#OH YOU DESCRIBED EVERY THOUGHT AND EMOTION SO PERFECTLY

[lemonflavoreddishsoap]

Can i request like la squadra and their s/o but they are the complete opposite of them?

Like Risotto is stoic and his s/o is emotional or Ghiaccio who is short tempered and his s/o is calm and very nice

ooh this is actually a very cool prompt to write - personality descriptions in prompts make writing feel way less daunting but I understand if readers may not like a less applicable reader. Oh well, gonna write anyways.

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Formaggio

You're finicky, on-edge, and I suppose a bit of a perfectionist(?)...maybe "control freak" is a better way to word it? Either way, you need things to go right, perfectly as you plan.

Not to say Formaggio is careless, but he does things on-the-go (you telling me he planned to jump into the sewers?) and doesn't mind if things get messy.

You two are each other's reasonable thoughts. If you think one of his ideas is too risky and need him to weigh the consequences he'll listen to you completely, and in return he opens you up to just...letting some things happen.

He eases your anxieties when they're excessive, but is beyond attracted to your work ethic and smarts. He'll hold your hands and listen to your every idea if you'll listen to his.

Illuso

Soft-spoken and definitely not a confident one, it's difficult for most people to look at you two and understand how you could've ever gotten together in the first place. Maybe you even have these doubts yourself.

But he never lets you feel those doubts for long. At first he honestly probably wasn't the nicest! But when you managed to capture his heart and hints of a connection began to show, he allowed himself to slow down a bit and really understand you. Care about you.

And when you feel anxious about the relationship, he always reminds you how much he loves you (take it sexually if you want, but I don't mean it like that). Just...only in the mirror world. Trust me, he's not embarrassed about loving you, it's just more comfortable for both of you. His image and your nerves.

In the privacy of his own safe world, he doesn't need to worry about how vulnerable he is, and he can praise and encourage you as much as you need. A moment for him to feel softer and you to feel stronger.

Prosciutto

You must be Pesci's twin or something - difference is he isn't as harsh with you. Sensitive and a follower, not a leader, maybe you feel security in Prosciutto's straightforward, no-nonsense demeanor.

Prosciutto is good at seeing the strengths in someone and raising their confidence as we see in canon, and he surely does it with you. He can see how gentle and well-meaning you are in everything you do and he reminds you of your greatness whenever you fear being "too soft"

In turn you offer the quiet he needs sometimes. He is relatively fine with spending a life alone, but a balance of peace and your company is better than he could've imagined. And don't worry about not being good at comforting others with words, he was never one to enjoy that kind of comfort anyways.

I don't know how else to end this section so....imagine him holding your hand :) DO IT NOW

Pesci

If someone were to describe you, they sure would call you brave, headstrong, and....maybe not the brightest? You aren't stupid! You just...aren't the smartest, and it's very clear. However, your open nature makes it easy for Pesci to talk to you.

You see the sides of Pesci that a lot of people take way too long to notice, like how observant and clever he can be. You don't see him as too soft, you know that he takes his job as seriously as he can.

While his meeker nature doesn't do much to dilute your chaos, he never feels bad about it! You're the light of his life, and honestly he really looks up to you!

If you want to stand up for him when his teammates pick on him, go ahead! I mean, the only thing you'll achieve is becoming their second target, but uh....maybe it's a bonding opportunity?? Even if nothing comes from it, he will love you forever.

Melone

What a fucking prude you are. A prude based on NOTHING. My goodness. Were you a sheltered child perhaps? Jokes aside it's a miracle you two can stand each other. Melone isn't picky with partners but someone like you? You're so incompatible at first that the gang assumed he had other plans for chasing you.

Emphasis on at first. Maybe you were a challenge to him, a "passion project" to see how much he could open you up one way or another. I can't say which ways it worked or not, that's for your own interpretation, but in time you became the most annoying couple the team had ever seen.

If you weren't teasing each other, you were bickering in a tease-y way. And if you weren't bickering, Melone was teaching you some sciencey shit in a voice so syrupy sweet that Ghiaccio's practically retching.

Maybe you try to flip the script, try to pick his brain and open him up like he tries to do to you; oh you're lucky he loves you so much, you're the one person he will do anything for.

Ghiaccio

Growing up the way he did, he learned that everything about him is wrong, and everyone is a threat at worst, liability at best. Even you, with your patient smile and kind words and....how you actually...listened to him rant.

He's scared of you, then pissed at you, then so confused by you he doesn't know what to do. If you didn't make the first move then a relationship just isn't happening. While he's the more assertive of you two, you'll have to do the heavy lifting just that once.

Falling for a person so different is easier, but maintaining the relationship is harder on his end, I'm not even going to lie. Sometimes he's frustrated by your unconditional love, sometimes there's a savior-like feeling he has about you, sometimes he fears these ever-changing feelings, and tried to distance himself from you. But you...always help him through it.

And don't think it's only you changing him, he also encourages you to stand up for yourself, to speak your mind, to put your own mask on first sometimes. (insert italian screaming)

Risotto

He's not emotionless, at least...he doesn't like to think so. But in this line of work he needs to keep a tight lip and blank stare. Something he's perfected. So when he watches you openly sob at a movie, curled against his body as you sniffle and choke, he doesn't get moved to the same extent.

Do you get to see Risotto's true emotions? Yes...in time. You've both got targets tattooed to your back, so if he ever thinks it's safe enough to get close to you to the point of being openly emotional, it's because you've spent several YEARS together.

But he understands you, he feels the same as you as you shout or grin or cry. Not only does he understand your emotions, but you may be secretly amplifying his own. There's no tears, but a tearing, clawing feeling in his heart. No smile, but a fuzz in his face that he can't clear out.

You are the ocean and he is a rock, standing strong through every storm and watching both the rage and the calm with equal admiration.

[44ants]

An Avid Listener

DBH Conner/ F!Reader One Shot

Sort of Yandere?

My first one shot! (I believe that's what it's called anyway. Or is it an imagine?) I'm currently hyper-fixated on DBH so I need to get it out of my system. This is pretty much just slapped together and not planned out at all.

"What are you listening to?"

"Can't you just fucking leave me alone? I'm trying to get this report written so I can leave!" Gavin whined exasperated. He glared at Conner from the corner of his eye. He desperately tried to shield the right side of his face with his hand, hoping the android would take the hint and leave.

"I'm trying to diversify my music choices. It was recommended to me that I ask others what they like to discover my own preferences. If you tell me, I'll leave you alone." Conner negotiated, rubbing his hands together before politely holding them behind his back. He hoped to look innocent and endearing to achieve his goal.

"Why the hell do you even want to listen to music? It's meant to provoke emotion! You know? To make you feel things?" Gavin wasn't even sure why he was entertaining the conversation at this point. What good was arguing with him if he always had a comeback locked and loaded?

"That's exactly what I'm hoping to achieve." He countered and cocked his head.

"I'm not even listening to music. It's a podcast."

"I have not listened to any podcasts yet. What is it about?"

He decided it was best to just give up and slammed his phone down on the desk. Conner leaned over and read what was on the screen: 'Myrtoalett'. It translated to 'Bog Toilet' in Swedish and the cover was of a crucified fetus. "Interesting. I'll come back to you and give you my feedback once I've finished listening." He turned to head back to his own desk conjoined with Hank's who was currently passed out in his chair.

"Please don't." Gavin murmured, "And good luck! There's, like, 400 episodes!"

Skimming roughly through articles and the basic summary of the podcast, he found that it was a talk show that covered serial killers, murders, and the paranormal. There were three hosts: Jeremy Tompson, Elias Rask, and Y/N. He decided he'd listen once he made it home with Hank.

To say the least, Conner was hooked. Every free moment he had that didn't require his full attention was spent listening to Myrtoalett. He struggled with finding the humor in some of the hosts' jokes and found some conversations a little too vulgar and distasteful, but actually paying attention to details of old cases despite already having a vast knowledge of them was very addicting to him. It brought a strange amount of satisfaction to him to anticipate where the case would go next and hearing every little disgusting detail of how serial killers enacted their murders. He took enjoyment in ignoring any previous knowledge he had about axe murderers or famous killers and just immersing himself in the stories. The comradery amongst the hosts was amusing as well, but mostly he found his enjoyment in the podcast from listening to this Y/N girl. There were three distinct roles between the hosts. Jeremy was the main host, went into the episodes with no previous knowledge about the topics, and forced the others to elaborate by asking questions. Elias provided the most comedic relief and went into in-depth conspiracy theory rants. Y/N was the main researcher. She seemingly spent weeks researching the topics they spoke about and mainly talked the most. He admired the dedication she had to finding each and every detail, no matter how minuscule. Conner thought she'd make a good detective and her story telling skills enraptured him. Her voice was soothing no matter how gruesome the topic and perfectly dictated the feelings you should have. Oh? The final victim of the Toy Box Killer is escaping? He felt like he was on the edge of his seat. A soldier is retelling his experiences from the Edwood Experiments? He was horrified. Police were describing what the inside of Ed Kemper's house was like? He was intrigued. JonBenet Ramsey's father discovered her corpse? There needed to be justice! This was exactly what he was looking for in discovering new media! Finding something that would evoke new emotions for him to discover since his deviancy.

It wasn't just her story telling that intrigued him, but the fact that she gave out such little details about her life compared to the other hosts. Rarely did she indulge the listeners in personal aspects of her life. It irritated him to no end to listen to Jeremy and Elias speak about their upbringings or what serial killers were from their state and knowing nothing about Y/N! He couldn't help himself but to look into her more. There was nothing wrong with that, right? She was a celebrity! Their podcast had a pretty big following. It was only natural that there would be so much information about her on the internet! It wasn't a crime to have access to what everyone else did! Looking into her criminal record using his access from DPD wasn't wrong either. With how much knowledge she had about criminals, it was possible that she herself was a criminal! There was nothing wrong with just making sure she wasn't! It was his job to keep people safe and ask questions when necessary. It didn't help that she was the only female on the show and was often compared to the female victims of murderers! He needed to keep what tabs he could on her and make sure fans didn't get any funny ideas! It wasn't smart for them to put thoughts like that into people's heads.

It wasn't long before his life revolved around the podcast. It wasn't long before he had listened through each and every episode and consumed every piece of media he could find about it. It wasn't long until he felt absolutely empty waiting for a new episode to be released. One episode a week wasn't enough for him. What was supposed to keep him occupied besides the one hour of entertainment he got on Saturdays. What was he supposed to do when they took breaks for holidays and vacations? Relistening to old episodes was the only thing he could do. What was he supposed to feel if Y/N wasn't there to tell him what to feel?

The longer he spent obsessed with the show, the more his emotions became twisted. His sick fascination with serial killers only deepened. It wasn't sick, right? He wasn't the one making a whole show about it! He wasn't the one talking about people who built entire structures and hotels to rape and kill victims! He wasn't the one that made jokes about Y/N being trapped in a basement, all tied up, being forced to have things done to her without her consent. He didn't have those thoughts. He didn't have those feelings of excitement and thrill at the idea of holding her down and having complete control over her. He didn't.

He didn't fantasize about being the one to save her from a murderer or a kidnapper. He didn't.

He didn't think about finding where she lived and going to her house. He didn't

He didn't think about finding out her schedule and 'accidentally' running into her at the coffee shop she loved. He didn't.

He didn't think about the best ways to impress her.

He didn't daydream about her every waking moment.

He didn't think about what it'd feel like to hold her lovingly.

He didn't think about what she'd feel like in his arms. Writhing and screaming.

He didn't.

[dontyouworrydaddy]

Lately, I've been in love with “Let you break my heart again” by Laufey 😭. I was thinking about so how would TF 141 react when they hear you humming to the song, but their relationship is perfectly normal, like yn is just singing the song (?) I don't know how to describe it??? Help 😭

𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ����𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛

Task Force 141 + gn! Reader

NO BECAUSE THIS SONG DESTROYED ME. THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. Hope you love it💘💘

➽───────────────❥

Simon Riley

One evening, Simon sat at the kitchen table, lost in thought. You were humming a beautiful tune, your voice like a gentle breeze that had the power to soothe his restless soul.

As you moved about the kitchen, preparing dinner, the melody flowed effortlessly from your lips. The lyrics of Let you break my heart again tumbled out of your mouth, each word laden with a bittersweet longing. Simon's heart skipped a beat as he listened, his trained ears catching every word.

Panic seized him, and his mind raced. Were those lyrics a reflection of your feelings? Had something gone wrong in your relationship that he had been unaware of? The uncertainty ate him, threatening to unravel the fragile thread that held his emotions in check.

Unable to contain his anxiety any longer, Simon cleared his throat, and you turned to him, a warm smile gracing your lips. "Is something wrong, Simon?" you asked, your eyes filled with concern.

Simon hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He had to know. "I couldn't help but overhear the song you were humming this one song. Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

Your smile faltered, and you set down the cutting board, your gaze locking onto his with a mixture of surprise and understanding. "Oh, Simon," you began, walking over to him and taking his hand, "it's just a song. I was humming it because I like the melody. There's no hidden message here, I promise."

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, and Simon squeezed your hand, his eyes locked onto yours. "Oh, I'm sorry" he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Sometimes, I overthink things. I just needed to be sure." You kiss his lips and reassure him one last time, "I love you."

John MacTavish

You were humming the song "Let You Break My Heart Again". The lyrics, so achingly beautiful, spoke of vulnerability and heartbreak, and Johnny couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden message in your choice of song. He couldn’t understand why you would sing THAT song.

His footsteps were hesitant as he approached the kitchen, his heart pounding in his chest. He leaned against the doorframe, watching you as you moved gracefully about, unaware of his presence. The soft, melodic hum of the song filled the room, and Johnny's anxiety continued to mount.

"Hey," he finally said, his voice breaking the spell of the music. You turned to him, a warm smile gracing your lips as you held a spoon covered in cookie dough.

"Hey baby" you greeted him, your eyes shining with affection. "Want to try some cookie dough?"

Johnny managed a weak smile as he stepped closer, taking spoonful. The taste was sweet, but his mind was anything but at ease. He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside him. "I couldn't help but hear you humming that song. "

You nodded, your brow furrowing slightly as you studied him. "Yeah, it's a beautiful song. I heard it on the radio earlier today."

Soap's heart sank, but he couldn't let his fears consume him. He had to know, had to seek reassurance that the love he had found with you was still strong. "Is there something on your mind, baby?"

Your gaze softened, and you set the bowl of cookie dough aside, moving closer to him. "Johnnnn, no, not at all. I just liked the song; that's all. It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with us."

He sighed, relief washing over him in waves as he pulled you into his arms, holding you close. "I just... I thought you were trying to tell me something. Glad it wasn’t a hidden message"

You tilted your head up, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss, a silent reassurance of your feelings. "Johnny, you mean everything to me. This song is just a song and I love you."

John Price

You were in your and Price‘s shared bedroom, doing the laundry. You discovered a new song today on your way home and ever since it’s stuck in your head and you can’t stop singing it.

Price, passes by and had always admired your voice, the way it could convey emotions that words alone couldn't capture. But today, there was something different about the way you sang, a hint of sadness that caught his attention. He couldn't help but listen, his keen ears picking up every note and every word.

As you continued to hum the song, Price couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. He cleared his throat and spoke, his voice breaking the musical spell that had enveloped the room. "Everything alright, love?"

You turned to look at him, a hint of surprise in your eyes. "Of course, why shouldn't it be?"

Price frowned slightly, his brow furrowing as he tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions he sensed in your voice. "It's just... the song. It sounds a bit... depressin."

You paused for a moment, before you response. Then, with a small smile, you shrugged. "Sometimes, I just like singing sad songs. It doesn't mean anything, John."

Kyle Garrick

One Sunday afternoon, while you were both at home, you found yourself humming a tune as you tackled a pile of laundry. The song, "Let you break my heart again" by Laufey, had been on your mind lately. Its haunting melody seemed to resonate with some distant, unspoken emotion within you.

As you worked your way through the paperwork, you couldn't help but softly sing the lyrics to yourself, your voice carrying the weight of the song's bittersweet sentiment.

"Let you break my heart again, why don't you?"

Unbeknownst to you, Kyle had been in the next room, going through some paperwork too. He had heard your voice, the vulnerability in your tone. It was as if a question hung in the air, a question that didn't make sense in the context of your relationship, which, to him, had been nothing short of perfect.

He set aside the paperwork and walked into the room, his brow furrowed with concern. "Hey," he said gently, "is everything alright?"

You turned to face him, a warm smile on your lips. "Of course, Kyle. Are you okay?"

He sighed in relief, not quite convinced. "I heard you singing, and it sounded like... like you were feeling something... sad."

You chuckled, a soft, melodic sound. "It's just a song, babe. I was enjoying the melody, that's all. Laufey‘s music is just… sad in general?"

Kyle couldn't shake the unease that had settled in his chest, but he trusted you enough to accept your answer. Then, without warning, he pulled you into a tight, warm hug. You felt his laughter reverberate through his chest, and you couldn't help but join in.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with genuine joy.

"I love you too, Kyle," you replied, feeling the warmth of his embrace.

[cacoetheswriting]

celebrity skin. (part six)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 6.2k summary: moving on is not as easy as it may seem. unless, of course, revenge is in the mix.

a/n: this chapter also features steve harrington x popstar!fem!reader

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / very little comfort, minor use of pet names, mentions of recreational alcohol & drug consumption — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

Falling in love was not nearly as magical as you grew up to believe. 

Turns out, not everyone is as lucky as your parents. Not everyone gets to find the person they want to be with and just live out the rest of their time together, just like that. No muss, no fuss… no pain.

And recently, all you’ve felt was pain. 

Heartbreak caused by the man that’s done it before. You should’ve been smarter than to let him do it a second time, but lost in the chocolate of his eyes and the softness of his skin, you believed in the love you so desperately craved since you were a kid. You believed in his love. Believed he wouldn’t hurt you again, simply because he promised he wouldn’t. Hushed mantras in between the kisses he trailed along your jawline. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever been,” he’d repeat like a prayer. In reality, a fool is what he made you.

For the whole world to see at that.

ANOTHER ONE BITES THE DUST

EVEN HONESTY COULDN’T KEEP THEM TOGETHER

WHY HEAVEN AND HELL DON’T MIX

The list of borderline patronising, and also rather sexist, articles on the downfall of your short-lived relationship with the Corroded Coffin frontman haunted you for months. It didn’t help that they were all lies. Figments of journalistic imagination that only had one thing in common: you were nothing but a lovesick girl, and Eddie ever the conqueror of Hollywood’s elite. Gone was the title of America’s favourite popstar. Replaced instead by “Oh, you’re Eddie Munsons ex, right?”.

Your management team was scrambling to get out of this PR nightmare as quickly and effortlessly as humanly possible, because they didn’t grow your career to the superstardom level it was at, only for you to be regarded as an ex-girlfriend of someone far less popular than you. The team did everything, from pushing brand advertising campaigns forward, releasing a previously stashed single with no promotion, and even faking sightings of you with New York’s most eligible bachelors — (it was actually Val in disguise, more than willing to help). 

While all of this was going on, you resigned to rotting away in bed.

The New York apartment you called home yet again, was cold in comparison to Eddie’s mansion. Every item of furniture, every decorative piece, all carefully picked out by you back when you first bought the place, seemed out of place. No longer bringing you the intended joy. You missed the blank walls of Eddie’s living room, the feel of the hardwood floors underneath your bare feet, the once unused kitchen, his display of vintage guitars. You missed his California King. Missed the way it would form perfectly around your frame every time your head hit the pillows. Most of all, despite desperately trying not to, you fucking missed him.

Eddie Munson was your downfall, yet every fibre of your being ached to be close to him once more.

Memories of your time with the metalhead flashed before your eyes every minute of every day that’s passed since he stomped all over your heart, making it bleed. What made matters worse, you were convinced Eddie didn’t miss you, didn’t think about you nearly as much as you thought about him, if even at all.

The reality couldn’t have been more different, but you didn’t know that because the morning Eddie broke you for a second time, his actions were accompanied by a conscious decision to stay out of your life for good. It wasn’t what he wanted. He just didn’t see an alternative, your grandmother’s threat ringing in his ears as the look on your face visibly changed in front of his very eyes from awe to despair.

In the months that followed the split, Eddie also thought about you all the damn time. 

Everywhere he went, there you were. Or rather the ghost of you. A memory so vivid, he instantly felt nauseous. He screwed everything up for a second time and even if he wanted to somehow fix it, he knew the only way to do that would be by telling the truth, but even Eddie Munson wasn't an asshole enough to come between a girl and her Nana — no matter how evil the old hag was.

Instead, Eddie focused on his music. 

The resounding success that was Honesty, a song about you, performed with you, made the pretext of spending day and night at the studio a little more realistic ‘cause “the band needs a few more songs to complete the album”, he’d say to Marianne. She knew the real reason behind the hours Eddie spent locked inside the recording booth was the sudden, and by all accounts, unexplained breakdown of his relationship with you. She also knew not to say anything.

By all accounts, things were going quite smoothly for Eddie. Sure he felt like a fucking prick for hurting you the way he did — yet again — and on most days, the guilt was eating Eddie alive, but his actions, and their unfortunate consequences, fueled an endless supply of songs he couldn’t deny were about you. Songs that would undoubtedly make the album the best thing Corroded Coffin have ever released. Shit. Did that also make him selfish? He wondered if it was fair that his creativity blossomed while you were hurting. He wondered if profiting off this heartache was the right thing to do. Would it make you more mad? Would it break you even more?

Then he saw it.

MISS AMERICANA MOVES ON 

What the fuck.

-

“Did you forget that you promised to come help me shop for dresses?”

You groan at Val’s question, pulling the blankets over your head until your face is entirely hidden and a faint darkness envelops around you. This is your safe space now. This is where you wish you could stay for all eternity, but alas, the universe always seems to have other plans.

“Val,” you mumble under your breath, “I say this with all sincerity, please fuck off. I’m clearly in no shape to hold up to my promise, so just take my credit card and ask a friend to go with you instead. Please.”

She huffs, and even though you can’t see her, you know she’s rolling her eyes. Then, without skipping a beat, she does the exact opposite to what you asked her to do, opting to yank the covers off you entirely with a wicked grin. 

“I am done letting you wither away, okay?” She states, “It’s been months of self-pity and I’m fucking sick of it. Everyone is sick of it. Jesus, he broke your heart, big deal. People get their heart broken all the damn time and you don’t see them wasting away in bed.”

“Because they don’t have the privilege to.” 

It was the wrong thing to say.

“Nana calls you an ungrateful brat all the time, behind your back of course. I think you just proved her point.”

The sting of Val’s words causes you to visibly grimace, but you can’t say you didn’t deserve her hostile push back. You were acting like a brat. Saying the wrong things in the heat of the moment, you knew better than that. You were taught better than that. Just like you were also taught to uphold your promises, keep your word and do the things you said you would do. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you stand, and for the first time in months, you go get dressed in something that’s not an overpriced pyjama set. Val cheers you on, proud of  herself for being the person that could convince you to leave the confines of your apartment, even if it was only for one afternoon.

Fifth Avenue is a Manhattan staple. Stretching from Greenwich Village, where you grew up, all the way to Harlem, a secret favourite, if anyone ever asked. Personally, you opted to steer clear of Fifth Avenue as much as you could, though, being one of the most expensive shopping streets in the world, it made sense this is where Val asked Hank to escort you two. Especially, since after hours of browsing stores your little sister normally couldn’t afford on her own, your journey’s end is Saks.

“Tell me again why we’re dress shopping? You hate dresses.”

“Because, since you’ve pretty much turned yourself into a recluse, Nana asked me to join her at the upcoming charity function she’s throwing. Her one demand was that I need a dress.” Val explains, browsing through a carefully crafted selection of garments. “Preferably expensive.”

“She didn’t say anything to me,” you say, furrowing your brows.

“Like I said, recluse.”

You sigh. Nails, overdue a manicure, now at the brim of your lips, threatening to push through at any given moment. It was a bad habit. Something you’ve recently done a lot because speaking your mind clearly wasn’t good enough and only led to misfortune. This was the only way you could ease the anxiety surrounding the mess you’ve made of your life, as gross as it was.

“Well, I didn’t want Nana, or anyone else for that matter, saying I told you so, or thinking I had it coming since apparently I was the only person that had blinders on when it came to…”

His name got stuck in your throat like a bad apple. A choking hazard that brought tears to your eyes and caused your chest to heave suddenly with bated breaths. Clearly, you hadn’t gotten over him, otherwise you wouldn’t spend your days locked up in your apartment. What you didn’t realise though, was that you hadn’t said his name out loud since that fateful morning in his kitchen.

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

The vile tone behind those three words rings in your ears. Of course he deserved it then, there’s no denying that. He still deserves it today. If you were ever to see him at any Hollywood function, you’d either ignore his presence entirely or greet him the same exact way you said your goodbye: “Fuck you, Eddie.”. But for a split second, you feel sad that this is the way you remember his name on your tongue.

“We wouldn’t have made you feel worse, sis.” Val says, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “What do you think of this one?” She proceeds to steer you further away from your deprecating thoughts by holding up a simple red dress. Single strap, maxi length. Exactly the opposite of her usual style, primarily because it was a dress and Val always said she’d rather be caught dead than wearing something designed to limit her movements.

“It’s gorgeous,” you compliment, “Exactly your style.”

If she detected your tiny, white lie, she didn’t say anything. Although, judging by the elated look on her face, no one's opinion really mattered anyway. Not even the one she asked for. The one from her famous older sister.

“It really is, isn’t it? I’m gonna try it on.”

Wanting to see your genuine reaction to her wearing the garment, Val asks you to momentarily join Hank, and wait outside the private dressing suite. You giggle at her, missing the fact that this was the first genuine laugh you let out since Los Angeles, and step outside the heavy door without protest.

Hank greets you with a tight lipped smile, but doesn’t say anything. He never does. You liked that about him, especially considering everyone else in your life always had too much to say. Hank’s silence was like a breath of fresh air. However, unknown to you yet, this time, Hank should have been talking, saying literally anything, repeating any old story, ‘cause then, his deep voice would mask what unfortunately catches your attention next.

It’s not really a squeal, not really a groan either. It’s honestly not really any distinct sound, just something that echoes down the hall, reaching your ears and causing Hank to stop the tune he was quietly humming. Both your heads snap in the direction of the noise, just in case it is something you should worry about, like a paparazzo that somehow snuck in, despite the heavy Saks security. Unfortunately for you, the person that comes rushing around the corner is a lot worse than any ol’ shutterbug.

Suddenly, at the end of the hallway, in all her redheaded glory, appears Max Mayfield.

Recognition feigns across her features as her movements come to a halt the second she sees you perched up against the corridor wall. Her mouth parts in shock, proving that she’s clearly just as surprised to see you here. 

Having never officially met, Max still knew exactly who you were. And not because of your fame, the articles about you and her brother. No. Judging by the look in her piercing eyes, Max knew you more intimately. She knew you from the stories that fell directly from Eddie’s lips. She knew details of your relationship that were kept secret from the public. Hell, she might’ve even known more than you.

You don’t get to ask her though. You don’t even get to say ‘hello’ because she glances behind her shoulder, your gaze following just as quickly. Holy shit, you think, knees now wobbling underneath you. If Eddie walks around that corner you might… Well, frankly, you don’t know how you’d react. You also didn’t really want to find out. Not now. Not here. Not like this.

So your fingers reach for the door handle and you’re just about to push it open, retreat back inside, when the person that’s with Max comes into view.

The disappointment that briefly rushes through you is unmatched. Even if you didn’t really want to see the rockstar, you still wished he was actually here. Instead, you’re now face to face with another brunette with hair just as wild as Eddie’s. Only his attire is different. The suit that’s perfectly tailored to his slender frame is also undoubtedly expensive. Armani, you notice.

“Jesus, when will you learn not to—”

He sees you then. The same exact look that Max is currently sporting spreads across his sharp features, so he must know you too. Difference being, you don’t know him.

“Oh shit. Sorry. We, eh, we were told no one was here.” He apologises, glancing between you and Hank, who’s posture is proper. Intimidating.

You step out in front of your bodyguard. An unspoken signal that says he doesn’t need to tell these people to get lost just yet. 

“That’s okay,” you reply to the stranger, quickly weighing your options in terms of what the next words to spill from your lips should be. One more glance in Max’s direction solidifies your decision. If her brother is going to repeatedly break your heart and get away with it, you’re going to play dumb and pretend he didn’t really matter to you.

With a polite smile and a swift extension of your hand, you introduce yourself. First to the mystery man, then to Max. The redhead is slightly more apprehensive about the hand shake, but she takes your extended fingers in hers regardless before saying her own name, as if you didn’t already know it.

The guy you now know as Steve clears his throat. 

“We’ll come back.” It’s simple. Meant to ease the awkwardness since the three of you clearly knew what — or rather, who — you had in common, but none of you seems willing to say the name aloud first.

“That’s okay,” you repeat, “Stay. We’re nearly finished anyway.”

And right on queue, Val calls your name from inside the private dressing room. You excuse yourself, leaving the two to exchange a knowing glance, and a whisper, undoubtedly about what they should do next.

Val, of course, looks breathtaking in the dress she picked out. Hand on your heart, you stare at your little sister in awe, wondering, probably for the first time ever, when the hell did she grow up so fast. And it’s an odd feeling that spreads through you. Pushing down the heartbreak momentarily, is melancholy for all the time you lost with your siblings because you were too busy being a star. It brings tears to your eyes, but you push them down quickly since you’ve been called dramatic enough for one day, and right now, it was all about Valentine.

“I think I understand why you’re always wearing skirts and dresses,” she says, spinning in front of the large mirror with the biggest smile on her face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like a fucking princess.”

A soft giggle escapes your lips. You agree with her sentiment, then add, “You look like mom.” Meaning it as the highest of compliments and her eyes twinkle at your words. 

“She’s going to love this dress.”

You nod. “She’s going to love you in this dress.”

It’s decided, just like that. The dress is being bought and Val thanks you ten times over for offering to pay for it, along with a pair of Louboutins to compliment it. You tell her it’s the least you can do for finally getting you out of bed, then you tell her that you’re glad you did this together — biting your tongue when it came to the apology for missing so many key moments in her life, because again, this moment was about her, not about the guilt you suddenly felt for focusing too much on your career and too little on your family.

Using the phone inside the private dressing room, Val calls for one of the Sales Assistants to come up, and while you two wait, you leave her again to get redressed in her normal clothes. 

Max and Steve are gone. 

That’s the first thing you notice when stepping back into the corridor. Hank doesn’t say anything as to their departure, unsurprisingly. He does, however, hand you a receipt from a nearby coffee shop. There’s scribbles on the back of it: ‘MEET ME’, along with an address in Brooklyn.

“From the redheaded girl,” Hank admits.

-

Max Mayfield has tolerated a lot of shitty behaviour in her lifetime.

The list of people that hurt her, and the people closest to her, was quite long, especially for a twenty-something year old. But her upbringing had a lot more downs than ups, and because of that, for the longest time, Max considered herself to be the most unlucky person on the planet. So she blamed the people around her for it, because how else is a kid supposed to judge universal injustice?

To this day, she remembers every single individual that has wronged her in any way, along with the associated place, and most importantly, the how. Max was never entirely sure what she’d do with that information, but she stored it at the back of her mind regardless — hence her thick skin and inability to tolerate any sort of bullshit. 

Which is why it sucks ten times more when it is the people close to her doing the hurting, with no rhyme nor reason.

If Eddie asked, that’s why she left you her address. If Eddie asked, that’s why she wanted to talk to you. He did the hurting. Then he spewed bullshit as to why he ended things with you. Max didn’t believe any of it. Anyone with half a brain wouldn’t believe it.

“I think she’s the love of my life,” Eddie announced one day, out of the blue. 

He called Max every Tuesday, when it hit four in the afternoon for him. Usually, the two of them talked about Max’s adventures in New York. How she’s doing with her studies, what she’s been up to with her friends (old and new), and if Sinclair has been driving her crazy, which he usually is. The odd time, Eddie would drop in some details about his whirlwind of a life, though he never talked about dating.

That is, until her older brother met you.

Then he wouldn’t fucking shut up.

Max liked this side of Eddie. A truly happy Eddie. And the redhead knows, better than anyone, the rockstar hasn’t been truly happy in all the years he’s been in a set presence in her life.

So to say she was surprised when the news broke, NO MORE SWEETHEART FOR EDDIE MUNSON, would be a vast understatement.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Max questioned her brother.

“Nothing,” Eddie answered plainly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, “turns out she wasn’t anything special.”

“Eddie,” Max breathed, “you’re acting like a prick.”

She heard a sigh on the other line. Defeated. A little annoyed. Maybe even… sad?

“Whatever,” he brushed the comment off. “Listen, Red, I really don’t wanna talk about this, ‘cause if I did, I would’ve told you it ended myself.”

“That’s another problem I have—”

“Let’s not, okay?” Eddie snapped. “I really don’t wanna deal with shit from you, on top of everyone else, okay? We were never a real item, so it’s not a big deal.”

Max dropped it then and she swore she’d never bring it up again, but then, she bumped into you. She imagined meeting you many times over. The girl that made her brother happy. She wanted to know that girl. She wanted to thank her.

When it all went to hell, Max thought she’d never get the chance. Especially since, seemingly, you seemed okay with the downfall of your relationship with Eddie, spotted out on dates all over New York City. For a brief moment, Max let herself hate you. Clearly, you weren’t upset, which means, clearly, you didn’t care about Eddie nearly as much as he would have believed.

But then she saw you.

Max noticed how your face twitched with recognition the second your eyes locked together, how your hands shook slightly when Max looked behind her shoulder, the brief disappointment when it wasn’t Eddie who came around the corner, and how you tried to plaster on a pristine smile when you introduced yourself.

And now that she saw you, one thing was clear. Eddie hurt your feelings. He may have even broken your heart. That sort of behaviour, Max couldn’t stand for.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” you say with a delicate smile.

Your moves are apprehensive when Max further pushes her apartment door open, allowing you into her home. She leads you down the long hallway and offers up the couch for you to sit, while she steps towards the kitchen cabinets to grab a couple of wine glasses. 

In the time that Max opens up a bottle of Cabernet, you allow yourself to glance around the space. The furniture is all mismatched, definitely vintage, probably thrifted. There’s a fireplace, but you think it must be disconnected since instead it houses cream-coloured candles, all of different burn degrees. Otherwise, the decor is minimal, and it makes you think of Eddie and the empty walls of his Los Angeles mansion.

Though there is one prime feature. A framed Corroded Coffin poster, signed by all the members.

A faint smile circles your lips as you trail the details of the image. Though you haven’t been a fan before, having dated Eddie for a couple of months, you now knew the poster was from their first headline tour. The poor scribbles on an old photo, something that could one day be worth thousands. You’re sure though, that to Max, the value of this is priceless.

So your nerves bubble to the surface. Your leg starts to bounce, thumb back at your lips as you stare at the poster in front of you. The question of why exactly Max asked you to meet has been circling your mind ever since Hank handed you the address. It’s only intensified now that you are here. Now that you are looking at an A3 print of the brunette rockstar in his sister’s apartment. The guy that, despite your best efforts, you still cared for quite deeply.

“Here you go,” Max hails you back to reality by handing you a glass of wine. “It’s nothing fancy though, I eh, don’t usually host celebrities,” she tries to joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” you say and take the drink out of her grasp. “I-I actually prefer the cheaper stuff. Keeps me rich,” you try to joke.

Max seems to like your efforts ‘cause she huffs out a laugh while making herself comfortable on the armchair to your right.

“If only my idiotic brother carried the same principles as you,” she says. And just like that, the air is tense again. Your attempt at a joke is turned into an uncomfortable reminder of what the two of you have in common, and the reason for why you’re here tonight.

There’s a brief moment of slightly awkward silence. Then Max sighs softly.

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.”

“The thought did cross my mind, yes.”

Max smiles, it’s small, yet genuine. 

“Look, Eddie has never been one for chatting about feelings. That’s one of the things we actually have in common, which is probably why we’ve always gotten along so well.” She pauses.

“Full transparency, I don’t know what went down between the two of you. All I know is one day, he’s telling me how he’s crazy about you, and the next, I’m reading in the tabloids how it’s over and Eddie’s not willing to give up any reasons why.”

Your face falls momentarily. Something Max picks up on instantly.

“You thought I knew more.”

“That obvious, huh?” You smirk.

“Just a little.”

There’s another moment of silence.

“I’ll be the first to say that Eddie can be a bit of a dickhead sometimes. Especially recently, when the money started rolling in and apparently no one in Hollywood understands setting boundaries, his ego has grown for sure. But I also know what he’s been through. Hawkins wasn’t the kindest to him.”

“Why are you telling me this?” It comes out as a whisper.

“He hurt you,” she’s blunt.

You don’t mean to, but you scoff. “No offence to you, or your brother, but I’m sure I wasn’t the first person he’s hurt, and I certainly won’t be the last, so do you sit down with all his ex-flings?”

Max sucks her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing down momentarily, as she drops her gaze to the wine glass in her grasp. For a moment, you think you came off too bitchy and a little dismissive, after all, she hasn’t made her intentions known yet. Your instinct is to apologise, but then she clears her throat and looks back up at you.

“You’re the only one he’s ever talked about.”

-

“Do you wanna hurt him back?” — Max's question dings in your ears like the alarm bells you should have heard when she first asked it. 

Not now. Not the next night, after you had already agreed to her plan. After the plan was already in motion, you were simply just waiting for the other person to arrive.

Waiting for Steve Harrington.

This was all honestly a little too crazy, but again, you thought so a little too late. You should have been second guessing the idea the second Max presented it to you, like a pretty little gift, wrapped in a big bow known to most as ‘revenge’. Though last night, two bottles of wine in, you would have agreed to anything the redhead said. You did agree to everything ‘cause you realised that she just needed someone to vent her own feelings to, same as you.

She said Eddie didn’t want to talk about it, and she wanted to be sympathetic towards his feelings, but seeing you reminded her, he wasn’t the only person involved in this situation. She needed to talk to you. And honestly, you were glad for the opportunity, hence why you showed up at the scribbled address. Since all you got from your close circle was judgement, it couldn’t hurt to spend time with someone who’d refrain from commenting on how foolish you were.

As the night progressed, so did the topic of conversation.

The two of you had moved on from small talk relating to the person you both knew, and to the real reason Max asked you to come over: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“I-I…” Clearly, the redhead caught you off guard, “Well, I-I haven’t really—”

“If you tell me you haven’t thought about it over the last few months, then I will say you’re full of shit, because no girl of your status gets her heartbroken so publicly, only to let the other person scot free.”

She moved from the armchair and sat back down next to you, then continued, “And I’m not saying this is about your career. It’s about principle. Taking away the fact that Eddie’s my brother, he’s an entitled rockstar who thinks other people’s feelings aren’t as important! Which personally, is just so baffling considering what he went through with Chrissy—”

“Who’s Chrissy?”

Max didn’t really answer your question, though the look in her eyes gave some of it away. Chrissy was, at one point in time, someone very important to Eddie. The name slipped out, you weren’t supposed to know it, that much was definitely clear. And you were smart enough to deduct that Max wasn’t going to tell you much else about this mystery girl, but maybe, whatever she had planned, would allow you to learn it from someone else. Maybe even Eddie himself.

“Okay,” you agreed, “What do you have in mind?”

That’s how you found yourself at Minetta Tavern, fifteen minutes early than agreed with Max ‘cause you knew you’d need a glass of wine before Steve arrived. There was a pit in your stomach. This whole situation was honestly so twisted, even for your standards. But you kept repeating to yourself how it was too late to back out now. Too late to call off this whole thing since the paparazzi you asked  Holly to arrange were already lurking outside.

Steve shows up about ten minutes before the agreed time.

The hostess walks him over to your table and you immediately notice how nervous he seems. He still offers you a charming smile and bends slightly to your level, greeting you with a half-hug. When he sits across from you, he’s quick to order a Jameson on ice, and only when the waiter is out of sight, Steve looks at you.

“Even if this is a fake date, I do have to say, you look really beautiful tonight.”

A timid smile circles your lips at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, Steve. You look rather handsome too.”

“Nah,” he brushes you off with a smirk, “Not to be overly forward, but I’m all sweaty after a whole day’s work. Wanted to change shirts. Ended up running late this morning, so I didn’t take a second one with me. Then I tried to bribe one of my colleagues to give me his spare shirt, so he told me he’d bet me for it with a game of pool, which I clearly lost. It was a whole thing.” Steve dramatises, the smirk ever present. 

“Bet you’re regretting calling me handsome now, huh?”

“Not at all,” you reply honestly, “Actually, surprisingly, quite the opposite.”

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah?”

And you nod. “Not to be overly forward,” you repeat his earlier sentiment, “But I’ve never been on a date with someone that had a real job.”

Steve laughs. “I just told you I played a game of pool at work to win a clean shirt. That’s a real job to you?”

It’s rather effortless how he makes you laugh too.

“Well, I’m assuming that didn’t take the whole day, so for at least six hours today, you worked, no?”

Still smiling, he bops his head in agreement. “You got me there.”

Celebrating your mini victory, you take a sip of your wine. 

“So, what do you do, Steve?” You ask after the waiter brings over his drink and takes your food orders.

“Wall Street,” he answers plainly.

“Shit,” you reply with a grin, “You’re so right. That’s not a real job.”

When Steve laughs again, you forget why you’re both really here. When he laughs again, the slight shake of his head causing his hair to bounce in compliment, you forget the circumstances surrounding your date. As the night continued, with every spoken word, every little joke and giggle, you end up forgetting a lot of things actually.

You forget to ask Steve why he agreed to do this with you. Forget to ask about Eddie and what their friendship meant to him, since he’s here, acting out a revenge plot. Most importantly, you forget to ask about Chrissy, who she was, and what she really meant to the rockstar.

This fake date with Steve turned into one of the best dates of your young-adult life.

Apparently, you two had a lot in common, more than you could have ever imagined. You both came from families that always lived above the norm, which in itself was a challenge only people from similar backgrounds could understand. Steve had said how the weight of the world was always on his shoulders whenever he was around his parents, and that’s how you felt with your Nana. Nothing was ever good enough, yet you kept trying to impress them regardless. He shared the privilege you’ve always felt, so you bonded. Without ever meaning to.

It wasn’t until after dinner, which Steve paid for, by the way, you remembered the circumstances that brought you here together. He seemed to understand the apprehensive look in your eyes ‘cause he was quick to offer to leave first, before you, and not with you — just in case you had second thoughts — but you just shook your head, Max’s question humming in your ears once again: “Do you wanna hurt him back?”.

“He really hurt me, Steve.”

The brunette nods. “Let’s go then.”

The next morning, Page Six features a spread about you on a date with “a mystery brunette”. In the picture, Steve’s got his arm around you, hugging you close, as the two of you push through the paparazzi to get into his vintage car.

When Steve calls your apartment a few days later, you ask him if he regrets being put on blast like that.

“No,” he answers quickly, “Real or not, I had a really good night with you. Which honestly made me think about all the possible reasons Munson might’ve had to do what he did.”

“What did you come up with?”

“That he’s a fucking idiot. You’re incredible.”

You damn well know he can picture the smile you’re sporting right now as you wrap the cord around your wrist, like a little school girl talking to her crush. If your Nana saw, she’d tell you to snap out of it. Although, unlike Eddie, Steve was exactly the type of guy she’d want you to end up with.

Intelligent, charming, kind — and those were just the qualities you learned in a single night. The more you thought about your not-so-fake date, the more you found yourself wanting to learn even more about the handsome brunette.

There were just a couple of other questions you needed to get out of the way before you asked Steve out on a real date. Things you should’ve asked the first time around, instead of getting caught up in the moment.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If Eddie’s your friend, why did you agree to Max’s plan?”

There’s a brief moment of silence. Albeit, very  brief.

“I guess the same reason Red even put this in motion in the first place.”

“Chrissy?”

You can hear him sigh into the receiver, but you don’t get to actually hear him confirm it, or ask any of the follow ups you should have actually asked him during your date, because there’s a knock on your door. Then again, only louder, more intense.

“Steve, I gotta call you back,” you say, attention now focused on whoever it was that’s on the other side of your front door and the eagerness behind their knocks.

“Sure thing, darling. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, someone’s just at my door. I’ll call you in a couple minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agrees, “Speak in a few.” 

The next thing you hear are three beeps, so you hurry to put the phone back before approaching your front door. You don’t really think to check who it might be through the peephole, since there’s only a limited number of people that would get past your doorman with no prior notice. That was a mistake.

On the other side of your apartment door, drenched from the September rain, stood none other than Corroded Coffin frontman himself, Mr Eddie Munson.

Your mouth parts slightly in shock as Eddie slides his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, meeting your wide gaze. He tries to smile, though the corners of his lips don’t really move that far upward.

And you’re not sure how long the two of you stand there, just looking at one another. It’s only when one of your neighbours comes out of their apartment, into the shared corridor, that you snap out of whatever spell you had found yourself under.

The panic sets in. 

He’s actually here. Eddie is standing in front of you. Now, Mrs McAllister has seen him, and she’s got a big mouth, yapping to the ladies at bingo about all your activities, gossip that somehow always travels back to your Nana — the last person you needed on your case, again.

So without really thinking, you slam the door shut.

Right in Eddie’s face.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie

[snippydippy]

~Heart of Gold~

An "excerpt" of a much larger Fortnite story I'd love to write in it's entirety. Midas has something he needs Montague to know.

Quick shout out to @corvidazed & @stuffule for encouraging me to finish this after losing it to a power outage the first time. Love you guys! <3

Midas paced the floor in Montague's office, waiting for the man to finish his meeting with Oscar and Nisha so the two of them could speak. The tightness in his chest and buzz in his mind were almost as disturbing to him as the realization of his feelings for the Diamond Thief in the first place. Despite living a very long life, Midas had never felt quite like this before. He'd never been so entirely stricken by love. At least not that he could remember, and certainly not in this way that so perfectly fit the way people described it. He had been in many relationships, and had cared deeply for those involved, but not like this. Never once had he counted his footsteps for nerves while preparing to lay himself bare to anyone. Midas had been on the receiving end of such confessions a handful of times. For better or worse.

He hated this. He hated the spark of doubt that seemed to be trying to burn a whole in the back of his mind. It wasn't like himself to feel nervous. At the absolute least, this aggravating fear of rejection gave him some reassurance that his feelings for Montague must have been real. Not that there was much doubt in that regard at this point, he'd certainly spent enough sleepless nights ruminating on his emotions before deciding it was necessary to declare them.

Regardless of the outcome, he'd finally be able to move on from these childish feelings. He'd be able to stow the memories of the kiss they'd shared that constantly ran through his mind. He could put to rest the way he longed for more every time Montague made eye contact with him, touched his shoulder to get his attention, or when the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips before he remembered to be annoyed by flirtatious remarks.

Midas was thinking of that smile when he heard the door open and close behind the man who entered. The two exchanged a nod before Montague made his way behind his desk. He didn't sit, instead standing and looking over the map of the island displayed on its digital surface. He tapped at various points of interest to leave red pings.

"I'm afraid we don't have much time before we need to meet with Jones and the Banana. I'll need you there to make sure things go smoothly." He said, not looking up, "What did you need to discuss with me?"

Knowing he had to be quick about this did nothing to settle the hammering in his chest. Midas clenched his fists behind his back, willing himself to stop being ridiculous. He had very little reason to think Montague would refute him. And even if he did, oh well. It would be settled either way, and he would not walk away from this like some spurned teenager.

Midas took a step towards the desk, also looking down at the map. He spoke in a leveled voice, "I wanted to talk about us."

"Us?" Montague looked up, meeting Midas' neutral expression with mild annoyance before he sighed and raised an exasperated hand to rub his eyes, "Midas, we have talked about 'us'. I've already told you I cannot afford to be distracted--"

"I know what you said." Midas replied, not allowing anything other than resolve to creep into his tone, "I don't wish to talk about us in the context of a fling. I'm not suggesting we continue in the same vein as the…encounter, we had before."

"Encounter. That is one way to describe it." Montague huffed before he came around to the other side of the desk and stood beside Midas, "Fling or otherwise, I cannot prioritize a relationship. We do not have time for this."

Midas turned his body to face him, and a beat of silence passed between them as he thought about his next words. Montague went to speak again, but before he could say anything likely to reiterate him as a distraction, Midas let his shoulders relax (despite the vice grip he held on his wrist behind his back).

He spoke softly, calmly, "I love you, Montague."

Montague blinked, standing stiff, still and silent. The seconds that passed counted by the thudding of Midas' heart in his ears.

"You…" Montague finally let out a humorless type of scoff, "You what?"

A laugh of any kind was not the reaction Midas had wanted, but he supposed it could have been going worse. He wasn't being yelled or swung at, insulted, or told to vacate his office immediately. He took a step forward, closing the gap between them a fraction, but not breaching personal space just yet. Midas took pleased notice of how the other man did not step away. He still spoke softly, but with purpose, "I love you. I have taken time to try and understand what it is you stir in me, and I've realized it is my heart. You are my heart."

"Midas." The expression on Montague's face was difficult to read. Mostly, he looked surprised, if not a bit confused. However, the slight furrow of his brow while he looked off to his desk read to Midas like…sadness, of a kind. Another reaction he hadn't wanted. He watched as the other man sighed and brought a hand up to run it through hair that Midas yearned to feel nestled against his neck every night from now on, "I don't know what to say."

"Say the truth." Midas did reach out then, taking another small step forward to place golden hands over the other's waist. Montague said nothing, laying his own tentative hands on the other's arms. No matter how much all of these feelings perturbed him originally, the Golden King could do nothing to stop how they consumed him in this moment. He allowed a touch of the intensity he was feeling to seep into his tone, "Tell me you love me too."

Montague's eyes flicked about Midas' face before uncharacteristically casting down to the floor. This wasn't going exactly the way Midas had wanted, but he could fix it. He could convince Montague his feelings were true. There was no longer a spark of doubt in his mind, Midas needed Montague to reciprocate. Based on his behavior while they were alone together up until this point, he was certain he would.

"Or don't." Midas said, hesitating.

Montague swallowed and finally met his eyes. What Midas saw in them was so, complicated. Feelings almost as different as the color of his irises themselves. Midas moved in closer, their bodies together as his hands slipped around to the small of the other man's back. He continued, whispering as if saying it at a normal volume would be too convincing, "Say the words. Say that you don't want this. That you don't want me, and I will drop this forever. We will never speak of this again, I will forget, and we will be partners in business only. But…I need to hear you say it. If you can't, I will continue to love you until the day I truly die."

Montague remained silent, his body relaxing in the King's arms, eyes closing, and his hands languidly sliding up to Midas' shoulders.

A moment went by like this, and Midas' felt a relief--an elation, wash over him. Were it not for the armor he wore, Midas would believe the steady pounding of his heart could've been felt through his chest against Montague's. It wasn't the verbal affirmative he'd been hoping for, but he'd take an inability to reject him as an approval of sorts. With this, Midas knew Montague wanted him for something, and this delighted him. He smiled and pressed in closer still, their lips ghosting together as he whispered, "Monty--"

"I don't want you."

The words were as sharp as the diamonds Montague could coat himself in. Loud and clear, and yet they struck Midas dumb anyway. The hard rhythm of his heart seemed to cease entirely as his body froze. He didn't have any time to process before Montague spoke again, his tone as clear and calm as Midas' confession.

"I don't love you, Midas."

Midas pulled back just enough to look into Montague's eyes when he opened them. What he saw before was replaced entirely by the same steely gaze he'd seen the thief use in his business dealings. Something inside the King ruptured. The pain that came with it sending a shock through his limbs, numbing his fingers. A tremble might have started through him if he had any less control over himself.

Montague must have seen a shift in his expression, because he gently pushed back on the other's shoulders to replace some of the gap between them. Midas fought against the instinct that made his fingers twitch with the desire to hold Montague as close as he wanted to. Hands again settled on his waist, Midas desperately searched Montague's face for anything he could use to salvage this. He raked over his features for any sign of doubt or regret. He found nothing.

Midas closed his eyes and took in a long inhale to try and calm the raging storm brewing in his mind. He then stepped back, straightened, and his hands retreated back behind him. When he exhaled and opened his eyes again, Montague was mirroring his stance.

"Alright." Midas said plainly. Montague raised a brow at him, but he only gave a placid smile in return. He would not allow any of what he was feeling to show through. He could not. He extended his gilded mechanical hand to the other, "Partners it is then."

Montague studied the hand extended to him, and then the man behind it. Midas would later wonder if the other man's expression was as impossible to read as it seemed, or if he himself was simply too bereft in emotion to glean anything at all. The relief he felt when Montague did finally shake his hand was abysmal. His fingers were still numb when they let go, the thudding of his heart evidently serving no purpose but a futile attempt at mending itself in the moment.

"As it has been, call me whenever you need. I will be by your side at a moments notice." Midas spoke steadily. Montague nodded curtly before moving back around the desk, eyes cast to the map once more.

It took everything Midas had just to will himself to move, and even then he only managed to turn his head to look at the other, "I'm afraid my first act as solely your business partner will be to disappoint. I won't be able to attend the meeting with Peely and Jones."

Montague looked up at him, annoyance painfully clear on his features. Midas continued, "They have already agreed to aid us against any lingering gods. I'm sure everything will go fine in my absence." He finished before heading for the door.

"Midas, wait!" Montague called sharply, "Where are you going? I need you for this."

Midas stopped with his real hand gripping the door handle. He looked back with the same calm smile, "Montague. I told you I will move on from this, and I will. I did not say it would be easy."

There was a moment of silence, Midas did not bother trying to read the other's expression, "I need time."

"How much time?"

The question sent a flash of annoyance over Midas that quickly muddled together with everything else. How was he to know when he'd feel normal again? This was the first time he'd have to contend with heart break of this kind. And it had only just shattered, "Not long. A couple days."

"Fine." Montague said before his expression fell into something the King deeply resented, "I'm sorry, Midas."

Hearing this only compounded everything. Instead of allowing himself to boil over, Midas let out a single laugh, "You have nothing to apologize for. I asked for the truth."

Montague's eyes fell away from him. Midas opened the door then, not looking over his shoulder to say, "Don't pity me, Montague. It doesn't suite either of us."

He did not close the door behind him, a layer of gold having bloomed over the brass and wood.

[lilgoblinbitch]

when i read in the opening that danai wrote the episode i was shook, but i wasn’t expecting it to be THIS good! 🫠

like, the way she managed to capture michonne, to not only write the inner conflict she is going through, but to also to display it so well - oh my god. QUEEN the talent she has >>

the episode was peak, some call it boring but this is what i was looking for, rick and michonne having to find themselves again, to deal with their trauma and to reunite - we finally got into those deep feelings.

i also loved rick in that episode so, so much, his writing was perfect, their dynamic was just so good i can’t okay? 🥲

danai is undoubtedly a genuis when it comes to playwright, acting, and developing her own character. this woman is my favorite. favorite everything idc you name it. this episode was immaculate, words cannot simply describe how this episode made me feel. i mean the way she was able to perfectly capture michonne’s motherly-wife FEMALE RAGE while also making it 100% reasonable and 100% relatable to the audience. i felt every single one of her emotions; it was really an amazing experience. she captured the ‘fed-up middle-aged mother of two kids with a mentally lost military husband’ beautifully. danai straight up deserves an award. so the fuck does andrew lincoln. this show and the walking dead in general was carried by both michonne and rick in my opinion. the show was certainly not the same after they left. now that we have andy and danai together on this show, in which they are BOTH executive producers…. this is them spoiling us. i am so grateful for these two amazing himan beings.

also, i can’t believe people called this episode boring??? um…your head must have SEVERAL. screws loose. i don’t have time for a richonne hater’s bullshit. sit tf down and shut your damn mouth. go watch dead city if you think this is boring LMAO GOODBYE. because this episode ALONE captured everything that rick and michonne are — everything they went through, their chemistry, their relationship— the angst and the romance drips out from the screen and onto each of us viewers. i became so engrossed in this series because of the way it is written.

i digress. danai and andy are truly remarkable. this episode was my absolute favorite out of the series so far. i fully agree with you. thank you for sending me this because it gave me a reason to rant and spill my feelings and thoughts about my all time favorite tv couple (even though i do this every single day because my life revolves around them I CANT HELP IT).

[mostly-imagines]

"He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

I love everything about this, Jason basically too flustered to say anything and reader carrying this scene completely on liquid courage. I love how you build up their friendship, seeing Jason happy to be around reader and how they're getting closer with each interaction that they have.

"He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness."

Morgan, my heartttttttttt🥺. I say this as normally as a mentally stable person can, I need to take a look into your brain. You wrote this scene perfectly and I don't really have much to say. You have this amazing talent for being able to perfectly encapture the feelings of the characters and describe them in a way that makes it the reader's own feelings, their own perspective.

"“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion."

I really do think that one of Jason's main love languages would likely be acts of service and this plays right into that. He might not always know exactly what to say or how to get his emotions across, but he'll show you he cares and that's exactly what gets across in this scene. You manage to show the reader, instead of telling us, that yes Jason may not be the best at verbalising how much he cares but he'll do what he can to show it.

"He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely."

From the tension, to the pace, the look, and the silence, all of it works together to achieve such an amazingly written scene. One thing I've always noticed about your works is that its clear how much planning, thought, and skill goes on in the background. How every detail you include and every scene you write forms part of the bigger picture and how when it all comes together, it's like pieces of a puzzle clicking together perfectly, designed that way from the beginning.

"His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, though the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful."

The kiss. The Kiss. THE KISS. I literally don't know what to say. Morgan how you manage to outdo yourself consistently, not only showing the multitude of skills that you have, but also how you can bring them together to write a story, is something I really hope you are insanely proud.

This is getting a lot longer than I expected so I'm going to fast forward to the end but let me clarify that even the scenes I haven't quoted here are just as high quality as the rest of your writing. Writing is definitely a skill on it's own, but to know your characters well enough, to know your story well enough to be able to bring it all together like you have is easily the mark of a great writer.

"You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official."

I definitely haven't said this enough but, wow. Just wow to everything. Calling what you have a talent is definitely an understatement. I hate how much worse the likes to reblog ratio has gotten recently because I can say without a doubt that it is the complete opposite to how many of us feel. Thank you for choosing to share your work with us Morgan. I know how disheartening it can be to feel like you are pouring so much work into something only to not have it be appreciated, but know that there are some of us here that do and will continue to support you no matter what. 💕💕Remember to drink water and eat healthy💕💕

-💝

i am not the same person i was before reading this i am not the same writer i was before reading this i dont know who you are yet but i would die for you do you like girls because i like you

[thetriplets3]

melt - muse a holds muse b’s face gently, drawing circles into their cheeks with their thumbs

with matt its so cute

This is so cute I loved writing this please keep the requests coming <3

❊ delicate ❊

If there’s one word to describe how life has been lately it would be exhausting, in every aspect. I spend half my nights awake, restlessly tossing and turning thinking about the long list of things I need to do. I can’t seem to make the racing thoughts in my head stop.

I've isolated myself from my friends and more importantly, you. I’m trying to do a million things and keep my thoughts under control and not drag anyone down with me. Other than the odd text here and there to you we haven’t talked a lot in a week. I can’t help but feel bad. I don’t do this on purpose and you understand that, having experienced the same thing yourself. You give me space and know that I’ll come to you when I need help or when I’m ready.

Which brings me to now. Knocking on your door, I’m greeted by Nick who welcomes me in with a hug. He tells me that you and Chris have just gone to get groceries and should be back soon.

“I’ll let him find out on his own that you’re here” Nick tells me as he retreats to his room.

I send Nick a smile as I head to the comfort of your room. Simply being in your bed and the smell of your cologne is enough to make me fall asleep with ease for the first time in a while.

Matt’s POV:

Walking into my room I’m met with you sleeping peacefully in my bed. “Oh sweet girl” I coo to myself.

Taking my backpack and hoodie off and placing them on my chair, I carefully climb into bed trying to not wake you. I lie there facing you, happy that you feel safe enough to come to me when you need me. My eyes dance over your delicate features. My heart skips a beat whenever I look at you.

I love your eyes. They remind me of an endless galaxy that I never wanna leave, the way your eyes squint when you’re truly happy, how unknowingly expressive you are, the way everything about you's so perfectly suited, just for you. I can’t wrap my head around what there is that you could dislike about yourself. You’re the most beautiful person that has walked this earth and I can’t believe I get to call you my girlfriend.

Noticing you slowly start to wake up I place my hand gently on your cheek and begin softly rubbing circles into your skin. As your eyes open I can see the emotion and the toll this past week has taken on you. You don’t let this stop you from smiling back at me as your eyes flutter shut, taking in the physical contact you’ve been missing.

“You don’t know how happy I am to see you honey. Are you okay?” I whisper.

“I’m okay now that you’re here. I’m sorry for pushing you away. I don't mean to do it, it just feels easier to deal with it myself and not put it on other people” you whisper, sadness filling your voice.

“You’re not alone in this, I’m here for you, just like you are for me. Do you wanna talk about your week or do you wanna forget about it?” I ask.

“I know, thank you for being so patient with me. I wanna forget about it and just be with you right now. I’ve missed your touch” you say.

I open my arms inviting you in. You rest your head on my chest, tilting it up to look at my horse necklace as you fiddle with it. Wrapping one arm securely around you, knowing it makes you feel safe, the other makes its way back to your cheek. My thumb mindlessly draws circles on your soft skin. The warmth of my touch makes your eyelids flutter as they grow heavy, lulling you into a much needed sleep.

Even when things seem like they're falling apart, he's right there to pick up the pieces.

Taglist (msg me if you wanna be added)

@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0 @im-a-matt-girl @iluvmatt @antisocialties @stxrniqlo

[jiette]

YOU MAKE MY SOUL SHINE

where you were brought back to kaichou after being injured in a mission …

ft. ver vermillion x gn!reader

50% sugar - this will mostly include being comforted and cared for by our beloved kaichou

warnings - you have been injured severely, you have also passed out

a/n - originally , i thought i would be describing blood , but i guess not ! you may also realise i’m trying to make my writing longer , and i hope you enjoy it ^^ (also to not create any misunderstanding , you and ver are already in a relationship)

“oh thank … they’re awa … hear me ? … haps, can you s— …”

your conscience slowly woke up from its slumber, your closed eyes furrowing from the sudden voice, but somehow you were unable to recognise it. it sounded so familiar too. every word honeyed with a peaceful melody that flowed from one sentence to the next.

“[na]… ou there ..? it’s m …”

you were greeted with a vague and blurry figure as your eyes fluttered open. after blinking them a few time, more significant features were becoming more and more visible.

their fluffy, pinkish-red hair, slanted eyes with a serene yet degrading gaze that could most definitely threaten anyone with one simple look.

“hey, [na] … [name] !” the voice said sternly, almost yelling.

after a while of attempting to clear out your clouded head, it hit you.

“the mob ! what about the— what about the mob ?!” you yelled, getting up from laying on the bed, only to immediately fall back down after feeling a sharp sting in your waist. you clutched it to try reduce any pain, stifling your cries.

“[name], your body is healing, don’t touch the wound.”

you quickly turn your head as the voice had startled you. although your sight was still slightly hazy, every feature was now visible. it was ver.

a long pause had filled the room with silence as you stared at him, processing everything.

“ver, i need to go back and finish off the mob …”

if ver were to describe your face and the emotions you felt at that very moment, he would say you looked helpless.

he averted his gaze. “no need to worry about them anymore, i took care of them.”

“then … i failed … right ..?”

ver’s eyes widened slightly at your question. he slowly walked to the bed you laid in and kneeled beside it. his calloused hand softly brushed your face, instinctively getting your head to rest on it.

at that very moment your focus was on ver and ver only. it genuinely did seem like he has cast a spell on you and had caused you to drop any thought out of your head and fill it back with him.

“i want to be absolutely honest with you, love,” ver started, saying each word slower than he usually would to make sure you would understand him the first time. “you tried your very best. you actually wiped out most of the mob. however few of the members had sneaked up from behind and, uh, injured you quite a lot.”

all the information you had gathered made you want to fall asleep, however you really wanted to get payback from the mob, so you continued listening.

“most parts of your body are slightly bruised, however you do have a concussion, so you may feel dizziness for the next few days.”

you knew that this was meant to be a serious moment when ver was explaining your injuries, but something about his voice felt so comforting and you tried your hardest to not doze off from his calm presence.

ver chuckled lightly and stood up, “don’t worry, i can stop talking. if you wish i can leave the roo—“

“no please, don’t.” you mumbled.

“huh ?”

by then, you were already to embarrassed to say anything else. you slowly curled yourself into a ball, even though it hurt slightly doing so.

“what do you mean by please, don’t, love ?” ver asked

“don’t go … stay .. stay here … please ..?”

ver hadn’t taken his eyes off you. he smiled as he got into the bed. you two were lucky enough that the bed fit both of you perfectly.

during this moment, ver starts rambling about recent shenanigans until you doze off, however this time, you were already asleep. he was quiet, making sure he wouldn’t wake you up.

he shuffled a little closer to you, admiring your relaxed face, your chest slowly lifting up, and falling back down.

he gave you a peck on the lips, and rested his forehead on yours.

“i love you dearly, [name]. i wish i could hug you right now but i don’t want to hurt you, so take these words, okay ?” he whispered, closing his eyes.

he thought you were asleep, but little did he know, you were listening to every single bit he had said, and a warm smile formed on your face.

you wouldn’t admit it to his face all the time, but you too loved him just as much.

© 2022 vvishes ┄ all rights reserved. do not copy, claim, or plagiarise my works. do not repost on other platforms. translations are only allowed with strict permissions.

[r0binphobic]

Artist Appreciation for my favorite artists because you deserve to hear it.

I’ll probably write another artist appreciation post some other time for my other favorite artists that I didn’t get to mention here but this took along time and my food is getting cold 😭😭

@yuan-ajian - Yuan, I deeply adore your art. Ever since my eyes laid upon it, I’ve really fallen in love with it. Your way of constructing different emotions, symbolism, and over all just aesthetics/lay out is absolutely stunning. I adore your art style and much more. The way you manage to mix colors so perfectly into your pieces absolutely amazing me every time. I don’t only mean your French Revolution art. Your ballet art is absolutely captivating and breath taking. Your art always makes me loose my breath with how absolutely beautiful it is. Absolute pure ambrosia. I admire the talent you have for making art so absolutely beautiful. I really have no other words to describe it but it’s really amazing. I hope your art ends up in a museum because it truly is absolutely stunning.

For some reason, your art reminds me of yogurt. I don’t know why, but it does. I think it’s because your art is so satisfying on the eyes and the colors aren’t harsh, they’re mixed well and really bring out the beauty of your drawings. I love your art style, it’s so expressive and smooth. Yuan, I really cannot pick a single piece of yours as my favorite because they all are and your newest piece always consistently becomes my new favorite.

I wrote about my love and appreciation for your art in a journal for my English class, I’m so actually so in love with it. Tear jerking with how absolutely beautiful and stunning your art is. I have my notifications on for when you post so I don’t miss a single piece of art.

@plrle - Plrle, the first time I saw your art I was shocked and amazed. Your art style is so unique and I love it so much. It reminds me of Tim Burton. I like the dynamic poses you do that remind me of those abstract, simple, and thought-provoking paintings/drawings you see in art museums. So simplistic and yet so telling and expressive at the same time. Your art is so balanced, from the lines to the hatch shading (it’s been a while since I’ve been in an art class, sorry if that’s not what the shading is called) and just the overall use of lines. It’s such an amazing and unique way of using something so simple to use it for advantage and create something so absolutely amazing and intriguing to look at. I’m absolutely blown away every time. I love the way you draw. I never, in my many years of being on the internet, seen such an AMAZING and unique, absolutely breath taking style. I’m actually so in love with it.

One of my favorite drawings of yours is your BonBonaparte summer vacation work because it’s so captivating and just so beautiful. I love the use of lines and the polkadot background which just brings out your style even more. The way you draw Robespierre really scratches my brain, satisfyingly. Especially here.

When I think of your art, I immediately, almost immediately, picture these works of yours. Especially that Saint-Just one. Oh my god, it lives in my mind 24/7 I’m absolutely smitten with it. It’s so beautiful I want it imprinted into my eyeballs permanently. I’m so glad you’re my mutual.

@porridgeart - PORRIDGE! I love, I absolutely love your art style. I want to slurp it up with a straw. It reminds me that coffee jelly dessert. You’re so expressive in your art and I love the use to softer colors to really counter the characteristics of people you draw. I love how your art can have minimal detail in some pieces but be so captivating on the eyes, and when you have many details (such as your Jennifer’s Body: Robespierre & Desmoulins piece) it brings out and accompanies the rest of the drawing/details really well.

I love how your fully colored art always seems to have some sort of texture to it (example of what I mean) and even your sketches, which are so clean cut and just really jump out of the canvass at you. I love how round your art is. Not many artists can successfully achieve such success at a round art style that manages to cut through the paper and make you only see the art, not the paper around it too; almost as if the art is indented into the canvas, giving it that pop.

@kindercelery - Oh my god. Your art is so satisfying on the eyes. It’s so round and curvy which makes your sketches so gummy-like. (Weird description I know but I felt like if I squished or bounced your art it would pop back up.)

Not only that, but your ability to show intimidation (I.e. your Robespierre portrait and Ennard at the glass window) is so amazing. I love it so much. And your oc Dottie, I love them so much. I want to squeeze them. Your art has this ability to catch one’s attention and look at every detail on the canvas. Your use of color, amazing. Absolutely amazing. I love how your art is colored. Especially that colored sketch of Ennard oh my god, it scratches my eyeballs an brain perfectly.

@potatosonnet / @earthly-apples - I really have no words. Your colors, your style, your details, your symbolism, your poses, the texture within/on your art, just your overall ability. I’m blown away. I’m shocked. Every time, you leave me speechless.

Just, absolutely, Jesus. Your use of colors is so beautiful, amazing, breath taking. And your art style? It’s so beautiful. The ability to be so accurate in such an artistic style is actually so insane. I’m unable to find the words to properly express how absolutely stunning it is. I cannot find the words. I really wish I could write more, tell you how amazing your art style is but genuinely, I am unable to describe it in words.

Almost immediately when I think of your account, I think of these works and their absolute insane beauty and creativity. A. B. C. D.

I love you all (/p) and I genuinely, genuinely cannot get enough of all of your guys art. Please don’t ever even think for a second to give up on your work because you all have some crazy talent and abilities. Don’t stop drawing. Don’t give up. I’m so glad you all decided to let your talent be shared with the world because you all are absolutely amazing, breath taking.

[bajis-wife]

Retro wave

Synopsis: Every individual has something that they are missing or lacking in their lives, whether it be a person, a purpose, or something else entirely.

Will they be able to fill those gaps and find satisfaction or a purpose, or will they be left perpetually incomplete?

And what better way to describe this journey and character development than in a fan fiction? Where they embrace life to its fullest, make mistakes and grow while hiding their true flawed tint, that lost it's meaning long ago.

Will she finally achieve her childhood dream of becoming an artist? Using their smudged and sketchy colors to paint on the canvas of her life, or will she settle for more sophisticated one's?

Will the painting in the end be enough to engrave the memories passed together?

Warnings: Swearing, explicit profanities, illegal doings, VERY LONG.

Notes: This is the full version of my story on wattpad ‘Retro wave’ until now there are only five chapters if we count the prologue too, I only want to get some feedback and attention for all the work i put in it and for the readers to enjoy it as this isn’t your usual insert self story.

The background of the character is already decided and specific although the appearance is not, so you can perfectly put yourself in it without reading Y/N or anything annoying like that.

New topic, tattoos.

Often seen by those stiff elders with a closed mindset as something bad, permanent and idiotic.

How about I give you my perspective of it?

Tattoos aren't just stupid impulsive mistakes that last forever, they are one of the best ways someone can ever express themselves with; Words are useless to describe someone compared to the feeling of your fresh virgin skin being inked, making whatever part of your body a masterpiece. Flamboyantly taking away the virginity of your flesh.

Am I romanticizing it too much? Probably, but honestly who cares when you're being paid to do what you love?

After my last customer headed out, I took a deep breath and walked into the foyer of the shop which I personally customized, from the soft lighting to the comfortable furniture.

As I sat on the couch, spreading my limbs to then relax them, breathing in and out slowly, closing my eyes, focusing on the deep dark of my mind as existential thoughts started to flow into my brain.

Out of all I focused on one only.

Am I even making a difference?

This day surely has worn me out as it brought me to thinking about something so distant when I'm still young and beautiful.

Why bother thinking about legacy? I'm here now making most of the present moment, my future isn't written yet so screw legacy. I'll deal with that later after I've had my fill of fun and adventure, so don't talk to me about it.

I'm too busy living the dream, your dream.

It's reassuring to know that in my chaotic existence I'm not living under a bridge and have a place to call home.

But even chaos is born from something or someone; And I was born from my immigrant parents in Italy, just to be sent to my home country.

What a way to start life huh?

Only a couple months old and my parents already had enough of me, sending me to my grandparents with the excuse of learning their and now apparently my mother tongue.

Jokes aside, they loved me from the bottom of their hearts.

Four years later I came back to finish the remaining two of kindergarten and finally start primary school.

But oh boy, from there my life has been a downhill roller coaster of emotions. As childhood optimism had brain washed my mind into thinking it was going to be a wonderful experience.

Not realizing that from the very first day of school I was thrown into the cage of lions.

For the first, second and third year they weren't nothing but buzzing noises in the background, as I felt drained from being in that class.

As now I was in fourth grade, and already tired of everyone there but him.

Now you might wonder who this kind soul is?

Simple, my first love.

Brown wavy locks that gently swayed every time he tilted his head, capturing my gaze with those dark brown eyes.

With that little beauty mark under his right eye, that everytime he offered me one of his sweet smiles would make my heart melt.

But the thought of seeing him every day made me push through all of that.

I could relate to thinking it was simply him and I against the world. But there's more to the story. Love is blind, as they say, and we sometimes need time to accept it, one way or another.

Certainly being served the fact that he likes another girl in our class, wasn't the best.

I felt as if the world crashed onto me.

But maybe the other girl didn't feel the same? Maybe all of this was one sided love like most of the time between kids, I could just go and ask her if she feels the same.

Simple as that.

I was relieved to find out she didn't feel the same, my burdens lightened; Not realizing that by doing this little thing to relieve myself I broke his trust.

Making him the new target of mockery in our class, as that girl couldn't keep her mouth shut.

The classroom isolated me too, labeling me as the snitch, well deserved I guess?

But what hurt me the most was him slowly distancing himself from me, it was a gradual process. Yet the most painful for me, and heartbreaking for my parents to watch their daughter suffer from it.

After finishing my fourth year, I was transferred to a different school, one where I was welcomed with open arms. Spending my last year of elementary school there, forming good friendships as I grew more confident with each day.

I learnt the fine art of blending in while also standing out in society. Once I completed my fifth year in elementary school, I started my middle school journey, confidently prepared for whatever came my way.

However, fate had other plans.

I ended up being way too overconfident, and it bit me in the butt.

The universe had a way of humbling me and remembering me nothing lasts forever, each and every time you start from zero with the help of your past experiences.

So now you ask me how would I describe those three years of middle school?

Hell.

This time I was fortunate enough to have a loyal friend who was alongside me, Anastassia.

Together we helped each other and formed a lasting bond that would only become stronger as time went on.

She was one of those friends that even you meet again after a long time, I'm talking about months and years. It felt like time stood still with her.

Anastassia made the time fly by before you knew it, and with her by my side, I felt a timeless sense of comfort and peace. Whether we spoke of distant memories or made new ones together, it was as if we had never been apart.

After we finished middle school we had to part ways, she chose to focus on studying languages while I wanted to study art.

High school offered a much-needed fresh breath of air. There people seemed too occupied with their own personal struggles to bother with my actions, which brought back my laid back confidence that mixed with the release of dopamine.

I no longer felt restricted by the confines of social expectations or the constant judgment of others, instead focused on exploring who I was, and what I wanted from life in a less constrained and more meaningful way.

In less words I stopped caring about what others thought.

This newfound sense of freedom allowed me to truly come into my own, and shaped me into who I am today.

From studying there I also got to meet two wonderful girls that today moved and live with me in San Francisco.

First I came across Lara whose light brown shoulder length locks were highlighted with buttery blond highlights. Her eyes were surrounded by thin metal square frames, which perfectly empathized their beautiful vivid hue of maroon.

Lara's aura was like a magnet for those around her, drawing people like moths to a flame. Drawing the attention of boys who lusted for her and girls who envied her, leading to gossip and telling vicious rumors about her. Yet these attempts of destruction failed, as she continued to radiate joy and positivity.

Truly looking up to her for it, wondering what her secret was.

And so, the truth was unveiled.

One day, I found her smoking cigarettes in the school bathrooms, and the habit gradually became something I expected to find her doing from then on.

I had no intention of dictating her choices.

However, I still held hope that she would make a conscious effort to stop the unhealthy coping mechanism of smoking.

But despite her habit remaining the same until this day, many things about Lara have changed over the years.

Her hair for example, her once buttery blonde locks now styled in a choppy cut, with a side-fringe and even a bold red dye job to top it off.

These changes have altered her previously bubbly image, giving her a more mature and confident flair, though it's hard to say if that is simply the result of growing up.

Her charming and bubbly personality remains as captivating as ever, and she has not lost any of the charms and magnetic personality that constantly goes in contrast with Lia's one.

The living room everyday was an area of contention, Lara's smoking habit often irritated Lia through the smell that easily flowed through the apartment, as the confined space made it difficult to avoid breathing the smoke.

Arguments between them would always end in Lara sulking in the corner, while Lia walked away fuming from anger.

I don’t blame for her intolerance towards smoking.

She was an open-minded person, but when it came to smoking, she had zero tolerance. So, it's only natural that she would be upset whenever she caught Lara smoking inside.

Anger issues weren't the only trait that characterized her.

No, not at all.

As those curls of hers kept her craziness in check, but it somewhat from time to time it managed to escape from those lips of hers, making her say the most mean and absurd statements sound true and convincing.

If her lips were mean, then her eyes shall be the sweet ones. Green and hazel hues coloured those irises, as they held such beautiful mystery and charm.

And yet they also held a glimpse of her fiery anger and held up frustration, which sometimes exploded out, turning her captivating eyes into fireflies that burned through my soul.

A mix of raw emotion and magnetic influence made her memorable and endearing, as her presence was one that was hard to forget.

Lia truly was a girl of many colors and contradictions.

Although the two women have brought their fair share of excitement and adventure into my life, there's always room for more.

If the gods offer more and more delicious fruits on the branches of life, it would be a shame not to indulge in a little more of what makes it sweet and delicious, wouldn't it?

After all, life is made interesting by new experiences and challenges we encounter, and who are we to deny more enjoyment?

Not knowing I've jinxed for good my future, for thinking like that.

As the sound of the phone alerted me about a new message.

Unfortunately not notifying me about the consequences it will bring to my unsure future.

The number was unknown, but as I read the message and realized it was from Lara, I let out a sigh as I shook my head.

I was used to her borrowing other people's phones to send me messages or call me when her iPhone died, but I still felt a slight sense of annoyance.

Constantly reminding her to change it into maybe one of some other brand, whose battery didn't die immediately after being charged.

Fuck the aesthetic. Even an eighty year old could last longer in bed than those phone batteries.

With a groan, I rose to my feet, taking the keys of the shop out of my pocket as I slid one sleeve than the other of my cardigan.

I held onto my phone in one hand while the shop keys were in the other, as I exited the door.

After the store was properly locked up, I set my sights on the parking lot where I had left my 2006 BMW M3. Talking about it, it was probably the best deal I had scored in my entire life.

Quickening my pace while searching for my keys as I neared the parking lot, making my way over to the red sports car that stood out among the other vehicles, looking like a beast ready to devour the roads with its raw power and beauty.

After finding them, I unlocked the car and sat in the driver's seat, ready to drive away.

Starting the engine as now the powerful roars could be heard, feeling the humid air come in through the slightly open window, breathing the fresh yet familiar scent of the night.

With everything set, I put the car in drive and started making my way to the exit of the parking lot.

Speeding through the freeway, with wind coming through the window making the end strands of my hair fly back as adrenaline pumped into my veins.

But it soon came to an abrupt halt as I found myself stopped at a red light.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, traffic rules were sure pesky; Still I had to follow them, while I waited for the annoying red light to become green.

As the smooth, soothing tunes of "House of balloons" by the Weekend filled my car, my mind was at ease and my soul at peace.

Enjoying myself before the storm, commonly known as Lara, could enter my car.

Talking about the devil, there she was on the other side of the road talking with someone.

A man to be precise.

They still continued conversating, as I focused on the new individual.

His shaggy butter blonde strands swept to the side and his imposing lion tattoo were hard to miss, as they commanded attention.

Shifting my gaze at the now green light, I stepped on the gas pedal and proceeded toward the roundabout, making a sharp turn as I went back to them.

Parking my car just a few feet away from them as I yawned, hitting the horn two times to let her know I was there.

With a jolt, Lara turned to my direction to then say something to her companion earning a chuckle from him, while she motioned for me to come over.

Weird, she usually doesn't involve me with her flyings—What was she trying to pull here?

Frustrated from the long day of work I just compiled with her request, exiting my car and shutting the door behind me as I approached her and the man.

I looked at them to notice the blonde's stare was on me, probably he wanted me to burn holes into my skull for interrupting his moment with Lara.

At least that's what I believed until I was in front of them as he offered me a supposed charming smile.

"Nice to finally bump into the talk of the town." He made a little dramatic pause to then add.

"The name's Madarame Shion, but you can call me sir, if you're into that kind of thing." A devilish grin spread across his face as he introduced himself, his voice dripping with sarcasm and bravado.

You only needed to hear that, to know that he was the type of man who looks better with his mouth shut.

Eyeing Lara as she looked confused about Shion's introduction, considering her words before putting on one of her best smiles and finally breaking the awkward silence, "He is just a little full of himself today, don't mind him."

Wrapping her arm around his as she tried to justify him.

"I wouldn't call it being full of myself, more like pointing out the different possibilities my little minx." He remarked with a toothy grin, only a few inches separating his face from hers.

There was clearly something between them, but no way I was letting that guy try to woo her in some way.

"Right, a little minx huh?" I interjected with a sneer as it was now time to put this guy into his place.

And I surely didn't mind doing that.

"Well, if you're going to be throwing around names, then I suppose I can call you a douche." Locking eyes with him while my lips rose into a mocking smile.

Shion seemed more amused than annoyed by my response, as if he enjoyed this back-and-forth insult exchange.

Licking his teeth to then speak "If she is my little minx... Then you shall be my little vixen." This time leaning closer to me as he was trying to control the situation, perfectly knowing how to get under someone's skin.

It was futile trying to beat him this way, as it seemingly was his best field.

This would have taken time to bring him down from that supposed throne he believes he is on, and embarrass him when he is with Lara so she would leave him, but right now i didn't have the time nor the patience to do so.

So I did what I should have done from the start.

"It's late we should get home Lara," Motioning for her to come as I gave one last glance at Shion before saying "It was shit meeting you, hopefully I won't see that ugly face anymore."

Opening the door of my car as I waited for Lara that was still hesitant to leave.

"Why can't we stay out a bit longer? I mean, it's Friday night and we don't have anything to do tomorrow..." She said trying to convince me as her voice was dripping with disappointment at the idea of returning home so early.

Still I gave her one last look as an ultimatum, and she didn't do anything but walk in my direction complying to my order, sighing like a little kid since she was in no place to argue when I was the one driving.

The only one still calm was Shion watching us intently with a smug smile on his face as he added "Oh yeah? You're pretty annoying yourself,"

Both of us were already in the car as it didn't take much before we exited the momentary spot where I parked it.

"But that's what makes you endearing. Sweetheart" He concluded talking to himself.

Leaving him there, as the speedometer raised and lowered its pointer.

The car ride was silent until I stopped at a red light taking the opportunity to look at her, so maybe she will fill in the blanks and explain what the hell I needed to interact with him.

To which she just responded with, "Do I have something on my face?" Saying this as she moved the rearview mirror towards herself to check.

I was now looking at her like she just killed my family.

"How many times have I told you that the rearview mirror isn't to check yourself out!" Examining exasperated as I tried to fix the mess she just caused, only for her to start fiddling with the car radio as she browsed through the different channels.

Finally settling down for one to then look at me as she leaned into her seat, "So what do you think about Shion?"

To which I answered.

"I'm thinking about how much weed you've smoked to even see something in him," sighing to then add.

"Lara I'm seriously thinking you have a talent to find self centered assholes."

This story continues with a man whose ambitions drove him to obsession.

Kisaki Tetta, a man who both instills fear in others and arouses hatred. Not just any ordinary criminal, but rather, one of the men who rules the darker depths of the criminal underworld of Japan, pulling the strings behind the scenes and manipulating those below him to his will.

All in order to find peace and escape his weak past self, who failed to stand-up to the cruelties of this unjust world. By any means necessary, he sought to reach the position that he currently holds.

No one could oppose him, not even her.

Tachibana Hinata, his sweetheart. The girl in which words and praises he found shelter, words that even his own mother didn't say to him if there wasn't any perfect test score that accompanied his request of appreciation.

Her kind and straight forward personality truly caught him in its embrace. Making his past self desire more kind from the young girl. She was truly his first love, or at least in his eyes she will forever be.

She had saved him mentally, and yet he was unable to save her physically that fateful afternoon when they first met their hero.

Hanagaki Takemichi, a walking wannabe defender of justice. Mock him how much you want for being beat up after making his entrance, still he was able to offer her comfort and protection when she needed it.

He truly admired his bravery and was thankful to him for saving his muse, if taking the hit instead of her was considered saving.

Then so be it!

Next time he will be the one protecting Hina.

But there wasn't a next time and there never will be. Hina didn't get into trouble, and after that day her parents enrolled her in some self defense classes.

Yet their life's took different paths after they graduated elementary school, forced to part ways by the wishes of their parents.

Still managing from time to time to cross paths when going to buy groceries, it was fascinating to think about their friendship, going from being close friends at school to distant acquaintances outside of it.

He adored those moments he got to spend with her, her voice was so smooth to get him to space out sometimes

—Life was still good for him.

Or so he thought, till the start of the second year of middle school. Hina started to space out multiple times while they talked, which was very unusual for her.

This left the young man feeling confused as he tried to make sense of her behaviour. It was like she was physically there but her head was elsewhere.

In conclusion there was something else going on beneath the surface that Kisaki was unaware of; Still it wasn't that big of a mystery as she later confessed that she and Takemichi go to the same middle school.

Until here it was all fun and games.

Fool, he shouted victory too early and as a result he was taken back to discover she had been harboring feelings for the boy since their first encounter.

Otherwise from Kisaki, Hinata was and never will be a bystander especially when she was in love, more than ready to battle for Takemichi's one.

And weeks later in a spring evening, he was welcomed not only by allergies but also with the news of her being in a romantic relationship.

With none other than the crybaby hero himself.

He should have understood it by now, nothing good in this world comes for free and lasts forever.

He could cherish them from afar and trust them to not do anything stupid, but if he didn't take matters into his own hands; He would be just a passing phase for the lives of the two lovers.

His mind was a mess as many of his beliefs became doubts, but about one thing he was certain. He wanted her, the thing he lacked for that made him fall in love with her.

What his beloved considered pure platonic friendship for him became a full time obsession, not essentially on her but also on her so-called boyfriend.

Takemichi, the admiration he had in his regards

didn't take much time to turn into resentment and disgust.

Beginning to despise everything about him; Starting from that new bleach job that he got done, making him look even more of a bigger prick than he already was.

Ruining Hina's image with his choice of joining the delinquent world like many of their peers.

Sure he remained the same brave idiot he knew, still he became nothing more than a trouble maker to the public eye.

Always wondering why girls often romanticized being in love with delinquents, fantasizing any possible love story with them.

Couldn't they be happy with a regular guy?

How could troublesome and dumb clowns like them be attractive to girls?

Maybe it was their appearance? The charisma that some of them had?

No, it became crystal clear now. It was the seek of thrill in their life.

To have someone who will protect them, go on late motorcycle rides, boys who aren't afraid of judgements.

He was just a gifted boy with an average and easy life. Waiting for his happiness.

He had nothing to offer to no-one, destiny couldn't do anything with his useless life.

This was a big mistake he had made; Waiting for people to walk right into his life, and then expect them to stay. Only one person did, Hina.

But even she could walk away like she walked in. He couldn't afford losing her.

And there he is thirteen years later. Still hasn't lost hope on having a relationship with her.

Looking through the car window, gazing upon some carefree birds flying in the afternoon sky;

The sun gave its last rays for the day, as the chilly air hit his face hinting the approaching of fall season.

How he wished to spend a peaceful evening like this with a cup of tea in his hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun while he still had the chance.

Instead he was in a car driving him to attend a meeting regarding the incompetence of his subordinate.

His appearance was absolutely flawless, with silken vanilla blond hair pulled back by a touch of old and practical gel as light danced across his blue scrutiny eyes which gazed at the horizon through the glasses he wore.

His outfit was a sharp beige suit, perfectly complemented by a tie that matched the hue of his eyes like no other combination could.

Finally entering the gates of the unique complex of coloured buildings. Tinted glass hiding the different illegal doings inside of them, prostitution being the main of course.

After all these were the Haitani headquarters.

Waiting for him in front of the main building was Hanma Shuji, his infamous right-hand man, a crazy bastard ready to do anything for some thrill and action.

His tall, lanky figure made it easy to distinguish him from the sea of people entering and exiting the structure.

Those golden irises bore sharp and fiery glares which were contoured by the lens of the glasses covering the man's eyes.

His gaze was lazy and casual as he searched for something to pique his interest, constantly moving from place to place and person to person.

Just when he spotted a familiar car pulling up, the bland expression was quickly replaced by his trademark mocking grin.

In just a split second he was standing at the curb, ready to open the door for Kisaki.

Without a moment to spare ready to greet him and show his efficiency and promptness.

Jokes on you, he just wanted to taunt him even this early in the morning by making various snarky comments.

After opening the car door, their usual dynamic began to play out.

"Kisaki! I see that you're perfectly on time and busy as ever…Wonder if you ever take a break?" Breaking the ice with a bit of light-hearted teasing, to then afterwards ask.

"What would the occasion be, if I may ask?" His boss didn't even give him a glance as he started to walk towards the entrance.

Hanma couldn't do anything but follow right behind him, this was a classic behavior Kisaki had in his regards, how could he blame him though?

He knew he was annoying and used that to his advantage, but these games weren't so effective on his superior.

Walking straight ahead to the elevator, it seemed like Kisaki was cutting in half the lobby. Which was teeming with low-ranking scantily dressed prostitutes.

To which his subordinate being the gentleman he was let his eyes wander around, like he hasn't seen this already multiple times.

Shamelessly observing his surroundings, and all of them had a good package, just saying.

And when he got to the elevator there was his boss waiting for him, spitting the most vile and hurtful words to him and his dick.

But honestly he couldn't care less of what the shorter male said, if he was alright with anything that brought him to feel the thrill.

And to top that off, what would be more satisfying than seeing the one that offered him that fall apart? As his childhood dreams shatter.

Silence filled the elevator ride, until unexpectedly the shorter one broke it.

"Has Shion updated you on his progress? Because from what I've been told, he's been wasting time smoking weed and drinking,"

'Annoyed' wasn't quite the right word to describe his attitude. Instead, he was getting fed up quickly with Shion's bullshit, I mean who wouldn't?

Despite the length of time that they'd worked together, Hanma didn't grow weary of his boss' behavior, enjoying the show whenever he could; Like it was just an ordinary day in the office for him.

Prior to dismissing the subject as unimportant, "It's not my problem that you chose someone so incompetent for such an important task."

Earning a sharp glare from his superior to then backfire.

"Oh really? Wonder who advised me to send him for it, you know what? You're right; It's my fault for listening to some worthless bastard like you."

Hanma raised his hands and casually replied, "What can I say? Guilty as charged." Accepting his guilt as a sign of amusement and carelessness, dismissing his boss concerns completely.

"Wow we got a comedian over here?" His companion said with a sarcastic tone. "You certainly seem to be enjoying this, don't you?"

He surely was.

"If you're enjoying this so much, how about you go fix his mess?" Kisaki snapped back with a sarcastic tone followed by a challenging statement, saying, "Surely you won't mind, since you find this so amusing."

By sarcastically stating that Hanma wouldn't mind, he implied that fixing the situation was his responsibility in the first place.

"Oh please, who got your panties in a twist? Why the hell should I be included in this? It's his fault man."

He very well knows how much of a selfish and reluctant individual Hanma Shuji is; loves to laugh about someone else's mistakes, but dream on to actually seeing him helping them.

"It's not for you to choose to do so, Reaper. It's an order." With these words, his superior made it clear that this was not a request but a demand that as his subordinate had to follow.

And of course his tongue-in-cheek nature had to butt in along with his nonchalant attitude, nodding his head in a gesture of mock obedience saying, "Then I shall comply with your request, my sir."

But he very well knew his and Shion's life's were at risk, which honestly added more thrill to the thing.

Then a ding concluded his last thought, indicating that they reached the top floor, letting his boss exit first to then follow right behind.

Two male figures were walking into the halls of the police station, one proceeding with his fast peace while the other tailing right behind him, trying to lose the distance between them attempting to reason with his companion on a matter this last one didn't understand.

Or let's rather say he didn't want to understand...

"Kazutora, can you be reasonable for one time? You can't decide to do things on your own, especially now that you're in an organization!" There he goes being ignored by his friend, again.

Chifuyu was concerned about Kazutora's behavior, as the latter was consumed by guilt and self-blame due to Mikey's disappearance.

It turned into casual sex in a futile attempt to escape his own guilt and the memory that haunted him.

"Let me put it in a language you can comprehend. I'm exhausted at having to deal with so much paranoia every day," With a slight turn and a sharp exhalation, he faced Chifuyu, his eyes tired as he continued.

"If we continue like this, someday that picture on that board may turn out to be our single and final memory of Mikey!" For once, he truly did understand him, lacking the desire to blame him instead he wanted to free him, just like he did when he saved him from the grip of an abusive father.

It was explicit that his friend blamed himself for Mikey's crimes, and Chifuyu couldn't reason with his stubborn ass.

"Have a nice day Matsuno." With this last statement he made his way to the stairs.

He only hoped he wouldn't do anything too reckless like he did in the past...

But he clearly underestimated his companion.

In a certain way, he was able to relate to Kazutora, as the latter was similar to his younger self of thirteen years ago.

However if he in his teenage years failed to accomplish a much simpler rescue plan, statistically talking it's not like his friend had a much bigger chance of succeeding, if not lower.

Arriving at a point where he wondered if he should drag Baji's corpse out of the grave, revive him with some kind of ritual, so he could knock some sense into Kazutora's head, first with punches and then words as he usually did back in the day.

Seriously speaking though.

The concept of a gang originated from the ambitions of Mikey but especially Baji during their childhood; As the last one idolized Shinichiro, the older brother of the first one.

Also best known as the commander of the first generation of the Black Dragon, the most powerful biker gang in Tokyo back in the 90's.

The duo harbored the desire to follow the footsteps of their idol, wishing to create a gang of their own and live out their youthful fantasies.

So when the right time came, with the help of those who would eventually be known as the core members of its creation, namely Sano Maniiro, Riyuguji Ken, Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi, Hayashida Haruki and Hanemiya Kazutora, they officially gave life to Toman.

Even if the latter ended up in juvenile detention, it didn't stop the enlargement of it.

As the gang was more than just a part time thing, as it had a cherished place in the hearts of the captains and their vices.

And three years later it was living fully its era of gold, being recognized as one of the most powerful biker gangs of Tokyo.

But with the fall and loss of Baji, one of its linchpins, it became more and more fragile as time passed, somewhat still managing to have their influence over the city.

Thanks to some scum of members doing dirty work to archive it.

One thing was known for sure by the members, if Mikey was in command with Draken alongside him everything would have gone just fine.

Not knowing that the commander lost both of his parents at the age of three, being raised by his older brother Shinichiro and grandfather Mansaku who taught him the ways of karate, from which he made a name for himself in the streets.

The Sano siblings were just like a group of bowling pins, put in line one after the other connected by bad luck.

Another individual who had a lack of luck was Kurokawa Izana, their non-blood-related relative, fruit of the love of a Filipino woman and man.

Unfortunately, after her companion died, she found herself looking after the young boy on her own. Until she crossed paths with Masaru Sano, father of Shinichiro and Manjiro.

They became lovers and were together for a brief period until she passed away as well.

But he wasn't so heartless to not take the young boy with him, taking him under his wing as he went to live with his new flame, Karen.

And at that moment, they also had an infant daughter, Emma. Who he left behind as he also made his departure to the underworld.

Not even after she just turned three, her father's last paramour abandoned her in front of the Sano household, as she took her leave, and never returned back.

While she was introduced to her half brothers, her previous one wasn't doing very well.

Unlike her he was dropped at an orphanage, left to himself.

But despite the hardships, there was still hope for Izana as Shinichiro sought after him tirelessly.

After his grandfather had a talk with him, and nominated the young boy that lived together with Emma and Karen before they all parted ways. He was determined to locate him, to hopefully make him become a new member of the family.

And he does find him, instaurating an amazing sibling bond between him and the soon to be Sano.

Making him believe in that fairy tail, where everyone gets their happy endings but the villain.

Over time Shinichiro begins to talk about Emma and Manjiro too, giving him updates and telling him their adventures hoping to fuel the curiosity and excitement of the younger boy, but no success.

One thing he did fuel though, the young albino haired boy's jealousy in the regards of Mikey.

Believing the boy was trying to separate him from Shinichiro, he refused to let another loved one get snatched away from him, as he viewed the older sano sibling as a father-like figure in his life.

Taking a firm stance against the notion of letting the boy take the only thing remaining that could fill the void that the loss of his parents had created in his life.

But either way he had to be taken away from this world to early repent for his sins.

And just like this the bowling ball had hit one of the side pins that would later take two more down with it.

Starting the countdown for the lives of the other two Sano and our one and only Kurokawa.

Second to fall was Emma, Izana following right behind her leaving Mikey now all alone.

Waiting for the ball to eventually hit him.

So yeah he became a somewhat untraceable suicidal crime boss, in flip flops.

Ok he sounds too silly if we describe him that way, but he is Mikey so being silly is —Correction was his nature.

And what better way was there for the search to continue other than staging a reunion with the past division captains of Toman?

Reviving the organization, as now it slides sides and cooperates with the law to extend the reach of effectiveness in the search.

Working together while risking our lives for a better cause, which was stopping Manjiro and making him exit from that corrupted mentality so his name won't be stained by different numerous crimes.

That was our main goal, while the police wanted Bonten to fall apart, trying to capture most of its executives and associates, slamming them into jail and leaving them to rot there.

Lunch break; And those four motherfuckers were still in the office discussing business, well actually, only two of them were seriously discussing business while the other pair had discarded their jackets, loosened up their ties and opened the first buttons of their white shirts as they were busy hugging and laughing, just being the regular obnoxious drunk duo.

Remembering embarrassing past experiences, until the alcohol would no longer make them feel it's stung on their throat.

"Do you remember that intoxicated exotic dancer who wanted to provide you with a lap dance, but accidentally slapped you with her tits in your face?" The older Haitani inquired and then added, "I have never laughed so much in my entire life, I tell you!"

This was one of the many amusing escapades that they lived through together whilst being part of the Tenjiku and later the Kantou Manji Gang.

Chuckling his pal added.

"She was worse than a bitch in heat, the impact that came with it, and the weed effect nearly sent me to the depths of Hades, no cap!" This statement earning a snort from Kisaki,

while Rindou had become accustomed to dealing with drunk imbeciles.

So this was very common for him to not say usual in his daily life.

"If you ever require a prostitute's services for your trip into the so-called land of freedom, you know who to contact. I have a few fresh faces this week, and who knows maybe they can help you enjoy it to the fullest!" Ran's face broke into a smug and happy grin, as he offered his ex comrade the opportunity to indulge in some pleasure even out of the state.

However, the younger Haitani was clearly unamused by this show of generosity. He may not have shown it explicitly, but his mind was filled to the brim with irritation.

"Hold your horses, until we don't receive the order or further instructions we can't start any new negotiations with third parties, so refrain your fantasies together for another time." Collecting his papers and putting them into a folder.

Kisaki got up after he finished his paperwork, as his presence wasn't needed anymore.

"If you excuse me gentleman. I have some other important matters to attend to, so now I'll take my leave."

Matters my ass, he just wanted to leave as soon as the meeting was over, since the next few days will be brimming with work-related responsibilities and meetings; So he needed as much rest as he could get.

He might have the brain of a genius, but a brain doesn't work if it's not taken care of.

Rindou was about to tell him to get his dog with him, but it was already too late as the other business man was already out of the door.

Leaving him with not one, but two annoying drunken pricks.

He hated his job, at first it was fun until there wasn't any thrill in his life as everything was now routine.

He very well knew that once you get in Bonten, you can't leave.

Not alive at least.

Exactly, in exchange of what they always wanted as teens, they had to give their freedom and loyalty in return. But they didn't have any other choice.

Or let's say he didn't have any voice in chapter...

Two best friends, on the balcony; Violating the now deep black color of the sky with white and gray free spirited hazes.

The smoke danced along that void which gave the buildings a defined shape, floating lazily into the darkness of it, disappearing into the night sky just as soon, almost seeming like it was absorbed by it.

While I absorbed Lara's blabbering about Shion, as nicotine gave me the patience I needed for it.

"And when our eyes locked into a curious dance, I wondered; Who could he be? What has he seen in his life to make him pick my eye?" She concluded by taking another hit from the cigarette.

"It's a waste of effort, Lara. Just by viewing him one can tell he is more of a rake than a real-life criminal or thug, whatever he claimed himself to be,"

"You should really raise your standards, for your own good." I sighed out, flicking the back of my cigarette as the ash dropped down the railing into the street.

"Is that so? Funny coming from a woman who sent nudes to her lover before they even hit their third month, I doubt you're in a position to speak about such matters of morality." She retorted, rolling her eyes dismissively.

"Really? You're picking something that happened almost a decade ago so you could counter what I have just stated?" I replied, as the tone of my voice was disappointed while my face displayed an irritated grimace.

"Il lupo cambia il pelo ma non il vizio." She shrugged, looking to the side.

"Can you please listen to me, and stop behaving as if you own the world while I'm trying to advise you?" I was now furious, dropping my cigarette on the balcony tiles, firmly stomping on it and kicking the butt out of the railing.

"This individual is not good for you, I am trying to help you not get another heartbreak, like the one you had in junior year; With a guy who by the way was seven years older than you!" Rubbing my temples while I spoke in an attempt to soothe the headache that I was starting to feel, as I added.

"You want me to remember my mistakes from the past? Fine by me, have it your way, but don't think I won't reciprocate since you're no saint either." I concluded as now I was fully annoyed, while my eyes betrayed the fury I felt towards her shitty remarks.

"You always get your way! It's honestly so annoying how you establish your argument as definitive truth, and nothing can prove them wrong in any circumstance," Lara stated, unable to suppress emotions as her voice rose to match mine, expressing the pent up frustration and the feeling inferior to me even if she was older.

"I know I'm stupid and keep making the same mistake over and over again," She declared, as if she had nothing to lose by making me see her vulnerable side.

"But it's too late as now I'm addicted to that type of person, despite the fact that they will fuck me up." As she continued to vent her feelings to me, her voice became lower and lower.

There always was a sense of beauty she saw in her circumstances, no matter how bad they were. Despite the challenges, she would always point out a hint of good and cling onto it.

Nonchalant of the consequences.

"Let's join Lia on the sofa, and enjoy the match of football. We shall discuss this another time." I exhaled deeply, trying to turn her attention to some light entertainment.

"But I haven't finished my cigarette!" Protesting, as she held the carcinogen stick between the middle and index finger of her right hand.

In no time, the cigarette was swiftly thrown over the railing, by me as it flew down to the street where it crashed on the ground; Putting an arm across Lara's shoulders, guiding her inside.

Welcomed by the triumph screams of Lia, spinning around in the air her team's scarf, as apparently gli Azzurri had scored against the Brave Blossoms.

Her joy was palpable even to the neighbor next door, as he banged his fist against the wall while cursing at us to keep it down. Reminding us that it was late, and there were other people residing on the second floor.

We did nothing but laugh to our heart content at it.

"We'll surely try, cariño~!" I shouted back in a playful tone, with a hint of flirtatiousness in my voice.

I had a soft spot for our neighbor, Mr. Garcia; The handsome Spanish teacher, who recently moved into the condo weeks prior. With his suave personality and dazzling charisma, how could one not?

His anger issues were on another level though, maybe those were the reason his wife divorced him.

But one thing I know for sure, I would have chosen Spanish instead of French in middle school if he was the teacher.

As only the idea made me caliente between my legs.

Only to be dragged back to reality by Lia as she sat us down on the couch, to then accommodate herself between me and Lara, keeping us at a short leash, so to speak.

"It would be appreciated if you kept your lustful scenarios to yourself, at least until this match finishes." Lia expressed with a tired sigh.

"Oh come on what's wrong with letting your fantasy run a little wild? Plus who wouldn't fall for a dilf like him-" I answered as Lara playfully hit my shoulder chuckling, before Lia cut us off putting both of her index finger on our lips.

"Shh shut it for now..." She whispered strictly, eyes glued onto the screen of the TV.

The camera now shifted its focus to Tommaso Allan, who had the ball passed onto him by one of his teammates. In a swift and decisive move, he rushed forward, and successfully managed to overcome an opponent who had initially blocked his path. He was in the process of searching for an ally to pass the ball to, when Kanji Shimokawa suddenly tackled him to the ground, catching him by surprise and seemingly causing him to lose the ball.

"Now that's a hunk!" Lia remarked as she viewed the slow-motion replay of the action on the screen.

Only for me and Lara to shut down her affirmation.

As the game progressed, the Italian team was in advantage, netting two more touchdowns, prompting Kanji to utter a series of curses in the meantime, his anger being quite apparent.

Takeomi glanced sideways at his companion, cigarette between his lips, taking a long drag before saying. "You worry too much buddy,"

"They are playing on their home ground, with that huge advantage I'm sure they are just being a little playful with the opposing team just to put on a show and then get serious reversing the situation."

To which the fake blonde answered with a serious demeanor, "One thing I know for sure, and that is their victory over the Azzurri. I'm not taking another loss from our national team." He stated.

To which the other male answered.

"Then try not to get any white hair from the stress, it would ruin that dye job." Taking a long drag from his cigarette as he talked to his colleague.

While their two younger superiors played pool in the background, the pink-haired freak wasn't having any bullshit from his smoke addict of an older brother.

"Can you shut that trap of yours and stop smoking like you're mourning someone!? It's so fucking annoying to smell the smoke of your cheap cigarettes!" Talking, more like spitting words as if he was speaking with the lowest scum on earth.

"Suck it up Haruchiyo, your weed is no better." He firmly stated puffing out the smoke.

"It's Sanzu to you Akashi, stop acting like we're close and playing family, we both know you suck at it." Snarling while he glared at the older male.

"Fair enough, I just thought you missed my figure as an older brother." He laughed to himself.

While his little brother scoffed at his antics, dispising him from the very bottom of his heart.

Applying some chalk on the cue stick, as he got ready to make his strike.

"You talk as if you've died, which unfortunately you didn't. Anyhow, who would miss such a parasite as you?" With a swift and precise motion hitting the little white ball, as it went rolling full speed colliding with the brown one, "The world would just lighten from such burden if you did." He concluded as the ball fell into the hole.

"Oh- come on now, you talk as if I've ruined your life, or in this case as if I was the only one that did-" Being cut off by Mochi esulting as the Brave Blossoms finally scored a point after a back and forth between the two teams.

"Take that, you pasta eating bitches!" He was aware that the Azzurri were still ahead of a point but had so much faith in his team to win, as his nationalism kicked in.

When the two charismatic figures of Bonten entered the room.

Or more like one entered while having the arm of the other on his shoulders, as he helped him walk inside.

"Ahoy there, mates! Terribly sorry to keep you all waiting, I was busy chugging down copious amounts of liquor." Stumbling forward for a couple of steps as he gripped tightly the fabric of his brother's suit, the older Haitani made his entrance.

"However, I've recovered somewhat and I'm ready to enjoy some time together with you beautiful, beautiful people!" The man drunkenly declared, while his sibling dumped him on one of the minibar stools.

"Stay put, alright? Don't do anything dumb." Putting his brother in a position where he wouldn't fall off the stool from squirming around.

"I'm not a kid anymore, Rindou. I can take care of myself, even when I'm tipsy. Seriously, don't you trust me?" He proudly stated.

"There's nothing to be so proud of, Ran." Only to be cut off by the other, "I mean, I know how to handle my booze!" As the two got into a back and forth over the situation, which only got more chaotic and interrupted Kokonoi's efforts to concentrate and get some work done.

The ladder was immediately caught by their words, as he grew annoyed by all the interruptions to his work.

"Can you stop being so loud!? I'm trying to focus and you're making it almost impossible!" He snapped, his patience quickly running out with the ruckus.

The younger Haitani was already fed up after all the bullshit he had to deal with today.

As the situation wasn't helping, and his patience was quickly running out. He was ready to explode, and this slight form of provocation pushed him over the edge.

"Screw off, dick cheese! This isn't a place for work. Stop thinking about more ways to make money when we don't need it right now, you capitalist prick!" He exclaimed not able to control his temper anymore, as now he just wanted to exit the room not wanting to completely lose it.

And he did just that leaving his drunk sibling over there with the other lad, quickly making his way to the elevator.

Ran, being the drunken flirt he is, decided to break the silence between them with a bold claim, "Don't listen to him, gorgeous. You can consider this room your workplace, and if anyone else says otherwise, let me take care of it. I'm quite the big deal around here." Clearly still drunk from the alcohol, he mistakenly thought the white haired man was a woman.

Who seemingly caught his attention so he wanted to shoot his shot and earn some chuckles from, but he only received a disgusted glare from his comrade.

"For the love of all that is holy, please just trip over a knife and leave me alone." He face palmed in utter exasperation, as just the idea of having to deal with Ran's drunken antics was just too much for him to bear. He returned to typing on his laptop, trying his best to avoid Ran and hoping he wouldn't interrupt him again.

He was wrong, Ran was right behind him, his arms draped over his shoulders as he leaned over to whisper in the other man's ear, "Oh come on, don't you like attention? Especially from such a charming man like myself." Continuing to hit on the supposed woman he believed his comrade was.

"I like respect and boundaries, don't you know personal space is a thing? Stop being a creep and keep your goddamn hands to yourself, geez." Wanting the other to get the point and leave him alone, he wasn't going to sugarcoat his words to not sound offensive.

Still the rather tipsy individual took it personally.

"Me a creep? Please, I'm a gentleman." He started, quickly retracting his hands from his companion's back.

"Is there any difference? A gentleman is just a more patient and pleasing wolf in sheep's clothing" He retorted with a roll of his eyes, not impressed by the behavior of his companion.

“Don't be a killjoy, sweet cheeks! Why waste those lovely locks if you aren't gonna put them to good use? Maybe they'll look even better with my fingers through them and you on your knees." He said with a cocky demeanor, leaning on the counter holding his head and looking dreamily at his colleague back, as if imagining the various things he wanted to do with 'her'.

Ran was high on his own fantasies of romance and sex, while Rindou was high on their own professional success.

Making his way to their boss' office to report the process of their successful deal with Kisaki, hoping that their superior, Mikey, would be pleased with that accomplishment and tell him and Kokonoi to begin making the necessary investments into their new deals.

Rindou, after stepping out of the elevator to the top floor, was met with the warm glow of the sunset as the sun was slowly setting in the horizon. Within thirty minutes, night would fully sweep over Tokyo, giving the window one last glimpse before heading to the boss' office.

Firmly stepping through the double doors, closing them behind him. He glanced up at his boss, making eye contact with the man piercing black irises.

Despite his lanky and short stature. He was the epitome of 'don't judge the book by its cover.'

As his presence was intimidating, making the executive quick mental note to keep the report short; The faster, the better.

"How did it go Haitani? Hopefully you gave a good image of Bonten." He asked even though it seemed more a threat, making the thirty year old man stand straight.

Breathing out, relaxing as he recollected his thoughts, he started to give his report about today's meeting he and his brother had with the heads of the Tenjiku criminal organization, Kisaki and his left hand man Hanma.

It was hard for Mikey to remain calm and focused while listening to Rindou talk about them, considering the men were the ones who caused the death of two of his siblings. Still, managing to stay silent and not show the frustration he felt.

With a quick hand gesture shutting the other man up, before he inquired, "Was Hanma much of a hassle during it?"

Rindou quickly shook his head, "He was knocked out shortly after Ran got him to try some of the new booze we ordered from China," he explained before adding "Just as you had told to operate."

Another hand gesture telling him to continue, as he complied with his boss' order.

“He wanted to have some other drinks so we gave him a vip pass to one fo our most known nightclubs, for later we prepared a royal suite at one of our five star hotels.”

Instead of going through all this trouble he could have shot that adrenaline freak, leaving him to die alone like a bastard in the corner of a cold and lost alley, people wouldn't even notice about his disappearance. Nobody would care honestly, not even the police.

But his boss' orders weren't optional, and Rindou would much rather follow them and tolerate the other annoying asshole for that short period of time, than suffer the wrath of Mikey's so-called 'loyal mad dog.'

As being skinned alive by him doesn't sound so appealing to no one. Whatever he has to do he will do it, and get the job done.

"He will depart to San Francisco tomorrow at 7 am sharp. At least this is what I know from the information Kisaki gave me." He concluded, fixing his tie as he awaited further instruction or questions from his superior.

After a long period of them just staring at each other as silence surrounded them, the boss moved his arm over the landline, his fingers pressing a button before speaking.

"Kokonoi, come to my office and bring Ran along with you." The boss says to the other person on the line, in a firm and clear tone.

And not even five minutes after three people enter the office out of the two requested.

"I was told there was going to be some top-notch food here," The still intoxicated individual exclaimed, ready to engage in whatever entertainment that was happening currently. However, despite this, the pink haired individual accompanying this person mentally scoffed and was annoyed by his drunken behavior.

Nevertheless, the person's sotic expression remained in front of the king that he followed, regardless of the irritation caused by the inebriated idiot.

With Kokonoi right behind them, closing the doors after entering with his laptop in one hand a dossier on top of it.

"You told me you were taking me to your hot female friends, but I see no beautiful babes, no sexy girls, just a bunch of ugly dudes in an office." Rather disappointed by the lie Kokonoi told him to get his ass moving as soon Mikey required their presence there, Sanzu wasted no time in dropping Ran on the leather couch like he was a sack of potatoes.

"My hot bitches-" was as far as the drunk individual's complaining got, because he was abruptly interrupted by Sanzu placing his hand over his mouth, trying to shut him up, only to have it licked away in the process. The other man was disgusted by the behavior of the drunk individual, and his annoyance was starting to show.

"What the hell you freak!" he exclaimed, clearly surprised and not expecting this to happen. He quickly pulled his arm back, Kokonoi offering him a handkerchief as he proceeded to walk towards Mikey.

Placing his laptop and the folder on the desk of this last one, as he began to state the analysis he made about how much would their earnings rise out of assimilating Tenjiku into Bonten, with the ultimate goal of absorbing them completely after removing the top two heads.

"What about Madarame Shion?" Sanzu questioned about the third head, Kokonoi confidently responded by saying.

"He is no threat. He's easy to bribe with some money and power, maybe be generous and add a couple of women for him too..." He paused looking at Rindou before continuing.

"But if his appetite isn't satisfied by that, two bullets can shut his mouth for good, and make him grateful that we ended his life quickly." Showing no hesitation or remorse as he made his statement, clearly not bothered by the slightest to have a guilty conscience.

As long as it serves the greater interests and goals of the criminal organization he loyally serves, fill his pockets and mouth, he will do that and much worse.

"What do you think, boss?" Sanzu looked to Mikey for an answer, waiting to make sure they were all on the same page.

Ready to follow whatever came out of his mouth.

As his boss was still contemplating the situation, thinking about the best move to make. Finally deciding to go along with the plan suggested by Koko, believing that there shouldn't be any trouble with the third head of Tenjiku as long as they had a fool-proof plan to bring the man over to their side, and if not get rid of him.

Pulling out of the folder the documents before giving it one last adjustment, as he and Rindou put their signature on them, handing them to Sanzu and Mikey so they could do the same, as they both read what the contract was about before signing too.

Officially declaring their agreement, now they just had to wait for the outcome, and ensure that everything proceeded according to plan.

"Now we have time to give this to Kisaki, while I need you to give this to Hanma as he will go overseas tomorrow morning." Kokonoi directed Rindou, sticking out with his hand a piece of paper from the folder for him to take.

In the middle of the nightclub, surrounded by the loud music and boisterous atmosphere, is a man. Average height and a lean type of build, with a face that is so charming even now when it displays nothing more than indifference.

He was familiar if not used to having ladies of the night by his side as they swayed along the music, one in particular, his favorite.

The young woman was basically a walking feast for the eyes, her figure a perfect example of what the male gaze perceives as the ultimate beauty.

As she back faced him, his hands under hers as she guided him to feel every curve he already knew of her body, as they moved along the rithm of the music.

Still failing miserably when it came to Kazutora, as his mind was elsewhere, and she was nothing more than another Saturday night for him.

And while she tried to win his attention for hours, only to see her efforts fail, something much simpler had managed to get the job done. And that was a buzz from his phone, tucked away in his jeans pockets.

Quickly making his way across the nightclub towards the bar, presumably intent on finding a way to end his night on a more positive note. However, the woman was not about to give up that easily. She followed closely behind him, trying not to loose him in the sea of people.

When he reached the bar, the man paid for his drink, before giving the woman some gas money to call an Uber. This sent the signal loud and clear that he had enough partying for the evening, and the lady was forced to accept defeat.

He needed to fully focus on the task at hand he gave himself, still he wasn't no ungrateful bastard as he bid her a swift goodbye, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as a sort of consolation.

Walking out of the club leaving her behind. Reviewing the intel his most trusted subordinate had sent him.

"Roppongi huh?"

Haitani's well known turf. Still half of their subordinates liked to say they were loyal, in reality they are just a bunch of dumb assholes that with a little money and lies you could buy.

Cracking the engine to life as soon as he got on his motorcycle, a loud roar filled the mostly empty parking lot due to the late hour.

Taking a hold of the handle bar, rubbing it to gain more speed. He then performed a half circle turn to then speed off down the wet streets of Shibuya.

The streets were empty, except for the occasional low-life thugs or wannabe gangsters. He enjoyed nights like this, as it was just him, his motorcycle, and the cool wind that brushed across his now rosy cheeks. The blonde streaks in his hair blew freely, adding even more beauty to this moment.

Taking the exit onto the highway, it started to get boring.

Until he noticed a luxurious car in the distance, it seemed to be a black Mercedes-Benz.

Surely expensive to maintain, from the looks it seemed it was brand new. Although he couldn't see the owner, unfortunately as this rich bastard had black tinted car windows. But surely he seemed to be in deep thought as he moved with a slow monotone peace.

Then an idea came to his mind.

Letting the car gain a good distance, before going at maximum speed just right beside it. The roars of the motorcycle surprised the driver that much he swerved off into another lane. Luckily, the driver hit the brakes with all his might saving the car from making an accident.

Kazutora burst into laughter, not caring about the person in the car he almost killed. According to him, it was the driver's mistake to be distracted and wandering off with their thoughts while on the highway.

And since he considered himself to be a good cop, he saw it as his duty to remind him of this simple rule.

In his style and way of doing it.

The two figures that exited the car didn't catch his attention for long, as the situation had given him enough fun for today. Turning back to focus his attention on the road and on his true goal that night —visiting one of the night clubs owned by the two charismatic brothers.

Unbeknownst to him, the ones that he almost made go astray were none other than the two brothers, and the psychopath with a pink mullet of their superior.

The younger Haitani was outraged after the incident, and furiously started shouting calling the driver of the bike all sorts of names.

"That bastard!" The man yelled, his tone raging with fury.

In spite of his subordinate's outrage, Sanzu saw comedy in the situation and couldn't help but crack up.

"Calm down, bro. This is hilarious. it almost felt like we were going to die there," His coworker said with a wicked grin, as he closed and leaned into the car door.

Rindou was now fuming with outrage as the Joker wanna be continued to go at it.

"What? It's not my fault nor his that you drive like an old lady," The individual shrugged, unconcerned.

"You sick fuck! That damned bike almost caused us to crash! I might drive like a grandma, but who does he think he is acting like a maniac on the road?!" Storming back to the car, upon reaching it he opened the car door and forcefully closed it behind him.

Sanzu stayed out of it, sighing in annoyance as he left the younger Haitani some time to cool off, before they could carry on with the task given by his king.

While all this chaos happened, Ran was in the back seat, knocked out.

And not even five minutes after they were back on the road.

The speedometer showed numbers escalating rapidly, reaching higher digits after mere seconds had passed.

Street lights pass their bright ray on the car bodywork, somewhat trying to clean it from all the shady businesses that they have used it for.

Chase Atlantic blasting from the radio, as the man with the pink mullet sang along the lyrics. Only to be interrupted by the news.

"It seems that the trend of illegal car races came back, California has been full of reports. Especially in the cities of San Diego, Los Angeles and lastly but not least San Francisco."

As the news reporter continued their broadcast, Sanzu lowered the volume as he looked at Rindou before saying.

"Seems like Shion is already at work." He snickered still looking at whom he was speaking to.

While the other guy thought nothing but how idiotic people were to follow a trend, just to be known as some sort of crappy underground superstar. Not knowing how much of a hypocrite he sounded.

He and his older brother did follow the trend of being delinquents too, but they had more style and charm than those scraps.

"San Francisco huh?" He mumbled to himself.

Rindou only knew the city thanks to the books at juvie.

Remembering it's characteristic monuments such as Alcatraz, the ruthless prison known world wide, the Golden Gate Bridge; A red and white vortex that makes you enter a colorful mix of colors and cultures, where cheap and expensive coexist.

These were the words that the author of the book chose to describe the city.

Hanma tomorrow would go there to help Shion, his old gang pal, as the mission given to him by Kisaki wasn't such an easy task.

They should be there just for a few days, just to find a good location out of the public eye, and then be back in Japan without getting noticed.

The police have been on their tails in this period of time, with the help of that damned Toman.

As they reunited the gang, this time to find and bring back Mikey and his fucked up mind. With Takemichi being none other than the leader, yes that's right a weak bitch like him is the top dog.

He was good with words, Rindou admits, but words can't bring you anywhere. Violence must accompany them, at least that's his ideal.

Still he found it hilarious how they believed that with the power of friendship they could bring back his boss, who honestly just needed to be sent to a psychiatric hospital along with his loyal mad dog that was now sitting beside him looking at his phone.

But at least they had the balls to do something he would never do, and that was going against Mikey.

As if it wasn't Sanzu hunting him down for betrayal his subconscio would take his place. Guilt tripping him of leaving Ran alone, breaking the promise they had made at each other from the very start.

He couldn't handle the type of life without anyone beside him, like he had Ran for his entire life.

So running away was, and forever will be just a fantasy.

Since we were into the topic of old friendships, two other old friends were seeing each other right now after many years.

Junpeke, a once lively individual, had become much more tame over the years. His once stylish and edgy haircut was still the same, but his spark seemed to have been lost.

And now he happened to work at one of the many clubs the Haitani owned, he was just a low ranking subordinate of theirs nothing really special.

Still Kazutora found a way to use the position of his old friend in something useful to him, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered meeting him again after all these years.

Both of them not wasting much time, walking though the dark corridors headed straight for a door that was labeled 'Staff Only'.

Once through the now closed door, they entered an area that was most likely a dressing room, as Junpeke immediately got to business, pulling a waiter suit, from the nearby closet handing them to Kazutora.

As the latter changed into them pretty quickly, taking out keys and wallet from the orher pocket of his jacket along with his phone.

"Now that i have completed everything you've asked me for, it's time for you to hold up your end of the deal," Junpeke stated, a smug smile made it's way on his face as he added.

"Give me the money, and you can go and do whatever your heart pleases with Hanma." As if he wasn't in a dangerous situation at all.

"Of course, a deal is a deal after all." Kazutora seemed used to his arrogant behavior as he searched though his jacket pockets, pulling out two rolled stash of twenty five bills worth ten thoused each.

For you folks that don't want to do math, it's basically around four thousand dollars.

Not wasting anymore time the other took it and began to count them.

"What? Don't you trust me Junpeke?" The man with long hair pulled back and tied into a low ponytail asked his former friend, however the ladder didn't respond to him.

He looked around to make sure everything was left as they found it, then both took their leave walking to the door.

Not all bad things come to harm you, and Kazutora had learned one important rule during juvenile detention, and that was; Never let anyone walk behind you, especially when doing shady business.

Of course the ex-juvenile delinquent took this opportunity, knocking his childhood friend unconscious, sending his live location to one of the police officers he had under his command, and carrying the man outside the back exit and dropping him inside a dumpster.

After successfully taking Junpeke out of the picture he went back inside the building, now walking through the corridors that brimmed with sex workers that offered him lustful gazes and sweet chuckles.

He payed them no mind, as they were only doing their job.

Entering the large underground club lounge of the hotel, he was met with a scene of chaos. Music blasted in the background, ladies dressed in vibrant colours and styles moved back and forth, forming a veritable bouquet.

Just as he was taking in the sight, his eyes scanned the various tables as they came across the man he was looking for, he was surrounded by a circle of ladies, as they stuck to him like glue or looked to get closer.

Hanma Shuji, a man with many words for him, but clown was the most fitting, as his lazy smile was exactly the same of a fool.

And Kazutora couldn't wait to wipe it off his face, as it would look better when he will shove him behind the bars.

As if by fate, a tray carrying two alcoholic drinks was suddenly placed in his hands by a waitress, confusing him for a waiter, shouting at him to bring it to the table where the infamous reaper was.

And of course after knowing that how could he not spit into the drink to top it off?

Not a smart idea to do it in the middle of the dance floor, as he was grabbed by the collar from a bulkier man with an angry expression on his face.

If you were at a club and brought a drink, only to see a waiter spitting into one of the same type that you ordered, it would certainly put some doubts in your mind about your own drink.

And since alcohol can often make one's inhibition lower and impulse control harder to manage, it's now wonder that the man got so aggressive in a quick time span with Kazutora.

"Who do you think you are, spitting into drinks like that?!" In the midst of the loud music and partying, the sound of that sudden shout got the attention of those nearby.

As the partygoers turned their gaze towards the source, witnessing the man violently shaking the 'waiter'.

This situation surely ruined the cheerful mood there was in the club, as people didn't know if the accusation was true or simply a misunderstanding.

"If you don't want to give us our money's worth, then don't bother working here at all?!" Kazutora didn't even bother defending himself, he was too busy getting his face sprayed with spit from the angry shouts of the other man.

This whole situation ruined their night, as his voice surely would give the others a headache if this continued.

But one in particular.

And that was Hanma Shuji of course.

Making his way through the crowd of people as he left all the ladies behind, and when he got there he was met with the familiar face of Kazutora.

Seeing his ex comrade getting into a heated confrontation, how could he not intervene to help him? Jokes aside he quickly made his way to the two, putting his hand on the angry customer's shoulder, before saying.

"Now now, what's with all the hoopla?" he asked with a somewhat dismissive tone, taking the situation lightly.

But this seemingly innocuous gesture seemed to spark a fire in the customer, who was now fuming with anger.

"Who do you think you are, you bastard?!" he growled at Hanma, his voice practically dripping with fury. "I'm a powerful criminal, you think you can just go and mess with me like this?" he continued, his rage growing with every word.

Hanma, however, remained unfazed and replied to the customer's threats with a lazy smile, "Or what? What are you going to do? Enlighten me," he retorted, his lazy smile remaining on his face despite the customer's rage.

"Are you challenging me?! I can take you and break you like a breadstick, you lanky beanpole!" The customer shouted, angry at Hanma's continued lack of fear and respect for him.

"You don't seem to be in the right mood, mister." He said before adding "How about you go on a little timeout and drink some water, hm-?" And that was it, the final straw.

Suddenly Kazutora was free, as the man who was gripping on his collar turned to the taller male.

"I'll kill you four eyes!" He shouted, finally snapping.

"Four eyes? Make it six, because from how drunk you are." The other one had enough, and decided to resort to physical violence. As he ran at Hanma, fist ready to punch him hard on the jaw, determined to wipe that lazy smirk off his face.

Still as we all know this was a piece of cake for the reaper, as he dodged the strike with ease. Getting under people's skin was his profession rather than being a criminal, this was routine for him.

Kicking his opponent's feet, making him trip and fall on the dirty dance floor, that from the various partying of the night was all sticky, either from drink spills or obsolete substances.

As the bouncers came and took the man on the floor, as he continued to sprout profanities at the two.

Once the chaos of the situation subsided, Kazutora understood it was his cue to leave and get out of there. His plan being ruined by some drunk bastard.

Hoping to slip away unnoticed, but he was way too positive and confident in his skills not to notice Hanma's hand on his shoulder.

"Not even a 'thanks, old friend?" The familiar voice cut through the air. Even if he was facing the other way, the ex Valhalla number three could feel his ex superior lazy smile.

"Hanma, long time no see," he said, "You've changed quite a bit, and it seems like you've acquired the habit of grabbing people by their shoulders?" He said with one of his best fake smiles he could manage to hide his irritation.

"I could say the same for you," he responded humorously, "you still look as fresh as new! Mind telling me your secret?" With a light-headed tone, he joked about his friend's transformation.

"Oh, y'know. Just grew my hair out a bit," lightly tugging some rebel strands of hair framing his face, "and eleven years of prison did their work." He playfully scoffed.

"You're as sassy as ever, huh?" Hanma replied teasingly, "How about we get some drinks and catch up on the lost time?" Wrapping his slender arm around his old comrade's shoulders, who seemed to not be interested in having to chit-chat.

Ultimately, he accepted the offer, ending it with "Why not?"

Both perfectly knew who the other was, but just for tonight they'll forget it over a few glasses of Mojito.

[goalsongspinkthongs]

The Worst Story You Have Ever Read.

what happens what a boy tells you he knows your best kept secret?

tz x little!sisters!best!friend!

a/n: ive been writing for a while and just started a series that i might actually like, so lets hope someone else likes it too (also my writing style was heavily inspired by lemony snicket for this (idk either))

I would like to start this tale by saying, for the record, that nothing good ever happens when your best friend’s older brother is involved. It’s a truth I had learned over time, but was tragically reminded of one afternoon, in the late summer when the air was sticky and the light fell just wrong, like everything was about to fall apart, but hadn’t yet.

I am a rather ordinary girl, if you can disregard the fact that I have loved a boy—Trevor, Ava’s older brother—for as long as I can remember. It’s not that Trevor is a bad person, no. He’s the kind of person who can make you feel both invisible and incredibly visible at the same time, which is an exhausting combination when you’re a person who only wants to be invisible most of the time. I had convinced myself, long ago, that Trevor didn’t know about my feelings. And why would he? I was, after all, Ava’s best friend, a position I had never in a thousand years thought would be accompanied by such... complications.

Ava and I, we had grown up together, like two characters in a very dull and unremarkable book, one that no one would bother to read except for those with an unhealthy amount of free time. And then there was Trevor, who seemed to glide through the chapters of our lives with such effortless confidence, like some sort of heroic figure whose story had been written in a much more interesting book, one of those books you’re too afraid to open because you know once you do, the whole thing will be about how the hero burns the world down and doesn’t even care.

On this particular afternoon, however, my life—and my carefully curated collection of secrets—was about to be tossed into a volcano of very real emotions and terrible consequences. Ava, in a moment that could only be described as an act of betrayal on the grandest scale, decided to leave me alone with Trevor. Yes, alone. In a room. With no immediate escape route. It was as if she’d handed me a ticking time bomb, said "Good luck," and then casually walked out of the room, whistling as if everything were fine.

Trevor was sitting at the kitchen counter, peeling an apple with such deliberate precision that it made me feel like I was the one who was being peeled, layer by layer, with each stroke of his knife. I tried to make myself small, as I often did when the world seemed too big and too full of people who could read your every thought with just one glance. But of course, Trevor wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at the apple, and I was both grateful and horrified by this, because it meant he had no idea how loudly my heart was beating, or how my palms were sweating, or how my mind had somehow frozen into a solid block of incoherence.

And then he spoke.

“You know,” he said, casually, as if this were a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend’s little sister, “Ava’s been talking about how much you like... well, how much you like me.”

And there it was. The unthinkable, the unspoken, the thing that I had tried so very hard to pretend wasn’t true. Ava. Ava had said something. To Trevor. About me. About how I felt.

I couldn’t remember how to breathe, which is not an exaggeration. I forgot all the things you’re supposed to say when you’re caught in a moment like this—things like "Oh, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about," or "Ava’s just joking." Instead, I blurted the only thing I could think of: “I—uh—don’t think you should listen to her. She says a lot of stuff. You know how she is.”

Trevor raised an eyebrow. It was the sort of eyebrow-raising that should have been reserved for situations in which you were confronted with a mystery that didn’t make sense, like finding a cat wearing a bow tie in the middle of the road. His gaze shifted from the apple to me. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t look embarrassed. He just looked... interested.

“I don’t think she was joking, Honey,” he said, his voice suddenly lower, smoother, like the sound of rain on pavement. “And I think you might be lying to yourself about something.”

Now, at this point, I should have done what any self-respecting person would do in this situation: run. Run as fast and as far as possible, preferably to the nearest forest where I could hide for the next hundred years. But instead, I stood there, paralyzed, and watched Trevor put down the apple, wipe his hands on a towel, and take a step closer to me.

I felt the heat of his presence before I saw it. It was a dangerous thing, this heat. It made the air feel thicker, and it made everything inside me go taut, as if I were a string being pulled so tight that at any moment I might snap. He was too close now. Too close to my fragile, ridiculous heart.

“I think,” he said, with that smile of his—half mischief, half something else that I couldn’t quite place—“that I should probably kiss you now, shouldn’t I?”

For the record, if you ever find yourself in a situation where someone says this to you, I would advise you to take a moment. A long, long moment. A moment to process the fact that the world is, quite possibly, coming to an end.

But I didn’t have a moment. I barely had time to comprehend the words, let alone how to respond to them, before Trevor was leaning in and, just like that, the world became something else entirely.

And yes, I kissed him back.

I kissed him back like my life depended on it, which, in retrospect, was probably true. And when it was over, when everything in the universe had shifted into something new and completely terrifying, I pulled away and found myself thinking—of all things—that the entire thing was utterly predictable. It was always going to happen this way, wasn’t it?

No one ever warns you about what happens next.

There’s a part of me that will forever wonder whether I could have handled it differently—whether I could have taken the long, awkward road of friendship instead of charging straight into the storm. But that’s a question with no answer, much like the one about what happens when a girl falls in love with her best friend’s older brother.

And honestly, I don’t think I want to know.

But I think Ava might, which is a problem I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with yet.

[gorgeousundertow]

OTP: Brad/Nate

For @mutantmanifesto

inspired by this mega post. None are exact copies (that I'm aware of) but in keeping with the general tone.

TW: angst, suggestive content, etc.

Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ? Brad. I think the argument would get very wordy (obviously) and he would end up twisting himself into a logically impossible state, and have to resort to "Because I love you!" But - both do stupid things on account of love.

What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? matter-of-fact and reassuring; here's where you are, here's what's real.

Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.) Nate steals Brad's clothes.

Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’? Brad is more protective, but neither of them needs protecting.

Describe their cozy night in. Nate is reading, working on something, and Brad is fiddling with gadget. At some point they play a game like Risk or Scrabble and get really pissed at each other

Who would beg the other not to leave? Who has to leave to protect the other? Depending on the circumstance, either would leave to protect the other, but I could see it more likely to happen with Nate leaving Brad. I don't really see either of them begging the other stay bc they're dumb and don't use their words.

Would they build a pillow fort together just because? No.

What happens if one of them gets sick? Brad freaks the fuck out and makes soup and takes Nate's temperature every ten seconds. Nate is much more reasonable.

What are their thoughts on having children? I think they both like kids, but it might not occur to them that they would be good at it together for a long while.

Describe their first date. They don't have one. They just trip over themselves until they discover they've moved in together.

Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell? Absolutely. They do not acknowledge the existence of emotions (maybe anger? Anger is fine) but yes, they can always tell.

Do they have many heated arguments? How do they smooth things over? They have some heated arguments, but a lot of the time everything gets said with the eyes.

Who’s the bigger tease? NATE.

How do their personalities compliment each other? How do they clash? They sometimes have disagreements because their values aren't exactly aligned; Nate is a lot more practical and ruthless than Brad is. In some ways Brad is more of an idealist--Brad pushes Nate to be a better version of himself, someone who doesn't need to compromise his own integrity, and Nate keeps Brad from getting lost in his own head.

Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving? No, but it's implied.

Can they stay up all night just talking? Oh yes, wandering down philosophical rabbit holes.

Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately? Either one, whenever they think it's most likely to surprise the other.

How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind? They strike me as dog people.

How do they feel about PDA? Uncomfortable with it due to Don't Ask Don't Tell, but in certain circumstances they might enjoy shocking their friends and family.

Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship. R U Mine, Arctic Monkeys

Who would get into a fight to defend the other's honor? Who tends to the other's wounds? Lol both. But mostly Brad.

What reminds each of their partner? Little things. Brad of Nate: Baseball games, New Yorker Magazine, collared shirts, crossword puzzles, backpacks. Nate of Brad: Wired Magazine, Astounding Science Fiction, hydration packs, faded t-shirts, very organized dressers.

Who's more likely to convince the other to stay in bed come morning? Brad. Dude likes his sleep.

Who's more likely to give the other a massage? Neither unless there's sex involved, or an injury. If there's an injury, Brad.

Do they have any hobbies they share? They're very competitive, so anything that's a hobby becomes a competition.

What are their vices? Oh god. Being right?

Who is the light weight that needs to be taken care of after a party? Lol both. Brad's bigger, but he doesn't actually drink much because he likes to remain in control, so he's not used to it.

What are there thoughts on pet names? Do they have any? Only to annoy the other one.

Who is more likely to jump in an elevator? Who freaks out? Neither

Your OTP gets to pick out each other's outfits; what is each wearing? anything but a MOPP suit.

Can they sit side by side without touching the other or are they handsy? (lacing fingers, touching knees, etc.) They're pretty handsy actually. Nate maybe slightly more so.

Who's the better story teller? Brad. Brad Brad Brad.

Who's the better cook? Also Brad.

Who's more likely to tell a dirty joke or story to make the other blush? Definitely Brad, but occasionally Nate.

Who's more artistic? Nate

Who's more likely to fire up the stove at 2am because the other woke up in the middle of the night hungry? Brad

Which is more likely to swear? Brad

Who is more sexually experimental? Who's more vanilla? Nate is a dark horse.

Who would rescue an injured animal and nurse it back to health? What would the other think? Brad, and Nate would be resigned and on board

Who has an insatiable appetite? And what does the other do to help? Dark Horse Nate. Brad does not mind one bit.

Which one would take their jacket it off and drape over the other one because they were visibly shivering? Come on. Brad.

What's their favorite type of weather to enjoy together? (getting snowed in together, watching thunderstorms, etc.) These idiots would go out in the bad weather because it's neat.

Who would give their life for the other without a second thought? Both. Nate might try to think of another way for a hot second, actually, but he would still definitely do it.

Who would dance in the kitchen making dinner? Would the other join in or watch from the doorway? Brad would dance, Nate would join in (badly)

Can they fall asleep without the other? Yes, because they are professionals.

Would they get frisky at the movies by themselves? YES.

Does either of them have a secret that could potentially ruin their relationship? No.

Who's the better driver? Nate, because he's safer. Brad, because he's faster.

Does either of them have a hard time being away from the other? Yes, but mostly Brad. Not that he'd admit it.

who's more likely to do something out of spite? Nate.

What’s a non verbal way they say I love you? Sergeant/Sir (still verbal I guess but ya know)

Describe their weekend getaway? They each have a different version, and they try to meet each other's needs. For Brad, it's something adventurous, something that tests his limits, and Nate's game--so a long wilderness hike, foraging for food. For Nate, it's more likely more of a classic vacation

Would they ever go skinny dipping? Yes.

Who’s more likely to carry the other to bed? Brad.

Do they like watching clouds or star gazing? Star-gazing more likely, with Brad pointing out constellations and Nate telling the legends behind them.

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood? an eyefuck is all it takes

Whose the serious one when grocery shopping and who likes to toss random things in the cart? Nate makes a list, Brad tosses in anything

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument? Nate

Who tops? Who bottoms? Switch

Who pulls the other closer when they’re sleeping? Both

[butmakeitgayblog]

Does Clarke still keep AWTR Lexa's phone number so she can still hear her voicemail like "Hey it's Lexa, sorry I'm not here at the moment but leave a message. Bye"

Clarke also uses it as a coping mechanism for her grief. She calls Lexa so she can leave her a voicemail and tell her all the things she wished she could have said more like "Hey babe, I love you. I can't wait to see your pretty face when I get back home. I brought that takeout you love so we can just snuggle up on the couch and watch a movie tonight. I'll see you soon love. I love you so so much Lexa"

She doesn't just keep Lexa's phone number, she keeps Lexa's entire phone.

Well, at first Gus does. At first it's this unspoken thing between them. He's the one who keeps paying the bill. And he leaves it in the drawer next to Lexa's side of the couch where she'd drop it whenever she was at home, because "no one ever calls me besides you anyway, Dad."

And that is right where it stays.

She starts to use it almost like a diary. Like a lifeline to keep her sane. Just a way to get all her thoughts out. Everything she can't say to the clouds or her mom or her therapist, all those emotions go there. Safe and sound with Lexa. Like always.

At first she calls her every morning. It feels ridiculous, and she knows it. Knows her wife would probably call her a ghoul for it, but the need to hear Lexa's voice - to close her eyes and breathe it in - that always wins out in the end. It becomes routine. A pavlovian part of her day to reach out to grab her phone in the fog of just waking up, to hit the speed dial and yawn and she lets it ring through.

'Hi, you've reached Lexa. Or Clarke, if she gave you this number instead, because she's pretty awful at remembering her own. Either way, I'm sure we're off doing very important things, so leave us a message and we'll get back to you when we can.'

She can't help but listen to it over and over again.

Us.

We.

Lexa.

Clarke.

Clarke.

Clarke...

The words echo in Clarke's ear.

She still remembers when Lexa had changed it three weeks after they had started dating. When she'd tried so hard to play it cool despite how bright red her little ears got whenever Clarke reminded her that she was now one half of a very attractive pair.

It's droll and so perfectly Lexa and, oh, that barely-there laugh in the middle soothes her soul in ways she can't begin to describe, and yet it hits her like a freight train every time.

The roll of the R and the click of the K, the way her tongue goes deliciously languid over the bend of the L. As though Lexa somehow always made sure to take her time with it, to savor it, each and every time it fell from her mouth. She has a hundred videos of Lexa smiling. Even more of her wife sensually calling her every pet name under the sun. But none of her actually saying her name. She's looked through everything. There's nothing of that face and that voice saying Clarke's name in that perfectly Lexa way, the one that only her wife could ever say it.

She hates herself just a little, because she doesn't even remember the last time she heard Lexa say it before she lost her.

And now this is it.

This message is all she has left now.

So she calls it when she needs to. Sometimes leaving messages, but over time, not as much. Whenever the inbox gets full of her ramblings and tears, she just goes in and deletes them all and starts fresh again.

She carefully deletes the few messages that randomly pop up from her father-in-law without listening to a single one.

Whatever he has to say in those messages, Clarke leaves it between him and his daughter.

When Gus passes as well, Clarke takes over Lexa's phone. Nothing really changes though, she just pays two phone bills instead of one. Despite, again, being very aware her wife would make fun of her for it relentlessly. She just can't part with it. It's a piece of her life now, one that lives in her bedside table. And as time goes on she finds she needs to call a little less. Only when she's not close enough to visit Lexa herself. Eventually she's ok with just anniversary calls. Check-ins to say hello on her own birthday. Whenever something big happens in Clarke's life. Each time she opens another of Lexa's letters.

She never fully listens to her own messages back, but she doesn't really need to. Because they're all mostly the same in the end.

'I dreamed about you the other night. I woke up and turned over to tell you about it, but then I just felt stupid... It's been so long since I've forgotten you're not here. It's not fair, Lex... But anyway. Yeah. Dream us. We were happy'

'I read your letter. You know which one. But I called because I miss you. And I needed to hear you today. I needed you to know I couldn't do any of this without you'

'I still love you. I still plan for our Someday. You're my forever, baby. Always'

[finniestoncrane]

I love your works and I saw the prompt and just had to do it! Sending love!!! 👀⏰💖🥵💔🍓🧠🍄🩰🌞⭐💡🧸🍀📗🧶💎💧😱🍇🍆🪀🔮💣🎬🧛

oh my GOSH that's a lot and this is so sweet and too kind!! ;-; thank you so much!! i'm going to be all weepy and cheery now while i lie in my death bed lmao 💚💚💚

👀 eagerly await updates from you every day ⏰ admire how fast you write and that you publish regularly 💖 adore literally everything you write 🥵 your smut scenes make me die of thirst 🍓 your fluff scenes always make me feel pleasantly blissful 🧠 love how your brain works and how you solve plots 🍄 love how crazy some of the scenes you write are 🩰 have been waiting for a writer like you all my life 🌞 reading your works cheers me up and makes me feel better ⭐️ everything you write draws me in immediately 💡 your ideas are always fresh and surprising 🧸 often go back to your old stories to re-read them 🍀 you can describe emotions and feelings perfectly 📗 when I read your story I feel like I'm reading a book 🧶 your dialogues are as if real people were talking to each other 💎 you perfectly portray the mind and thoughts of your characters 💧 there were times when I cried reading your stories 😱 your fics have amazing, unexpected plot twists 🍇 your intimate scenes are written with great taste 🍆 love the way you write male characters 🪀 your stories are very easy, quick and enjoyable to read 🔮 when I think that nothing will surprise me anymore, you do it 💣 you can build tension in your stories incredibly well 🎬 love to imagine your stories as if I was watching a movie 🧛‍♀️ crave your new stories like a vampire craves blood

be nice to me i guess 💚 u-u

[uss-genderprise]

You should read AOSR because it's really good and also free

I can't stick to my usual titling scheme because this zine is genuinely good and I want you to read it.

AOS Renaissance (or AOSR for short) is a digital zine published earlier this week (8.3.2023) (there goes my plan to do these reviews chronologically) to celebrate the 14th anniversary of Star Trek (2009) and is free to download here. Some of the works are also available on AO3, and I'll link to those individually so you can leave nice comments, but I do recommend reading the zine as a whole. The art in it is stunning, and I personally really like that zines are collected and curated in a way that works online generally aren't.

Disclaimer: as usual, this review is entirely my opinion.

We Hold Each Other Tonight, Eyes Full of Constellations

by spidey_kirk

Jim thinks he and Spock are dating but taking it slow, but Spock is beating himself up pining for Jim, thinking he only wants to be friends. What a great premise, I love fics like these! My only gripe is a lack of breaks between time skips which made it a little confusing at times. 4/5

Whiteout

by Bradley Martin

A little weird to see a Christmas fic published in the middle of May but I'm not complaining because it is CUTE. Considering the usual contents on this blog you might be surprised to hear how much I love McKirk, since I tend to keep it on the DL, but I'm so so soft for them, and this fic perfectly encapsulates why. I love it. 5/5

The Way Their Fingers Touch

by remylebae

Leonard says he's over Jim, only to ask Spock out, find out Spock and Jim are together, and realise he never actually got over Jim in the first place. Where do I even start? I love this fic so much. The pining! The way they all care so much about each other! Great fun. 5/5

Forget-me-nots

by Maria

Spock's life flashes before his eyes and we get the shortest memory loss fic I have ever read. The visuals are beautifully described and very sweet. 4.5/5

Kiss Her You Fool

by captainkaseykirk

I think this might be the first Scotty/Uhura fic I've ever read, and I don't regret that at all. I love Jim and Scotty's friendship, I love how awkward Scotty is about his crush, I love how sweet he is about Uhura and I love their first kiss. Great introduction to the ship. 5/5

Cornflowers and Peach Blossoms

by USS-Genderprise

Disclaimer: I'm biased about this one, for obvious reasons (I wrote it). A hanahaki fic in the year of our lord 2023? (That's what everybody keeps asking me) Yes. It's also major character death, but personally I think it's one of my best works. Compared to the rest of the fics in this zine, it's incredibly depressing. I do like it, though.

A Brief History of Family and Domestic Life on Starships

by spocko

I don't usually like miscommunication in fics, but this one was fun. All the different character interactions were on point, and I do love seeing Spock with a cat. 5/5

Binary Stars

by asoulofstars

How do Kirk and McCoy fall in love? Everyone's favourite oh moment, one for each of them. Very cute. 4/5

Shine A Little Brighter

by KnightAniNaberrie

I love seeing Spock grow as a person, grow in his relationships. I also love some good Spock and McCoy banter, especially when it's clearly a sign of affection. Wonderful fic. 5/5

Unwritten Rules and Regulations Excerpt

by asoulofstars

Saavik in AOS? It's more likely than you think. She keeps a running list of all the things that should not be done on the Enterprise, and shares two of her points with us. Great fun, though clearly incomplete. 4.5/5

Restorations

by stanzas

Absolutely adorable. Everyone but Jim is good with children and I am here for it. 5/5

Jealousy is a Green Blooded Alien

by QUEERTASTIC

Spock? Jealous? No way! /s. I love a good jealous Spock fic. The descriptions of his emotions were great. A little disappointed by the ending, though. 4/5

Final thoughts

Honestly, I think this might be the best zine I have read to date. Every fic was a joy to read and each piece of art was stunning. I can honestly recommend each and every story in this zine, even if I do have my favourites. You should read it! It costs you nothing! Literally!