainwash him wasn't to get rid of a nuisance.

Also someone mentionned it already but

Basically, without being obsessed by revenge and 0 Emblem, Xenobron is essentially just a calculating person who is more obsessed with Nel and or Rafal perpetuating his legacy of ruins and desolation then Sombron who clearly doesn't give single damn and just wanna leave Elyos.

However, this made Xenobron less resistant then Sombron.

So while personality wise there is so subtle differences, they still exist. The biggest difference mainly steems from their birth, origins and genes polls tho

[ein-liebloser-wanderer]

⸸ Lobotomy Corporation — The Big and Will Be Bad Wolf's Headcanons ⸸

(A lovesick AU of Lobotomy Corporation where I made as many Abnormalities into male humanoids as possible. A lot of creative liberty was taken here to make it seem possible for actual writing, so a lot of OOC and fanon are to be expected. And if you read this entire top part of my post, thank you~)

Themes: cannibalism (and not in the vore, 'he-will-swallow-you-whole' way), possessive behavior

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No one ever wished to get close to me..."

⸸ Even if he is an Abnormality, a monster, or whatever it is people like to call him, he still craves connection. Wolves are social creatures after all, and companionship is something they would always need.

⸸ But because he fears his true nature more than he does anything else, he avoids opening up his heart to anyone, because he knew doing so would only hurt his potential loved ones.

⸸ Call it instinct, lunacy, or simple primal behavior. It is just in his nature to do what he does; devouring and destroying everything around him.

⸸ So for a long time, he had to make do with people's hatred of him, their desire to have his head on a pike. It was better than nothing.

⸸ Ironically, the Wolf tolerates Attachment and Instinct work better than Insight and Suppression. After all, most would think a lone wolf would hate anything requiring unnecessary socializing. Besides, Suppression would at least help him better control his hunger.

⸸ If only he knew that the many years he spent in isolation—intimidating others and causing havoc to keep his reputation as the 'Big Bad Wolf'—had made his heart weak against kindness, and starved for attention.

⸸ He hated it when his Little Lamb was being kind to him. He hated it because he knew how much he didn't deserve it, how much of a waste it was on a villain like him.

⸸ But he could never push their kindness away, of course. It disgusts him how tightly he holds onto them.

⸸ However, their Little Lamb was the only who could accept him for who he was. Who knew what he has done and is capable of doing, and still respects him.

⸸ Sometimes, being referred to as if he were a human male rather than some bloodthirsty savage was all he could ever hope to get from humans.

⸸ A better man would let their love go, let them run where he won't be able to consume them. Most of all, he would never have the audacity to even think that he could keep their love all for themselves.

⸸ They were their own person, their own creature with a thoughts and emotions. He is reminded of that whenever they get philosophical about life, questioning their existence, and the point of existing.

⸸ But he isn't a better man.

⸸ He is the Wolf, the villain of every folktale. They have prophesized that he will consume and destroy everything around him.

⸸ After so, so long of trying to change his fate, of trying to control his inner beasts, of seeing the aftermath and bloodshed of his failures, of trying to be someone good only to be abandoned or rejected by everyone...Isn't it a little too late for him to care about that now?

⸸ He has given up on caring, of bothering to be anything other than bad. He has long accepted who he was meant to be.

⸸ Unfortunately, that means that all you are is a Little Lamb to him. A stray sheep that he will lead away from the Shepherd that is called your 'Manager'.

⸸ He had warned you away so many times, but if you keep delivering yourself to his mouth like this, then who was he to refuse~?

⸸ He will selfishly take everything you have...and if he must consume you, bit by bit, drop by drop of blood, and waste not even a single shard of your bones to ensure you never part even in death, he will . .

"Open the door, my love. I have brought you a basket of flowers, pastries, and wine from the forest! I promise, I won't bite~"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more of F-02-58:

⸸ Wolf in Sheep's Clothing ⸸

[maddu-oliveira]

⛓️ (Don't) Stop Talking ⛓️

Stephen Holder x Reader

warnings: enemies to lovers vibe, fluff, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

word count: 1.1k

Reader's P.O.V:

The first time I heard his voice was when Sarah had to bring Jack to my house because of something unforeseen at work and Stephen was hitching a ride with her. I would never have guessed that he was part of the homicide department and even less that he worked for the police, not to be cruel, but he didn't seem to take his job seriously and I could tell that Linden didn't like this.

"Hey Jack! I've been missing you, kid" I hug the teenager by the shoulder and smile at Linden.

"Now I know why the kid wants to stay with the babysitter, smartass!" her partner commented with a lazy voice and mischievous grin.

I frowned at him but decided to ignore it, releasing Jack and telling him to wait in the living room and pick a movie for us to watch. Sarah thanked me again and apologized for arriving so suddenly.

"No need to worry! I had no plans today and I like your son, he's a good boy."

"Yo, I would be good for you too, mama" again a comment from the man that made me roll my eyes before saying goodbye to Linden and closing the door.

Months passed and every time Linden brought her son to my house or when I brought him to her office, I had to listen to Stephen's little jokes and cluelessness. At first it was easy to ignore because it didn't bother me, but after a while it became annoying enough that I started to respond in a rude way and show my middle finger before walking away.

"Easy there, hothead! I'm just talking to you" Stephen said with that smile that irritated me.

"And who says I want to talk to you?" I replied dryly as I looked away from him to the clock on the wall.

"I'm just messing with you, mamacita-" He couldn't even finish before I turned around and stared at him with pure hatred.

"Can you shut the fuck up for five minutes?" the anger was clear in my voice but that only added to the stupid grin he had on his face.

"Come shut me up then" He said teasingly and came close to towering over me.

"Oh with pleasure!" I said smiling before raising my fist and pretending to hit him only to see Stephen blink and dodge a non-existent blow that made me laugh.

"Ha-ha real funny, aren't you?" He was obviously ashamed of it and probably mad but it just made me laugh louder.

"You should have seen your face! It is hilarious"

After that day the jokes continued but a little less, Holder seemed to have gained a bit of insight, perhaps because Linden started picking on him about tormenting me or because he felt ashamed that he had been startled by the imaginary punch. Everything was going well until the day that neither of us had the patience or psychology for jokes, but he still tried to make a stupid comment that resulted in one of our worst arguments.

"Holder, if you want attention you should start taking your job seriously and stop acting like a high school brat!" I said almost screaming in the middle of that police station.

"Oh really? At least I have a job and people who enjoy my presence!" There was pure venom in his words, it really affected me and Stephen could see in my eyes how much he shook me.

"You're so low, Holder! I hate you and your lazy annoying voice and the fact that you never shut the fuck up!" I had a forced smile on my face and as soon as I finished speaking I left that place promising never to come back.

After that day everything became so strange, I still had to pick up or take Jack to Linden and was always running into Stephen, and he was now silent but kept his attention on me. Something was making me sick, sad and worried, maybe because of the lack of interaction or because now I could notice the detective's appearance. He had big dark circles under his eyes that stood out even more because of his pale skin, now always looking tired and sad. I couldn't help myself and started asking Linden about the cases they were working on, with the excuse that I was interested in the progress but really just wanted to know about her partner, discovering that most of them involved so much death and violence that it made me want to vomit. After a while I went back to greeting Holder, trying to get him to answer me and listen to his voice if only to insult me, but he only said my name and shook his head in greeting.

Now I am here waiting for Sarah to finish her paperwork, sitting next to Jack and facing Stephen. I knew he wanted to talk to me but something was stopping him because every time he opened his mouth he quickly lowered his head and looked away.

“Yo, hothead-” He stopped for a second, maybe waiting for me to tell him to shut up.

“What is it, Stephen?” I smiled as an invitation for him to continue.

“Oh- Actually I didn’t think what to say cause I thought you would yell at me…” Stephen said while scratching at the back of his neck nervously.

“Maybe this time I don’t want you to stop talking” When i finished saying this I could already see the grin forming on his face.

“What changed your mind, mamacita?”

“Oh God! You’re having one chance and it’s better to not waste it, Holder” I said and he chuckled, making my heart melt.

“Am I doing something wrong, baby girl?” The detective raised his eyebrow waiting for the answer.

“Not at all, man! I missed listening to your voice” I said not looking at him and feeling my face heat up.

“I thought you hated my annoying voice, mama” He was obviously grinning with the situation.

“But it’s your charm, isn't it? Slow and lazy.” When I turned to look at him it was Stephen’s turn to get his cheeks pink.

“Ayo, woman! Stop making me feel things” Holder hid his face in his hands.

“Only if you stop first, detective”

“Ew! Can you two stop flirting?” Jack said, making a face to us.

“Hey! Calm down, playboy” Stephen said but not as a warning, he was just messing with the kid.

“When your mother comes here and takes you, I’m going to take this guy…” I pointed to Holder and he widened his eyes to me. “On a date”

“Really?” Both of them said together, making me laugh.

“Yo, mama! ‘Am gonna be your best boy, huh” And there it is, the personality that I fell for without noticing.

“You better be, Holder! Jack knows how babysitting is a serious thing to me” I said smiling.

This man with that voice and sassy behavior got me in the chokehold with nothing but a few arguments and he doesn’t know that. We are going to ruin each other.

Taglist: @11thstreetvigilante @ratcatcher2world @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @bewitchedignition @wtfobiwan @skvatnavle @lacontroller1991 @loverhymeswith

[dearcat1]

(The Price of Freedom)

Part 3 of Of Scars and Open Wounds

Tsuna has been cold for as long as he can remember, it's a cold he can't escape. So much so that it had been almost unsettling when he woke up one morning only to realize that he was, well… warm. It felt strange but hopeful, the mark on his right shoulder vibrant and hot once more. Tsuna has allowed himself a moment of wonder, of dreams and desires, before Reborn came at him with his stupid hammer. But it had been there, sitting in the back of Tsuna's mind, a fragile little kindling of wonder he was too scared to nurse into something bigger. Tsuna didn't voice it but he knows Reborn noticed and, surprisingly thoughtful for the Hitman, Reborn didn't mention it. He just allowed Tsuna a moment every morning, just enough to touch his mark and reassure himself that it's still warm.

He should have known better, Tsuna knows this but he couldn't help himself. The world has already shown Tsuna, time and again, that he's not really allowed to keep what he wants for himself.  

At least he's no longer cold. Physically. 

Squalo should have been the first Tsuna noticed. He'd all but crashed into them, not to mention that Tsuna even had him a few steps away. But it's Xanxus that notices, that draws Tsuna's attention after the hatred in his face turns into surprise and then icy fury. It's Xanxus who rejects Tsuna with a couple of sharp words and a bunch of spit falling between Tsuna's feet. But it's still Squalo who twisted the knife, who despite being Tsuna's too walks away from Tsuna without so much as looking at him once. No hesitation, no longing, nothing. It's the one and only time Reborn let Tsuna cry himself to sleep, he wasn't even electrocuted when he woke. For Reborn's standards, the man was positively gentle. In the training grounds, the tutor would murmur that at least now Tsuna is free. 

It will take years and a little too much knowledge of his tutor's past for Tsuna to understand what Reborn meant. 

For now, though, they’re enough regardless. Reborn’s version of gentleness is harsh, it’s hot enough to burn, it’s almost cruel at times but it’s also consistent. With the bleeding wound that is Xanxus and Squalo’s rejection of Tsuna still so present in his mind, Reborn’s brand of stubborn tutoring is almost a relief. There’s no way to get rid of Reborn and Tsuna latches onto that. If Reborn notices, he doesn’t mention it. His lessons, however, take a cynical edge that Tsuna hadn’t been privy to before. 

From honeytraps to fake soulmates, from assassinations to sabotage. It seems his tutor is now determined to make sure Tsuna understands just how big a bullet he dodged, just how much this is a blessing in disguise. A part of Tsuna knows it’s hurt that makes those lessons so alleviating to listen to but they are regardless and Tsuna can’t find it in himself to refute Reborn’s words. After all, if Xanxus had been just a little bit more strategic about it, Tsuna would have given him Vongola on a silver platter with a smile and no doubt in his heart. 

By the time the Ring Battles come around, the jagged wound isn’t closed but Tsuna can stare Xanxus down with no tears in his eyes and he barely even pays attention to Squalo. He knows who made the decision there, Tsuna refuses to even look at the member of their triad that couldn’t be bothered to even protest. Tsuna uses Zero Point against Xanxus and refuses to admit that a part of him is vindictively pleased when the rings deny Xanxus’s claim. 

After, he finds himself sitting on his bed, the Vongola Ring on his finger and Reborn on his shoulder. “Free, right?”

“As free as any of us can be.”

[holden-caulfield]

Stairway To Heaven

↪︎ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: draco and reader are best friends. Or so she thinks.

Warnings: one swear word i think.

Word Count: 1555

This is not inspired by the song in any way, but the title was fitting sooo

//

You and Draco had been friends for a very long time, since you could remember, and yet it wasn't unusual for you to be found arguing with the blond at least once a day. Sometimes you would argue about his rude attitude or the latest student he had bullied, but most of the times you simply wanted to tease him. Apparently, seeing what new witty remark he could come up with was the highlight of you day. You loved the banter that characterized your friendship and you couldn't really imagine your life without it.

"I'm telling you, you two are made for each other!" squealed Pansy from the big couch in your common room.

"We are just friends, Pansy! Friends!" you replied incredulously as you plopped down beside her.

"Yeah, just friends... Y/n, it's so obvious!"

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked feigning concern as you put your hand on her forehead to check her temperature.

"Oh, shove off!" she scolded, swatting your hand away. "Don't tell me you've never thought about it!"

"Of course not!" you lied.

You had thought about you and Draco being something more quite a few times now, but the prospect of ruining everything was enough for you to put that thought aside. You found yourself daydreaming about his soft blond hair and his sharp jawline more than you cared to admit. Not to talk about his eyes, always looking at you and making you feel as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

But you couldn't ruin your friendship. He probably didn't feel the same way and even if he did you couldn't risk losing what you had. The ease, the trust, the teasing.

In that moment, someone descended the stairs of the boys' dormitory, Draco. You and Pansy looked up at him, eyes wide. He stopped behind the couch, confused by the weird stares that you and Pansy were giving him.

"What?"

"Have you heard us?" you asked, slightly panicked. You didn't know why you were feeling this anxious, maybe some part of you wanted him to feel something for you other than friendly affection.

"Why? Were you talking about me?" his face instantly lit up with a smug smile and he leaned on the couch with his elbows.

"Why yes, in fact. I was just telling Pansy how immensely insufferable you are." you retorted, feeling incredibly relieved knowing that he hadn't heard you.

He got up from his previous place and resumed his path towards the door of the common room, scoffing. Before exiting, he added another comment, smirking playfully, "Oh and Pansy, me and y/l/n? Really? I hoped you thought more highly of me."

You knew it was nothing more than a joke, but why did it hurt? He had obviously heard you, he heard you saying that you couldn't even picture him as your boyfriend and he had said the same thing, yet it hurt more than you imagined. Maybe Pansy was right.

The next few days, you tried to forget about your new-found feelings for your best friend and your last conversation, but it was easier said than done. You felt as if you owed him some kind of explanation even though he expressively said he saw you just as a friend. Nothing more.

"Draco, wait a moment!" you began, preventing him from entering your first class of the day. He simply raised his brows and you continued.

"I wanted to apologize. For the other day. I shouldn't have said that."

"Said what?" you rolled your eyes, he was one of the smartest people you knew and yet he could be really daft sometimes.

"About you. That i could never see you as something else."

"But you are right. We are friends, nothing else." with that he left you alone and entered the classroom. You didn't know whether his answer cheered you up or devastated you. Definitely the second.

You tried behaving as always, but he seemed to be ignoring you. You had almost all of your classes together and yet he managed to avoid you every single time. Even when you could actually talk to him, he was different, he was suddenly very cold. He was with everyone but he had never been with you and this really bothered you. So you decided to confront him, you decided that you would have told him what you felt: your friendship was already in jeopardy, might as well completely ruin it. The idea terrified you, Draco had always been by your side and imagining a life without him seemed impossible. Maybe you did like him. Maybe you did love him.

"Draco! Draco, we have to talk!" but Draco sped up, not even glancing up. He had no right to ignore you like that so you quickened your pace to match his.

"Draco, we need to talk!" but the boy continued on walking, ignoring you completely.

"Fine! If you don't want to talk, you are going to listen." you asserted and Draco simply covered his ears. Mouth agape, you stared at him, still walking, almost running. The audacity of this man.

You swatted his hands away and he glared at you. He had never glared at you, not in that way. Pure hatred seemed to dance in his icy eyes, even colder than usual. You took a deep breath and started your speech which eventually turned in an incoherent mumbling.

"Listen Draco, i don't know what i did to deserve this, but i highly doubt i did something so spiteful to earn this kind of treatment." he still wasn't looking at you and continued his way towards the common room, but in his eyes something changed, he looked almost ashamed.

"You are incredibly important to me, you've never shown me anything but support and that's why i could never forgive myself if i involuntarily hurt you in some way. You are my best friend, for Merlin's sake!" Draco's eyes seemed to harden again and a scowl started to paint on his face.

"And i won't deny you that you're even more than a friend to me." Draco finally side glanced at you as the two of you were now walking up the stairs, surrounded by hundred of paintings looking at you curiously.

"I care about you so much and you don't even look at me. Every day i look forward to see your stupid face and hear your stupid voice, to have one of our usual stupid conversations and hear your stupid laugh so that every night i can go to sleep and think about your beautiful face and your beautiful voice, about our conversations and your laugh that i wouldn't trade for the whole bloody world." Draco was proceeding increasingly slower and you were walking side by side, trying to get him to look you in the eyes as you kept on going upwards.

"At least look at me, you stupid, unbearable, prissy, arrogant, pretty, handsome git!" your face was red with anger but he didn't stop. "Because what i'm trying to tell you is that i l-"

Draco abruptly grasped your waist and pulled you closer to him. You had been so engrossed in your discourse that you hadn't even noticed that the stairs were changing and that you were about to fall, one foot already dangling in the air. But Draco caught you and you were now pressed against his chest while he gazed at the void you were about to fall in. His chest rose up and down wildly and you could hear his heart thumping at a ridiculously quick pace under your cheek.

The stairs stopped again in front of a corridor but neither of you seemed to able to move. Then, Draco grasped your shoulders pulling you away from him but still exceedingly close.

"Are you ok?" his eyes searched yours for any signs of hurt and you just stared back.

"Are you talking to me now?" you asked sternly, making his expression go from one of concern to one of sorrow in a matter of seconds.

"I'm sorry, y/n." he admitted, eyes glinting as he held you firmly in front of him.

"For what? For being an asshole?"

"For not telling you before that i never wished for us to be just friends." his unexpected confession caused you to stare at him for a few seconds before a huge grin spread on your face and you took his pale face in your hands, which turned bright pink at the sudden contact. You kissed him, you finally kissed him.

"I advise keeping such displays of affection for closed doors." boomed a voice in front of you and you and Draco leapt backwards, clinging to the railing behind you with both hands. Snape eyed each of you with scorn before passing between you two and descending the stairs. "10 points from Slytherin."

As he got out of your sight, you couldn't help but burst out laughing and Draco followed swiftly. You then looked down at your feet, a big grin still plastered on your face. He inched closer, lifting your chin up to face him.

"So... you think i'm handsome." he said smugly.

"I also said that you are unbearable."

"Yes, but you think i'm handsome."

"But i-" he cut you off by reconnecting your lips together.

"I have to admit that i kinda like this new way of shutting me up."

//

Taglist <3

@turn-to-page-394-please @gwlvr @dracosaccount @astoria-malfcy @dracomalfoys-wh0re @ch0kemedracomalfoy @cherie-draco @oeuryale @wh0re4blaise

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[nightshade-minho]

Blue Book -(13)-

wc: 5k+

warnings: making out, some uncomfortable situations, angst, smut, oral, degradation, unprotected sex etc.

It was the day after the kiss, and you still hadn’t gotten over it. How could you? You could still feel his lips against yours, still remember the way he tasted. If the night hadn’t ended so abruptly, you wondered where it would have gone.

Sobering up Minho hadn’t been a difficult task. Thankfully he was mature enough. He listened to you, drank the water you gave him, and went back to sleep as soon as the two of you reached your home. You were glad he knew how to cooperate with you, thankfully your best friend knows when he’s gone too far.

He was still asleep, now. Usually he liked waking up earlier, but today was clearly an exception.

You sighed as you made yourself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen, your eyes staring into the milk and wishing you could drown in them, when Minho walked into the room. He let out a small sigh under his breath as he saw you at the table. Last night was a blur, and he could barely remember anything. His brain was swimming with a million different emotions and thoughts as he ran his eyes over you. Hm.

He yawned, stretching and plopping down on the seat opposite you.

“How are you feeling?” You asked groggily, not looking up.

“Better. A lot better, actually.” He sighed, leaning forward. “I’m so so sorry, Y/n. It was irresponsible of me, I feel so bad for making you leave the party and cutting your night short.”

“Well, when one of my best friends is drunk and having a breakdown in the bathroom, what else am I supposed to do?” You sighed and sat back, staring at his remorseful face. “What was that all about, anyway?”

Minho sighed. There was no way he could tell you, no way he could express the guilt he was feeling.

"I don't know. I was just...crying for no reason at all. Alcohol can do that to you, I guess. No biggie."

You sighed. "No biggie? I- you know what, whatever." You sat up. "If you don't want to tell me what's bothering you, that's fine. Just don't do it again."

You looked at Minho, his expression twisting your heart. He just looked so….sad. It made you regret your words.

"Hey, Min…" You shifted your chair closer to his. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

He sniffed at that, looking away and at his feet. "Are you?"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't seem that way." He mumbled, thinking back to last night. He'd been way too drunk to recall it properly, but he could still vaguely remember you and Chan, standing too close for it to be anything innocent. What had the two of you been doing before he’d interrupted?

"What?" Your eyes narrowed in confusion as you stared at him, his words puzzling you. “Min-"

He shook his head, patting your hair. "It's okay, Y/n. Forget I ever said anything, okay?" You opened your mouth to protest but he placed his finger over your lips before you could say anything. "Shh. Let's watch a movie or something, I just want to get my mind off everything that’s happening.”

You groaned, ready to protest again as soon as he pulled away from you. However he'd already grabbed the remote by then, switching on the TV and dragging you over to the couch. There was a random movie already playing onscreen, a scene of a ballroom filled with dancing couples catching your eye.

"Min, gimme a second, I haven’t even washed my bowl-“

"Shh."

He chuckled as he suddenly began twirling you around the room, ignoring your whiny protests as the classical music flooded the space.

"Come on Y/n. Just let go. We didn't get to finish our dance last night anyway." He whispered in your ear, suddenly picking you up by the waist and swirling you around.

You let out a squeal, holding onto him tighter. "M-min, put me down-"

He did so, continuing to dance. "Y/nnie~ You know you want to~" He smirked, giggling softly as he observed your expression change slightly.

His laugh had always been contagious. You let a small smile grace your face, making his grin grow wider. You rolled your eyes and started following his rhythm, giggling.

"Yes! Finally.” He excitedly continued your little waltz, looking down at you. You'd started to co-operate, and he felt himself smile at the sight. He felt so happy whenever he was spending time with you. So calm and at ease.

He loved watching you smile. And being the reason behind it only made him happier.

"You're perfect, Y/n." He mumbled softly under his breath, his eyes running over your face.

You didn't hear him properly, the music drowning out his voice.

He couldn't help but bite his lip as he looked at you. Fuck, how did he ever find it in himself to hurt you the way he had all those years ago?

He could stare at you forever if he could. His eyes carefully took in each eyelash, the curve of your cheeks, the slope of your lips- he wished he could freeze this moment forever, so that he would never forget how you looked happy and smiling.

If there was one thing Minho knew he regretted, it was his behaviour back then. He knew he'd been a terrible person. Perhaps he could compare himself to a black hole, one that sucked out all the positivity and happiness in a room.

There'd been a time when all he felt as soon as he saw your face was hatred. Clouded judgments that had messed with his decisions, making him act like a complete asshole. All he had in his mind back then was rage, directed at you and the man you were linked to. The man who had ruined his family’s life.

But now, when he looked at you, he only felt calmness and a sense of safety. It just felt right, you being in his arms. After all, now he knew you’d been a victim as well. You’d gone through it all too, the same abuse and abandonment that had happened to him. It was the same man who had brought the two of you down.

You smiled at him as you gave in completely, dancing with him and letting go of your inhibitions. The music overtook your heart as you went along, dancing with him as you stared into his eyes and wondered what he was thinking about.

He came to a halt as the music slowed, staring at your face adoringly. Your beautiful, smiling, happy face. His eyes carefully took in your features once more, a soft smile gracing his lips.

And somehow, he just couldn't hold himself back anymore. The sight of your big doe eyes looking up into his was affecting him too much.

This was a bad idea...

He knew that all too well. It was the opposite of what he'd decided to do last night, which was to let you go and set things right.

But...but why not?

Fuck it. Maybe it was a reckless decision, but who cares? He deserved happiness too, right?

Minho let the hand on your waist drift up to your cheek, and before you could even process what was happening…

His lips were pressed to yours.

For a minute, you didn't know how to react. It was a foreign feeling, and you hadn’t really expected something like this to happen.

Although it didn’t feel entirely unpleasant, you still felt surprise and confusion overtake you as your eyes widened. You could barely process it, your thoughts flitting all over the place frantically.

Minho frowned as he noticed your lack of reaction, your lips barely moving against his.

He pulled away quickly, stumbling over his words.

Shit, what had he done? "Fuck, I'm sorry, Y/n-"

You looked up, blinking as you stared at his worried face. His eyes were frantic as they flitted around, his brain clearly overrun with thoughts as his mouth opened to blurt out more apologies.

As you stared at his heaving chest, your eyes wandering up to his lips, a sudden thought flew into your brain.

You weren’t quite sure where it came from or whether you should even follow it... but as the seconds went by, the more the urge took over you. You’d never really felt like this before.

You didn’t know what it was in you that prompted you to do it...a need for revenge on Chan? Or did you actually have feelings for your best friend? You weren’t sure.

You pulled Minho back towards you quickly, kissing him back desperately. He responded almost immediately, whining against your lips at the force with which you were kissing him.

You didn't know what you were feeling, though.

It felt nice kissing him,definitely...it felt comfortable, and his lips were so sweet and soft.

However...there was an evident lack of passion. At least from your side.

It was just rough. That's all you could feel from the kiss- roughness. And that was your fault really...Minho's initial approach had been much softer. You’d been the one to turn the kiss into what it was now.

Minho gripped your hips, moving you over to the wall. He pinned you against it, molding his lips against yours in another angle.

It still didn't feel right. Chan's kisses were so different...his lips were so much softer and plumper, and the way he kissed you made you feel like you were on top of the world, even when it was rough.

He’d been your first kiss. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect one, really. You’d felt safe and secure in his arms, even as the thunderstorm raged in the background. His lips had made you forget it all, made you focus on nothing but how wonderful it felt to have him pressed against you.

You snapped back to the present and realized Minho had moved onto your neck, leaving kisses there as his hand migrated down your body to play with the waistband of your sweatpants.

Oh. Shit, you were making a mistake.

You pushed him away suddenly, regretting it as you accidentally did it with a little too much force. Minho looked at you in confusion, his chest heaving as he stared at you.

“Y/n?”

“No.” You scrunched your eyes shut, taking in a shaky breath. “We can’t do this.”

“But- but why?”

“It’s just wrong. It feels wrong.”

The flash of hurt in his eyes made you regret your choice of words. You scrambled to fix your mistake, standing up straight and stepping around him.

“I’m sorry...uh, it’s just- don’t you think it’s weird?” You bit your lip, staring at him as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Weird?”

“Us. I just never thought you felt that way about me. I’m your stepsister-“

He frowned, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair as he glared at you.

He frowned, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair as he glared at you. “What? No. I’ve never seen you in that way.” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the kind of relationship we have, and you know it too. That would have been the case if that bastard was still alive, but he isn’t. He isn’t a part of our lives at all, he doesn’t even fucking exist to me!” He shouted, blinking rapidly and breathing heavily as your words bore into his brain.

Was that really what you saw yourself as? His stepsister? The thought disgusted him. He’d never viewed you in such a light, and thinking of you seeing him like that was unsettling, to say the least.

Minho was suddenly feeling an urgent need to throw up.

“Any link created by him is not real, Y/n. We’re not fucking related.”

“But- look, I just-“ you stared at the ceiling, trying to find the right words to say. The man in front of you looked devastated, and that in turn made your heart ache. “We share a sister. And, I don’t know, you were always just my best friend. I never thought you felt anything for me.” You mumbled out, not even knowing what you were saying. You’d never actually seen Minho as your brother- but you’d never seen him in a romantic light either.

“I think I made it pretty fucking obvious.”

“No you didn’t! I just thought you were being a good friend. And how could I ever think you’d have feelings for me after the way you treated me when we were younger?”

He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing. “Y/n…I thought you’d forgiven me for that. You said you did.”

“W-well…I haven’t forgotten.” You sighed and pinched your forehead, taking another step back.

“I’m sorry, Minho. I really am.” Deep down, you knew it was just an excuse. It all was. You felt terrible at the moment...it wasn’t really his fault.

You knew the real reason already. Your heart belonged to somebody else, unfortunately.

He just shook his head, sinking down onto the couch as he stared at the ground. “It’s okay.” He said in the softest voice possible.

“Are you sure?” You asked, looking at him, your heart clenching as you observed his expression. Heartbroken and covered in silent devastation. It was new, seeing him like this. Minho rarely let things get under his skin, so seeing him on the verge of tears was disturbing.

“Yeah, whatever.” He said, sighing. “Just want you to be happy.” He added in a mumble- but you couldn’t hear him.

There was an awkward silence for a while, as you shifted from one foot to another. The room suddenly felt heavy and nauseating, your heart pounding in confusion.

“C-can I step out for a bit?” You asked, twisting your fingers. “I just need to clear my mind.”

He nodded slightly, leaning back against the sofa and staring at the TV silently, his eyes glazed over as the screen continued playing the gaudy movie.

Taking that as a yes, you went over to the front door, putting on your shoes with some difficulty as you tried to focus.

Looking back one more time, you left without a word.

***

It was raining lightly, and you groaned as you walked down the street without an umbrella. It wasn’t heavy enough to soak you, but it still felt a little unpleasant as your clothes started sticking to your body.

You hadn’t wanted to hurt Minho, but you evidently had. Surely you could have handled it some other way? Now you’d hurt your best friend, the one person you’d trusted besides Felix. And all for what?

Did Chan even like you? Was it all still just a bet to him? Had the kiss meant anything?

Who were you even reserving your heart for?

Your mind was filled with thoughts as you reached your home, unlocking the door and stepping in silently. Your clothes hadn’t gotten that wet, so you didn’t bother to change clothes as you headed straight to your room. The whole apartment was kinda dark, and you couldn’t really see anything.

Opening your door, you stumbled through the dark room and climbed into your bed, pulling the blankets higher up and closing your eyes. You were just so tired, and all these intrusive thoughts didn’t help one bit.

A nap might clear it all up, hopefully.

***

Isn’t it funny how one could manage to lose everything important to them, all in the span of a few minutes?

Minho sat on the sofa, feeling like he’d lost everything. Everything that ever meant anything to him, all because of his reckless, impulsive decisions and terrible judgment.

But he’d known this would have happened, sooner or later. There was no point in being angry at himself, or Chan, or you- or anyone, really. He couldn’t have held his feelings in forever, and he should have known the consequences that such a choice could bear.

Was this what karma felt like?

Minho leaned back in the couch and buried his face in his hands, relishing the darkness that graced his eyes.

It was all his fault. Everything was.

Always had been. He deserved this.

***

You didn’t know how long you’d slept for, all you knew was that you were well rested now. Turning around sleepily, you reached for your phone, switching it on.

The first thing you saw was a bunch of messages from Minho, your phone pinging with so many notifications that it nearly vibrated off the table.

I’m sorry.

I fucked up, Y/n

Please come back

Y/n?

I want to explain, I want to talk to you

I have some things to tell you.

I’m sorry please forgive me, I don’t know what came over me

You mean so much to me. I don’t want to lose you.

You blinked as you read the messages, tears pricking your eyes as you sat up. You checked the time, it was afternoon. You wanted to sleep just a little more, and then maybe have lunch. After that, you’d head back to Minho’s apartment to talk, and hear him out on whatever he wanted to say.

You sighed, sliding back down. Needing something to hug and make you feel better, you turned around and felt around for your pillow. Inching closer, you wrapped your arms and legs around the soft warmth next to you.

Wait. This...this definitely wasn’t a pillow.

Fuck.

You shot up in bed and screamed, scrambling away from the sleeping body next to you. Your infernal scream caused the person to shoot up too, them rubbing their eyes as you made out their silhouette getting up quickly to switch on the lamp.

“Y/n!?”

“CHAN?”

It was him, alright.

Chan.

Shirtless Chan.

Fuck, Chan was sleeping in your bedroom. In your bed. Shirtless. And he’d been right next to you all this time, being hugged by you.

Did I mention he was shirtless?

You swallowed, your thoughts flitting all over the place as your dry mouth tried to come up with something to say. “What the fuck are you doing in my room!?” You asked, sitting up and glaring at him. “Get out!!”

“Felix let me sleep here! Why would he make me sleep on the sofa when there’s an empty bed right here- wait, when the fuck did you sneak in anyway?” He swore, running his hands through his hair. “Jeez, You scared the shit out of me.”

“You did! You scared me!”

“You’re the one who sneaked in without any prior notice!”

You stood up from the bed and walked towards him, crossing your arms. “Well I never gave you permission to use my room! So get out before I make you.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck.”

“God, you’re so infuriating!” You shot out, exasperated as you buried your head in your hands, trying to control yourself from snapping his head right off.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Just shut up!”

He smirked, stepping closer to you. “Why don’t you make me?”

Of course. Of course he’d use that infamous line.

You weren’t going to fall for his bait though.

Or were you?

It’s just that Chan’s lips looked incredibly soft right now. Plump. So welcoming…

Not to mention, he was breathing very heavily and clearly worked up from your little tiff.

Fuck. You were going to regret this.

You’d overestimated yourself. In a second, you were all over him, leaning up to press your lips to his soft ones needily and passionately.

His reaction was lightning quick. Groaning into your lips, he quickly lifted you up, holding you against the wall much like Minho had. You felt a flash of guilt run across your mind, but it was quickly replaced as Chan bit your bottom lip harshly, groaning past your lips.

"I hate you." you mumbled, pulling away as he stared into your eyes, his own wild and alive.

"Feeling's mutual." He groaned, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking on the skin roughly.

"Wait, no marks-"

"Shut up and take it, you little slut." Fuck, Chan had been wanting to do this since the first moment you decided to be a brat to him. He’d been itching to teach you a lesson, show you some discipline.

He rubbed himself against you, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt the wetness soak through your panties.

He pulled you away from the wall, dragging you over to the bed and throwing you on it.

“You’re dripping, aren’t you? So much for hating me.” He let out another mocking chuckle as he leaned down, pressing a kiss over your clothed folds.

You whined, squirming slightly and causing him to hold you down. He looked up at you, warning flashing in his eyes. “Careful, my little whore. You better not piss me off any further.” He grabbed the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down, pulling them off your legs.

His attention slowly went back to your soaked pussy, licking his lips as he leaned in again.

“Is this all for me?”

You didn’t say anything- which was a mistake. For chan placed a solid slap on your pussy, causing you to cry out as you looked down at him tearily.

“Tell me.”

You hated to admit it...but it was the truth. “Yes.” You said softly, looking at him with an imploring gaze. “All yours.”

“That’s what I thought.” Growling, he placed his plump lips on top of your clit, sucking on it slowly but harshly. The overwhelming pleasure caused you to arch your back, your thighs threatening to close if Chan wasn’t holding them apart so harshly.

“Such a little whore we have here.”

He slowly explored your pussy with the tip of his tongue, relishing every whimper and whine that left your tongue. You tasted so fucking good, he felt like he could never get enough.

Pulling away, he let a sole finger trace your wetness, gently dipping past your entrance. “Do you always get this wet?”

You shook your head, your cheeks turning red as he smirked up at you. “Interesting.” He leaned back down, suddenly taking your clit between his lips and sucking harshly. The sensation caused you to throw your head back, the feeling too profound.

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

His lips released your sensitive bud after a few seconds, still gently lapping at it with his tongue as he sat up, pulling down his sweatpants and pulling out his thick, veiny length. You looked down at it, your eyes widening.

So this really was happening.

He moved closer, pumping himself as he pressed his tip against your clit. He slowly slicked the head of his cock through your folds, coating it with your juices and letting out a soft groan. He’d spent so long imagining how you felt, this was like a dream come true.

Slowly, he pushed the head of his cock in. You whimpered softly, feeling how snug it felt within your walls. He was big, a lot more than you’d expected. Regardless of whether or not you’d be torn in half by the end of this, you still pulled him down towards you.

Your eyes wandered over his lips, before flitting back to his own. He gazed at you, sliding in and stretching you out just a little further as he leaned forward to press his lips to yours.

It was gentle this time, yet felt every bit as passionate. You’d never felt like this before. Chan kissed you softly yet urgently, as he pushed in all the way, bottoming out and making you let out a soft whimper.

You’d never felt so full, so satisfied. You felt one with him. It was perfect. In fact you felt like you could stay in this position forever, if the universe permits.

Chan pulled away, his lips throbbing. You looked perfect under him, eyes blown out and hair fanned out around you. Beautiful, just like how he’d pictured it all these years.

Originally, he’d planned to fuck your brains out. Ram into you so hard you would forget your own name, teach you some good behavior.

Right now though, he was consumed with the overwhelming need to make love to you, make you his. To treat you like his princess.

But then he remembered.

You weren’t his.

The anger which had disappeared was back, as Chan gritted his teeth. No, you were his and you always will be. He had to make sure you knew that, needed to make sure you would leave him before long.

It was hopeless though, and he knew that. You belonged to someone else, as much as he wished you didn’t.

Chan had to live in the moment.

And so he drove his cock deeper, causing you to whine out as he pulled out once more. The drag of his length against your walls was so pleasurable it almost drove you to tears. You found yourself wishing he would hold you close to him like this forever.

But you couldn’t fool yourself. This was probably going to be a one time thing. There was no way the universe was going to hand you your happy ending on a platter just like this...right?

You were shook out of your thoughts when Chan slammed back in, jolting you up the bed with the sheer force of his thrust. It brought tears to your eyes, tears borne of pure pleasure.

Soon, he was fucking you deep, his thrusts consistent. His lips slid over your neck, occasionally making their way back up to your mouth.

You clutched onto him tightly, whining at the extreme pleasure. Chan grunted at how tight you were, his core tightening with every thrust.

“You’re so wet, so tight. Fuck, babygirl…” he pulled out all of a sudden, causing your eyes to widen as you looked up at him, pouting. “What was that for?”

He leaned back against the headboard, patting his lap. “Come here and ride daddy’s cock.”

Your cheeks flushed at those words. Carefully, you sat up and crawled over to him, pausing in front of him.

You know you were supposed to have him inside of you once more, but you just couldn’t resist. You wanted to taste him…

And so you leaned down, taking the head of his cock into your mouth. Chan’s eyes widened in surprise at the move, his hooded eyes watching you. “Princess, I thought I told you to-“ he groaned, sucking in a breath between his teeth when you ran your hot tongue over his slit, your drool dripping all over his cock.

He stared at you, sighing to himself as you slowly took him in deeper. You could only be described as a perfect mess to him, sweat beaded on your forehead as your swollen lips wrapped around his tip, sucking slowly.

“F-fuck...are you teasing me, baby girl?” He hissed, taking a handful of your hair and pulling you off his cock. He swallowed as he noticed the string of his pre-cum that was still attached to your mouth. The sight was so sinful it could have made him cum right then and there.

“As much as I’m loving this princess, I really need to be inside of you right now.” He said firmly, pulling you onto his lap. He gripped your hips tightly as he moved you forward, letting his tip press up against your soaked folds.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this moment, Y/n? You and me?”

You didn’t say anything, your eyes widening slightly as you heard the words. You were just about to reply when he thrust into you abruptly, sheathing his entire cock in your snug pussy.

You let out a long drawn out whine. It had been a while since you’d had someone inside of you, and you were still getting used to the feeling of his girth.

“How does that feel?” He asked gently when he saw your expression, his scary dom persona shed for a few seconds as he stroked your back.

You looked at him, tightening your arms around him as you pouted. “You’re just so...b-big. I can barely breathe.” You mumbled, clenching experimentally around his rigid length and making him hiss. He clutched your hips immediately, smirking up at you.

“And your pussy is so tight and warm...all for me…” he mumbled, his finger gently flicking your clit.

You moaned, blinking and letting out a soft whine as he slowly moved a little. “Ready?” He asked, tilting your chin up to press a kiss to your nose. You inhaled deeply, before nodding. “Yes, daddy.”

He groaned at the name, running his eyes over your innocent face. He leaned up to kiss you as he thrust his hips, driving them into you slowly at first. Nipping at your bottom lip, he grabbed you by the waist and lifted you up until the tip was barely grazing your pussy.

The way he was holding you up as if you weighed nothing was making your whole face turn red. Groaning softly, Chan winked at you before suddenly slamming you back down onto his cock, making you cry out in pure pleasure.

It felt so…incredible, for lack of a better word, as he kissed you deeply before guiding your hips, making you bounce on his cock.

You felt helpless as your moans grew louder, Chan fucking you on his cock relentlessly. He pounded into you from below, lifting you up again and slamming you down in time with his thrusts.

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” You whined loudly and shook your head. “I- I don’t know.” You cried out softly, his cock ramming into you roughly. Barely able to continue your sentence, you moaned as he grabbed your ass cheeks tightly, spreading them apart.

“Shut up. You are, and that’s final.” He grunted as he suddenly got up, still shallowly fucking you. He stumbled over to the wall and pressed you against it, attacking your neck and covering it with bruises as he tore apart your insides.

“I’m- fuck!” You gasped when you felt him bite your nipple lightly, your hand coming up to his face. “I’m c-close, please-“

He chuckled, his hand slithering between your bodies to rub slow circles on your clit. “So you’re telling me I control your orgasm?”

“N-no I meant-“

“You meant what you said, baby.” He chuckled and kissed you. “It’s alright though, I’ll let you cum, babygirl. All you have to do is beg.”

“B-but…” you whimpered and pouted at him, but he merely shook his head.

“Go on, now.” He said strictly, slightly slowing down his thrusts.

You groaned in frustration as he reduced his speed. Your eyes wide and innocent as you looked up at him.

“Please, daddy, wanna cum so bad, need it...”

He pretended to think for a second, before nodding and smirking as he rammed into you so hard you’d probably never walk again. You never knew he had so much stamina, so much brute force.

Each thrust was like a burst of fire within you.

Soon enough, you felt your orgasm crash down on you, leaving your entire body shaking in the wake of it.

The overstimulation was blinding, and yet you suffered through it so you could feel Chan’s cum inside you, your abused core tingling as he pounded into you.

Finally after a few minutes he slammed into you one last time, filling you up with his seed. There was so much of it that it dripped out, past his length and your pussy. You’d never felt so full.

“That was...beautiful.” He groaned, resting his forehead against yours. The two of you breathed heavily, your chests heaving as you stayed in that position.

Staring into your eyes, Chan found something there which he hadn’t seen for years. He missed that look...he really did.

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on your head. You could barely reply, your words stuck in your throat. All you could do was stare at Chan in adoration, feeling helplessly in love as your heart pounded against your chest. Your mind was filled with persistent thoughts, but one seemed to be more prominent than the rest.

This wasn’t going to end well, was it?

***

Felix sighed when he saw the two of you cuddled on the couch, smiling to himself and shaking his head as he set his keys down. He’d known this would happen sooner or later.

At least now he wouldn’t have to deal with any more bickering. Yawning, he headed towards his room, right after switching the lights off so the two of you could lay in darkness.

An eventful day, for sure.

[k-s-morgan]

Hi! This isn’t an ask, but more of a rambling that I deemed too long for the comments, that stems from your post claiming Book of Circus as your favourite Black Butler episodes. and to that I say - YES. Book of Murder is a masterpiece. It houses one of my favourite scenes - the one where Sebastian says: "This wasn't a scenario decided by God or fate, but one decided on by my master, with timing decided by my master. I was killed by the criminal expected by my master, by the Hione who came to torment my master", which really captures the essence of whole 'Ciel vs God' dynamic that's woven into the duration of the show.

Throughout the plot, there are three major instances in which an offering is made to Ciel - offerings of redemption. The first is from Angela - a chance to purify himself and have an afterlife - which he so vehemently rejects in the knowledge that he quite literally *is* his darkness, and therefore refuses to rid himself of it.

The second is comes from Abberline in his death, where in his final words he tells Ciel he has a chance to take back his future. And Ciel has to watch him die with the knowledge that he has already made up his mind about his fate. I don't think he's so affected because he regrets selling his soul. I don't think he suddenly wants to live, or no longer wishes for revenge. But I believe the reason he is so affected by Abberline's death is because he holds a sentimentality for him that is not dissimilar to the one he feels for Elizabeth. Ciel is cruel, I don't think he regrets the steps he has taken to get to this point, nor the ones he knows he must take in the future. But though he is cruel, I believe he has a sort of fond curiosity for the untainted goodness that characterises those like Abberline and Elizabeth. Like you said before, he feels condescension towards the man perhaps due to the naivety his blind heroism implies, but I think his attachments to him come from an underlying curiosity to see if such goodness can exist in such a corrupted world - a silent hope to be proven wrong in his cynicism. When Abberline dies, that very hope he didn't even know he had gets shattered. It brings about a sort of forced perspective that makes Ciel question himself in ways we haven't seen before.

Abberline's death had been avoidable and it was certainly in vain. Abberline had died for someone who had already made up his mind - someone who had rejected God once before and would do it time and time again as proven in the anime. Ciel is such an interesting character because, although he is dark, he still values the light and makes some sort of effort to preserve it in spite of the contempt he feels for them. It is the thought of dying in vain that seems to bother him so greatly, not death itself. No, Abberline dying isn't enough for him to want to live again, or to even think about throwing away his revenge - that was never in question. But it is enough to extinguish the lingering flicker of hope he had for humanity (despite being so distanced from term himself).

This, combined with the disappointment he feels at Sebastian's actions, causes the existential haze of uncertainty that leads to the third and final offering. And the most surprising thing is that this offering comes from Sebastian himself. He senses the doubt in Ciel and, like every thought the boy experiences, fails to understand it. He mistakes it for him second-guessing his revenge and decides to discontinue their contract. But he isn't angry - that much is clear. Instead, he wishes him to "forget everything and have pleasant dreams", with a rather wistful expression on his face. What this line ends up reading as is a bittersweet  goodbye from the demon - an offering for Ciel to let go of his revenge and find happiness in the afterlife with his now soon approaching death.  There is almost a strong disappointment in him, but is not resentful of it - Ciel is human and he can't keep expecting him not to be. His offering almost acts as a thank you for the moments of excitement their contract had given his monotone life and I believe that is why he makes it.

He sticks around to see if Ciel accepts his offer, though already expecting him to, and is there to witness the very moment the boy rejects it. Gone is the uncertainty of Abberline's death and the Paris crisis, and Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, returns to him - sharper, colder, more ruthless than ever. Sebastian realises his misjudgement and returns to his side, ready for the final battle. Killing an angel. It's laughably symbolic.

The rejections of God, the evasion of the Hope Diamond's curse (where he even wore two rings as if to taunt the fates), the references in Book of Murder - they all depict this metaphorical sort of battle between Ciel and God. And the ending of Kuroshitsuji II is the depicts how he triumphs over fate, claiming his rightful place as an immortalised creature of Hell.

I know I've gone on a bit of a tangent here in your inbox, but that one quote from Book of Murder is so symbolic to me in the way it sets up the comparison between Ciel and God (in which 'God' represents power over fate).

Before I sign off, though, I just want to make light of the existence of the show's final offering, occurring in the last few minutes of the series. This last offering has nothing too do with God, nothing to do with any complex battle between the Phantomhive and fate, but is much simpler than that. In fact, the final offering of the show comes from Ciel, and he gives it to Sebastian - it's almost poetic, is it not?

"Are you sure you don't want to pull it any tighter?"

In this single, unassuming line, Ciel is asking Sebastian if he wants to kill him, and release himself from the eternal contract they've found themselves in. Such a noble and dignified soul as Ciel would always be sure to make through on his word and, despite the loophole that now extends their contract, he would still be willing to let Sebastian kill him should he wish to do so. The man may no longer be able to take his soul, but the boy can still give the order to kill him and free himself. Ciel's respect for Sebastian is complex and contradictory at times, but what never changes is his willingness to die by his hands and see through to his side of the contract.

“Is it over? The one who plunged me into bottomless darkness… I don’t even know why she did it.”

In the episode where Angela is crushed by the Church, Ciel offers his soul to Sebastian. Even when unsatisfied with the result, his unwavering nobility led him to make good on their deal and fulfil his end of the contract. The earl faced the demon, his expression calm, and with a steady voice said “A promise is a promise. Take it.”

This unwavering dignity and nobility he holds in himself I believe is the reason for this offering and Sebastian's turn to reject it is almost a 'love confession' (as you have brought me to see it) in itself.

As a final sort of note - I just wanted to let you know that, since reading your reply to my comment on TGSTLTH (from a while ago), I brought myself to rewatch Kuroshitsuji II with your interpretation in mind and ended up really enjoying it. You've singlehandedly made me do a complete 180 on a season I previously hated - looks like I had just watched it from the wrong perspective. So, for that, I thank you

Hey! Sorry for getting to your ask just now. I absolutely loved it :D And yes, Book of Murder is a masterpiece - I still remember watching it for the first time. It was late at night, I had to go to bed, everyone was sleeping, but I kept watching because stopping just wasn't an option, I had to know what happened next.

Ciel vs God is such an interesting topic. In some ways, Ciel and Sebastian exist in their own universe where there is no place for anyone else. There is a God aka Ciel and a demon aka Sebastian. And they are both allies and adversaries at the same time - they are tormenting each other and uniting to torment others.

I agree absolutely that Ciel holds a fondness for certain people, with Lizzy and Abberline being a good example. He has a degree of contempt and irritation for them, but they do mean something to him. Ciel's curiosity is a big and detached thing, and this places him on Sebastian's level in such an interesting way because sometimes it's almost like Ciel isn't human himself - humanity intrigues him as if he doesn't belong to it. His fascination with the light just underlines his affinity with the darkness.

I have many thoughts about Ciel's behavior during the days following Abberline's death, and you certainly introduced many excellent points! My general opinion on Ciel's motives is... complicated. I agree that he never felt like really giving up his revenge and trying to live a 'happy' life - he knew it's not for him at that stage already. However, I feel like Abberline's parting words affected him a lot, even if briefly. When Abberline tells him that he can start everything from the beginning, Ciel sounds absolutely heartbroken when he confesses, "I don't have a future." The way he acts later, telling Sebastian to stop and not kill the angel, hesitating, reinforces this idea to me. I think you described it best - Ciel is having an existential crisis. It's not like he suddenly regrets his decisions, but he's temporary unanchored and unsure what he wants and what he should do. Having a dream where Abberline urges him to give up his hatred also seems to affect Ciel, but it's so telling that he wakes up and immediately says, "Sebastian." It's a fascinating arc and I can't wait to explore it.

I love your words about three offerings - so true. And I'm so happy you liked S2 when watching it from a new perspective! I used to be so confused as to why people hated it: it's not perfect, but I thought it was amazing in many ways, especially its bittersweet ending.