#He asked me the other day if he should invest in his own clubs and the look I gave him said it all

[mourningperson]

My sweet boy has fallen into a career that largely involves golfing as a form of bonding between coworkers. He is not built for this.

[mydear-corinthian]

welcome to burlesque

synopsis - tommy attends to this new burlesque club and he didn't expect to see you there

pairing - tommy shelby x reader (dancer!)

warnings - SMUT +18, breeding kink, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex.

notes - rushed, this is my favourite song and movie ><, divider by saradika-graphics

main masterlist | peaky blinders masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist

After the first World War, the inner-city of Small Heath, Birmingham is not lively that it used to. Loads of soldiers coming home from the war were traumatized; only finding comfort in whores, cocaine, alcohol, and betting.

With lots of men now drinking and snorting on their snows, alcohol businesses, betting shops, and cocaine distributors are now on their peak of their business like the well-known gangster, the man himself, Thomas Shelby.

It was the usual day for the gangster. His family running their businesses and sorting out gangster fights. Tommy is miserable in a way that he has no one to talk to or engage something with. Sure, he has his family but all he can talk about to them is business. With women, he still cannot find the right women for him.

As Tommy walked on the bland streets of Small Heath, inhaling his cigarette, he was approached by his friend, Johnny Dogs and his other workers. As Johnny walked to catch up with Tommy, he placed his shoulders on the gangster's shoulders.

"What ya up to, Tom?" Johnny Dogs asked, a smile planted on his face.

"The usual, John, business," Tommy sighed before he replied, continuing to inhale the cancerous stick.

"You should go to this club, Tommy! There's a lot of women in there, I heard. Just recently opened," Curly joined the conversation.

Tommy's eyes began to look at them. Recently opened? A club? In Birmingham?

He began to be interested and curious at the same time.

"Curly's right, Tom." John said. "Maybe you'll find someone there, eh? Or maybe just loosen up."

"There's nothing new with that, Johnny. There's whores everywhere. What's so special about this club," the older Shelby replied.

"Heard the women there are.. unique. Dancers."

Strip clubs in Small Heath isn't new for Tommy. But it's a bit confusing for him to see why his friend is very invested in this club. Maybe there's something more and special about these women and dancers. He cannot help but think.

"What ya say, Tom?"

After a few minutes of deciding, he exhaled.

"8:00 PM."

The boys cheered and clapped, playfully hitting each other's shoulders with their elbows as they cheered. A huge smile were planted on their faces

• • •

It was finally 7 in the evening. Tommy Shelby was already dressed for the man's night. A velvet red tie decorated his grey suit. His long black trench coat keeping him warm. The golden pocket watch with the engraved 'Shelby' name on the back hanged on the small pocket of his charcoal vest.

"Where are you going, Tom?" Polly asked as he saw his nephew exiting the manor.

Tommy placed his newsboy hat on his head, styling it properly as he replied to his aunt,

"Night with me boys. We'll be back by morning."

"Hope you're not plotting something again, Thomas."

"Yeah, no, aunt Pol." he coldly replied before finally shutting the door.

• • •

The ride was a little long, especially how this club is in the Northern part of Birmingham. The Blinders have finally arrived. Getting off their cars and entering the club like they owned it. The entrance fee lady didn't even bother asking them to pay since, well, they're the Peaky Blinders. Other customers hurriedly gave way and emptied the tables for them.

The club was lit in a red color. Circular tables with lamps were placed everywhere in front of the medium sized stage. Renaissance paintings were hanged all over the walls of the club. Tommy was suprised by this new club, it shows how the owner definitely has a budget for this.

The gangsters finally sat on their chairs just near the stage, ordering up a few drinks before the lights turned off, only focusing on the stage.

"This club is a Burlesque?" Tommy asked as he sipped a glass of whiskey he ordered.

"Yeah. Can't you believe it? The first every Burlesque club after a decade!"

The small band on the side of the stage started to play a jazz-like original song. A woman with a black top hat decorated on her (h/c) hair, a combination of black and white colour painted her tight corset while a pair of black fishnet stockings kept her warm appeared on the stage with a few dancers.

As the song started, you began to sing. Swaying your body seductively to the melody of the song, you looked at the guests. There were a lot of people in the club making you nervous but you decided to brush the anxiety away.

Tommy was widened by the performance but it wasn't the first time that he witnessed it; it's just that he haven't seen this kind of performance in years. His baby blue eyes followed you as you sang, mesmerized by the shift looks on your face. He kept a close eye on your legs as they moved fluidly and elegantly to the music. His eyes lingered on the way the tight corset tightened in your curves and making your form seem more beautiful with each breath. He was lost in focus, taking in each detail of your performance.

You looked at the audience again and now your eyes caught him.

Thomas Shelby.

The man himself.

You felt your heart drop, you know that one day he will visit the club but you didn't expect that it will be today. It was like a faraway memory coming to life the first time you saw him since the war. You remembered the moment that ignited everything between you, helping him with his broken arm in that dark tunnel. You can still feel the warmth of that kiss you had under the sycamore tree, and the letters you wrote one other later that carried shards of your hearts. That gentle kiss represented the silent relationship that has become stronger with every written word and every memory exchanged.

The way he looked at you felt the same: soft and genuine.

Tom had already shown many signs of trauma during the war, but he always felt safe and well while he was with you in the medic tent or on walks. You ended the gazing exchange between you two by continuing to dance.

You got a lot of "woo" and "yeah" remarks from the crowd as you went on singing and dancing sensually with your girls.

Tom began to be curious. You seem so familiar to him but he's not sure where you guys met.

"Who's the singer, Charlie?" Tom began to ask, leaning, his mouth just behind Charlie's ear.

"Oh her? That's (Y/n) (L/n). I heard she served in the war as a medic. Lovely ain't she?"

Oh.

Now Tom can recall who you were.

It was you, the nurse, who saved his arm after a bullet struck him in that tunnel. His memories of the war flashed back, and for the first time he wasn't afraid. Rather, he was somewhat happy. He recalled how you carefully applied a white bandage on his arm with your soft, delicate hands. She asked about how he was while exchanging life stories with him. How you kissed each other beneath the sycamore tree.

"Welcome to Burlesque!" The dance finally ended. A huge smile plastered on your face as you bowed, the big curtains coming down the stage. Loads of men including Tom's gang stood up and cheered, their claps echoed the club.

As you went backstage and sat on your vanity, you cannot help but recall who you just saw. His eyes were still the same; his blue eyes shining as his eyes locked yours. Memories of you and him talking, kissing, walking together flashed on your mind, making you frown at the memory that you hope you can still experience it again.

Meanwhile, Tommy excused himself, telling his gang that he'll be visiting the backstage to talk to someone. They didn't interfere nor asked who and why.

Tom finally arrived at the backstage, seeing women changing to their next-performance clothes. The dancers gasp at the sight of the notorious gangster, immediately covering up their bodies with their clothes. He cleared his throat due to the awkward moment, starting to ask where you were. "

Where can I find (Y/n) (L/n)?" Tom asked.

"B-back room, Mr. Shelby."

As Tommy walked towards the wooden door of your own vanity room, his heart raced. He felt his muscle goes numb every step he took. He doesn't know how you will react if he saw you. Will you be mad for him leaving you all of a sudden after the war? Will you be sad? Will you be happy? He doesn't know and he cares about that.

Taking a deep breath, his pale palms twisted the door knob, opening the door. He finally saw you. Sitting on a circular chair in front of your well-lit vanity mirror, loads and loads of make-up scattered on your table. You were wearing your long black corset only.

As you noticed the door opening, you looked at who it was while trying to remove your earrings. Finally looking at the person, your heart instantly dropped. You finally saw him up close after years of having no contact.

"Thomas..?" You stood up, feeling every electricity in your body flinched.

"(Y/n)."

A part of you wants to run up to him and give him the tightest hug and another part of you wants to scream at him for leaving you just like that.

"Why are you here?" you answered coldly but your voice softy broke, trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry," he spoke up. "..for leaving you just like that. I didn't mean to. I-It's just that - I didn't knew what to do."

As a former medic, it's understandable due to his mental state during the war. But as his lover, you just wished he stayed.

"Where were you, Tommy.."

"I'm so sorry, my love," Tom apologized, slowly walking towards you, cupping your cheek with his palms, stroking your chin.

"I missed you, Tommy. I thought you were gone." you whispered, holding his palms that were cupping on your cheeks, a tear finally fell from your sad eyes.

You tried finding him during and after the war but you failed. You forced yourself to move on, thinking that it was just for his comfort that time and you mean nothing to him now.

Slowly, his lips met yours. Allowing himself to be reunite with you. Tom's hand gripped your side hip as the kiss began to deepen. And there it is, you felt the same feeling when the both of you kissed under that sycamore tree.

He gently pushed you on the door, continuing the make-out session as his fingers locked the doorknob.

"Fuck, I missed you.."

"..so much," Tommy whispered in between kisses.

Your spine tingled with electric shocks as he sucked and kissed your neck, causing you to gasp and sigh with a mixture of pleasure and excitement. With an ache that made it seem as though he hadn't tasted anything like this in years, his lips finally discovered that sweet spot he had been longing for.

Every kiss was intense, every suck a confession of his insatiable appetite, making you insanely addicted. You got caught up in the moment, losing yourself in the heat of the moment as your fingers became tangled in his hair and gripped harder with every pleasure pulse.

"You taste so sweet, my love," he said.

You began to undo your black corset, leaving you with your black lacey bra and underwear, and your fishnet stockings. Trying to undo the stockings, Tom interfered.

"Leave the stockings on."

Nodding, your lips and his met each other again. Tommy's lips were stained with your red lipstick. The two of you ran to the vanity table, your hands removing all the items and make-up that was placed there while Tom began to unbutton his trousers and then his underwear.

You felt so aroused as your black panties were soaked wet. Your hole aching for Tommy inside.

"So wet already?" his deep voice made you wetter.

"Please, Tom. I need you.."

His cock sprung free out of his boxers, revealing how hard he was. He pumped it first with his hand before he moved your panties to the side instead of fully taking it off, allowing him to enter you.

You gasped aloud as his long, thick length began to gently and deeply penetrate you, each inch sending waves of powerful pleasure through your entire body. Tom, at the same time, moaned lightly as he enjoyed the way your close warmth surrounded him, the closeness sparking a fire between you both. His movements had a steady, deliberate pace, and your bodies seemed to melt together as each thrust was delivered with delicate passion. Your in unison breathing and softly spoken confessions of love filled the room, each one increasing the sensual, romantic connection between you.

Your body faced the mirror so he was fucking behind you. After a few minutes of you adjusting to his length, he began to thrust slowly.

"Oh fuck," you moaned.

"You feel so good — fuck!"

Your breasts bounced in time to every thrust he made, and your moans got louder and stronger. Euphoria rushes over you, bringing you closer to the brink with each move. You realized how much you had missed his presence and the way he filled you up entirely because of the pace of that moment. The overwhelming happiness served as a clear reminder of the intense touch and need you had experienced while he was away.

Your head lowered and your palms gripped the side of the bright vanity table. Your head was messy, a few strands of hair covered your face.

You can hear the breathy moans that Tommy let out. His rough fingers gripping your waist as his lower body jerked up, his head rolled back.

As he noticed your head looking down, his right palm gripped your jaw, making you look up and look at the mirror forcely.

"Look at yourself while I'm fucking you, honey."

Nothing but your shared moans, grunts, and skin slapping echoed the whole room. You didn't care how loud you guys were, you just want to think of him and him alone.

Feeling your orgasm build up, you began to let out a louder series of moans and gripped his arm.

"Tom—fuck! I'm close.."

"Yeah? Go on, cum on my cock."

"Yes Tommy, yes! Oh my god!"

"I'm gonna fill you up, yeah? Put a baby inside you. Gonna be the mother of our children, mhm?" he whispered on your ear as his pace quickened.

Finally, your orgasm came, making a mess on his massive dick. After a few more thrusts from Tommy, he came inside you, filling your walls with his sticky white cum.

The both of you panted, catching your breaths. Tom finally pulled out, making your aching hole leak out your shared juices. He let out a satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that was hot," he said, giving you a passionate kiss.

"I love you, Thomas Shelby."

"I love you, (Y/n) (L/n)."

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Passing The Baton (Six of Crows One-Shot)

Kaz Brekker x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: To your knowledge, your crush on Kaz is unrequited. Apparently this is not the case.

CW: Kaz is dumb but we love him

SAB/SOC Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker. Bastard of The Barrel. Also- your unrequited love. Kaz had caught your eye just as he had caught everyone else’s. Everyone knew not to mess with the Dregs, and that was thanks to Kaz. Before he’d risen through the ranks of the club, the Dregs had been no one. Quite literally the dregs of society- and while, yes, that was where the name came from, it was quite the rise to fame as the Dregs started getting more and more popular, and more and more dangerous.

Even the Crow Club was starting to become a real pain in the other clubs’ asses. 

But Kaz? He’d fascinated you well before any of this. You’d been working at the Crow Club as a serving girl since before Kaz arrived. Not long, mind, but long enough before that you got to experience both sides of the Dregs’ fortune. 

Kaz hadn’t seemed to take much notice of you at first- and why would he? Weren’t you just another serving girl being groped by the drunk patrons? Anything to make a few Kruge. But he did take notice when you threatened to cut the balls off a patron when said patron got a little too handsy one day.

He’d taken you back into his office and thwacked his cane on the table hard enough to scratch the varnish and told you rather harshly to never do that again. To come to him next time there was an issue like that and he’d deal with it… discretely. 

What that had meant was clear only to Kaz, and that was fine by you. But that was when your little crush had really taken off. What could you say? You liked a bad boy. Someone who could handle his own and Kaz could definitely handle his own. Cane or no. 

Despite telling you off, Kaz had clearly taken note that you weren’t afraid to get your hands a little dirty either, something he had an appreciation and mutual respect for. And so you went from lowly serving girl to, well, still a serving girl, but a serving girl who also took jobs for Dirtyhands and worked with him to secure patronage for the club, and Kruge for his and your own pockets. And for Per Haskell’s pockets as well, you supposed. Lazy bastard. 

But you longed for more.

 

You longed for Kaz’s touch, for his lips on your skin. You longed for his affections as much as you longed for his approval. It was a dangerous combination.

As far as you could tell, he did not feel the same way. But then again, would you have ever known otherwise? Kaz kept his cards close to his chest- as he should. 

Today seemed different though. You’d barely made it back from a job and Kaz seemed… angry, to put it lightly. You had no idea why, though, considering you got what he wanted, and made it out alive, too. Win-win. 

Inej may have had to save you, but that was beside the point. 

“You need to be careful,” he said, mouth pursed angrily. “You can’t be making reckless choices and silly mistakes. This is The Barrel. I can’t afford mistakes.” 

You met his harsh gaze head-on and shoved the ledger he’d asked for into his chest with vigour. Kaz didn’t even break the gaze between you, just reached with one gloved hand to take the ledger off you. 

“I got what you wanted, didn’t I?” 

A muscle in Kaz’s jaw twinged. 

“That is not the point.” 

You let out an exasperated scoff, removing your hand from his chest with another soft shove. Surprisingly, Kaz lets the action move him. 

“Then what is the point?” You ask, frustration evident in your features. 

“The point is- oh, for Saints’ sake,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We could have lost you. I could have lost you.” 

Your eyebrows practically disappeared into your hairline. 

“You could have lost me…” you trail off, echoing his words, feeling them out for hidden meanings. 

“You’re a good investment. I don’t like to lose investments.” 

Oh. Okay. An investment. You should have known that that was all you were to him. That’s all you were ever going to be to Kaz no matter how much you wished differently. Ridiculous. 

“Of course,” you reply, turning to walk away. “Your investment needs a dri-hey!” 

Kaz’s gloved hand snatches at your forearm and yanks you back towards him. You re-balance yourself and glare at him, looking between the tight grip he has on your arm and his heated glare. 

“Stop,” he says before forcing his features to soften. “I’m not one for feelings.” He practically shudders through the word. “You’re more than that. An investment, I mean.” 

You stay quiet, not giving him anything to work with here, but you’re surprised he can’t hear the uptick in your heartbeat. 

“Look,” his grip loosens. “I don’t want to lose you. Purely selfish reasons. Not because you’re an investment, but-” Kaz clears his throat and avoids eye contact. “I care for your wellbeing.” 

It’s not an outright declaration of love, but it’s about as close to it as someone like Kaz would give. He’d bared his soul to you here. All the fractured, broken pieces of it. He’d bared his heart for you to treasure or smash into bitty little pieces. 

You sucked in a breath. 

“Are you saying you have feelings for me?” 

Kaz grunts and lets go of your arm. You brush your fingers over where he’d just touched you. 

“I suppose so, yes,” he said, eyes flitting to the door like he was thinking about making a run for it. 

“Don’t suppose it would interest you to know I felt the same way, would it?” 

And there it was. Passing the baton back to Kaz. Passing your heart in return for his. Now it was he who held the power to treasure or smash you into pieces. 

Kaz finally met your gaze, and his lips ticked up into a small smirk.

“Oh, I knew that.”

[kasagia]

Bruises and scars

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x fem! tidemaker! reader Summary: Kaz Brekker believed he was too broken and bruised to ever count on you reciprocating his childish crush. You were a powerful Grisha, someone who wouldn't be content to be in a relationship with the human shell that he was. That's why he gives you the cold shoulder, that's why he avoids you like the water you wield so well, that's why he tried to drive you away after the day you confessed your feelings to him. Kaz Brekker couldn't love anyone. It would not be beneficial to either side. But Kaz Rietveld rises from the dead, reminding him of what it's like to feel unconditional, blind love. And he won't give up. Not until he gets his girl back... isn't it too late for that, though? Warning(s): Kaz and his trauma; violence; he's afraid of his feelings but loves the reader; generally Kazzle misses the reader; angst with fluff; I'm a sucker for happy endings, but the boy suffered WITHOUT HIS INVESTMENT; mentions of de@th and bl00d Word count: 7,4k

Counting days, counting days since my love up and got lost on me

"You're sending Jesper to do your dirty work for you? I didn't know you were afraid to talk to one of your own crows." you stormed into his office without even bothering to knock. Kaz swallowed. He really should have been better prepared for this conversation. After all, he knew you wouldn't give up so easily. "What is this?" you asked, slamming the wad of paper onto his desk.

"I thought you could read. This is your next job." he replied calmly, not looking up from the papers in his hand.

"In some snobbish fucking king's palace? Are you kidding me?"

"Nikolai isn't that bad. You'll see when you get there."

"And what makes you think that I will voluntarily leave Ketterdam, the club, my friends, and the Crows for two bloody years, Kaz?" for the first time since you walked into his office, he looked up from his papers, fixing you with a cool, impassive gaze.

"That I'm your boss, and you have to obey me. You needed a reminder, judging by the tone of voice you use when you speak to me."

"Was it because of what I said to you when I almost..."

"No!" he growled at you, stopping you from finishing your sentence. That day had already joined his nightmares anyway. He didn't have to constantly recall your almost-death. "It has nothing to do with it." he said, hoping that would put an end to your conversation and went back to writing down the numbers.

"Do not lie to me. I know when you do it, Kaz. You got scared because I said I love…"

"You can go and get ready, Y/N." he said without looking up from the paper he was holding. He had never felt her gaze so hot and intense on him before. They always glanced furtively at each other, discreetly indulging in the silly fantasy of loving each other.

Like they could ever afford to live a normal life. As if he could ever love you properly—the way you deserved.

You stared at him intently, trying to find any trace of emotion in him, any evidence that he didn't really want to send you away from Ketterdam, that he was only doing it because Dirtyhands was afraid of the growing feeling between you two.

"I can hold on like this, Kaz." your soft whisper cut through him, making him shiver. He could bear your screams, your anger, your madness, but the tenderness, the vulnerability you showed only around him… was much more dangerous to the cold Barrel Bastard. "I can go and return to you like nothing happened. I can stay near you and pretend I don't feel anything towards you. I can stop myself from wishing for your slightest touch. I can hide my true emotions around you and other people, just like I have done before… but please just prove to me that it's all worth it. That you can slowly take off pieces of your armour and let me see and be with the real you. Not the Brekker's mask you wore every time we were on Ketterdam's street. Not the Dirtyhands' cruel version of yourself that you created to survive in this town. Not the Bastard from the Barrel, who has so much power in his hands to take down his every enemy. Just the real you, Kaz. The genius-mind boss who cares about his people, not only the kruge. The man who loves his friends more than anything on this earth. The man who risked his own life and saved me from death's arms more times than I could count. Please… just give me this little piece of hope." he tried hard not to raise his gaze to meet your captivating, imploring irises that could touch Brekker's heart.

He knew that the moment he looked at your face, he would doom you both by giving in to this burning desire to be with you.

But he couldn't.

He had to keep you away from him.

"You must be foolish or delusional to think like that. I'm the Bastard from the Barrel. And I care about my crows, because they are good investments. Nothing more and nothing less, Y/L/N."

"Is this everything that we are? What am I to you? An investment?"

Kaz's mouth went dry as he felt the waters rising around him, when a familiar feeling of panic began to seep through his practised mask. He looked away, not wanting you to read his true emotions. Not wanting you to see how much he wanted to confess his true feelings to you.

No. You're my moon, my sun that illuminates me in my darkness. The reason why I'm even bothering to learn how to touch people without going under the water again. You give me hope and peace every time you're close to me. You're my greatest power and weakness. The only one in this bloody world who can change my plans. The only one I care about in the mornings, afternoons, nights, and midnights. I can't drink, eat, think, sleep, or work without thinking about you. You have the power over me. And that's terrified me.

He desperately wanted to give in to his desire.

But he couldn't.

He was too bruised and broken for you.

"Then I have my answer, Mr. Brekker." you broke the long, tense silence between you two. Kaz was too terrified to shift his gaze from the papers on his desk to the only woman who could easily crack the wall around his cold, almost dead heart with one of your smiles towards him. Too afraid to watch the tender expression on your face turn into a cold detachment, just like your tone of voice. "Sorry for taking up your precious time, boss. But I would rather be the foolish girl who falls in love too easily for her own good than a powerful man who doesn't want to feel anything. Nobody will sit around the table and tell a story about a man who loves only his kruge. No matter how great he was." your disappointed whisper lingered in his office long after you left.

He sat dazed in his chair until the candle stub burned out completely, leaving him alone in the darkness of his office. He stood up, lit a new candle, and watched the flame. He couldn't focus on anything other than replaying your conversation.

Rietveld's voice echoed in Brekker's head, somehow getting through his wall, mocking powerful Dirtyhands.

Coward.

And every breath that I’ve been taking since you left feels like a waste on me

"No way!" Jesper's loudspeaker scream snapped Kaz out of his thoughts. He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand, and got up from the desk.

He has done nothing since that fateful conversation. Absolutely nothing. He limited himself to staring blankly at the wall as his thoughts of Y/N effectively took complete control of him. He needed a distraction. Jesper's screams outside his office were perfect.

Without his cane, he walked to the door, eavesdropping on what was going on outside his office.

"Find another idiot to tell him. Or better yet, grab some suicide guy from the roof. If he wants to die anyway, he might as well act as a messenger for their one last time before Kaz rips their head off. SHIT!" the sharpshooter screamed in panic, nearly losing his balance as the door he was partially leaning against was opened by his rather worried boss. "Kaz, the fuck, since when are you sneaking around like that?!"

"Why exactly would I want to have ripped someone's heads off, Jesper?" he ignored his comment, eager to find out what they were hiding from him as soon as possible.

Maybe that would effectively occupy his head, so he could stop thinking about the tidemaker for a while. Unfortunately, neither of the two were in a hurry to answer his question.

"You know, there's always an occasion. Theft, insult, threat, frown, bad day, wedding, christening…" Jesper shut up, seeing that his attempts at a joke only infuriated an already irritated Kaz.

"Y/N is gone." Kaz unconsciously held his breath, feeling the whole world freeze around him for a moment, until anger and panic took hold of him.

"What? Did someone kidnap her? How did you look after her?!" he growled furiously, walking back to the office and limping towards his cane. His crows followed hesitantly, watching him struggle as he tried to put on his cloak in his haste.

"She runaway. I lost track of her around the harbour." a new revelation made Kaz freeze again. He stared blankly into the space between Jesper and Inej, turning his cane's crow head in his hand.

He should have anticipated that too. Had a backup plan. But he didn't. He's been acting strangely lately. He didn't recognize himself. But after all, that was what he had wanted all along - to stay away from Y/N. So why had her disappearance made him feel so much worse?

"Kaz? Should we send some people to…"

"No need, Inej. Go back to work. You too, Jesper." the gambler looked like he wanted to argue with him, but the Wraith, seeing their friend's strange behavior, grabbed his hand, and they obediently walked away from their boss.

Kaz leaned against the desk, dullly staring at the closed door.

It was supposed to be better that way. Neither you nor he will ever meet again. You won't exchange those longing glances again. You won't act like a couple of teenagers in love, and no one will ever attack or harm you to get to him again or to threaten him. Nobody was going to get hurt.

So why did he feel like he was going back under the water?

I’ve been holding on to hope That you’ll come back when you can find some peace Cause every word that I’ve heard spoken since you left feels like an hollow street

One week, two days, 10 hours, 34 minutes and 29 seconds. That's how long it's been since he last saw your face.

He was secretly hoping you'd come back to him and the crows. Fuck the crows, he just wanted you to walk through that damned door again and start arguing with him, shouting at him, cursing his name at all the saints you knew, so he could hear your voice again.

He missed you. More than he thought he would.

Irritatingly, everything around him reminded him of you.

Especially your empty seat during Crow's meetings. No one dared to occupy it, as if every one of the gathered was waiting for you to come through that door (or window) again with a malicious, characteristic smirk on your face, mumbling some insincere apology for being late.

It never happened. Though Inej prayed to her saints every day for your return. Just like the others. Although each of them experienced your departure differently. Jes stared often at the places you once occupied, imagining you were still there. Nina found herself often making too many waffles (of course, accidentally making exactly the few you were used to eating). Wylan often creates his bombs and other things in your favourite colours.

But Kaz probably took your absence the worst of them all.

If he had slept little before, fearing that nightmares about Jordie would haunt him, now he hardly slept at all. Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. He heard your laugh. He smelled your perfume. He felt cursed. Cursed by you the moment your eyes looked at him full of sadness, anger, and disappointment... full of pain.

He thought that if you disappeared from his sight, he would forget about you and go back to normal. But your leaving only made him think of you more often and longer. He sat behind his desk for hours, staring blankly at the papers in front of him. Spread out plans, bills, and maps; it all stopped making sense to him. It stopped coming together, creating a perfect plan in his head.

All he could think about was you.

And Rietveld's voice, instead of being silenced and buried alive in his cold heart with your disappearance, only broke through his hard surface more and more often with the passing days without you by his side. And he wasn't holding back from taunting Dirtyhands at all.

The great Kaz Brekker fell victim to one of his own plans.

There must be something in the water Cause everyday it's getting colder And if only I could hold you You'd keep my head from going under

Even Ketterdam has felt your absence.

This time of year, it usually warms up enough for people to shed their heavy winter coats. However, it was the middle of spring, and a cool, icy wind still blew through the streets, bringing occasional, small snowfalls that melted on the street, creating mud.

Kaz had never despised the city he lived in more. Even it laughed in his face at his stupidity, reminding him that it was his fault that the only spark of joy and bewitchingness in this damned city had gone.

He shuddered as a child shoved past him, running happily to the ship that had come into harbour and thrown itself into its father's waiting arms. Brekker began to take rapid, panicked breaths. He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall of one of the buildings, trying to imagine something other than Jordie.

His haphephobia got worse.

Earlier, he could bear the fleeting touch of strangers, such as being brushed up against him in a crowd. It was no problem for him to touch his crows for a few minutes (especially you and your comfortable hugs, holding your hand, or just feeling your warm skin under his bare fingertips).

But now even the slightest contact with a stranger brought him immediately under the water. And the tiny touch from his crows raised the waves he had to calm in the privacy of his office.

He was rolling down. He knew it well. But he saw it as his personal punishment for hurting your feelings in a brutal way instead of gently cutting you off. Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.

Kaz knew he was fooling himself. He would suffer anyway. He let you go too deep under his skin, penetrate his essence, and know his soul too well to just give up on you, and forget about you.

And what terrified him most was that, given the choice, he would let you in again. Even knowing he would be devastated after letting you go.

But it was better for you. You deserved something better than this life you would live with him.

And that one thought kept him sane. That he did it for your own good, that wherever you are now, he's sure you're better off than you were in Ketterdam.

Which didn't stop him from checking every ship that came into port in the sick hope of seeing your angelic face.

He just had to get over his grief. He did the same with Jordie.

The only difference was that he didn't dream of holding his brother back in his arms like he dreamed of you.

Maybe I, maybe I’m just being blinded By the brighter side Of what we had because it’s over Well there must be something in the tide

Kaz was on your bed, reading one of your books you accidentally left behind. It was all he could do lately. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd left that room for anything other than food and a change of clothes. He missed you. And he had no idea what he should do.

He inhaled your faint scent on the pillows.

In some strange way (probably because of your ability to control the water), you always smelled of the sea, even when you weren't near the harbour. Kaz hated water and hated the salty sea smell that hit him whenever he passed near the harbour. It reminded him of Jordie. But inexplicably, the smell of the sea on you brought him comfort, safety... peace.

Now it was a reminder of something else—how he let you slip through his fingers. In fact, he pushed you away from himself.

He shook his head, trying not to think about you. However, the world was always against him and never made things easy for him. The fact that the dried flower had fallen out of the book onto his chest was proof of that.

With trembling hands, he set the book aside and reached for the flower, afraid he would ruin it. However, the need to see if his eyes were deceiving him was greater than the fear of spoiling such a precious thing.

He remembered that flower. He put it in your hair himself.

"Just the two of us in a field of flowers? If I didn't know you better, I'd think it was a date, boss." he rolled his eyes as you giggled at his reaction.

"Stop it. Or they'll notice us." he muttered, trying to ignore the cool wind that somehow made its way through the high grass. He wrapped his cloak around him, enviously noting that the girl next to him didn't seem to feel that cold. He internally slapped himself for wanting to share his cloak with her.

"I highly doubt they'd want to look for us in that thicket of grass. Besides, usually when a woman is giggling at a place and situation like this, stealing some noblewoman's jewels is the last thing on her mind, Kaz. The same applies to her potential partner."

"As if I heard Jesper." he sighed, focusing on the nobles in front of them. The plan was for Jesper to distract them while he and Y/N collected what they had come for. Simple and fast, if his childish desire to be paired with Y/N did not overwhelm his senses. She distracted him more than he could afford.

"You and Jes also had a secret meeting among the wildflowers? Now, I'm jealous."

"Jes?" he asked, turning his surprised gaze on her.

"Yes, do you mind?"

"You've known him for a week." he remarked dryly.

"Yes, and what?"

"It took you two months to start calling me by my first name, let alone a nickname."

"Just because you preferred to call me tidemaker instead of using my name."

"To be honest, it might have slipped my mind then." he muttered under his breath, not realising she heard him.

"You forgot my fucking name?! Kaz Brekker you are the most ignorant person I've ever seen." Kaz knew from the anger in her eyes that only his haphephobia kept him from getting his ass kicked by Y/N.

"Well, now I remember." he tried to defend himself.

"I don't care, Brekker. Now you can even call me the fucking Easter Bunny and I won't answer you anyway."

"Don't be a child, Y/N. Y/N?" Kaz sighed in frustration when he got no response from you.

He had to come up with something; he knew this name thing wouldn't be resolved until he appeased you properly. And he didn't have time to indulge in your sulks. You had to rob these people. (It's not like his heart ached when you were mad at him.)

Fortunately, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something that might help him. Your favourite flower, growing at his fingertips. He plucked a plant and put it behind your ear without thinking. You flinched at the sudden touch, staring at him in shock as the material of his gloves brushed your cheek as he pulled his hand away.

"Maybe I forgot your name then, but now I remember and know a lot more about you than just a stupid name."

"But how… how do you know I like y/f/f?" you asked in shock, never in your wildest dreams imagining that Kaz Brekker would bother with something like your favorite flower.

"You are my tidemaker. My most important investment. It's logical that I'll know you inside out."

"Should I be afraid or appreciate this unsettling but sweet effort?"

"You should know by now that nothing I do is sweet."

"Of course, big, terrible, Dirtyhands." you replied with a small smirk, similar to the one that kept Kaz from your sight.

To her, he could be more than Kaz Brekker. He could be Kaz Rietveld. And it terrified him more than the urge to reach out his hand again and fix her windblown hair.

The mastermind has been deceived by his own heart.

I’ve been told, I’ve been told to get you off my mind But I hope I never lose the bruises that you left behind Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, I need you by my side

"Zenik. Follow me." he muttered as he finally found the woman at the bar. He headed for his office without looking back, knowing full well that she would do as she was told this time.

"Yes, Kaz?"

"You are contacting Y/N." it wasn't a question. He knew it the moment Nina sent you her first letter a month ago.

He himself tried to send you his letter a week ago. It came back unopened, and the delivery man said no such person lives at this address. A lie he recognised without even knowing that Nina and you were still writing to each other.

"I am." she replied coolly. Kaz, seeing that he did not want to voluntarily cooperate, sighed and sat down in his chair. His leg was starting to hurt more and more often - another thing that went bad with you leaving.

"How is she?"

"Happy. Relatively. She is tormented by nightmares and unwanted thoughts about you." if Nina wanted to make him feel guilty, she did it brilliantly.

He already felt terrible without her judging eyes and dry answers. She must have seen the shadows under his eyes, as he did in his mirror. He had no right to pity himself. He knew it well. That's why he put up with Nina's attitude, in his stupid desire to know how you were doing.

"So… is she better off than here?"

"No. But that's not your problem anymore."

"Did she find someone?" he asked hesitantly, afraid of an affirmative answer.

"Possibly, things are evolving."

Kaz felt the world stop around him for a moment. The idea of someone else watching how you play with water and create ice sculptures, someone listening to your beautiful voice and making you laugh, someone capable of holding you and kissing you, made him sick. A sick sense of jealousy that Kaz only experienced when he saw the wealth of others.

A rash desire to come for you overtook him. He had to have you back. Before you fall in love with someone other than him.

"Do you think if we…"

"No, Kaz." Nina cut him off before he could ask a question. "You wanted to get rid of her, so hold on to your fucking decision. You hurt her, and you knew damn well you would, by ordering her to return to Ravka. Honestly, Kaz, did you think about how it would impact her? How she would feel? If you wanna break her heart again, go on. Chase her. Let's see if she forgives you also this time."

"Then what should I do?" he asked, and the desperation and hopelessness of his tone terrified both him and the woman standing in front of his desk. Nobody had ever seen him like this. Even you. And now he was ready to open up to anyone just to have you by his side again.

"Forget about her. After all, that's what you wanted, right?" he did not answer.

She was right. He wanted to get rid of you. Now he was paying the price, and he had no right to ask you to ease his pain and return to the Kettedram. Return to him. Which doesn't mean that his stupid heart will just let him forget about you. He's learned that over the months without you. And he cursed all the saints that he didn't know it until he gave you the cold shoulder.

Kaz no longer had the right to your affection. He had to accept it. He had to accept that he had given up his chance to love you. That now you had every right to go and love someone else. Even if the very idea drove him crazy and desperate.

He must have forgotten about you. For the sake of all of you.

But Nina's slamming of his office door only brought him back to his memories of you.

There must be something in the water Cause everyday it's getting colder And if only I could hold you You'd keep my head from going under

Kaz fell. He was in the most pathetic position.

He didn't care, though, as he sat like a fool on the shore of the same lake where he met you. At which he irreversibly gave you the remnants of his heart a few years ago, without even knowing it.

He told himself that Nina was right. Once he let you go, he had to persevere in that resolve. Ketterdam will only bring you pain... so why was it so hard for him to let go of his last ties to you?

"Why are you coming here with me?" your gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he stared spellbound at your little water show.

"Am I bothering you?" he asked, shifting in his place on the dock as he watched you float in the lake.

He wouldn't even dip his little toe in himself, but he liked to silently watch you become one with what was dear to you. And by the way, he could admire your skills and beauty as much as he wanted. He didn't have to look for any particular excuse.

"No. It's just that I've never seen you watch your other crows train."

"They're not like you." it slipped out before he could think about it. "If anyone sees you, I better get them before they announce to the world that one of the Black General's tidemakers has taken refuge with me." your smirk dropped at the mere mention of your former life. Kaz cursed in his mind. "You are also too valuable an investment. And the rest of the crows liked you. It's a big achievement. Inej doesn't let new people in so easily... me too."

"So you like me after all, boss?" you asked with that mischievous smirk on your lips that made his heart beat like crazy. Good thing water was your specialty. At least you didn't hear his heart pounding.

"You're tolerable company, and what you can do… what you can do is amazing."

"It's just little tricks." you murmured, forming different shapes out of the water. "At the king's parties, I was quite often one of the highlights." you waved your hand, freezing the water to form an ice statue. His statue. "Not every tidemaker is strong enough to freeze water." with another wave of your hand, to his silent displeasure, you melted the ice. "Not to mention turning ice into water again. Most just stop at its liquid form and don't train any more. I like to think I'm too curious to ever stop exploring my powers."

"Or stubborn." he said with a small smirk, listening to your wonderful laugh.

He must have been cursed from the start, since fate had put someone so perfect in his path... someone he could never have. But he could have been watching you. Enjoy his eyes with your beauty and his ears with the tone of your voice.

"Sometimes that's a good trait too. You taught me that yourself."

"How convenient for you to learn from me only what you want and not what you need."

"Sometimes what we want is more important than what we need and what is more rational for us."

"What for example?"

"Love." he tried to keep a poker face, but apparently his eyes betrayed more than he would have liked, as you gave him a confused, questioning look. "What? You've never been in love?"

NO. Not until he looked into your eyes and heard you laugh. Not until he got into your first argument with you and lost with a smile on his face. Not until he first saw you use your powers to outsmart the bandits who attacked you. Not until he saw how the moonlight in Ketterdam made your eyes shine even more than usual, so that you might as well have lit up all of the city with your beauty. Not until he first heard his name come out of your mouth. No, until he foolishly began to believe in Inej's saints, when he saw how tenderly and kindly you treat the orphans in the streets of Ketterdam.

"This silence means either a very powerful heartbreak, or you really only love a kruge."

"What if I really never loved anyone? What if I don't believe in love?" he whispered, looking up at you. You sneaked up to him so that you were standing in front of him. Water trickled down your hair and along your neck to the hand you held out to him. You opened your hand, handing him a small shell.

"The world is too cruel for such beliefs, Kaz. If we don't believe in love, why should we get out of bed at all? Why do we accumulate all these riches and try to survive each day?" Kaz didn't know the answer. Not one that would allow him to avoid the uncomfortable subject of his feelings for you.

He took the shell from you and, being careful not to break it, put it in his pouch. Along with the other little things you fished out of the water.

Your eyes met. You stared into the other's eyes for a moment, lost in your own dreams, which were not too different from each other... Yet neither of you had the courage to admit them out loud and risk everything you had been so carefully building between yourselves. Even if your hearts burned for more.

So he sat with you in silence, watching you play with the water and analysing what you told him. What was the reason for his existence?

Kaz from a year ago would have answered quickly and without thinking. Revenge. But now that he was looking at you, he wasn't so sure about his answer… or at least it was closer to something much different than his desire for revenge.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh It's your love I'm lost in Your love I'm lost in Your love I'm lost in And I'm tired of being so exhausted

He sat behind his desk, involuntarily reminiscing about the day it all began.

The day he almost lost you. The day you almost died in his arms. The day you told him something he secretly wanted to hear but wasn't prepared for. The day he will curse forever.

This was your first assignment after returning from Ravka and the whole sun summoner thing. A childish, simple burglary. Something to warm up his crows—a return to the reality of Ketterdam without queens and kings and politics.

And so it was. You filled your pockets with valuables and were about to leave when one of the guards spotted you. They were much better armed than you (it was supposed to be a simple robbery with no witnesses and no blood spilled, so you only had daggers and knives "just in case") and strangely familiar with all the secret passages in the small mansion.

Even though you found yourself in a terrible situation, you managed to leave the property. You laid out in the finish as you and Kaz ran towards the club. One of the guards shot at you and hit you. Very accurate, almost piercing your heart with a bullet.

Kaz stared dazedly as you screamed in pain as you clutched your chest and tumbled onto the muddy, cobbled road. He reacted faster than he thought, throwing the dagger at the man who shot you and killing him instantly. Inej would have praised him for such a throw.

But that effective kill didn't matter to him now. He ran over to you in a panic and kneeled beside you, tugging at the fabric of your shirt. He hissed as he saw the blood pouring down your skin.

"Kaz..." you groaned, looking at him terrified. Kaz ripped off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it tightly around your waist, trying to stop the gushing blood. "Cold." you mumbled, shivering in his arms. Brekker didn't even notice as he placed you in his lap; he was too busy to stop the bleeding until he found bloody Zenik. Where was she when he really fucking needed her?

"Shhh…. I know. Just try to hold on a little longer, okay? Nina and Jes will be here soon." he tried to calm you down by running his hand through your sweat-soaked hair. He rocked you back and forth, not knowing who he was trying to reassure—you or himself.

"We both know they won't make it on time."

"If you're wasting your energy talking, at least say something useful instead of talking nonsense, tidemaker." he growled at you, tightening his grip on you. "You're not getting away from me that fast. I didn't invest so much in you to make you leave before…" Until I tell you how much you mean to me... "Until we fill our vault with tonnes of Kruge."

"I could have predicted that even on my deathbed you'd be talking about the fucking Kruges." you laughed, coughing up some blood, which didn't calm his already madly beating heart. Where is that damn Zenik?

"Die in my arms and I promise I'll go back to hell for you. The devil can wait for you - I signed a pact with you first." you suddenly became serious, squeezing his gloved hand tighter and staring into his eyes as if they were the only stars in your dark sky.

"Kaz… I… I have to tell you…"

"Shut up, Y/L/N. You're not dying today." he snarled a warning, squeezing you so hard that he was sure to leave bruises on your arms. Panic rose in him as he felt your body slowly go limp, your breaths becoming less and less frequent.

"Kaz… I love you." you whispered, making him freeze in a daze. You only said those words in his wildest dreams. He had secretly dreamed of it many times, but certainly not like this. Not while your soul was slowly escaping from this cruel world unworthy of you.

He doesn't remember exactly when Nina came running, or how Jesper took you out of his arms, or how he kept up with Jesper's frantic pace as he ran with you in his arms.

But he surely was shaking all the way to the Crow Club. He only breathed a few hours after Nina announced to everyone that you would live. Then he left, without even entering your room to make sure Zenik's words were true, and locked himself in his office.

Tears began to fall from his eyes as he leaned against the door.

He could have lost you. Forever. Another person close to him.

His dreams would be tormented by the sight of your bloody corpse in some dirty alley. Again, he felt like that helpless little boy who had lost his brother. He found himself with Jordie THERE again.

Kaz couldn't go through all of it again. He wouldn't get up after your death. And there was only one thing he could do...

Fuck it all.

He needed you.

He was too exhausted to pretend any longer.

He was Kaz Brekker. He didn't need a reason. But his slowly dying heart without you seemed to be enough of an excuse to see you. Even if you're going to completely break it. Even the cold Bastard from the Barrel saw it as a good deal.

"JESPER!" he shouted, jumping out of his chair with his cane in hand.

"Yes?" his friend was at his side faster than ever.

"Tell the others to pack up. We're leaving in an hour." he muttered, taking out his travel bag from the wardrobe. Even without turning around, he knew a big smile had formed on Jesper's face.

We're going to get my girl back.

"About the damn time, Kaz." he patted him on the back and ran out of his office, telling the other crows the good news.

Your love I'm lost in Your love I'm lost in Your love I'm lost in Even though I'm nothing to you now Even though I'm nothing to you now

Kaz had been afraid of a few things in his life, but walking through the threshold of your new apartment seemed to be the most terrible of all his fears.

His crows obeyed him without objection for the first time in their lives and stayed at the hotel. He came here. On trembling legs and a rapidly beating heart. With his soul on his shoulder, ready to sacrifice and do anything to get you back. And if you didn't change your mind, it would be with a mind ready to carve your image into his memory so he could enjoy seeing you one last time in his miserable life.

Before he could change his mind, he knocked on the door.

He waited patiently, hearing footsteps approaching. He held his breath as the key turned in the lock.

But you weren't the one who opened the door for him.

"What?" a well-built, dark-haired man stood in the doorway.

Kaz began to compare himself to him, concluding that, when it came to appearance, he was superior to him in everything. He didn't stand a chance against someone like that for your heart. Doubts began to flood back into him. What if Nina was right?

"Are you going to stand here for half a day or..."

"Jackson!" your voice from the depths of the apartment shook Kaz. It froze him completely, irritating the man in front of him even more. "I need your help here, you big fool. What are you doing?" a moment later, you were standing in the vestibule. Your eyes met. Kaz shivered under your gaze, cursing himself for how quickly he fell under your spell as he stood there completely dazed.

"Y/N." your name came out of his mouth reverently, like a prayer, like a song long forgotten by a wanderer. You looked exactly the same as you did a few months ago. Except for the faint shadows under his eyes, which Kaz considered his greatest enemies.

"Kaz."

"Jackson. Hello there." the man waved at him, stepping between you. Jackson looked at you, worried. Kaz felt both anger welling up in him, a feeling of envy at how close you were with this strange guy, but also relief that you had someone close to take care of you. Not that you couldn't overcome the worst hell alone. He just felt relieved that you didn't have to. "Let him in, or should I kick his ass, wave?"

Wave? Did you two have nicknames for each other?

"It's all right. You can leave us." you said as you walked past him to face Kaz. The man behind you sighed, shaking his head.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

It might as well have been directed at Kaz. For the first time in his whole new Dirtyhands' life, he didn't have a plan, an emergency exit, or another backup plan. But now he was standing in front of you, staring at you helplessly as he absorbed your form. And that damn sea smell in your hair...

"Kaz."

"Y/N." he said as he came back down to earth. He took a small, calming breath. "How are you?"

"Really? Are you here just to ask how I'm doing?" she asked incredulously, folding her arms.

Kaz wrinkled his nose at your dry, angry tone. As he could see, it would be even more difficult than he thought. He stood in front of you, twirling his cane nervously in his hands.

"I'm here for a completely different reason, but I couldn't… I couldn't not come and see you." he admitted turning his gaze back to you after lowering his head in embarrassment.

"I'm alright. My brother and I are having a great time."

"Brother?" he asked. Relief and joy washed over him. Nor could he help himself to this naive hope, which began to warm his cold heart.

"Yes... Jackson. Who did you think he was?" he did not answer. You could have guessed. He knew you saw the flicker of jealousy in his eyes after that strange man called you a wave. You were his tidemaker, his wave, his sea, and all the fucking things. For a moment, he forgot that he was the one who had deprived himself of the right to claim against you. "You saw me, you asked how I was, so you can go now. Goodbye, Kaz." you were about to close the door on him, but at the last moment he put his cane between them, preventing you from doing so. You opened your door again, giving him a questioning look.

"Come back with me." he whispered, defeated. He couldn't let you go. Not again, not after there was still the slightest chance you might still want him.

"What?" you whispered softly, pretty sure you misheard him.

"There's no other reason why I'm here... I can't eat, I can't sleep, and I can't think or function like a normal person without you next to me. I'm one step away from daydreaming about you, hallucinating, and being insane that you're still by my side, so please... I'm begging you to come back to me. I know I don't deserve you and that I hurt you. You have every right to kick me out, but please, Y/N, just come home."

"What exactly am I supposed to come back to, Kaz? A cold, surly boss who is afraid of his feelings? Who doesn't hesitate to hurt me to protect his heart?"

"I'm not... I'm not good at this. Feelings. I... I don't know what it's like to love, but I know that when I'm with you... when I'm with you, nothing else matters. Not Ketterdam, not power, not Kruge, not wealth, not profit—nothing has ever been on my pedestal. Only you. Always you. And maybe I'm terrified of it, but now I know that I'd rather fight my own demons for you than let you go. I will try my best. If you still want me." he stared at you with undisguised hope in his eyes, only now realising how close he had come to you during your conversation. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek uncertainly. "I love you, Y/N... even if I'm nothing to you now." he murmured, risking everything and resting his forehead against yours with a sigh.

There must be something in the water Cause everyday it's getting colder And if only I could hold you You'd keep my head from going under

He inhaled your scent with his eyes closed, waiting for your move. Hope grew with him every second you continued to let him be so close to you.

"You're an idiot, Kaz Brekker." he didn't contradict or argue with you. He was a complete idiot, pushing you away and begging you to come back, all the while acting like a love-crazy fool… however, he wouldn't have it any other way if it meant you taking your place in his office again. If someday he could hold you in his arms… "You have lucky you're my idiot. With all of your bruises, scars, and everything else." you promised, hugging him tighter. You pulled away from him with serious eyes, making Kaz swallow. "But if you do that shit again, forget I'm coming back to you. Also, we need to seriously work on your communication, Brekker. Do you know how long I've had to struggle here with that other idiot who claims to be my brother?"

"I can hear all of it!" you sighed at your brother's grumbling and gave Kaz a meaningful look. Brekker smiled slightly, causing a matching goofy smirk to appear on your face.

"See? But seriously, I'm not kidding. Last chance, Kaz."

"A deal is a deal. You're never going anywhere without me again."

"A red flag!" your brother coughed from the kitchen. You rolled your eyes, grabbing the edge of Kaz's coat sleeve.

"Shut up, Jackson. I'm leaving, I'll be back in an hour! Try not to burn down the apartment, spitfire."

You didn't wait for his answer as you slammed the door behind you and stepped out with Kaz into the street. Brekker led you towards the hotel where the other crows were staying. His hand in yours, which did not escape your notice. You turned your head towards him, giving him a confused look, which made him smile slightly, shifting his gaze to the port and the sea.

At one point, he noticed that one of the waves "attacked" a trader, washing him over. He cursed so loudly that you could hear him even from this distance. Kaz shifted his gaze to you, immediately noticing the sly smirk on your face. Suddenly, the wallet fell from the sky right into your waiting hand, along with droplets of salty, cool water.

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. A self-satisfied smirk formed on his face after seeing your blush.

One day, he will be able to touch you without his gloves. Hold in your arms without layers of clothes on. He will do it. No matter how long it takes him to get rid of the greatest demon of his past. But something told him that you'd keep his head from going under the water again. His queen of waves. His crow. His anchor. And he will make sure that he holds you in his arms forever. 

[oliviablancmom]

"Enemies - Pablo Gavi (Part III)"

Pairing: Pablo Gavi x OC! character

A/N: These two decided to talk to me tonight. As I said before, it is challenging to write them, but fun. I loved writing this chapter because they begin to have realizations about each other's presence while the enemy side is screaming lol. Anyway, for obvious reasons, some game events will have to be changed for the sake of the plot. I hope you enjoy it!!"

2021

Florence was attentively reading the papers her grandfather had given her, marking them as he had taught her, completely focused on the task, so she didn’t hear her father entering her room. The man watched her closely and then approached, gently touching her shoulder to avoid startling her.

“What’s all this?” he asked curiously, trying to get a glimpse of the documents. Florence looked at him, finally noticing the older man’s presence, who smiled and placed a kiss on her head. Florence smiled at the gesture.

“Hi, Dad. These are just some club reports that Grandpa wanted me to review before starting college...” Florence replied with a smile, trying to ease the concern she saw in her father’s eyes. She knew that he was still uneasy about her involvement in the business, but there was nothing he could say to change her mind.

"Don't you think this is too much? By the way, I don't think we've ever talked about this directly, but are you sure this is what you want? Your grandfather can't force you to follow this path." The man said in a firmer tone, and Florence suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. The relationship between them wasn't great, and she often felt like a pawn caught between the two, a means for one to get back at the other, even if it wasn't intentional—that's how she felt.

"Of course, this is what I want. And it's not like I'm taking on anything tomorrow. I have a long way to go before I'm considered capable, and not just someone receiving an inheritance," Florence said firmly. "I'm just learning; it's no big deal." Her father let out a nasal chuckle, looking at her with pride.

"I know, but your grandfather can be quite harsh when he wants to. I...I just don't want you to push yourself too hard." He crossed his arms with concern, and Florence felt a tightness in her chest. She understood her father's worries; she never quite understood what had happened between the two of them, but they both carried wounds that were completely visible to her. Florence smiled once more, hoping to soothe her father's heart, got up from the bed, and walked over to hug him.

"You guys are being so dramatic about this. It's no big deal, and I'm fine, I promise." Florence assured him, and the man breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're right, and you can count on me. But don't tell your grandfather I said that," he added, laughing, and Florence joined in. The older man gave her one last kiss on the head and soon left the room, leaving her alone.

She understood her father's insecurities. Many of his were her own, but she also didn't want to disappoint her grandfather, who had already invested so much time and effort in her. She just wanted to make the older man proud for having seen something in her.

**********************************************

Gavi bitterly regretted accepting the invitation to that party. Not that he didn't like it, but he just wasn't in the mood to enjoy himself that day. So, he limited himself to sitting on the couch outside the house, fiddling with his phone.

"Wow, Gavira, you're so welcoming and friendly," said Cris, his friend, laughing as he approached the couch where the player was lying. Gavi looked up at him, shrugging, himself didn't understand his lack of enthusiasm for being there.

"You should be celebrating your call-up to the national team," Cris continued, trying to cheer him up.

"I am, internally... Who are all these people by the way?" Gavi asked, referring to the others present in the house. "I thought I was your only friend."

"Ha! Well, friends and friends who bring other friends. At this point, I have no idea who they are either," Cris said, looking around making Gavi laugh. "I'm going back inside. Please go enjoy the party, there are plenty of girls around wanting your attention.

Gavi just nodded, rolling his eyes at the last comment.

After his friend disappeared again inside the house, Gavi took a few more minutes to mentally prepare himself to muster the courage to interact with other people. He got up, heading inside the house, greeting some familiar faces, and others he had no idea who were. But despite his efforts, he was bored.

The girl incessantly talking in front of him only heightened his desire to leave, and he was seriously considering running away, especially as every two seconds he saw a phone camera pointed at him. He sighed internally, frustrated. He didn’t want to look like an idiot; his friend would kill him if he mistreated any guest.

His attention on the girl in front of him completely vanish when he noticed someone in the distance.

"This has to be a joke..." he murmured to himself, his eyes focused on the woman quickly running to the stairs. It couldn’t be; his mind was probably playing tricks on him. He blinked a few times, but the person didn’t disappear. He looked at the girl in front of him, who was watching him with confusion, trying to figure out what had caught his attention.

"Excuse me, I need to check something..." Gavi apologized and headed up the stairs.

The upstairs was silent compared to the downstairs. He walked cautiously down the hallway as if a monster could appear at any moment to attack him. And well, technically, it was a monster he was following. The door at the end of the hallway was open, and he could hear the voice coming from inside. He was sure it wasn’t a hallucination; he would recognize that damn voice anywhere—it was imprinted in his mind.

He approached slowly and leaned against the doorframe, seeing the girl on the phone, her voice tearful as she paced back and forth, completely unaware of his presence.

"But I finished everything and left it all ready..." she cried. The sight caught him off guard. Gavi swallowed, embarrassed and regretting following her. He commanded his legs to turn around, but they ignored him, preventing him from moving.

'Great,' he thought.

The girl ended the call, after many tearful agreements, hung up the phone, and threw it on the bed.

"Tough day?" Gavi said before he could even think, mentally chiding himself for drawing the girl’s attention. She turned around startled as she look at him, and Gavi wished she hadn’t, as her red, tear-streaked face caused him some discomfort, an effect he couldn’t understand and decided to ignore. Whatever the reason for her crying, she deserved it. God, if his mom or sister heard him, he’d be in trouble.

"What... Are you following me?" she asked, confusion crossing her face. As if realizing whose presence she was in, she quickly crossed her arms in front of her body and raised her chin in pride. Gavi chuckled; but at the moment no matter how much she tried to appear indifferent, he was seeing right through her.

"In your dreams, querida. You’d be the last person in the world I’d stalk. You’re not that interesting," Gavi retorted, using the same words she had used against him. God, why did every word she said stick in his mind?

"Then leave me alone," she said, irritated. Gavi laughed. What was this? Didn’t she have any words of offense for him? It was somehow disappointing.

She grunted and walked over to the bed, picking up her phone. Her firm steps headed toward the door to leave the room, but he, impulsively, blocked her way. Fury gleamed in the girl's eyes, and she hit the player’s chest, shoving him. The action caught Gavi off guard, and he immediately grabbed her arms, feeling that little shock again from the contact with her skin.

"You can curse and insult me, but you can’t handle it when it’s the other way around?" Gavi grumbled, his face inches from hers. He could see every detail of her face with precision—the bright, swollen eyes, the discreet freckles hidden under a layer of makeup he was sure she didn’t need.

"Oh, did I really hurt you, didn’t I?" And there it was, the challenge in her eyes, the arrogance, and something he couldn’t quite explain, but it shine intensely in the girl's gaze. Unconsciously, Gavi decided he would push her to her limits to see that reaction again. The tension between them was so intense it could be cut with a knife. "Let me go. I could end your career," she snarled, and Gavi couldn’t help but laugh.

"What, are you going to ask your fan friends to ramp up the insults? Nothing I can’t handle. And don’t play innocent; you started this," she narrowed her eyes.

"You have no idea..." she whispered, a victorious little smile appearing at the corner of her lips. Gavi furrowed his brows, confused. But before he could say anything, they were interrupted.

"Florence," someone called from the hallway. Gavi turned, seeing another girl watching the situation in shock. He turned back to the girl in front of him, still holding her arms.

"Florence," he whispered, realizing as if he had just put together a puzzle. He had the voice, the image, and now the name. As if she understood what he was thinking, she rolled her eyes and, with a sudden motion, pulled her arm away and shoved him out of her way. She tossed her hair over her shoulders and confidently walked towards the girl who had called her.

"Are you out of your mind?" He heard the friend whisper, looking over her shoulder at the player observing the sly interaction between the two.

"It’s nothing," the girl said in a nonchalant tone as she pulled her friend down the hallway, disappearing from his view. Gavi stood stunned, still trying to process the encounter and suddenly he couldn't wait for the next el classico.

**********************************************

March 20, 2022

Florence took a deep breath, soaking in the energy of the field, the stadium filling up with fans—God, she missed this so much. Since she started college and studying with her grandfather, her trips to the stadium had been drastically reduced. Now, almost all her time was devoted to her grandfather's office and the administrative sector of Ciudad Real Madrid.

She had almost forgotten the feeling of being inside a stadium. Okay, maybe she was being a bit dramatic, but it felt like years had passed since her last visit. Now, as she could no longer watch the games from the stands with the fans, being on the field with some staff was the closest she could get to the excitement she loved. Even though she had to act professionally now and couldn't shout or curse at the players, especially the rivals, so she would have to do it mentally.

And she had used that trick a lot, since the end of the last year, especially during the games of the club that shall not be named. She cursed and sent all possible negative energy, hoping to satisfy her need to do it personally, particularly regarding a certain player. She even hoped he could hear that she was still rooting against him. Even during the national team games at the end of the year, she had to resort to mental curses, as the moment she cursed the blaugrana player, she received several angry looks from the fans of the national team who had adopted him.

So as soon as she saw him entering the tunnel leading to the field, all her excitement about being back faded, replaced by irritability. And as if he knew exactly that, the moment his eyes fell on her, a mocking smile spread across his face, his eyebrows coming together in surprise and recognition.

"You know, I was sure we’d win today’s game, but now that I see you’re finally here, I’m absolutely certain," he said in a lower tone, so only she could hear.

Florence took a deep breath, trying to contain the ironic response that came to her mind, and fixed her eyes on the tablet in her hand, her fingers gripping the edge tightly.

"Nothing for me?" He insisted, and she finally looked at him, feeling her face heat up and an uncomfortable feeling near her temples, he was definitely a pain in the ass. The player’s eyes scanned her face as if he had noticed her reaction, and the smirk grew.

Florence wanted to shout and curse him, but she had to settle for an eye roll that seemed to amuse the player, who ran onto the field for warm-up. He was lucky she had to behave, or she would have used up all the curses she had been saving.

The match was a disaster for Real Madrid. Florence had to leave her position next to the club reporter on the sidelines as her fan side started to take over during the game, and now she was watching the rest in the tunnel entrance that led from the locker rooms to the field.

And she couldn’t believe it, simply couldn’t. Anger burned inside her, not just from witnessing the defeat and the embarrassing game her team was playing, but because the midfielder’s words burned in her brain. The implication that she was a good luck charm for him gave her a cold shiver and a rage that heated her face. Her mind even searched for the results of the matches she had attended and which were good for him.

The dissatisfaction in the stands grew with each passing minute of the match. Furious, some people were even leaving before the game ended—it was a disaster.

Florence huffed again as she heard the fans near the tunnel cursing each staff member who passed by, as if the blame for the defeat was on them rather than the players on the field. She understood the frustration because she shared many of the same feelings.

However, the comments began to get heavier. Looking up, she saw a group of men cursing her grandfather. She frowned, not understanding why, and they noticed her attention, laughing and commenting among themselves.

The young woman gritted her teeth. She knew the reason well enough without needing to look; she had developed a sixth sense for sensing the player before seeing him. She wondered what sin she had committed in another life to deserve such karma.

"You can’t stay here," she said without looking at him. "This could result in penalties for your club, and well, I’ll make sure that happens," she said with false confidence. Gavi laughed, a deep and genuine laugh that made Florence turn to him, their eyes meeting. She furrowed her eyebrows, her eyes scanning the player’s face, and Florence felt something strange besides irritation at him mocking her.

"I was just getting my shorts from the locker room, and I’m heading back to the bench. There’s no prohibition on that. But fine, i know that you can’t win on the field, so your team need to interfere with the referees and all other means..." he replied, looking around. Florence narrowed her eyes at him.

"That’s a serious accusation..." Florence tried to stay indifferent, turning her attention back to the field. And great, another goal. The stadium roared with boos, not at the blaugrana team but at their own. Florence watched everything, perplexed and a bit nauseous.

"See? I told you that you’d bring us luck today..." Gavi commented right next to her. Florence turned, pushing him away. He laughed. Before she could say anything, she was surprised by a cup being thrown in her direction. Florence looked up at the stands, the group of men from before had an angry look for her.

"You’re fraternizing with the enemy. That’s why we’re losing." Florence decided to ignore it, but the curses only increased.

"You’re losing because you’re awful." Florence widened her eyes at the player who was laughing at the group, and it was done. It was as if he had poked a swarm of bees. Boos, curses, drinks being thrown at them, security started approaching, noticing the escalating anger. She really was determined to ignore the situation, not even fighting with the hand pulling her into the tunnel. But when her grandfather was mentioned, it was the breaking point for her.

"Your grandfather is ruining our club," the fan yelled.

"Florentino made this club what it is,"

Florence shouted back, her blood boiling as she exchanged insults with the Madrid fan who cursed her with every possible name. Security approach to try to calm things down, especially when the fan threatened to jump from the stands. Florence heard the referee’s whistle from afar, and by the time she realized it, chaos had erupted in every corner of the stadium. When a cup hit her head, she felt arms around her waist pulling her away.

She was so immersed in her anger that she felt as if the world around her was spinning out of control. The drink thrown on her clung to her clothes, and the sensation of being completely soaked only added to her frustration. When the sound of the boos became deafening, she finally snapped out of her angry trance.

'shit...' The player’s low murmur brought her back to reality. She wriggled free from his grip and pushed him away with a force that surprised her. A member of Barcelona’s staff approached, pulling the player away. Florence then looked at the TV screen, seeing the final minutes of that disastrous match. Her phone vibrated incessantly, but she had no energy to care. The realization of her actions and their consequences began to weigh on her, and the sense of shame and regret was almost overwhelming.

"What were you thinking?" Her grandfather’s harsh voice sent shivers down her spine. It wasn’t fear—Florence had never feared her grandfather in any way—but the tone he used was that of a businessman, not her grandfather, and honestly, she didn’t feel prepared to face that version of him. "Has everyone lost their minds today?" he shouted, and Florence finally looked at him. "What were you thinking?" he repeated. "You should be setting an example. How can I trust you if when you should be working you’re talking to opposing players and fighting with our own fans?"

"I was defending myself..." Florence questioned.

"You were immature, it’s disappointing..." The older man said, and silence cut through the air. Florence could feel tears in her eyes, and she knew they were there by the quickness with which the older man averted his gaze from her face. "Your father was right. Go home, Florence, you’re done for today."

The younger woman looked at him confused. She didn’t know that the two men talked; they did their best to ignore each other whenever possible. Florence opened her mouth to question him, but the man gave no space, just walking past her with a look of disappointment. Florence watched him head to the locker rooms, but before he left, he stopped and took a good look at Gavi. If he was intimidated by the older man, he didn’t show it; his face remained impassive as he stared back at the man, while the staff member from his team was dying beside him.

Florence’s heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears. The look of pity from the communications head was enough to break her. She turned and walked away from the situation before anyone saw her break down.

Florence had a mix of feelings—still angry about her confrontation with the fans but anxious about the disappointed look she received from her grandfather. She understood his side, and she was genuinely dedicated and took her duties seriously, so her own reaction had been a surprise to her as well.

But then realization hit her. The reason she lost her composure in the first place was because of him... She was fine until he showed up and provoked her with his taunts. Just his presence was enough to irritate her, and if he hadn’t provoked her minutes before, she wouldn’t have exploded at the fans... And with perfect timing, Florence felt a tight grip on her arm.

"What the fuck... What’s with you constantly holding me?" Florence asked angrily, turning to face him. The action took him by surprise, but he quickly masked it with a smirking.

"In the end, it was really your club..." He said, referring to their conversation when they met at the event last year.

"As the part of ruining your career, so leave me alone," Florence felt her voice breaking, and this made tears come back to her eyes. She mentally cursed herself for breaking down right in front of the player. "This is your fault," Florence accused, shoving him.

"Mine? You asked for it, remember? Every time you insulted me..." Florence rolled her eyes but couldn’t help a small smile on her lips.

"You’re so affected by this; is it that easy to get into your head?" Florence asked with humor. "If it is, then what they say about you isn’t true..." The player furrowed his brows, and Florence caught a glimpse of confusion on his face.

"Pablo!" The Barcelona staff member called the player, looking furious. "What’s so hard about staying where you’re supposed to be?" The man asked seriously. "Come on, before you get a warning." The player didn’t even question it and just followed the older man, but not before glancing once more at Florence, his expression twisted in confusion.

**********************************************

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I revised it several times, but there's always something that slips through. Ah, I needed to introduce Flo's life as an heiress because it was necessary lol. I'm excited for the next chapter. Idk if you guys understand, but when there are asterisks dividing the chapter, it automatically signifies a passage of time, days, and a change in point of view.

[the-west-meadow]

Heartbreaker

Roman Roy x Reader

summary: As your relationship with Roman grows more uncertain, you turn to the person who knows him best for advice.

Midway through the day, you spotted Gerri on her way out of the office and sprang up from your desk, jogging after her. 

“Hey Gerri,” you said, “Could I buy you lunch today?”

“I’m flattered. What’s the occasion?”

“I need your input on something.” 

She eyed you suspiciously.

“Is this business or personal?”

“Personal.”

“Fine. But you’re buying me a drink, too.”

Gerri took you to a high-end lunch spot downtown. You settled at a table near the window, picking up your menus. No prices. You swallowed. You had known this wouldn’t come cheap.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?”

“It’s Roman.”

Gerri let out a subtle sigh, adjusting her glasses as she scanned the menu.

“I should have known,” she murmured. 

“I’m completely at a loss.”

“Welcome to the club.”

“I mean, what can you tell me? Every time I ask him about his relationship history he starts mumbling and won’t make eye contact.” 

“I don’t know much more than you,” she said. “There were a few girls that I know of. But as far as I know they never went anywhere, if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“Do I have to say it?”

“Yes, Gerri.”

“Well, then.” She cleared her throat. “As far as I know, they never… you know. Fucked.”

You sat back with a somewhat satisfied smirk on your face.

“Okay then,” you said. 

“Don’t let that hearten you. In fact, it might be a reason for you to pack up and look elsewhere.” 

Gerri sighed and rubbed her nose lightly.

“Roman is extremely complicated,” she went on. “You think you have him figured out, then he surprises you again. He’s chaotic, he’s unpredictable, he’s highly unstable—“

“Gerri,” you said, interrupting. “You’re saying all this like it should deter me.”

“If you were a sane human being, it would.”

“Let’s say I’m not. Let’s say I’m invested in seeing where this Roman trip takes me.”

She finally looked at you with something like mingled sympathy and admiration.

“Then I might be able to give you a few pointers.”

The drinks arrived. Gerri took a long sip before considering what she would say next. 

“First, it might help if you told me what it is about Roman that interests you.”

You took a swig of your own drink before you responded. 

“Let me just say that I didn’t choose to feel this way. I fully intended not to like Roman when I came to work for this company. Everything I heard made me dread meeting him. Even in our first few meetings, I was still determined not to like him. He was weirdly twitchy, he wouldn’t stop climbing on furniture. I thought he was a self-absorbed prick.”

“You weren’t wrong.”

“Right. But we both know there’s something underneath that.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“He’s a heartbreaker, Gerri.”

“I know.”

You put your head down on the table. The waiter arrived with your entrees, unsure where to put them until Gerri nudged you beneath the table. You shot up, composing yourself. Gerri leaned towards you. 

“Listen, I know Roman. He’s tough. But I think he’ll open up to you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Roman’s been looking in all the wrong places for love. I think his relationship with his dad shows that pretty clearly. He has an image in his mind of the kind of partner he should have. But that’s not the partner that he ultimately wants.”

“And what kind of partner does he want?”

“Maybe one who’s as broken as he is.”

You cracked a grin.

“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” you said.

“It’s meant as one. I know you’ve been through some tough times, but look where it’s brought you. Sometimes the most broken people end up being the strongest.”

She looked at you with that same admiring glint in her eye.

“When I first met you, I thought I saw a lot of myself in you.”

“Sorry, but there’s no way Gerri Kellman is a broken person.”

A small smile.

“You’d be surprised.”

You ate for a while in silence, thinking over each other’s words. Gerri finally glanced at her watch.

“We should be getting back soon.”

“Tell me what to do, Gerri. I’m lost when it comes to him.”

“My advice?” She dabbed at her lips with her napkin, took a sip of ice water. “Don’t give up on Roman.”

“Give me one good reason.”

She looked you straight in the eye. “Because,” she said, “Last week, he asked me to lunch to talk about you.”

Your heart leapt in your chest.

“You’re kidding me.”

She shook her head firmly.

“I thought he didn’t like me,” you said.

“Quite the opposite.”

“Holy fuck.”

Gerri shook her head, gathering her bag with a smile on her lips.

“That’s an understatement. You’re in for a wild ride, Y/N.”

You drove back to the office with her, riding in silence up the elevators. As you walked back towards the conference room, Roman strode out of his office, hands in pockets. 

“Oh look,” he said, “It’s my two favorite people.”

He stopped in his tracks. You could see his mind backpedaling in real time. 

“Sorry, did I say that? I meant my two favorite corporate thralls. Get back to the conference room where you belong. Why aren’t you on a call right now? Fuck you. Leave me alone.”

Gerri had a smirk on her lips. Neither of you budged. Finally, Roman hurried past you, running a hand through his hair, throwing obscenities into the air.

“See?” Gerri said. “He does like you.”

[firstelevens]

14 for sambucky from the intimacy prompts, please ?

14. sharing drinks

did I hear someone order a nebulous early 1930s-flavored romance novel AU that was definitely not informed by the fact that I've read nine Sarah MacLean books in the past two weeks?

The thing about your very best friend choosing to marry a British heiress, Bucky decides, is that there are so many goddamned parties involved. There isn't a lot that he wouldn't do for Steve, but the sixth in a series of evenings flanked by titled young women looking for the quickest way to upset their aristocratic parents is pushing it.

It's not that he minds a dance or two, or sparkling conversation when he can get it. He sometimes even remembers how to be a sparkling conversationalist himself, but there's a reason why Bucky is mostly a silent partner in the club that the other Howlies talked him into investing in. Jones and Dum Dum and and Monty all seem to enjoy swanning around the floor like they own the place--which they do, to be fair--but being a curiosity gets tiring after a while, and even having a beautiful woman on each arm doesn't do much to dispel the sense of being a display piece when it happens.

Bucky waits for the crowd to raise their glasses in a toast to the happy couple before he makes for the conservatory, champagne coupe still in hand. He manages to time it just right, no guests to waylay him and no household staff to look at him in that way that makes him feel like he's still a grubby little kid running around Coney Island. He slips through the door, pressing it shut behind him and blowing out a long, slow breath, and then suddenly realizes that he's not alone.

Moonlight spills in through the glass wall of the conservatory, and the silhouette standing at the French doors is instantly familiar. Bucky has spent more time than he'd care to admit admiring those shoulders, that profile, the line of that neck. He watches for a long moment as Sam Wilson tips his head back and slowly exhales the smoke from his cigarette, and then Bucky's feet are carrying him forward before he can tell them otherwise.

"Giving up so soon?" asks Sam, as Bucky comes to stand beside him. When there's only a noncommittal grunt in response, he adds, "And you were so close to becoming a duke's son-in-law. All of--what's that place called? Chumbleyheath-Upon-Coxhead? something like that--at your disposal."

Bucky snorts. "Don't write me off just yet; Peggy said this house party's supposed to last another three days. I have time."

"The way Steve always talked about you, I'm surprised you'd need that long," teases Sam. "From what I heard, you were Brooklyn's very own Casanova."

"Steve had kissed all of two girls before he came over here and met Peggy, so I'd take what he has to say with a grain of salt," says Bucky. "But people didn't tend to say no to a spin around the floor with me."

Sam hums in acknowledgment. Bucky is slightly wary of what he might say, but he just shrugs a shoulder and says, "Not exactly a dance hall in there, though, huh?"

"Not exactly," says Bucky, with a little laugh. "So how come you're not in there charming everyone in the room? I've seen how much the Brits love trains, and you're half the reason they work as well as they do. They should be obsessed with you."

"One of them asked if I was part of the band for the evening," says Sam, his voice dry. "Does that count?"

"Christ," mumbles Bucky. "So you what, ducked in here to escape dealing with them?"

"I would've gotten away with it, too, if some Yankee Casanova hadn't come sniffing around."

"If I'd known you were here, I'd have brought snacks," says Bucky, before holding out his champagne glass. "Here, have this as a peace offering."

Sam has a free hand to take the champagne, so he doesn't have to hand off his cigarette in exchange for the coupe, and when he does, it sends a thrum through Bucky's entire body. When he raises the cigarette to his lips and takes a drag, he tries and fails not to think about the fact that Sam's mouth had been on it just a second ago, and when Sam watches him through those lovely eyelashes, Bucky's pretty sure it isn't the smoke that has him lightheaded.

"Not a bad peace offering," says Sam, which is a very funny thing to say about a champagne that definitely cost more per case than the monthly rent on the apartment Bucky grew up in. "I'm considering clemency for your crimes."

Bucky grins. "Anything I can do to tip the scales my way?"

Sam pretends to think for a moment. "Well, we know you don't have any food on you."

"Prioritized escape over rations," drawls Bucky. "What would my commanding officers think of me now?"

"Probably that you did damn good for an American soldier setting up in London, and that you should get them into the club for one of your famous Friday night parties."

"I'd offer you a standing invitation to secure your forgiveness, but Gabe's already given you one," Bucky says, pretending his face didn't go hot with Sam's praise. "I could ply a trade. Nothing technical, you'd run circles around me. But I could sketch you, if you wanted."

Sam raises his eyebrows. "And here I thought Steve was the artist."

"He is. I didn't say the sketch would be good."

"I might take you up on that one day," says Sam. He passes the champagne back to Bucky, exchanges it for his cigarette and takes one last drag before grinding it out.

Something about how his face looks in profile, lit up by moonlight and framed by smoke, makes Bucky hot around the collar. He downs the rest of the champagne in a single swig and finds that it didn't help. He's not sure anything will.

"Will we see you at the club on Friday?" asks Bucky, in the hopes that a conversation will delay their return, now that they're out of champagne to drink and cigarettes to smoke. "There's a singer from Paris coming down; folks are already beating down the doors to make sure they get a table."

"Monica Rambeau might live in Paris, but she's from New Orleans, born and raised," says Sam. "And I'd never miss seeing her perform, but I'm not sure I've seen you at the club a single night that I've stopped by."

Bucky tries not to let it mean anything that Sam noticed his absence. "I'm there," he says. "Just not on the floor. Someone has to keep an eye on things up in the office."

"Maybe the office will find a way to spare you sometime," says Sam. "Be a pity if you missed out on some real jazz because you were busy working on the books."

"I'll see what I can do," says Bucky.

"Good," says Sam, and Bucky tries not to let that mean anything, either.

[electronicclowncollector]

Chapter 24: The @lilacharbour chapter

(Author's note: This chapter may have been slightly delayed, because I accidentally spent 70 hours playing the Sims 2. It was all important research for this chapter though! I'm sure @electronicclowncollector agrees with me!)

Overall, Sting's had a pretty good life, he's always been well liked, had the best dragon dad a guy could ever ask for and he was amazing at Dragon Ball. The only major mishap is his grades, but with Rogue's tutoring he's made massive improvements.

However, lately things have changed… he's feels as if he's all over the place. He's gone up three glove sizes and last week, he cost the Dragon Ball team the match, something he never thought was possible. All because he stayed up the night before, rewatching Mr Dragneel's podcast (more specifically the video of him and Rogue making out) over and over again. The video made him irrationally angry, Rogue deserved so much better than kissing that man.

Most of his thoughts came back to Rogue in some way. It made sense to Sting because he was his best friend, but apparently other's found it strange when every other conversation had Rogue mentioned. Even the Sabertooth club's Dragoncord server banned the word Rogue. Leaving Sting to come up with increasingly creative spellings of Rogue, such as Rouge, Rogu3 and Rug. All of which, quickly got banned too. When offered to join the server, Rogue declined saying his Drakia phone couldn't run Dragoncord. Seven more spellings of Rogue were banned that day.

The upcoming prom further exasperated this issue, he was so nervous (HIM? BEING NERVOUS?) asking Rogue to be his platonic date. He had rehearsed it in the mirror for hours, and had even asked Rogue's dad for his blessing beforehand. After Rogue agreed, Sting realised he forgot to plan ahead and now had to scramble to ensure the night would be perfect.

He begged Gajeel for details on the prom theme and by beg, Sting definitely meant blackmail. he just hasn't figured out what the blackmail is yet. After finding the best suit for the occasion, Yukino kindly offered to read Sting's star chart and reassured him that all his stars were aligned… or something. Whatever it was, it was a good sign.

Even with all this preparation Sting still felt like he was missing something. Leaving him with his last resort. A last resort so dangerous even Doug refuses to get too close as he allegedly owes someone a lot of money. So Doug has left him alone in his hour of need, to go get the good catnip to tie him over during prom.

Sting knocked on the door, adjusting his hair in the window while he waited.

As the door opened Sting blurted, "I need help."

No response.

Looking down revealed that the door was opened by a seal. "Uh…" Sting glanced into the hallway, only to see more seals. "Is… is Lilac here?" He asked.

The seal barked in response before galumphing away, since it didn't close the door, Sting assumed he had permission to come in. Besides he could feel it in his heart that the seal invited him in, especially with that cute little face.

If there are no Fiore laws restricting the amount of seals a person could own, Sting thinks they should invest in some. There were seals everywhere. Making traversing Lilac's house difficult, he'd hear movement in a room and just be greeted with even more seals. So much so that Sting begins to question if he is even human, or if he too is a seal. Eventually he reached the last room in the house, the bedroom. If Lilac is not in here, he might decide to become one with the seals. Rogue would surely understand.

On top of the king sized bed resided a seal smoking a fish pipe, counting money. On the nearest wall was a photo of Doug with a red X covering his face and with multiple darts stuck in it. Sting could take a guess on who Doug owes money to, hopefully the seal is unaware of who he is. The seal took a look at him, as Sting gave a reassuring 'I don't know Doug' pair of finger guns. Causing the seal to slap it's belly in response. That's probably bad right? Shit shit shit.

Sting begun to slowly back away, life flashing before his eyes, his last thought would be Rogue meowing at him. Maybe not a bad way to go…

"Is something wrong Alfredo? Oh, I didn't realise you were here Sting." The seal called Alfredo apparently, stopped slapping it's belly and took one look at Lilac, huffed then continued counting its money. Leaving Sting to deal with the fact he would've been content with Rogue meowing at him as his last thought. With the cat ears he bought him on. Normal friendship stuff.

"Sting?" Right he is a man on a mission.

Getting down on his knees Sting began his plea, "I need help. How do I make this prom night the best night of Rogue's life?/p" tone indicator included.

"Why are you asking me? I don't know Rogue all that well."

"Because you're my last resort! No one else's advice has been helpful!"

"Right… uh, why don't you take a seat next to Alfredo." Sting would rather not do that, he's convinced Alfredo can smell Doug's scent on him, but he has to. For Rogue.

"Well, what does Rogue like to do?" Lilac asked, turning her back to Sting and beginning to play The Sims 2. With Sims that in his opinion, looked like Keanu Reeves and blond Tintin. From past experience Sting knows not to trust girls with the Sims, he knows what kind of mods Yukino has.

"Rogue likes a lot of things, like dragons, dragon books, Fresh, dragon action figures, burnt food, dragon themed clothes, dragon video games…" This went on for a while.

"Oh, he also likes meowing! He looks really cute when he meows-"

"Okay, I think I get the idea." Lilac interrupted, "if he likes dragons, maybe get him some snapdragons, assuming he likes flowers."

Sting thought about this for a while, "nah, I'd eat them before I'd give them to him. Getting him flowers would make it feel like a date anyways, we're just going to be two dudes hanging out."

"Really? I thought you two were…? Never mind."

"Were?"

"It doesn't matter." she said trying to change the subject, "do you have plans to go to an afterparty, or have a sleepover?" Lilac asked, pausing The Sims.

That's what he forgot. Sting had been so focused on the main event that he didn't even consider what they would do after. Should he go and ask Rogue what he wants to do? No. That would make him seem like an inconsiderate friend, imagine asking him out to prom and not having plans for after it.

Maybe it was from the pitiful wide-eyed look on Sting's face but Alfredo began sympathetically slapping his thigh. "Well, I think Minerva has plans with Yukino and her boyfriend to grab breakfast the morning after. They probably won't mind you joining them." Lilac suggested. They would mind, they just wouldn't voice it.

Feeling like an awful best bro prom date, Sting got up and meandered to the door. "Thanks for the help, I need to go and update my plan for the 'best' bachelor prom date ever."

"Bye?" Lilac waved, watching as Sting almost tripped over a seal.

As he reached the front door, he was greeted by the same seal that let him in. It looked up to him with it's shiny little eyes. Imparting it's endless wisdom. Making Sting realise how stupid he's been. He just needs to be his confident self, Rogue wouldn't want him to stress over making everything perfect because spending time with his best friend is more than enough.

With a spring in his step, Sting left Lilac's house. Ready for prom… After he cancels the three Michelin-starred restaurant reservation he booked whilst trying to avoid stepping over seals.

(Author's note: The hardest part of this chapter was writing the self insert, which you'd think would be easy enough considering all the other things this fanfic has in it, but it wasn't. The self insert is also why Electronicclowncollector made me write this chapter because he didn't want to write it either..)

[epickiya722]

Hi Kiya, hope you are doing well.

What inspired you to come up with the concept and ideas for the Star's Rebirth AU?

I'm doing fine, thank you! I low-key having been neglecting my sleep but I'm now back on track!ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

Oooh, I was asked a similar question before! But I'd like to talk about it again.

The first story, His Role, was just a story I wrote on a whim. I was going though an emotional period and needed to get my feelings together and distract myself. I started writing that story and somehow it became a 17K+ fic that begun a series of the idea of "what if Yuji was Tengen's vessel".

I also wanted to write more interactions between Kenjaku and Yuji and also try out the "Sukuna and Yuji are twins" concept.

Which before I really got into writing the AU was already a post I was working on, you can read that here.

After His Role, I actually didn't think I would turn it into a series. But I was a lot more invested than I thought!

While that fic was Yuji becoming Tengen's vessel, the following stories were exploring him and the others adjusting to the new changes.

His Mercy and Her Tears are both birthday fics! His Mercy is for Yuji's birthday. In that fic, I touch on some ideas I had in mind. The fic is like a story made up of smaller ones. The characters celebrate Yuji's 16th birthday and then other things happen, most of which are discussions between characters.

I knew I wanted to write a fic for Yuji's birthday, but I didn't have a clue as to what should happen in the fic.

Unlike the former, Her Tears is of an idea I had in mind for a long time and it wasn't until Nobara's birthday came around that I wrote it. It also doesn't take place on Nobara's birthday. Instead, it's more of Nobara reconnecting with some important people in her life while out one day.

His Mother, that takes place after His Mercy, and Her Weightlessness are both fics where I explore Kaori's character, the latter being a fic that explores Kaori's made-up backstory before the narrative of JJK took place.

In canon, the most we know very little of her and I decided to take a stab at conjuring an image of what she could have been like. I headcanon that Yuji would have gotten his personality from her.

If you asked me, I can see Yuji being a mama's boy. Like, he and Kaori have a good relationship and are like two peas in a pod. So similar in behavior that even though he looks like the men in his family, Yuji is like Kaori's mini-me.

Then there's His Following! That fic actually was going to a long one shot with His Mercy, however, I had a feeling I wasn't going to finish that version in time for Yuji's birthday. So I scrapped the idea and used it for what is His Following, a fic that should be multi-chaptered.

I had a thought one day about the possibility of Sukuna having a "fan club", like the Star Religious Group, in modern time and used that to develop the plot.

I also wanted to have my own JJK OC to write for. Asahi, I didn't have a last name for her until I thought "it would be funny if she was a Gojo". I had everything else in mind for her but that until then. (Feel free to ask more about her if you want, folks.)

While I love her, I'm not actually sure how everyone else feels about her. I don't think anyone has really said anything, but it's whatever.

Once I decided to make her a Gojo, I immediately opted to make her a sibling to Gojo. I often see sibling OCs for him. Instead, I made her a cousin of sorts to him and older. She's like that cool older cousin/aunt.

There's also The Pink Sky and Cherry Blossoms.

That fic actually wasn't a part of the AU until I decided to add Uro to the AU. The fic explores her, how she feels. I really enjoys Uro in the manga and just felt it was only right to write a fic for her and where she interacts with my other pink haired fave, Yuji.

It was definitely a challenge to write that fic, it was. But sometimes I like to challenge myself.

And that's all I have to say for the AU!!

Overall, the AU was just another one of my "what crazy idea Kiya will cook up this time" moments.

I'm surprised people have read the fics, too. I thought people wouldn't have taken to them, but I had a pleasant surprise there!

Fic Backstory Ask

[z0mbride]

ALSO I have to rant about a proselytizing nurse at work today

TO CLARIFY THIS CONVERSATION STARTED BECAUSE we were talking about knitting and crochet and I said one of my favorite memories as a kid was getting a handmade hat every year from the old ladies at church and he asked why I didn’t go to church anymore and wouldn’t accept my answer that emotionally, church has always been the equivalent for me of a book club or scrabble. Like yeah I’d love to go and I’d love to work on this together but im not emotionally invested in anything other than intellectual bonding and social connection.

But what really frustrates me is like people NOT getting it and refusing to even try but they want me to get them and I need to be just like them but they won’t even acknowledge my feelings on something.

Like this nurse was 45 and hounding me about why I didn’t go to church in front of a bunch of other staff, insistent that I must have a deeper meaning than just being indifferent to it, and it made EVERYONE uncomfortable. He has had this issue before too. And im trying to be nice and being like “yknow it’s really not due to anything other than. I’m like not worried about it man”

And it just blows my mind how that response infuriates people trying to convert you even more than a reason of hatred could. Like no, I don’t have a problem with it actually. I just really don’t care. I have no interest right now in finding out if there’s a larger being. I’m just not even worried about it. I’m spiritual in my own way but as of right now, it’s not revolved around a greater being and im perfectly fine with that.

And it’s not that im disinterested in religion, like i love to study it and talk about it and learn from different perspectives, but right now I am currently so unattached from the idea of even CARING if there’s a greater being or an afterlife. I was like yeah tbh I think that Jesus, regardless of whether or not he was real or a messiah, is a great role model when you analyze him. I really admire what he did in the book, props to him! I can see why people follow in his lead.

And he asked me if I would read the gospels with him and I was like yknow what I actually would love to talk about the philosophy with you and he’s like “no like I mean you should pray before and read a chapter every day and open your heart to God” and it was just so weird to me because I feel like he’s not getting it.

I’ve done it before (and to put it how I did to another staff member: “I tried calling but nobody ever answers, I swear”), it just doesn’t happen for me! And it’s not that I don’t believe in anything, in all honesty it makes sense to me that there’s something bigger, but I just am not worried about it, and this man could not process the thought that I am just simply unbothered. If it happens it happens.

I was talking about it to my fiance and I think that tbh this non-attachment to like reveling over this idea actually makes me a better person than if me (only myself personally) was dedicated to a single faith. I’m really empathetic with people of every faith and will talk about any religious text and am a lot more well-versed in a variety of faiths than most people think, and so being unbiased about it (other than I find abrahamic adjacent humor more funny because it’s applicable to the culture I live in) kind of has shaped me to be who I am.

Like I mean yeah probably there is some greater being but like so???? And not in a pessimistic way. I’m just okay about it.im okay with there being one and with there not being one but unless it became a compelling issue in my life, im not out here pursuing greater answers right now. Like I have acknowledged this fact but also acknowledged that im not concerned with learning more about it rn. If it reveals itself to me then okay, but you’re not understanding my “if it happens it happens” or “im living my life like water” approach by trying to force it down my throat. Like just go with the flow man ❤️

idk I guess my insanely bland view on it really irked this man because he was convinced he was going to convert me. Like yeah I will earnestly try what you said but I wish you weren’t so like freaky and pushy about it because I guarantee that if I wasn’t interested in this stuff like I was, you would’ve scared me even further away. If I am convinced by this process, then that’s all the better to me and im sure it will enrich my life in one way or another, but also stop being weird to people. Ultimately I think it’s just a difference in values. I’m not concerned about my afterlife because and not out of a greater worry like bills or anything, I just never have been. I’ve always been more concerned about being a well rounded and compassionate person with a commitment to serving other people and frankly in a way I think that would honestly make me more aligned with a by-the-Gospel person than someone stressing about making it to heaven. Obviously that’s not including the bits of terrorism used in the Bible, but you get what I mean. I think by the book Jesus would get me more than hyper-religious people insisting something is wrong with me. LIKE WHY DO YOU CARE! Why am *I* the one trying to go help a dying old man and *you* are the one trying to get me to listen to your opinion!!!! What happened to what would Jesus do!!!

[x0401x]

I think I've said this before, but I always reply to asks. No matter how long it takes. In this case, it took me a year. I can barely believe it. The way that grad school and living in Tokyo completely sucked away my free time is surreal. To be honest, I was expecting this, but I was hoping I'd be able to get back on track sooner. Words can't possibly express how sorry I am for the truly ridiculous delay.

Okay, now without further ado...

So, episode 11. By this point, it’s clear that the anime is trying to convince us that Eisuke is single-handedly guiding Tsujimine to the top. This unintentionally disregards the other members of the team and relegates them as nothing more than his less important supporters. That’s the same kind of narrative suicide that season 1 committed, except with Seiya instead. In S1, Seiya is the only character with a personality, basically because his canon personality is butchered and he’s turned into an amalgamation of other characters’ good traits, plus some weird yandere shit that the screenplay pushed onto him. The narrative makes him a participant of just about everything that happens, while dimming down everyone else, even the very protagonist of the story. It’s clear that KyoAni (read that as director Yamamura) couldn’t handle giving the spotlight to one character at a time and making them as rich and colorful as the original work, so they decided to invest all of the good stuff into just one character and make the fandom obsess with him. Which failed miserably, but we all already know how that went.

In the case of S2, this pattern is a little worse, even. The other boys of Tsujimine are barely there, and whenever they’re there, it’s to make Eisuke’s character shine through, never their own. And when it comes to team performance, almost like the team consists of just Eisuke, as if they’re part of the team only because there aren’t five of him. He’s basically a genius who does everything - he’s an individual archer, a team competitor, the team leader, the club counselor in place of their teacher who knows fuck-all about kyudo, and a coach, since their team has none. And he excels at all of that, which is not only unrealistic but also contradictory. It’s unrealistic because, like all Zen types of martial arts, kyudo takes experience and experience inevitably requires time. There’s no way a high school kid would be on the same level of knowledge and skill as certified practitioners and be able to look after four people while simultaneously doing his own practice. This is literally unheard of in the history of kyudo. And it’s contradictory because it was established in earlier episodes that Eisuke was taking advice from his uncle for coaching Tsujimine, so how come the story just forgot about this and started branding Eisuke as the one and only patron saint of his team?

In the book, Eisuke manages the team coaching by filming practice, showing it to Shigeru and getting precise advice every day, which he follows by heart. The team coach is actually Shigeru, not him. He’s also not the team counselor, and although he’s the most proactive member, the thing about Tsujimine is that they’re not a conventional team. All the boys have very outstanding personalities - one could even call them self-centered -, to an extent where it doesn’t seem like there’s an actual leader in the team. Everyone is just doing their business and none of them are particularly close to each other, but when it comes to kyudo, they all trust one another and nobody tries to meddle with each other’s way of doing things. Against what appearances might suggest, harmony comes naturally to them. This is something very unique of Tsujimine and it’s sad to see this dynamics ruined.

Other than that, this is one more example of the anime treating kyudo like a sport. Everyone keeps fawning over Eisuke, even people from other teams, and telling him that he should be proud of himself for his achievements. I could argue about how unnatural it feels to see teenagers behaving like that all the fucking time, but I don’t think I have to. And it’s all the more ridiculous when it comes to anything Zen-related. Being proud isn’t the point. Achievements aren’t the point. There’s no point but enlightenment. KyoAni seemed to be making an extra effort to show respect towards kyudo this time around in the first episodes, so I really wish they could’ve nailed this, but it’s hard to take the story seriously when it fails to understand the most basic thing about its core theme. So many things in this anime are such a blatant “don’t worry about it” that I have lost count, especially about the fundamental elements of kyudo.

Most important, though, is that this “Eisuke is God” thing is a disservice to Minato as a character. And I’m not even talking about the fact that Eisuke, the character who was supposed to be the “bad guy” of this arc, is getting more background story and emotional investment from the narrative than the protagonist himself. I mean the fact that he’s being given a role that was supposed to belong to Minato in the near future. Yes, I’m talking about his career plan to become a Shinto priest and a kyudo coach. It was set up from the very beginning in the novel. Throughout the whole story, we get glimpses of him already being on the path for that by being the kind of person who inspires others to shine their own colors. He gives prep talks to Ryouhei and Kaito, acknowledges Nanao’s efforts and lets Seiya indulge in his patience and forgiveness. He also gives people advice, like with Manji when he was about to get target panic. A lot of people seemed to interpret this as Minato being savage, but it was a candid warning. In volume 3, though, we get to see Minato actually do something very close to coaching. The way he encourages Hikaru in the most non-obvious, roundabout and abstract manner possible is exactly how kyudo coaching should be. He never tells Hikaru to do anything, just says things that might sound vague, but actually mean to stir Hikaru’s spirit. The pacing of this scene is kind of a mess and its contents might be confusing for some (as Zen always is, to be fair), but what Minato does in it is honestly beautiful. He doesn’t even seem to realize what he’s doing; he just does it (very Zen of him, as usual) and it hits home. It’s a glaring sign from the author that he’s a natural at this (again, can’t get more Zen than that).

All of this careful build-up is wasted in the anime, given that Minato’s “natural talent for realizing people’s needs and spilling pearls of wisdom onto them” is now Eisuke’s in the show. I might sound harsh here but I gotta spill the beans on this particular load of bullshit: the anime lowkey hates its own protagonist. The one thing I thought KyoAni could’ve learned from last time was to stop giving other characters’ roles and personalities to whoever the director decided to pick as fandom darling for the season, but I guess this was too much to ask once again. Still, as you guys know, my motto for S2 is “disappointed but not surprised”. I do realize everything that’s wrong with it and don’t like it, yet I maintain what I’ve been saying since the beginning: I’m taking what I can get. It’s a miracle that a sequel even exists, anyway.

More bullshit ensues as Eisuke is confronted by Seiya by the toilet. It’s kind of amusing to see the anime finally try to portray Seiya as his own person in this season, only to do a full backtrack and put him again in the one-dimensional condition of “caring about nothing but Minato”. It’s also kind of weird to see Eisuke going through the trouble of attempting to pick a fight, especially when it concerns Seiya, whom he has no reason to hold contempt for. He resents Minato and Shuu because Saionji took them in as disciples when he (she, in the anime’s case) wouldn’t take him. What’s his reason to be a prick to Seiya, even when unprompted? It’s never explained or implied. The scene itself apparently has no reason to be there other than to imply that Eisuke attacks people because he’s putting up a front, as shown from the toilet mirrors and the composition of the shots. In putting up a front, he’s keeping himself from moving forward, which thankfully aligns with canon.

Then the dialogue shoots itself on the foot by suggesting that Seiya is moving forward because he sticks to his weird obsession with being Minato’s guardian.

I could talk about how obsession is a negative point for anyone who practices any Zen martial art and that the anime is once again treating kyudo like a sport here, but I’d just be repeating myself. What annoys me here is that the show continues to miss the point about Seiya. Sure, he’s a caretaker by nature and he worries about Minato more than anyone else, not just because Minato is his best friend, but also because Minato is a dumbass and a catastrophe magnet. But from the moment he and Minato have The Talk in volume 1, his attitude changes drastically. He’s a mother-hen but he’s got a life outside of Minato. He’s his own person with his own problems, like a normal person would be. By turning Seiya into a Minato-hen, the anime makes him feel unnatural and forced. Even Ichikawa Aoi’s line delivery is stiff as hell here. It sounds like fiction, and it’s not supposed to. This is a slice-of-life.

And so, after wasting half an episode with this boring repetition of information that goes absolutely nowhere, we finally move on to what matters. Or what should matter: the goddamn tournament.

It’s not a ganglion but a broken nail in the anime. The brief moment of Minato assuring that everything is fine and the one where he helps everyone regain their composure are the closest things that the anime gets to portraying him faithfully. Minato isn’t the glue that keeps everyone together because there’s no such thing in any of the teams in Tsurune, but he is very much a force of nature in it. He stirs things up and makes shit happen. I dare say he’s as much of a source of inspiration for the club as Masaki is. But it lasts for only a few minutes before Yamamura’s bias steals the spotlight again. It’s amazing how everything is about Seiya even when it’s supposed to be about the whole team. And by “amazing” I mean it makes me want to rip my hair off. In order to keep my sanity from flying off the nest, I tried to distract myself by keeping count of how many times Eisuke has said or thought the phrase “Tsujimine will win as Tsujimine”. It’s been three or four times, just in this episode.

Speaking of Tsujimine, I’m losing my mind at how the way it’s depicted far surpasses the way Kazemai is, from an artistic standpoint. The way the flashbacks are perfectly timed, the watercolor explosion, the fact that Shigeru is watching it from the hospital in real time… it’s such a stark contrast to the bad water CGI from the Kazemai side. Everything connects just perfectly. The show wants you to cheer for them and not Kazemai. I maintain my point from waaay back ago, but KyoAni (again, read that as director Yamamura) has next to no interest in Minato. It doesn’t dive into him, doesn’t explore him beyond surface level and is not invested in making him captivate the viewers. By extension, the same happens with Kazemai. The creators clearly find it to be a boring club, completely blind to the fact that they’re the ones that made it boring.

Anyway, this is my take on episode 11. Now here’s a bonus: a review of the movie.

Being back home for the summer means I finally, at long freaking last, got to watch “Hajimari no Issha”, since it was not on Netflix or Chrunchyroll. I wrote down my thoughts about it as soon as I watched it, which was about half a year ago. If this isn’t a testament to how little free time I’ve had for the past year, I don’t know what would be, lol. It’s surreal how long this has been sitting untouched in my iPad notes. As compensation and apology for taking so goddamn long to post the remainder of my reviews on S2, I’m leaving this here.

First of all, I’m happy that the glow-up in the art style actually began with this movie and not really in S2. The extra scenes are clearly animated better than the recap ones. The contrast is ridiculous. It honestly had me torn between “wow, thanks for the consideration” and “so you really could’ve done better from the beginning and decided not to, huh”.

I’m also happy that it humbly offers bits of information and character development that we’d been given in the novel up to that point but were left out of S1 (well, at least the part of it that doesn’t contradict the anime, which is a lot). Minato’s mother, the time when he and Seiya were going to the same grade school as Ryouhei, young Masaki and his grandfather, etc. Many things we were supposed to have had in S1 are here.

The first parts go back and forth in time, but the initial content is new. New scenes, new dialogue, but still with a certain degree of deviance from the source material. The funny thing (it really ain’t funny at all) is that the deviations mostly don’t have a reason to be there. Hardly any of them have anything to do with the alterations made in S1. Thankfully, they’re small and not very significant, just minor bothers.

But if they’re so unimportant, then why do they bother, y’all may ask. Well… because they’re constant reminders of how much KyoAni doesn’t get this story. Or its characters. Or (yeah, it’s getting old, I know) Zen.

First one was the way Minato got into archery. So I guess anybody who read the novel has been able to tell, but the characters kind of stand on a ladder when it comes to how enlightened they are. Masaki is at the very top, of course, and right bellow him are Minato and Shuu. As the author’s bias - I mean, the one who’s closest to the Zen-Buddhist ideal of enlightenment, Masaki found his way to archery without any reason. He had contact with it even before he became aware of his surroundings; it happened naturally, as if that was just the obvious way to go about life for him (and it was, in a sense).

As the not-so-close second, Minato got into archery in the same way as Masaki: by sheer coincidence (just happened to be present at a kyudo ceremony) and influenced by a loved one (his mother). They also were inspired by the same person (Akihiro) and fell in love with archery at the very same place (Yata Shrine). The difference is that Minato decided to pursue archery consciously, unlike Masaki, who was just doing it before he even realized it, as though he’d been born already with a bow and arrow in hands. And that was that. It’s simplistic and pure and the peak of innocence. It also defines the whole story because this shared beginning, translated in the form of Akihiro’s tsurune, is basically what ignites Minato’s whole world and connects him to everything and everyone he loves. And then comes his mother and her past doing kyudo, which adds fuel to the fire but it’s not really what kindles it. Because then that’d be just ordinary and not as Zen as what the author was going for.

Second alteration that I noticed was the rubber mountain rat that Masaki gave Minato, which in the anime is a rubber ball with a mountain rat mascot printed onto it. As I’ve mentioned a thousand times before, saying that S1 was lackluster and wasteful in terms of Masaki’s teachings and his relationship with Minato is a gross understatement. I’m glad KyoAni tried to make up for that here by giving him a little more spotlight being an actual coach, not just teaching the bare minimum and fucking up. The mountain rat is given quite a bit of importance in volumes 1 and 3, as well as everything else that Minato receives from Masaki, so I guess KyoAni can no longer pretend that these things don’t matter. Except the timing wasn’t the best. In the novel, Masaki gave the mountain rat to Minato when Minato hadn’t yet joined the club, and there’s the whole subplot about Minato being haunted by the things Masaki gives him and does for him, because he’s afraid he’ll lose Masaki at some point. But the opportunity to explore it has long been missed.

Something else that is very different from the original is the way that Seiya is being portrayed as similar to Masaki. This is also a thing in the drama CDs and promotional audios for S2, for some reason. Yet in S2 this is thrown out the window and Masaki is portrayed as similar to Shigeru instead. KyoAni tries so hard not to make the right comparison it’s hysterical.

Speaking of Masaki as a character, it’s always amusing to see the many ways that KyoAni misses the mark about him every single time. It’s literally impossible to understand what they’re trying to do with him. One example of the many incoherences in their depictions of him (aside from trying to brand him as similar to two characters who are completely different from each other, with neither of them being the characters that he’s actually similar to in canon), is the scene where Ren calls him a narcissist. ‘Cause that’s totally the number one quality of a priest. I lost my mind at this one. Where do they pull this shit from? When did Masaki ever act that way, even in the anime itself? Are they just throwing words around? Make it make sense.

There’s one fleeting moment where Masaki is compared to Minato in this scene. Except it’s not because of their personalities or form, but because of the target panic. And Masaki doesn’t really appreciate that. Yeah, that’s definitely the same Masaki who decided to take on teaching because he saw himself in Minato, especially due to the target panic. Who knew exactly what to do and how to help him because of his previous experience. Who puts prayers into everything he does for Minato so that Minato will overcome it as soon as possible. That Masaki.

“Don’t know her,” says the show.

Most frustrating of all is that this happens because Ren says kyudo is overly complicated for something that’s “all about hitting or missing” and Masaki retorts with, “Yeah, but that’s what makes it interesting”, which prompts Ren to joke, “Said like a true narcissist” before Masaki elbows him. This is a nod to volume 1’s “The way of the bow is steep, but that’s what makes it interesting”, but by God, does it backfire in the worst possible way. He could’ve just said that kyudo isn’t about hitting or missing. Actually, the last thing kyudo would be about is hitting or missing. Hitting and missing don’t fucking matter. Masaki is the last character who should be saying this, considering that he’s not only the best archer of the club but also that the literal reason why he and his grandfather started fighting was that Akihiro accused him of only caring about hitting the target. This isn’t western archery. Get your own culture right, I’m begging you.

Breathe in, breathe out. I’m fine. We’re fine. This movie… isn’t fine, but S1 was by far the worst offender. Second place is S2. And none of these three are in the same ballpark. This wasn’t exactly good but it also wasn’t bad.

On the positive side, I like the care and detail that was put into this production as much as I like the care and detail put into in S2. Despite everything I just said, KyoAni is definitely paying a lot more attention and respect to the original from this movie onwards. Is it enough? Absolutely not. But it’s something.

Like the first shot of S2, for example, which is a throwback to the scene of Akihiro adjusting himself into his draw. The camera angles are identical. This is a very nice and well-thought detail not just for the sake of parallels, but because of something Tomio says in volume 3: that an archers’ form tends to resemble the one of their teacher. He comments that everyone from the team resembles Masaki a lot when they shoot, which indirectly means that they resemble Akihiro too.

I also really like that they gave Minato’s mom a little more screen time and lines. I’d almost forgotten that she was voiced by Matsutani Kaya ‘cause she barely ever talks in the other two titles. But it would’ve been for naught if she hadn’t been put in her rightful place as a big influence in Minato’s life. Especially the bicycle scene. It’s kinda obvious that this one was both a metaphor for kyudo and for life.

That’s about it. There wasn’t much going on in this one. It feels like bait to rile up the fans for S2, because it was, to be very honest.

[theunvanquishedzims]

Final results! ...I shouldn't have included that joke about my dad, it really skewed the results.

The ACTUAL thing that never happened is... the Carousel Couple! I made that up.

Everything else really happened. Check out the Wikipedia list of Unusual Historical Events. (My dad saying he's proud of me isn't noteworthy enough to make the list.)

I have had enough feedback on the other poll to suspect that the French balloon duel over a ballerina's love was a tabloid article, which is a shame, because it sounds awesome, and I encourage everyone to be that extra with their love, or at least with their fictional characters.

The Colleoni Family coat of arms. Why ball sacks? It's dirty slang for their name. Why three? A famous member of the family purportedly had a medical condition where he had three instead of one. ...Really? Who knows, but it's still popular enough story for locals and tourists to want to polish the family jewels to a coppery shine.

The Nika Riots lasted five days and burned down half of Constantinople. It wasn't over the chariot races themselves, but how the two factions of sports clubs were large enough to make political demands of the emperor, and seriously threaten his rule when he refused.

Bonus: the sports clubs might have won if the low-born Empress hadn't called out the Emperor's cowardice, saying she WOULD be caught dead in purple. Lady Macbeth, take notes.

I'm sure plenty of romances start at fairs and carnivals, and carousels are a surprisingly popular backdrop for wedding photos! But there's no record of a couple so devoted to the theme that they said their vows and later gave birth on one. Gotcha!

Pope Benedict the Ninth, Theophylactus to his buddies, was elected Bishop of Rome when he was just 20 years old. As anyone who has ever met a frat boy could tell you, that is way too young for a management position, so it should shock nobody that he got the role with daddy's money and nepotism. He got chased out amid rumors of sodomy, bestiality, and murders, later retook the holy throne before having second thoughts and selling it to his godfather, then changed his mind and took it back again. Eventually King Henry the Third was asked to step in and put his own pope in charge, ending the reign Bad Boy Benedict.

Bonus: List of Sexually Active Popes!

Chewing gum has been outlawed in Singapore since 1992. You won't be arrested for chewing it (they even made a legal exception for medical and nicotine gum in 2004,) but the import and sale of chewing gum is banned, and you can be fined for leaving your gum in inappropriate spaces. This is what caused the ban in the first place: in addition to littering and grossness of used chewing gum being left in public spaces, people were also using it to gum up locks and block sensors, including door sensors for the $5 billion transit system that Singapore had recently invested in.

Bonus: Disney has a similar rule in place, you won't find chewing gum sold at any of their parks.

My dad: proud of me.

Bonus: Probably proud of you, too, if he met you!

For realsies this time

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[anonymous-dentist]

@pistachiolan 

Here’s your gift for the @lasnevadas-giftexchange ! You asked for “Quackity + Glatt/Revived Schlatt with a funny banter or maybe some angsty fight”, and I live to serve.

-

The strip club lights are on, and Quackity can hear the music pounding from a block away. It’s fucking Wheezer of all things, because of course it is, because there’s a motherfucker in the strip club smoking Quackity’s cigarettes and drawing up a list of policies soon to be enstated. 

Quackity lets out a sigh through his nose and risks a glance up at the stars to see if they can provide any sympathy. No dice. They just wink down at him smugly, barely visible through the smog and the falling snow. Maybe he should invest in a coat one of these days. But he has a feeling that it would be stolen pretty quickly. 

He pushes the strip club’s door open and shivers at the sudden change in temperature. He shakes the snow off of his wings and stomps his shoes to loosen the clumps of snow gathering on the soles. 

“Nice to see you’re still good at getting wet for me,” Schlatt says. 

Quackity rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, and turn the music down. It’s giving me a headache.”

Schlatt’s time spent pumping iron in the afterlife somehow has translated to him spending half of his nights in the strip club doing exercises on the poles. It’s good exercise; Quackity used to spend an hour a day doing the same thing before he stopped giving a shit. Good for arms, great for the core. It’s a shame Schlatt is as graceful on a pole as a three-legged donkey. 

Tonight, Schlatt is in a suit upside-down typing on his phone, a cigarette sticking out from between his lips. His tie, blue, hangs in his face, covering what Quackity is pretty sure is a smug smile. Smug, smug, guy’s too fucking smug for his own good. 

(He may be alive now, and Quackity may not be allowed to kill him again, but when has Quackity ever been one for the rules?) 

“Hey, Alexa!” Schlatt shouts (Quackity fights a flinch.) “Turn this shit down, will ya?”

Honestly, Quackity doesn’t remember connecting any bluetooth to the club’s sound system, but he doesn’t remember a lot of things. But the music turns down, and the club’s lights turn up to reveal a mess of papers scattered across the stage. Quackity recognizes half of them as expense reports that went missing off of his desk that afternoon while he was having lunch with Sapnap on the other side of the city. Others are abandoned blueprints. Still others are sheets of notebook paper with Schlatt’s familiar scrawl all of them. 

Quackity sighs and trudges over to the stage to start sorting through the papers. Schlatt spins idly above him in a slow circle, bobbing his head to the music. His tail, barely visible now that he’s turned a little, bobs as well. 

“You have your own copy of these, you know,” Quackity says. “No need to steal mine.”

“Who’s stealing? What’s yours is mine, sugar.”

Quackity stiffens, jaw clenched. “Don’t.”

“Right, sure, whatever you say,” Schlatt absently says, obviously not paying attention. Why would he? He never did before, what’s death going to change? “Hey, any news on that purple guy?”

“Nope,” Quackity shortly says. 

He cuts himself on a budget report and swears under his breath, sticks his finger in his mouth. Schlatt laughs. 

Once upon a time, Quackity would have lived to make this man laugh. Now, Quackity wishes that he could tear his vocal cords out and strangle him with them. His laugh is harsh and grating, enough to set Quackity’s nerves on edge. A lot of things Schlatt does set his nerves on edge. He’s a nervous guy. Schlatt is a guy with a lot of nerve. 

The playlist shifts from Wheezer to Carly Rae Jepson. 

I threw my wish in a well. Don’t ask me, I’ll never tell…

“What the fuck is your music taste?” Quackity asks. He gets back to work stacking papers, noting which ones are stolen and which are Schlatt’s personal copies and putting each category into different stacks. “You used to listen to good shit.”

“This is good shit,” Schlatt sniffs. He flicks his cigarette ash at Quackity, who ducks out of the way just a tad too easily to be a response coming from anything but practice. “What the fuck do you listen to, Shakira? Get with the times, dude, it’s 2022.”

“Shakira? Wow, Schlatt, are you stereotyping me right now?” Quackity asks. 

“Don’t need to if we share a Spotify account,” Schlatt simply says, and Quackity’s face somehow falls even further than it already has. 

“It’s my Spotify, asshole,” he grumbles. “Get your own.”

“Hmmm.” Schlatt taps his chin like he’s considering before grinning sharply right in Quackity’s face. “Nah. What’s yours is mine. Through sickness and through health, ammiright?” 

He coughs a cloud of smoke right into Quackity’s open mouth and cackles as Quackity recoils and falls back onto his ass. Quackity hacks up a lung on the sticky strip club floor and watches as Schlatt flips himself upright and hops off of the pole with a light grunt. 

“I heard the purple guy was running around in the Among Us bunker downstairs,” Schlatt says. 

He takes the cigarette out of his mouth and drops it to the floor to crush under his heel, staining a rejected blueprint of the Space Needle. 

Quackity wordlessly jabs a thumb in the direction of the nearest ashtray, unused. Schlatt, expectedly, ignores him entirely and continues talking about Purpled, his current project. 

(“No traitors allowed in my nation,” he had said, and it took everything in Quackity to keep himself from crying.)

“So here’s what I’m thinking,” Schlatt says. He turns his phone around, revealing a Notes app drawing of the purple guy from Five Nights at Freddy’s with his head stuck through a guillotine. “Gonna Robespierre his ass.”

Quackity sighs, but he takes Schlatt’s phone and begins to make a few adjustments. 

“We don’t have a fucking guillotine,” he huffs. “Who the hell even is Robespierre? No, listen, we don’t do public executions in Las Nevadas. Those are… out of fashion.”

“So, what, you wanna let him go?”

Quackity remembers the lava burning into his skin. A gooey, dripping smile burning into the backs of his eyelids as… 

“Of course not,” Quackity scoffs. “The hell do you think I am? But we do things a lot more subtly around here.”

He adds the finishing touches to the diagram and hands the phone back over. Schlatt looks at it. His eyebrows raise, and a familiar glint reaches his cold, dead eyes as he starts to chuckle, shaking his head and looking at Quackity like one would look at a particularly distasteful piece of modern art. 

“Fucking Among Us?” Schlatt incredulously asks, obviously delighted in the worst way possible. 

Quackity shrugs. “You figure it out, if you’re so smart. Ask Sam for help if you can find him. He’s got plenty of experience dealing with redstone. I don’t think Foolish put any in down there.”

“Right, right.” Schlatt clears his throat, and then he calls, “Alexa, turn this shit up to max!”

The song blasts loud enough to shake the windows. “Call Me-fucking-Maybe.” God. 

God.

[mitchtheficus]

A Golden Lovers Timeline

PART 14: CRISIS

it’s new years dash again (the day after WK) and we hit a crisis point

it starts off normal enough, the Elite have a match tagging together and as you can see Kenny and Matt are still pretty beat up from last night [LINK]

[ID: picture of Kenny with a head and rib bandage. Gif of Matt wincing in pain while trying to do the bucks’ pose. the camera moves over to Nick who grins wildly and does the pose. End ID]

(Nick is gleefully just fine lol)

A little later, Kota and Cody have a tag match [Full match Official LINK] [free LINK for end of match]

it’s pretty light-hearted and silly

but the second the match ends, Cody goes for Kota

[ID: gif of Cody grabbing Kota by the foot and dragging him out of the ring and punching his back. End ID]

Chase (who should know better) and Hikuleo (who is new) get Kota down on his knees while Yujiro (who does know better) gesticulates his concern from the apron

[ID: gif of Chase and Hikuleo holding Kota on his knees. Cody walks around them holding a chair. in the corner of the screen Brandi Rhodes hits the mat in support. End ID]

for months now Cody has been targeting Kota to try to get Kenny to react

And finally, finally he does

when it becomes clear what Cody is going to do Kenny has to make a choice, and the speed with which he reacts suggests it was barely a choice at all. he’s already on his way before Cody even raises the chair

[ID: two gifs. in the first Kenny slides into the ring under the bottom rope right as Cody lifts the chair. Kenny rips the chair out of Cody’s hands and throws it. In the second Kenny is shouting and shoving Cody who starts to shout and shove him back. Chase and Hikuleo are uncertainly holding Kota by the hair this whole time. End ID]

I highly recommend watching the moment for yourself, there’s something so magical about the crowd reaction, the way they come alive when they see Kenny

the way they scream when he looks at Kota for the first time

[ID: a gif of Kenny pushing Chase and Hikuleo and walking towards Kota, who is rolling away towards the edge of the ring. He turns back around to Cody. the second is a picture of that moment with Kenny looking down at Kota, Kenny’s face is expressive, Kota’s is obscured. Chase looks on clearly confused. End ID]

the way they start chanting his name as he and Cody shout at each other, the only ones in this situation who are unequivocally on his side in this, wholeheartedly supporting his choice to protect Kota

It’s just a perfect moment, one of my favorites in this whole story. it’s the first moment of Kenny’s feelings for Kota being put out in front of everyone, finally unmasked for what they really are. everything he’s been telling us for years has been a lie, he doesn’t want to fight Kota at all. he can’t bear to see him hurt, can’t bear it to such an extent that he attacks one of his own friends, shoves his own stablemates, pushed into action without thought or plan by the power of his feelings for Kota

(and as a queer person it makes me emotional to see a gay love story so public, so central to the plot, with all these other characters involved and invested)

Kota ends up curled up by the edge of the ring, not looking. waiting.

[ID: gif of Kota curled over the apron, he’s perfectly still, hiding his face in his hand while the bullet club argues in the background. End ID]

But nothing else happens

Kenny doesn’t approach or look at Kota again.

[ID: Kenny shouting at Cody: “YOU LOST YESTERDAY! YOU LOST! IT’S OVER! LET IT GO! LET IT GO!” End ID]

eventually Kenny tells Cody that he is the leader here and Cody seems shocked, shocked! by this information. he leaves, and gives his ‘he said i’m not the leader, than who am i’ promo in the post-match comments [LINK]

Kota does post-match comments too, and when the reporters ask Kota what happened, he first tries interpreting their question to be about Cody

[ID: picture of Kota saying: “I guess he wanted some revenge.” End ID - LINK]

when the reporters make their meaning more explicit

[ID: picture of Kota as reporter says: “At the end, Kenny was there to save you.” End ID - LINK]

he lies (as he admits later)

[ID: three gifs of Kota saying: "I don't know what that means. I don't know why. I don't know if he was trying to save me." he keeps looking down. End ID - LINK]

and then he changes the subject

but before he leaves he tells them that he has something planned for this year, something that he’s gonna make happen

back in the ring Kenny takes this opportunity to give a speech

[ID: picture of Kenny in the ring with a mic and a BC shirt saying: “The Bullet Club hasn't been whole for a long time. We need unity! We need to be a team again! [...] No more fighting! [...] I know exactly what we need.” End ID]

Kenny’s Big Idea To Save The Bullet Club From Divorce is adopting a horrible garbage emo son who is just obsessed with knives

Jay White has just recently joined the heavyweight roster after his time on excursion following his training as a young lion, and last night at WK he challenged Tanahashi and lost

[ID: picture of Kenny speaking to Jay White in the ring saying: “I've always seen your potential...You remind me of the Cleaner Kenny Omega in 2015.” End ID]

unfortunately for Kenny, Jay isn’t actually very much like 2015!Kenny at all

he isn’t a deeply insecure, heartbroken loser so desperate to become something worthwhile that he’ll join a group he knows isn’t a good fit and make himself second to a man he doesn’t respect. he isn’t trying to bury a golden heart underneath grey hair and anime villain posturing, he’s genuinely garbage through and through.

and he knows the look of a man spinning wildly out of control when he sees one. he’s not hitching his horse to that wagon

[ID: Jay, wearing a BC shirt, poses in celebration with Kenny, then his expression changes and he drags his hand across his neck and attacks Kenny. End ID]

more than that, he knows Kenny.

[ID: gif of Jay from his post-match comments: ”Kenny, did you forget the time we spent together on tour when I was a young boy? I know what you’re like. I know what the Bullet Club is like.” End ID - LINK]

He’s been training in NJPW for quite a while now. in fact, he was one of the young lions who carried a weeping Kota to the back after Kenny’s betrayal in 2015.

[ID: gif of a young Jay White and Sho Tanaka carrying Kota away from the ring. End ID]

he hasn’t forgotten witnessing that act of betrayal. he even brings it up later (Feb 2018) to warn Kota against trusting Kenny again

[ID: three gifs of a future post-match comments where Jay says: “Don’t forget who your tag partner tonight is. Don’t forget Invasion Attack 2015... I remember. I was right there at ringside watching. He hopped up on the apron, distracted you for a split second, but that was more than enough. That’s on Kenny. Don’t forget what he’s like, or Ibushi your heart...your heart will be broken once more. End ID]

he tagged with Kota once a few months after that betrayal (Kota defended him when AJ Styles attacked him after their match), and then in 2016 he met Kenny in a singles match. Kenny was incredibly disrespectful during their match and he remembers that too. [LINK]

Jay recognizes this BC invitation as the admission of fear that it is, what better way of keeping a potential rival out of your way then bringing them into your stable? (stablemates fight at most once a year during the G1 climax)

his rejection is a shock to Kenny

[ID: Kenny, exhausted and laughing, in his post-match comments saying: “Well I can't say I expected that. Usually- Usually everyone is dying to be a member of the Bullet Club. I feel like an idiot.” End ID - LINK]

Kenny gave up everything to be a member of the bullet club

“One by one, as time went on, I lost everything. And in times when I had something that I enjoyed in life, I had to sacrifice it in order to become the best.”

- Kenny Omega, in an interview leading up to WK12 [LINK]

sacrificed his relationship with Kota

ID: picture of Kenny on a rooftop talking to Kevin Kelly and saying: “When I perform I give you of my heart and of my soul, and even tho that heart is black and that soul is mostly gone, it's still enough to be better than everyone else.” End ID - LINK]

corrupted and damaged his own heart and soul

and here’s Jay White, treating the honor of Bullet Club membership like it’s less than nothing.

I feel like 2016 and 2017 were the years of Kenny Omega getting everything he ever said he wanted and finding those victories empty

He won two heavyweight titles, became the first foreigner to ever win the G1, main-evented WK... but the closest he felt to happiness during that time was winning the G1, and he said: “Maybe the only other time I felt that was when I was a tag team with an old partner of mine.”

he used to feel that joy that all the time when he was with Kota, and now he only gets brief flashes of it

Even Kota’s return has been completely different to what Kenny said he wanted. No epic showdown where Kenny could finally prove himself better, instead Kota reached out and Kenny pulled away

and during this time his only solace has been the Young Bucks

but lately the bucks have been distracted with their youtube show and their new ROH friends (including Cody)

last night at WK Kenny had to stumble out alone, and today at NYD the bucks didn’t have his back yet again

after the show the the BTE guys go out to a restaurant together and shit finally hits the fan [LINK]

hilariously it starts off with Nick (holding the bucks’ single emotional intelligence brain cell as usual) noticing the tension between kenny and cody and being confused (proof that the bucks genuinely didn’t see what happened at NYD)

and Kenny let’s it all spill out

[ID: two gifs. Kenny at dinner with everyone saying: “five episodes later, where are my [BTE] appearances? Where are my vlogs?” and in the second: “What about me getting my ass kicked by Chris Jericho? Where were any of you?” End ID]

(we later learn that Cody has been interfering with the BTE editing, which is at least part of why the vlogs haven’t been included)

but those things are mild aggravations compared to the central issue here. and Kenny finally acknowledges it

[ID: four gifs of Kenny at dinner saying: And I said specifically to you, Cody: anyone but him. Anyone but him. So I have to ask you, Cody, now that we’re just out in the open addressing this. We might as well just tackle this right now. Why? Why?” End ID]

this is so heartbreaking to me. Kenny is finally pushed to the point of admitting that he has tried to protect Kota, and just as he gets there, Matt begins complaining that kenny is ruining their nice dinner, like kenny isn’t demanding an explanation for the love of his life getting jumped by a supposed friend

but the bucks don’t understand what this is really about. not only did they not see the events of NYD, they think the tension between kenny and cody is about Being The Leader (something they care nothing about), so they can’t recognize what is really at stake here or why Kenny is so deeply upset

and you almost can’t blame them, because Kenny has been lying so hard about it for so long

after NYD he gives an interview in Tokyo Sports and tries to pass off his reaction as annoyance at Cody for stepping out of line

(When he tried to attack Ibushi) Cody went into business for himself. That's the kind of thing Jericho would do, or Suzuki Gun. I don't want that from Bullet Club. I want us to be the best in ring bell to bell. I'll have to go back to Canada, take a break and think about this. Of course Kota and I have a lot of history but any more than that.. no comment.

- Kenny Omega, translation by Chris Charlton [LINK]

I really do think that if Kenny had, at this point, taken them aside and explained everything to the bucks, they’d have had his back. but he just isn’t capable of that admission right now. maybe he never was, but certainly not now when he’s feeling so embattled and alone

[ID: gif of Kenny standing up from the table saying: “You have purposefully excluded me from everything anyway [...] Whats another episode without Kenny Omega? Let’s make it number 6!]

Kenny leaves and cody tells the others not to follow him

he evil master plan is coming along nicely, he’s pushed Kenny nearly to the edge and started to fray the bond between him and the bucks

but he hasn’t fully considered the consequences of giving Kota Ibushi hope

[PART 15] [ALL PARTS]

[misstressshelby]

The Good The Bad and Everything In-between

Summary: Living with two Shebly men has its ups and downs. A second part of my Lost Boy writing. (I suck at summaries)

Warnings: Language

Word Count:1,856

Paring: Tommy/Reader (Reader is GN but there is a slight refecne to pregnancy)

(A/N: I just want to say thank you for 50 notes on Lost Boy! I didn’t think anyone would he interested in a little headcanon I created. I guess we can all agree Finn deserved better. )

You longed for Arrow House even as it’s large gates came into view. Tommy planned to go eighty percent legitimate by the end of next year so that meant playing nice with the tofts. Spending all afternoon with the wives of Tommy’s business associates had drained you. You couldn’t remember if the pit in your stomach or the thumping in your head started before or after lunch.

All you knew was as soon as you entered the house you instantly felt better. Mary was waiting for you as usual. You had lived in Arrow House for a year now but still weren’t used to having maids around.

“Good afternoon Mrs.Shelby. How was your lunch?” Mary smiled as soon you walked in.

“Long Mary, very long.” You gave a tight smile back. Offering a ‘Thank You” as she took your coat.

Before you could ask her where the rest of your family was, Finn walked out of the living room. He was still wearing his school uniform he claimed to hate because it made him look like a “posh twat”. His tutor Mr.Chapman followed behind him shuffling papers into a briefcase.

“Hello, Finn, how's tutoring going?’ You asked.

‘Yeah, it’s alright.’ The redhead grunted back before moving to go outside.

“Are you finished with your homework?” You questioned already suspecting the answer.

“Nah I got a couple more pages but I wanna go to the stables. I’ll only be an hour I swear it.” Finn gave you the pleading look he’d mastered.

After considering it for a moment you nodded,” An hour Finn. Then you finish up your homework before dinner.”

The boy gave you half a hug on his way out. He had to lean down to capture you in his arms. He was only fifteen but he was already taller than you and your husband though Tom would never admit it.

Watching Finn run out the door you turned your attention to the tutor. The man was standing in the hallway fiddling with his bag uneasily.

“How is he doing Mr.Chapman?'' You finally addressed him.

“Well he’s doing alright I suppose.” He continued seeing your questioning stare. “He’s still struggling with a few concepts but he’s quick to figure things out.”

“Yeah, that’s the Shelby in ‘im” You chuckle to yourself. “Do we owe you for the week?

Shaking his head Mr.Chapman told you “No.No. Mr.Shelby already took care of it.’

Adjusting his satchel he quickly left out the same door as Finn. He never stayed long after their sessions.

Not giving it much thought, you headed straight to your husband’s office. He was already gone when you woke this morning and as silly as it was you missed him. After knocking against the door you pull it open before Tommy’s muffled “come in” could even start.

“Hello, Tommy, how ‘is your day going?” You greet him while making the short walk to his desk.

He looked up from his papers with a cigarette hanging off his lips to give a short “Busy.”, before writing again.

You didn’t let this deter you as you sat on the edge of his desk that wasn’t covered in files. Taking the cigarette from his lips you kissed him as if you had been deprived of him for months.

“The tutor just left. He said Finn is making good progress.” You informed him.

He watched as you took a drag off his cigarette with a glint in his eyes. Knowing you wouldn’t leave until he gave you the attention you demanded he leaned back in his chair.

“How was lunch with Minnie and Ida then?” He asked.

‘It was like every other boring lunch, we sat around and ate tiny food while they complained about the other wives. I've invited Minnie and Richard to dinner next Wednesday.”, You could feel your headache return as you told him.

Tommy gave you a curious look waiting for you to take another drag.

‘She was telling me Richard is looking into investing in the car business while it’s on the rise and all. So I figured we’d have them for dinner and if business happens to be brought up you two can talk about it.” You explain.

“So happens to be brought up?” Tommy teased.

“Yes, it usually happens at these things.” You tell him with a slight smile.

“Now you finish up whatever you’re doing. Dinner will be ready at seven.” You command slipping off the desk while putting the cigarette out in the ashtray.

Your husband let out a loud sigh which was never a good sign.

“Love, I have a lot of work to do ton-’ He started.

“Yes, and you can finish it when you come back from dinner.” You cut him off.

This was the ever-going battle in your home making Tommy stop working and take care of himself. But you’d be damned if you didn’t go down without a fight.

You lean over the side of the desk pulling him lightly by his silk tie into another kiss.

“Thomas Shelby, I will drag you out of this office. Don’t you think for a second I won’t.” You threaten him with a grin.

” Wouldn’t dream of it Mrs.Shelby.”, He smirked back.

At seven on the dot, you all sat down for dinner together as a family.

Finn talked for most of the dinner about school and his favorite football club going to the championship.

You mused about your plans for Minnie’s dinner Wednesday.

Tommy spent most of dinner listening, offering nods or the occasional “yeah”.

Once he and Finn started talking about a horse he wanted to buy for the races he didn’t stop. Long forgotten was the pile of contracts in his office.

For the first time since you woke this morning you were content. The moments you spent with your little family were the ones you cherished the most.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of a door slamming startled you awake. While the two voices yelling kept you from falling back to sleep. Before you could wonder what the fuss was about, an acidic taste overtook your mouth. You barely made it to the toilet, your knees hitting the hard floor as the bile rose. By the time you had emptied your stomach laying on the bathroom floor the screaming had stopped.

You couldn’t think about anything over the pounding in your head made worse from the buzzing of the lights. Making your way downstairs you noticed everything irritated you.

The fact that you tripped over Thomas’s shoes you had told him to put away last night. The coldness of the house even though there was a fireplace in almost every room. Even the way Mary greeted you with “Good Morning Mrs.Shelby.” seemed to drip with condescension.

As you reached the dining room you had a feeling the day was going to drag on forever.

Finn was glaring at his eggs while pushing them around his plate. Beside him, Tommy hid behind a newspaper with only a line of smoke to be seen.

The room was tense and you knew neither of the men would say anything first. Stubbornness also ran in the Shelbys.

“Do either of you want to tell what the fuck all the commotion this morning was about?” You snapped sitting in front of your own breakfast.

Finn gave you a glare before starting in,” Yeah Tommy won’t let me go to a football match with me friends. It’s fooking bullshit!”

In return, Tommy put down the paper with a sigh,” You’re not going to Manchester. I’m not discussing this again Finn.”

Both of them looked at you as if you had a say in the matter.

“If Thomas says no the answer is no Finn.” You settled.

“This is complete bollocks. You took me away from me friends in Birmingham and now I’m not allowed to have any friends here either?” Finn screamed standing up from the table.

“We never said you couldn’t have friends Finn. It’s just not the right time to go to Manc-” You tried to calm him down.

“ You’re not me fucking mother you can’t tell me what to do!” He slammed his chair against the table.

“You will not fooking talk too ‘er like that! This is me fooking house and what I say fooking goes.” Tommy said in a cold voice.

The table shook as he slammed his palm down on it, breaking his calm facade.

With that Finn stomped up to his room and Tommy to his office both slamming the door when they arrived.

Waking from a nap you had hoped would help with the sickness you felt you heard silence. You laid in bed for a bit longer feeling tears build up in your eyes. Instead of wallowing, you decided to make peace. You chose to try talking to the youngest first making your way to his room. You knocked on the door.

After waiting to hear a reply or shuffle come from the room you knocked again.

“Fuck off.,” Finn answered.

Ignoring him you opened the door anyway to find him lying on his bed still dressed from this morning. He simply turned away from you to face the wall instead.

You sat on the edge of the bed before trying to talk.

“Finn I know you don’t understand this but Tommy is just trying to keep you safe.” You started.

Finn scoffed and moved closer to the wall.

“I know you don’t know this because you’ve been so busy with school, but we’ve had some trouble in Manchester. There’s a gang up there the Scuttlers, who've been trying to move on us. We can’t protect you there Finn. That’s all it is.” Moving closer you put a hand on his shoulder.

``We're happy you’ve made friends at school really. It’s just one match yeah? You can hang out with them another time.” You tried reasoning.

“Yeah.” He grunted, not moving from his spot.

You decided you would take it before going to deal with the other man child.

You found Tommy sitting in his office chair finishing a drink before pouring another.

“ Who does he think he ‘is eh? Talking to me like that in me own fucking house. I should go up there and-’ Tommy began rambling pointing towards the door you just walked through.

“Tom, it's fine. I talked to him and explained everything. Just give ‘im a week and he’ll forget all about it.”You sat in the chair opposite of him.

Once you said that he seemed to relax a little bit.

“I’m still talking to ‘im later. He will not disrespect me or you like that again.” He told you.

To that, you chuckled, “ He’s a teenage boy Thomas he’s gonna argue. But I agree you should talk to him after you’ve both calmed down.”

Tommy nodded and took another swing of his whiskey. He walked over to where you sat leaning against the desk. To your surprise, he smiled.

“You’d make a good mum you know?” He leaned down to stroke your cheek.

“Yeah about that.” You let out.