#WILL????????? WHAT DID YOU DO TO MELL | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writtenbyan-aries · 10 months ago

Text

Summary: full one shot based off of this snippet - I added more details to this one.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, fighter!Jake, fighting, mentions of blood, cuts, bruises, punching, kicking, kissing, alcohol consumption, hair pulling, tiny bit of blood play, biting, scratching, unprotected sex, filth

Word count: 5.3k | not edited

Y/n’s outfit did this fic - here

You stared down at the ticket in your hand, leg bouncing up and down as a raging pace as you wait, very impatiently for your plane to finally be ready.

You wanted to get out of there, your hometown was nothing but stress and tears. You thought that coming home for a little would help things - but in reality, it only made them worse.

Made you want to leave and never look back.

And that’s what you did.

You felt full relief inching closer and closer, but you knew you weren’t going to fully get that until you were on that plane, on your way to LA.

“Now boarding flight number 225 to Los Angeles…”

You glance down at your ticket and jump up, tossing your bag strap onto your shoulder as you wheel your slightly beat up suitcase behind you.

——

As you unbuckle your seat belt, you glance out of the window, smiling as you see the sun shining down on the new world outside.

You stood up, grabbed your bag and waited as patiently as you could to get off of the plane.

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked around for options on how to get yourself away from this airport. There was a small strip of places that looked alive and open.

You walked into a place called, The Night Owl - fitting, considering it’s almost midnight.

You look around, sighing at the dead energy inside the bar. You give the older bartender a small smile as you walk up to the bar, setting your bag down on the seat next to the one you take for yourself, “Can I get a glass of wine please.”

He raises his brows, “Any particular kind?”

You shake your head, “A good one.” You laugh weakly and he nods, giving you small smile, “Coming right up.”

You look around, nothing really catching your attention, which is boring, to say the least.

You let out a sigh as you turn back around, reaching out to take the glass immediately after the bartender sets it down, “Thank you.”

“Eight dollars whenever you’re ready.”

You nod, digging into your purse. You lay a ten down, “I don’t need change.”

“Thank you.” He nods and as soon as you go to take a sip, some guy slides in between your hair and the one your bag isn’t on, “Haven’t seen you around here before.”

You instantly regretted coming in here.

“Just waiting on a friend.” You lie, trying to just get him off your back.

“Ah, okay. So one time thing, then yeah? Do you live around here?” He continues to pry and you let out a sigh, “Those are some pretty deep questions for someone I don’t even know the name of.”

He stares at you for a few seconds, “Oh shit. Sorry, I was just so caught up in your beautiful-“

“I’m not going home with you.”

He nods, “Straight to it, alright.” He takes a swig of his beer as he walks away and you can’t help but laugh when his friends boo him.

Probably the highlight of the night.

——

You finish your second glass of wine and Mel, the bartender, comes back over, “Can I get you one more before I start closing up?”

You tilt your head, “Just put a little blackberry bourbon in a glass for me.”

He nods, “You got it.”

As you wait for your drink to arrive, you pull your phone out, hoping there’s a slight chance it would turn on.

But no luck.

You sigh, tossing it into your purse as Mel sets the clear glass down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You gave Mel a smile before digging in your purse.

He nods and you lay a twenty down, “Keep the change, Mell.” He smile, “Thank you, y/n.” You nod and look down at your drink, mind racing about why you decided to move to L.A.

Why did I come here? Because you couldn’t be around your family any longer.

Do I have a reason to be here? Because you need to grow.

Can I really fit in and-

“This seat taken?” A deep voice pulls you from your thoughts and you look up, slowly turning your head.

A, very tall, guy with a beanie covering his black choppy looking hair, stands there with a small smile on his lips.

He was fairly cute, you couldn’t lie, so you shake your head, “Not at all.” You smile and sit up, turning towards him slightly as he sits down.

“I’m Jake.” He holds his hand out and you look down, shocked when you see his busted up and bruised hand, “Um.” You tilt your head as you take his hand, “Y/n.”

You couldn’t lie, your heart started pounding a little harder when your eyes were met with his bruised knuckles.

It wasn’t something you were really expecting to see right off the bat, but you still felt - safe.

You look up at him and a smile spreads across his have as you speak, “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you okay? Do you need like medical attention or something?”

He shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink, “Nah, nah. I’m alright, sweetheart.”

Your heart skips a beat and you can feel your cheeks growing redder.

“Thank you for asking.” He smiles and you nod, “I mean, if you say so.” You laugh slightly, eyes moving back down to fixate on your freshly manicured hand in his.

The deep colored bruising and the dark red scabs not only intrigued you in a, what do you do on a daily basis kind of way, but also in a wow nothing has ever turned you on like this before way, too.

“You can ask.” Jake’s voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “what?”

He chuckles, sipping on his drink, “I said. You can ask.”

“Uh, ask what?” You play dumb and Jake squeezes your fingers that are still lingering on his palm. He leans in and his eyes move from your lips to your eyes, “Ask me what I do to make my hands look like this.”

You felt your stomach flip and you tilt your head slightly as your eyes move between his.

A slight smirk plays with your lips, “Tell me, Jake.” You circle his palm with your fingers slowly, “What do you do to get your hands all beat up like this?”

Jake looks up at the clock, “Actually, come with me.”

Usually, a guy telling a girl he just met to, come with me, would usually raise red flags, but you’ve basically held Jake’s hand the whole time have been sitting here chatting.

Jake, as already said, and still as weird as it sounds, makes you feel safe, so you had no problem following him to his car.

“Here. You can put your bags in there for now.” You nod as you watch him open the back door. You nod and toss your duffle in before Jake lifts your suitcase and lays it on the seat, “Alright.” He closes the door and holds his hand out, “Follow me.”

You take his hand, waking with him around the building of the bar you were just in, “Where are we going?” You ask as you walk under Jake’s arm.

He turns, arm still on the door, a smirk on his lips as you look back at him, “You scared, darlin’?”

A smirk grows on your lips as you shake your head, “No. I trust you.”

He nods, taking your hand into his again, “Atta girl.”

You smile to yourself as you look around once you reach the bottom of the long staircase, “What is this place? Looks like an old subway station.” Your eyes fall to him as he stops and you can hear faint shouting and chanting coming from, somewhere.

Jake reaches for the handle of the old door, “You’re good.” Your eyes watch as his busted up and ring cladded fingers wrap around the handle, “And this..” he opens the door, “..Is how my hands get all fucked up.”

You raise your brows and he nods towards the open door, “Just stay with me. You’ll be good.”

You walk in and the shouting grows louder the further into the green lit room you go. Jake walks you up to a balcony and your eyes scan down over the scene below you, taking in what you’re actually witnessing.

You take a sharp breath as the one guy below in a ring formed by the, what you can only assume is, members, takes a bad punch to the jaw.

“Knocked out.” Jake says in a low voice as he leans in towards you. You smile slightly, “So what..” you bite your lip and look up at him, “You fight for a living?”

Jake turns around, crossing his arms as he puts an unlit cigarette in between his lips, “You can say that.”

“I know he’s here!” A guy, who is very angry, yells which catches both of your attentions. You lean over and Jake stops you from going any further by putting his hand flat on your chest.

You look from Jake, back down to the pit below you, and see a guy spinning around slowly, looking at each crowd member in the face, “Webber. Where the fuck you at, brother?”

You look over at Jake who shakes his head laughing, “I knew he’d show up sooner or later.” Jake flicks the ash off of his cigarette.

“Is he looking for you?” You ask as your brows shoot upward. Jake nods, “Uh huh.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh and holds the burning cigarette between his lips as he starts to take his rings off.

He extends his hand out to you, “Can you be a doll and hold these for me, please?”

You nod, looking down to your hand as you bring it up and open it, allowing him to drop his collection of rings into your palm.

He flashes you a smile, “Thanks, now stay close to me on the way down and at the front of the ring when I’m in it, got it?.”

You give him a few nods as you stuff his rings into your pocket before quickly taking his hand, following him down a rickety looking spiral staircase.

Everyone looks towards you and Jake. Their eyes moving between the two of you, and right now. In this moment, you have never felt so out of place somewhere - and your cream colored cardigan was surely bound to make you stick out like a sore thumb.

Jake pulls you through the crowd, his grip tight on your body. You did feel super safe with him, especially now with knowing he can actually fight. You stop as you get to the opening and Jake shrugs off his jacket, “Heard you were lookin’ for me.”

Your eyes scan up and down his back. His tattoos, scars, fresh and old bruises moving with his muscles.

You take his jacket as he extends his arm back, almost like muscle memory. The guy cracks his knuckles and then lifts his hand to his chin, “Wanted to take a crack at knocking you down from your rankin’ a lil bit.”

You were interested to know what Jake’s rank was.

He cracks his neck and Jake puts his hand to his ear, “And what rank would that be?”

The guy across from him laughs, “I’m here to remove your title as undefeated champion, Mr. Jake Webber.”

Undefeated champion.. You feel your heart beat harder when you hear the words roar off his tongue. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

You were the safest person in this room.

Jake slips his shirt off over his head, you also take that and drape it over his jacket. Jake quickly stretches his arms a few times and shrugs, “Let’s see you try.”

He motions with his hand, “Bring it, big boy.”

Even though you were smiling behind your fingers, you were nervously chewing on your nails, too. You just met this guy and if he gets hurt, it’s like you’d be able to feel the pain, too.

The guy wasn’t any bigger than Jake, though. Well, ego wise, definitely.

Jake looked back at you, giving you a wink before looking back at the guy walking over to him, fists balled and ready to swing.

You hold your breath as you wait for the first punch to be thrown.

Jake moves, getting them to walk in a circle, getting the crowd amped up right before the guy swings on Jake, groaning in frustration when Jake dodges it.

The longer you stood there, watching it all play out, the more you felt like you belonged there, and walking in with Jake really seemed to help that - hell, especially now with knowing he’s an undefeated champ and all.

Jake swings, popping the guy in his jaw and he laughs, “I think you have the theater and the ring mixed up, there pal.” Jake shoots, cocking his head, “I’m here to fight, not dance.”

The guy lets out a loud yell as he runs towards Jake, and you gasp as Jake’s back meets the dark, blood stained concrete below him.

The guy pulls his arm back just to swing but Jake quickly manages to escape and get two punches to his face before scurrying to stand up.

You were impressed, absolutely mesmerized with seeing Jake like this. The sweat glistening off his body in the glowing green lights.

The way he can take more than a punch and not bat an eye, fuck. You practically had to wipe the drool off of your chin before anyone noticed.

“Come on, Jake.” You mumble to yourself, bouncing up and down in your spot. Jake’s head snaps to the left as he eats another punch, his cheek busted open slightly, but not as bad as the other guys. Yet.

Your lip is pulled tightly between your teeth, biting down harder each time Jake gets hit. Your eyes watch as he stumbles back, falling at your feet.

Before you can bend down to try and help him, he’s already halfway up your body.

You knew what was coming, as he drug his face up extremely really close to yours.

Your heart is beating at a high rate speed. His lips press to yours, giving you a sloppy, but still the hottest kiss you’ve ever received in your life, before he pulls away, a cocky smirk on his face.

The crowd goes absolutely mad, but you ignore that as you hold your stare on Jake. Focusing on him to get yet, another win.

You were also too into watching him completely obliterate this prick, to realize that Jake’s blood was smeared on to your face now, too.

“Alright. Alright.” A guy goes out, pulling Jake off of the weakened figure lying on the ground. Jake stands up, turning out and holding his arm up.

The crowd goes absolutely wild.

And so do you.

The arm that isn’t holding his jacket gets thrown into the air as you jump up and down smiling at the people around you.

You were so proud of him, and he noticed that right away.

Jake looks around for a second before locking his eyes onto you again. He smirks and nods his head, cocking his jaw as he snatches the money from the guy’s hand and immediately walks over to you.

“That was so ho-“

He cuts you off as he pulls you into him, his arms going around your waist to lift you up off the ground as his lips meet yours.

You don’t even cringe at the new blood mixing with the dried blood on your face,

“C’mon.” Jake sets you down on your feet, arm still around your body, “Let’s get out of here.”

He leads you up the steps and back out into the hall, immediately pressing your back against the old brick wall. His hands cup your cheeks, thumb smearing his blood over your skin, “You look so pretty with my blood on your face.”

You smile and lick your lips, “Sorry for being so blunt but you are incredibly, fucking hot.”

He pulls you in and kisses over your cheek to your lips, “I hope you don’t have any plans tonight, because you’re coming home with me.”

You rest your head back against the wall and bite your lip, “As a matter of fact, my schedule is free.”

He smiles down at you, “Good.” He steps back pulling the dented pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offering you one before taking one for himself.

“Sure.” You smile, “I can get you a n-“

“No need.” He lifts the lighter and you inhale as the end starts to burn. You close your eyes, feeling the buzz from the nicotine do its thing.

“Come on.” He extends his hand out, waiting for you to take it before he behind leading you towards the exit door. He holds it open, his head moving as he watches you walk by him and he’s immediately back to holding you against him as he walks you back around the bar to his car.

“You sure you want to come home with me?” Jake asks as he opens his car door. You look up at him, “I promise, me falling for a serial killer wouldn’t be the absolute worst thing to happen to me.”

“That’s.. actually..” Jake laughs slightly, “I’m sorry?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “That’s a story for another time.” You go to get in the car but stop, looking back up at him, “If I even make it that long.”

Jake laughs, rolling his eyes as he sighs, “Only time will tell.” He laughs again as he shuts the door and jogs around to get in.

“So can I ask about.. that..” you motion to where you walked from and Jake nods, “Of course. What do you want to know, sweetheart?”

Jake starts driving and you purse your lips, “How do you know when you’re done fighting, like does it have to end in a knockout, or whatever?”

Jake reaches over and your hand instantly moves to interlock your fingers with his, “So basically..” he chuckles slightly, “It’s not over until I win, but yeah. Most of the time it’s by knockout, or if your opponent taps out.”

“Have you had that happen?” You look over at him and he nods, “Oh yeah.” He laughs, “Plenty of times. Guys think they’re all big and bad until they realize they can bark but they can’t bite for shit.”

“Aren’t you scared?” You ask, quieter than the last and he looks over at you for a few seconds before looking back onto the headlight lit road, “Of what?”

You shrug, “I don’t know. Can’t you die doing that?”

“You can die doing anything, y/n.” Jake chuckles, waiting a few seconds before he continues, “I mean, I was at first.. I guess?”

He shrugs, “My first fight.” He clicks his tongue, “I remember this clear as fucking day. My friend told me about this underground fight club that his friend took him to, and you need to know people to get in to this, right?”

You nod, smiling at the excitement in his tone, “Next thing I know, Colby is pushing me into this ring and I come out two hundred dollars richer. So I started working out, boxing mainly just so I can stay in shape with this.”

“I mean.” You shrug, biting down on your lip, “The way you held onto that..” You furrow your brows, “Oh what is it?”

He looks over at you confused and you smirk as you squeeze his hand with each word, “Undefeated champion?”

He smirks and shakes his head, smiling big as he pulls into the parking stall, “Oh..Did I forget to mention that?” He looks over at you and you nod, “I mean, I guess I can let it slide.”

“Yeah?” Jake asks tilting his head.

You smirk over at him, unbuckling your seatbelt before you lean in, “Yeah.”

Jake’s seatbelt is undone and he’s closing the space between you with his hands on your cheeks and lips on yours.

You moan lowly against his lips and push yourself up off the seat to lean more into him.

Jake slides his hands over your shoulders and down your arms, “Mm, alright. Come on. I need to wash this off.” He nods down towards his hands as he leans back.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at your cheek, too.”

Jake stares at you for a few seconds and your brow twitches, “Is that.. did I cross a line?”

He shakes his head, hand reaching over to gently cup your face, “No, not at all.” His thumb gently brushes over the dried red marks, “Just never had anyone who cared about me like that.”

You lay your hand on his wrist, patting gently, “Well, you’re giving me a place to stay tonight, so I feel like if I can help out in anyway-“

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” You laugh, looking up at him, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just, I basically left home without a trace, looking for somewhere no one knew what my name was.”

“So why did you tell me what it was, y/n?” Jake tries to fight back a smirk and you shrug, “I think I just knew I’d be safe with you.”

You were like a shot of espresso to Jake.

As soon as he seen you, he couldn’t shake this constant feeling that he needed to know you, and to say that he was shocked when you obliged to go with him on a random side quest in the middle of the night was an understatement.

“Y’know..” Jake says, hand still laying on your cheek, “That was my best fight, and I’ve been doing this for..” he blows out a breath of air, “Four years now?”

“Because of the guy calling you out?” You tilt your head into his hand more and Jake’s eyes immediately move to your face, voice low as he subtly shakes his head, “Because you were there.”

“Me?” You ask as if he was talking to someone else, which gets him to laugh, “Yes, sweetheart. You.”

You shift around in your seat, the more you sat here and just talked with Jake, you’re finding out all you need to know - and you weren’t leaving without him.

“Can we.. go inside.” You move your eyes to meet his and he nods, “Fuck yeah we can go inside. Hold on.”

He gets out, running around to open up the back door of his car to retrieve your luggage before moving to open up your door, “Okay, here we are.”

You smile up at him, shaking your head as you take his hand to get out of the car, “Thank you.”

He nods, “Silver key, top lock. I got these.” He motions to your bags and you just cannot stop smiling with him, “Okay.”

You take the keys from Jake’s hands, your fingers brushing against his and you feel that same adrenaline you felt back at the fight, starting to course through your veins.

You swallow, turning on your heel to walk up towards his door. Jake’s eyes were burning into your back, he knew there was something about you, just like there was something about him.

You push the door open, moving out of the way for Jake to go in but he stops, “Ladies first.”

You feel shy and giddy around him.

You’ve never felt this was with anyone. You always close everyone out, scared to let them in, but maybe you needed this change.

Maybe this change came with added bonuses, but you weren’t complaining, not anymore.

You walk in, turning around after finding the lights, to see what you can help Jake with, “Don’t your hands hurt, Jake?” Your eyes move from his face to his hands, “They look like they do.”

He shakes his head as he walks over to you, finger tilting your chin up so he can kiss you, “Mm fine, love. Okay.” His lips go back to pecking yours and you slide your hands up his chest, “Is this a one night stand?”

“This is whatever you want it to be, baby.” Jake kisses down your neck, “I just have this feeling like you’re supposed to be in my life.”

You lean back slightly, nodding as you look at him, “That’s how I feel.”

His hands slide down your sides before he gasps, “Oh shit.” He pulls your cardigan towards him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I-“

“It’s okay. Do you have a washer?” You look up at him, not really worried about the blood. He nods and you smile, “Then I’ll just wash it later.”

You eye the mark on his cheek, but he kisses you to distract right before you can say anything about it.

He backs you up into the wall, his hands slipping under your t-shirt to grip the skin of your waist, “We don’t ha-“

“I want to.” You cut him off, quickly regaining his lips back onto yours. He bends down slightly, tapping the back of your thighs and you jump into his grasp.

He puts one hand on the wall while the other moves to your neck, gripping gently as his hips hold you up.

Your lips part as he slowly squeezes tighter, a moan slipping out as your eyes roll back.

Jake’s lips pepper your face in kisses before he releases his grip, “Bed then shower?”

“Yes.” You whimper out, “please.”

Jake smirks, setting you down on your feet so he can lead you up to his room. It would be a lie to say you made it there without your hands roaming each others bodies.

You were eager to see him shirtless again, the sight alone had you swimming in a pool of your own lust.

As soon as you’re in the room and the doors shut, clothes start flying off. Each of you taking turns to undress the other, getting to impatient so you revert to ripping your own clothes off.

Jake tackles you onto the bed, his lips trailing hungry kisses up and down your neck and over your collar bones, “you are so beautiful.”

You run your hands through his hair, just now realizing he managed to keep his beanie on the whole time he was fighting, “Wait.”

Jake looks up, a nervous look on his face and you smile as you shake your head, “No I still want to do that.” A look of relief washes over him as you laugh slightly, “I just realized that you kept your beanie on your whole fight.”

Jake laughs, “That’s because he hits like a bitch.” His eyes scan over your face, “I’m so glad you were there.”

You smile, “I’m glad I got the last flight to LA.”

He leans in, kissing your lips as you feel the tip of his cock rub the outside of your pussy, “Jake.” You slide your hand down, earning a gasp from him as you wrap your hand around his cock to guide it inside of you.

“Oh shit.” Jake groans, bucking his lips slightly which makes you dig your nails into his shoulders, “Fuck.”

You let out a whine as you dig your heels into his lower back, urging him to go all in, “P-please.”

You look up at him, his lips parted as he moves to brush hair from your face, “I need to just.. fuck you feel so good.” He moans against your lips, slowly pushing his cock into you more, “I’m going to ruin you in the best ways possible.”

You whimper at his words, “I trust you.”

You could tell by Jake’s delayed reaction that, I trust you, wasn’t something he heard often anymore. Which is true, he took everything anyone said anymore with a grain of salt.

Mainly the girls he actually tried to give the time of day to, but with you, it’s like he was told directly by the being that created you - you were his and he was yours.

“You don’t have to-“

Jake cuts you off, “I trust you, too.”

You smile, biting down on your lip when he shifts his hips slightly, “Shit.”

Jake’s hand returns to your throat, squeezing slowly as his hips start to move, “You feel so good.” His lips are right by your ear, his voice low, “Gonna make you mine.”

Your back arches up off the bed as he thrusts his cock into you, hard. A moan is ripped from your throat as your legs tighten around his waist.

His thrusts are hard, almost punishing.

But if Jake thinks you’re the least bit uncomfortable, he stops to make sure you’re okay, and you honestly loved that.

“You okay? You’re kinda starin’ up at me in a daze, babe.” Jake laughs slightly and you nod, “it’s your cheek, I think you opened up your cut again.”

Jake brings a hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing over the freshly leaked blood, “Mm.” He winces slightly, “These are always the worst ones for me.”

“Do you want-“

“No.” Jake turns his attention back onto you, “You’re all I want to focus on right now, okay?” He bites his lip as his eyes move to his red colored thumb, “Can I?”

You glance over and nod, looking up at him as he starts to slowly thrusts again. Your brows furrow and your face twists with pleasure as he brings his thumb over, dragging a red streak down your cheek.

He groans at the image, hand snapping down to your hip as his thrusts grow harder.

Your hands find themselves entangled within his hair, moaning out as he attacks your neck, leaving little purple marks scattered all over your skin.

You earn a groan from him when you pull, squeezing his cock tighter with the walls of your needy cunt.

“You keep doin’ that an I’m about to be done for.” Jake groans, “Fuck, baby. Doing so good.”

You whimper at his praise, arching your back and he takes the time to slip his arm under, holding you to him as your legs fall to rest over his thighs.

He uses his other arm to hold up his weight as he thrusts into you at a, now faster, pace.

He had you screaming at this point, the tip of his cock continuing to bottom out against your best up cervix, you knew you were going to be sore tomorrow.

“Need you to cum for me.” He breathes out, “Can you do that for me?”

You nod your head quickly, eyes screwing shut as you listen to his praise continue, “Such a good girl for me.”

“Taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, yes, just like that. Oh fuck, just like that.”

Your vision goes white and your grip on Jake tightens as you moan loudly into his ear.

“That’s my girl.” Jake moans, his thrusts growing more sloppy by the second, “Where do you want me?”

Your legs tighten around his waist, answering his question - just in the nick of time, too. You feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum being held in by his slowly softening cock.

“Fuck.” You breathe out as you look up at him, pushing his sticky from sweat hair off of his forehead.

He nods, smiling as he lays beside you, “Agreed.”

His hand searches for yours, and when he finds it, your fingers are instantly interlocked with his, taking a few moments just to lay there in the comfortable silence.

“Do you want to go for a shower?” Jake asks, tilting his head up to look at you. You look over at him and nod, “Only if you get one with me.”

“That was the only way I was offering it.” Jake smirks, moving to stand up, “Come on, my little fighter. Gotta wash this blood off your face.”

——

I hope you liked this! Tell me your thoughts! I love you all so much, thank you for reading! 🖤

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151 notes · View notes

wayfayrr · 9 months ago

Note

I’LL THROW HANDS WITH ANY OF YOUR EXES THAT MADE YOU FEEL LIKE LESS, YOU ABSOLUTELY ARE LOVABLE, NEVER LET ANYONE TELL YOU OTHERWISE MOSS <3

But also had me clutching my phone to my chest with the luck part 😭 you’re so sweet I’m sending so much love through the internet <33

I know I already made a request (which again, take as long as you need, I am more than happy to wait however long <3) but I’m so serious when I say that I need to request something sweet with self aware asexual Sky, specifically him cuddling with reader, just lying his head on their chest as they rest their cheek against his head while like, maybe they play a lil cozy game; Stardew or something- whether they are playing that game together, or Sky is just watching reader while they play, I have no preference, I just need wholesome fluff <333

~🍀 anon

I'm pretty much over it now!! made me feel like shit but eh - I'm so happy to be separate from them now :P they were a real piece of shit ngl but they don't matter anymore!

I couldn't help myself!! what can I say, it was just so tempting to refer to luck in some way - I mean your emoji is a four-leaf clover!!/aff

I did choose to do this request first cause it felt fitting for pride month (I say posting this within the last 10 minutes) but I also realised there's no way to make something noticeably ace without announcing it - so this just comes across more as soft cuddles <3 but I still think it's sweet

[masterlist]

He’s much warmer than I thought he’d be, considering he hasn’t had a pulse, or blood, or a body for very long at all, only about a week as of now. Yet he’s already mostly a natural with it, only needing a gentle reminder every now and then to breathe compared to when he was freshly - fresher out of the game and needed a nudge every couple of minutes to remember.

It’s perfect for times like this though, just the two of us lying together taking the time to be in each other's presence and it’s hardly surprising that he’s stuck to me like glue knowing what he’s been through. I can’t help but become more enamoured with him through it all as well, while he’s not entirely like how I imagined his character would’ve been like if this kind of thing happened, if anything I’d say… he’s better. Cuddly, soft and sleepy like you’d assume from how he’s shown in-game but also just so, so much sweeter and sassier than he was shown. It’s charming.

“You forgot to water the pumpkins my dove.”

“I didn’t but thank you for the reminder sweetheart.”

It feels comfortable calling him that now, It wasn’t immediately and he respected that, now I really couldn’t help falling for him. Right now I can feel myself slipping and falling in love with him more and more, he knows what he’s doing I’m sure of it but despite knowing that it’s impossible to stop myself. The smallest things like how he intertwined his fingers around mine while I hold the switch, resting his head on my chest. Even how his hair rustles on my chest with how he’s laying on top of me is downright addictive, driving me deeper and deeper into his spell.

“[name], [name] love you still haven’t watered the pumpkins.”

“I’m walking over to them, I know you can see our farmer moving.”

“Mhm, but I know you aren’t focused on the game.”

“How can I be when you’re acting like this?”

“Acting like what love?”

Where do I begin to describe how he’s been acting? That he’s been extra soft tonight? That he’s been even more gentle than usual with how he’s holding my hands and resting on me? That he’s stolen the softest clothes I own to wear right now? That since he’s started washing his hair with my conditioner his hair is so silky and fluffy and good melling that I just want to bury my face in- He knows exactly what I’m struggling to say out loud, his little giggle spelling it out instantly.

“Acting like your partner?”

“...”

“Acting like your boyfriend?”

“...Wouldn’t any way you act be acting like my boyfriend?”

“I-!”

Never in my life would I have thought something like that would slip from my mouth that easily, making him stop breathing. And for once? It makes me forget to remind him to too.

#I'm going to be writing requests a little shorter now I think #or just judging them as they come for length #<3 #this is a little shorter but I'm still really happy with it though #ALSO #I know this is an old ask #BUT I hope you're doing well clover!!!#Its been a hot minute since I've gotten an ask from you #and I hope that you're doing alright <33 #moss✦writes #linked universe #yandere link #yandere linked universe #link x reader #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #self aware au #lu sky #lu sky x reader

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shira-cosmic-star · 8 months ago

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Little things to love. Jabberwock HC

(This was ordinally supposed to be a different HC. Then I got sidetracked and came up with this one. I promise I'm working on the Wish Me Mell pt 2. It'll be posted some time tomorrow. Thank you kindly for your patience.)

Warning: Nothing but fluffy, GNreader

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Haru:

Mc headed over to Jabberwock to assist with the animals. It was a long week and maybe this will cheer them up? They’ve always enjoyed spending time with the boys and Peekaboo. After making your way through the entrance. MC see a wide grassy field. So far there wasn’t any signs of animals or ghouls nearby. Just a straightforward path to the dorm. As MC walked on the side walk, they looked around deep far into the distance.

“Gahahha! Watch out!!” MC heard a voice behind them. As soon as they turned around Mc see a goat like anomaly, running towards them. Panic begins to set in.

‘Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh! What should I do!?’ They sway left and then right. Unsure which direction to go.

“BAM”

“Ow” They cried as the goat ran straight into them and slammed its head into theirs. Haru quickly runs over to them and helps Mc up.

“Gah! Are you okay MC?” He questioned after seeing what the goat did. MC had their hand on their forehead. Once he removed their hand to take a look. There was a knot on their head.

“Is it bad?” He looks into their eyes.

“No, no, no! Nothing an ice pack can’t fix!” He stated cheerfully. Haru takes their hand gentle and guide them to the dorm. In the dorm Ren was sitting on the couch watching YouTube. After hearing the door creek open. Ren looks up from his phone.

“What happened to you?” While he raised one of his brows, he asked.

Not fully wanting to admit what just happened. MC pouted and removed their hand from their forehead.

“Eh? Yeesh.” Haru had come back in the room and handed MC an ice pack. Once they have placed it on themselves , he hummed to himself. “MC, why didn’t you move out the way?” His voice carried with concern.

“I-I was going to, but I panicked and I-I didn’t know where it was heading...” MC explained their thought process. They stumble with their words as they feel the rush of embarrassment forming on her face. He chuckled and patted her back. “Hey it’s all okay. It could’ve been worse.” He explained to MC in a tempt to cheer them up. MC smiled and nodded their head.

“Yeah! I could have broken a nose or busted my head!” MC spoke with a cheerful voice and good attitude. Haru loved this about MC. He stands up straight with both hands on his hips. “That’s the spirit! Gahahah!!” His laugh rings throughout the dorm and They joined him.

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Towa

Upon, MC’s arrival. They have offered Towa a dandelion. Which to their surprise, Towa eats it before they could say anything. From that day on. He had taken a liking to MC. Though he isn’t much of a talker. He still listens and communicate the best that he can. Towa would nod his head, yes or no while he makes little sounds. Mc is able to tell by the tone of Towa’s hums whether he is saying ‘yes’ or ‘no.’

Right now, both of them are sitting on the hill watching the sunset. Mc would do most of the talking. Meanwhile, Towa would listen. He enjoys hearing all of her stories. Rather they were happy, sad, silly, or scary. Though, the one thing he loves the most. Would be how caring and mind she is. She would often stop by with homemade lunches for all of them. Making sure that each of them had at least a healthy full meal. Mc would even take care of peekaboo, while Haru and Towa was out. Often when Mc makes the meals. She would make sure Towa’s was perfect. Favoritism? Probably. She spends a lot of time with him. So why not put a lot of effort into making his meals? Mc had learned which flowers he likes to eat. Some flowers he would eat. While others he likes to smell and admire.

Towa also loves to cuddle with her. He would sit her, right between his legs and hold her to his chest. Recently, Mc has been with the other ghouls and helping them out. This makes Towa extremely upset, he misses her so much. So, now they are both cuddling was they watch the sunset. When it starts to get dark outside. Towa tells her how much he enjoys being around her. So much that he wishes it never ends. He will always be grateful for the things Mc do. Not only for him, but Haru too.

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Ren:

Ren was working at the Mystery Diner this evening. He had messaged MC about joining him. They were planning on watching horror movies and playing video games together. But unfortunately, MC wasn’t available that night. They were off on another mission with the other ghouls from another dorm. Recently MC has been cancelling the hangouts due to the missions. Ren sighs heavily, he knows deep down they don’t mean to cancel on him. Yet, he couldn’t help, but miss their present.

Shortly after the mission, MC had gone to the school store to find something that Ren might like. They went from alle to alle. They couldn’t find anything there. Disappointed, they sighed. Then and idea came to mind. They decided to make him a gift. ‘Maybe that will cheer him up? Hopefully this isn’t cheesy or makes things weird...’ Alongside of some snacks he might like. This took them a few days to make his a cute sorry gift. They have messaged him, asking if he was either at the dorm or at the diner. He had clarified that he was at the dorm. Shortly, MC walking into the dorm. Ren wasn’t in the lobby, nor was he in the kitchen. That could only mean one thing. He was in his room.

‘Knock Knock’ MC hits their knuckle on the door. Ren opens the door to see who it was. They had their hands behind their back. Standing in front of him was MC. Looking guilty like a child who had done something wrong. “Oh hey” He was the first to speak. Ren opens the door wider and lets them in. Mc sits down on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath.

“Ren, I’m so sorry for cancelling the past few hangouts. To make it up to you. I’ve made you this. They showed him the basket of horror movies, his favorite snacks, and cute little items that reminded MC of him. There was a shark key chain. A small plushie of his favor horror movie character, and a note for him.

“Don’t read the note yet. I rather you read it when I leave. I’m truly sorry Ren, I hope you can forgive me.”

Ren’s heart beats faster and louder. His ears red as his cheeks. He was speechless, how on earth is he able to talk now? He can’t even look them in the eyes. His fists balled up from his anxiety. He takes in a deep breath. Looks them in the eyes and spoke.

“You didn’t need to all this, but thanks.” At the end of his sentence. He looked away extremely bashful. With his hand rubbing the back of his head. MC knew that all was forgiving. Ren have asked them if they wanted to stay and watched the movies with him and share the snacks. Both of them hearts swells with a certain feeling. Who knows where things will lead in the future.

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

(Edited)

Thank you for reading this feel free to like, comment, and reblog!

You can also request anything in the "ask me anything" box

𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝐷𝑎𝑧𝑧𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠✮

#tokyo debunker #tokyo debunker headcanons #tokyo debunker x reader #tokyo debunker ren #tokyo debunker haru #tokyo debunker towa

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aggie-postemon · 5 months ago

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Jazz Takes Aim

Ectoberweek Day 3 - October 27th - "Ghost Peeler"

In which Jazz fires the Ghost Peeler at the Red Huntress, and she actually hits.

AO3 | FFN

Jazz sprinted pell mell down Amity Park's main street, aiming for the Nasty Burger. She didn't know what the hell she was thinking. She also didn't know what the hell had happened. All she knew was that Danny and Valerie were at each other's throats again, completely disregarding every temporary alliance they had ever made.

Danny was on the defensive, though. He was always on the defensive. Jazz understood not wanting to hurt your friends or family, but sometimes she wished her baby brother was willing to properly fight back against people who were earnestly trying to kill him.

Light glowed from the windows of the Nasty Burger, so Jazz could see exactly what she was doing as she decided to forgo running around the building to the front door. She launched herself at an exposed gutter instead, scuttling up the side of the building.

Her arms burned, but Danny and Valerie were in the sky, and Danny was losing.

Jazz climbed, then gave a massive heave with her arms, hoisting herself up and over the lip of the roof. Gooseflesh rose on the back of her neck as she entered the larger field of Danny and Valerie's fight. She didn't have ghost sense, Jazz knew that. But she sensed ghosts a little too reliably for her own comfort.

The moment her feet gained purchase on the flat tar roofing, Jazz ran for the far side, beyond which Danny and Valerie were trading increasingly frantic blows.

"Valerie Gray," Jazz shouted, knowing that the Red Huntress flinched sometimes, when her identity was brought into things, despite it being a fairly open secret. It paid off - Valerie looked her way. Unfortunately, Danny also looked at her. He was so busy gawping, he completely missed the opportunity to push advantage while Valerie was distracted.

"Valerie Gray," Jazz tried again. "I swear to god, if you hurt Phantom, I'm going to end you."

But Valerie's focus was back on Danny; she was laser sharp when she wanted to be, and whatever had triggered this resurgence of violence must have been serious.

Jazz really did not know what the hell she was thinking when she reached for the ghost peeler in her purse. "Valerie, I'll shoot."

"With Jack's aim?" Valerie threw back at her, taking aim herself again at Danny, shooting him successfully in the shoulder.

Jazz pressed the activation button, feeling the suit of the Peeler travel up her arm and over her body. Distantly, she remembered the Peeler successfully stripping Mr. Lancer down to his underwear.

Jazz fired.

In the split second that Jazz's shot hung in the air, she had the faint hope that it might do the same thing to Valerie, taking off her iconic black-and-red suit, removing her from the fight.

The shot hit home.

"Even the worst shot strikes occasionally," Jazz said, with no small amount of satisfaction.

Then Valerie screamed. Ancients, it almost seemed like she was blurring at the edges.

"Oh shit," Jazz said, wrenching her arm out and down and taking her finger off the trigger. "Valerie!"

Valerie fell. Danny reacted, dove down to get her. His legs merged into a tail as he pressed for speed. Danny, Jazz noticed, only had one good arm to catch her with.

While Danny dove and Jazz stood uselessly on the roof of the Nasty Burger, holding a literal smoking gun, Valerie did not stop screaming.

Jazz deactivated the Peeler entirely, shoving it back into her purse as the armor slid from her body. Then she moved.

By the time she was off the roof, Danny and Valerie had hit the ground together.

"Danny!" Jazz shouted. "Valerie!"

Valerie was prone on the asphalt. Danny bent over her, one arm pinned to his side, face an obvious grimace.

Jazz slid to her knees at Valerie's side. "Valerie. Valerie. Can you hear me?" she said, then looked at Danny. "Is she responsive at all?"

Danny shrugged with one shoulder, wide eyed.

Jazz rolled Valerie onto her back, and placed a fist on her sternum. She rubbed firmly, watching carefully for any signs of breathing. She hoped beyond reason that she would not need to pull out CPR. Statistics ran through Jazz's head - CPR was not nearly as effective as people liked to pretend.

Jazz bent over, putting her ear to Valerie's lips. She did not cease her sternum rub.

Yes!

A faint puff. Valerie's breathing was slower than it should be, but Jazz was fairly certain it was there.

"She's breathing," Jazz said. "I'm sure of it."

Danny slumped in visible relief. "Jazz?" he asked, voice small. "Why did the Peeler work?"

Valerie chose that moment to open her eyes. They glowed orange.

#ectoberweek2024 #ghost peeler #ectoberweek ghost peeler #danny phantom fanfiction #danny phantom #valerie gray #jazz fenton

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thelancer27 · 3 months ago

Note

GREETINGS. YOU HAVE BEEN THROUGH A TRAUMATIC EVENT. IT IS UNDERSTANDABLE THAT YOU MAY NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, AND ADVISABLE THAT YOU REST AND RECUPERATE. NEVERTHELESS. WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE REPRESENTS A DEVIATION FROM STANDARD HORUS ACTIVITIES IN THIS SECTOR, AND I AM OBLIGED TO ASK FURTHER QUESTIONS. WHEN YOU ARE STABLE AND RESTED, CONTACT ME. UTOPIA IS A VERB.

SIGNED - [MAG-MELL]

Hey, I don’t know who you are but, I’m willing to talk. Whatever it is you need. I’ll answer. Windvale did something to my teammates, to my friends. Even if most of the fight was a blur, and I’ve got a killer migraine, I’ll do whatever you need to help. Horus won’t get away with this.

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancer oc #oc rp #lancer ttrpg #lancer rp

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neon-witch-ritual · 4 months ago

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Okay so my thoughts so far

Mell - she being psychologically profiled by Black rose and not having a good time at all, also she truly has some magicky bullshit/awareness going on I like it

Cait - she started fucking fast holy shit, trained by Ambessa both physically and in leadership but still disagrees on some points, fucking schemes behind her back I love my dictator lite

Vi - wtf is her friend at ? After that montage I don't think we see him again right?, also jinx following her and throwing a bomb on her that vander is back baby, but in general she seems to be healing especially after reuniting with W/V

Jinx - she be going through it , doesn't want to be a symbol just play with her little sister/daughter and ignore the world , when she decides to do smth, she encounters the fucking beast that is her father , has to inform Vi of this and she does not believe her at all, risk Ishas life and her sisters to prove it, go to a commune with no weapons to try and heal him and in the end has to see the kid she sees like Powder fucking sacrifice herself at the tf

Isha - love the kid, how dare you Fortiche fucking kill her off, esp in a way that will add even more trauma and irony to Jinx

Warwick - I love what they did for him, from the design to the behaviour, but what fucking punched me in the gut is that goddamn flashback -Silco is fucking hot and sane, oh no , Vander has known Vi and Jinx mother , they both did , they were basically uncles(or at least vander was) omg the heartstrings were fucking cut with a rusted knife

Ambessa - she's being a bad bitch that's slowly trying to gain ground against Black rose, while a complication is brewing under her nose and then it implodes, killing her good aid/friend (have no other notes I'm just excited what will happen next with her)

Jayce - my boi is fucking goin through it, killing Salo Bc he knows something we don't, he's definitely seen some shit / is being corrupted, bc seeing shit and it being really painful is not a good sign at all - also seeing the people in the commune as a fucked up void being???, hearing himself, repeating a mantra ( Yeah Jayce really isn't in his right mind) AND even more if what he's seeing the peopl like void beings WHAT is Viktor like to him??? (Also also the hammer? Corrupted in the shape of a butterfly, the magic crystal embedded in his flesh?? The fuck did he experience when he was gone)

Viktor - my guy has a peaceful commune, talks with Singed, understands his soul, says the fucking line, tries to heal Warwick/vander, succeeds but then gets fucking offed by Jayce and is all like well shit the things we do for love is truly sometimes the path to hell / destruction

NO HEIMERDINGER OR EKKO??? - the crowning crime arcane has done so far

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 #arcane spoilers

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dyscanthe · 5 months ago

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Special Halloween Party Event

Chapter 8: Fall Picnic

This is a rough translation of the story. You may encounter minor errors on the way, please be understanding and considerate (⁠*⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠*⁠) With that being said, enjoy reading!

ITALICS - Narration; BOLD ITALIC - Dialogues

It was a certain afternoon. Although it was fall, today is blessed with warm weather. I found Bastien dozing off under the tree shade while I was out in the rear garden.

Bastien… is he in the middle of a nap now?

When I tried to quietly get close to him, I noticed that Mell, who was using a soft and fluffy cushion as her pillow, was also sleeping beside him.

Mell: Zzz… Zzz…

Bastien: Zzz… zzz… urr… mm…

It seems like Bastien fell asleep again while caressing Mell’s fluffy fur.

(This atmosphere feels so warm…)

Step… step… step…

Teddy: Huh? Aruji-sama? So you're here.

Hello.

Kuririn: Hello, “arujisama”!

Hello there.

Kuririn: Hm~? What were you looking at? Ah! Bastien-kun and Mell-chan are sleeping…!

(He softens his voice… So kind of him…)

Teddy: You're right. Maybe they're tired after the preparation for the ball.

Preparation?

Teddy: Yes. Of course all the other butlers are busy with it, but…Kuririn-kun and his friends are also helping to prepare for the event. Isn't it right, Kuririn-kun?

Kuririn: Yup! Yup! We also do our best!

Should I help with something too?

Kuririn: Arujisama wants to help too? Of course you can~! Right, Teddy-kun?

Teddy: Err, you see… We actually can't allow Aruji-sama to prepare too…

Teddy, please?

Teddy: Understood. Since I figured that Aruji-sama would ask for something like that. Shall we go to prepare as well after break then…?

After break…?

Teddy: Yes! It's our break time now to tell the truth. Also! We prepared treats with the help of Lono-kun!

Kuririn: Mell-chan’s favorite pancake… There are also my favorite sunflower seeds! There's also cookies! We didn't make it too sweet so it's easier for Bastien-kun to eat~⁠♪ I'll give arujisama a sunflower seed too, they're my favorites~!

Fufu, thank you.

Teddy: Aruji-sama, would you like to have tea together too while we're at it?

Is it all right?

Teddy: We're the ones who question whether or not it's appropriate to sit together with you though…

I'm not against it.

Teddy: Thank you very much.

Kuririn: Now then. We should go and wake both of them. The pancake won't taste great when it turns cold at any rate. He~y, Mell-chan. Wake up~

Mell: Mm… Hm? Did Mell fall asleep? Ah, “arujisama” ⁠♪ Good morning ⁠♡

Good morning ⁠♪

Teddy: Bastien-kun. Come on, wake up.

Bastien: Mm… Mmm… Teddy… san…? Huh… When did I…

Good morning, Bastien.

Bastien: Aruji-sama… I'm sorry, I let my guard down. I was caressing Mell’s soft fur, then I…

Mell-chan's sleeping face is comforting to look at after all.

Bastien: That's true, but… Rather than comforting, the fluffiness of her fur was amazing.

Mell: Really? Mell is happy if she can comfort you ⁠♪

That's so nice…

Mell: Ehehe ⁠♪ arujisama, do you want to caress Mell too?

May I?

Mell: Sure ♡

Then I kindly pat Mell on the head.

This does feel comforting…

Mell: Arujisama's kind hand… it feels good ⁠♪

Kuririn: Mell-chan looks like she is having fun. Jeez, when can we finally eat our treats~?

Teddy: Fufu…⁠♪ There~ there~⁠♪

Kuririn: Wah! That surprised me!

Teddy: Ah, sorry. Did I surprise you all of a sudden? I get envious after seeing Aruji-sama and Bastien-kun do it… am I not allowed to?

Kuririn: Jeez~ Only for a bit, okay?

Teddy: Thank you! There~ there~ Fufu, so cute.

Kuririn: Alright! That's enough! Hurry! Let's go eat! I'm hungry!

Mell: Ah! It's Mell-chan's favorite pancake ⁠♪ Looks so delicious ♡

Kuririn: There's also cookies! But the sunflower seeds are only reserved for me!

Mell: It sort of feels like a picnic ⁠♪ Don't you think so too, Bastien-kun!

Bastien: Yeah, you're right.

We spend a leisurely break time under the pleasant warmth of fall like that.

#aknk #akuneko #あくねこ #devil butler with black cat #悪魔執事と黒い猫 #aknkslations #akuneko translations #special halloween party

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midnight---express · 8 months ago

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Who with Who?

A Fun idea that I am so sad that no-one has taken advantage of is the idea that everyone genuinely can't tell who's dating who between Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Todoroki and Kaminari, the massive Bi-energy that emanates from that group is as thick as a thundercloud, and it doesn't help that they are all so comfortable with each other.

Like Denki will throw his arms around all of them, pell-mell, he vibes in Momo's room, Shouto discusses the meaning and intricates of lyrics with Kyouka (his conspiracy theorist brain would love picking them apart), Momo and Kyouka are almost joined at the hip most days chatting away, and Denki and Shoto are just vibing doing what ever crosses their mind (talking about Western heroes at the moment).

Like this group is so fun it's formed of two of the most sunshiny smiley people in the class with the two socially kinda awkward sarcasm duo.

It's such a fun crew and I love the fanon interactions, like we get plenty of all three of them with Momo.

But what does the dynamic between Kyouka and Shouto look like, I think it would be really funny if those two interacting is the complete opposite of what everyone expects, that being a sullen staring contest over coffee but no, it's these two dorks gushing about their interests and their SO's like you walk into the common room and you hear Shouto excitedly talking about the little jump, bounce and smile that Momo did when she saw him that morning, and Kyouka intently listening nodding furiously.

One stupid little headcanon I like is that both are so enamored by Thomas The Tank Engine, Shouto likes it as the expressions are super easy to read and Kyouka loves the soundtrack, since basicly no-one comes into his room they haven't realised that he's been building a model railway in there, and there are some suspiciously high-priced models in his collection.

Denki wanders in one evening as he can't sleep (weirdly a common fanon thing with him, must be all the extra electricity keeping him up) to see Shouto running his trains and they just sit and watch them like Ash and Kristofferson.

Okay we are working this out, who has string!

It's just fun that there are two sun's and they just pull around their moon's who are completely enamored by their smiles and are so obvious about it but then everyone else is going full Shouto mode and are grouped together in the common room with several balls of thread (Borrowed from Mezo) which have been spanned across it trying to work out how the hell this relationship works.

To top that whole bit all of the four walk into the spiders nest of Blue, Red, Purple and Yellow threads, holding hands (Yes in the order just mentioned) with befuddled faces, the rampant hushed shouting dials down, Mina is melting at the image presented.

"ahh, Polyonomy" Utters Fumikage in the most deadpan tone possible. (He knows that's not how the relationship is, as does Katsuki but both of them are doing this for shits and giggles and are really committed to the bit.)

They all hand Ochaco 1000 Yen in defeat (mock for two of them), Shouto is processing the walls of string with an impressed expression, Momo simply looks confused, Kyouka is red in the face, and Denki half explodes into a peels of laughter whilst pointing at Momo and Shouto, then back at himself and scream laughing again.

The Gods have descended.

Another stupid idea that I need to draw is simply the idea that Momo has accidentally taken on most of the Class Rep duties and now is spiraling mess trying not to cry and the other three latch onto this, with there now being the living embodiment of a thunderstorm inhabiting the inside of the classroom, the floor is vibrating, it smells like ozone and is muggy as hell, several people are standing in the doorway, Katsuki is halfway under his desk, Aizawa doesn't even want to try erasing one of them as Denki is being handed permissions slips and reading them (How is his Dyslexic ass doing that?) Kyouka is ordering people to sit down and Shouto is giving her a back massage (Very nice hands) the idea that those three teaming up can create the physical environment of the inside of a Thunderstorm is a terrifying prospect, Aizawa ain't questioning he's doing the roll less he get a live performance of Thunderstruck.

It's so funny that they three are some of the chilliest people in the class but then it's the full force of Wall Socket, Surround Sound and Thermometer turning into forces of nature when their bestie get's insulted or starts crying, I'm calling this dynamic the MomoMilitia.

Those three will fight god for their friend at 3am, they will win.

Thank you for coming to the inane ramblings.

#my hero academia #mha rambling #mha headcanons #momo yaoyorozu #shoto todoroki #denki kaminari #jirou kyouka #somehow Thomas is here #kamijiro #todorozu #todomomo #Fantastic Mr.Fox?#mina ashido #fumikage tokoyami #bakugou katsuki #aizawa shouta #ochako uraraka #MomoMilitia

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garagepaperback · 11 months ago

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nothing and everything

“You need to stop moving so much.”

“It hurts,” Harry had moaned, felt the words reverberate on his tongue like a tuning fork, tasted them.

He said them mostly into the couch cushion - it was the one Draco insisted they get, gilded and shiny. Odd in the rest of the room. Without a shirt, the fabric scratched relentlessly at his belly, worse somehow when he lay still.

Harry couldn’t remember what it was this time - the monochromatic impression of a comet had been burned between his shoulder blades. Something from work, scorched and broad over his back. Draco straddled his legs, leaning forward, rubbing salve over the marks. And, that lemon scent. The moment smelled so cloying and bright Harry nearly had to close his eyes. Draco's hands moved very gently.

“It hurts because you’re moving,” Draco said, and Harry didn’t catch the dazed, soft tilt of his mouth for years.

Humiliatingly simple stuff. Oddly enough it was the primarily forgettable moments that Harry clawed his way back to the shore of, again and again and again.

Draco before work, taking an hour longer than necessary to do God knows what with his face, some whole routine for his hair. Finally relenting, he’d open the bathroom door from within a humid, heavenly-scented cloud. Easy, easy, he leaned his head against the wall, luminant and enthralled and enthralling. Slick half-smile. He didn’t even bother to get out of the way even though Harry had been standing there, fist walloping the door for three minutes solid.

“Sorry, did you knock?”

He was disorientingly a morning person - Draco practically woke up mid-conversation. It was a difficult volume to adjust to, worse without. With his eyes still closed he’d be a quarter way into an argument he’d prepared for himself, judge jury and executioner regarding the status of Harry's relationship to the washing up.

A lot of it was tucked into the youngest age of the day; sun-drenched, horizontal, eucalyptus sheets and pell-mell hair. Draco’s word.

He said higgledy-piggledy once, full seriousness, with a hand buried in the snarled black of Harry’s head. Harry made fun of him relentlessly. He was prissy about it at first, and a week later he laughed, and then the idiotic term sidled its way into both of their vocabularies, made a home. Harry said it sometimes without thinking - it’d slipped through his teeth walking into the whirlwind of Hermione’s office only a week ago.

He wondered if Draco still did, too.

for day 15 of @microficmay

#part one of two parts #microficmay2024 #drarry fic #drarry fanfic #drarry

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cinebration · 2 years ago

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The Darkling’s Shadow (The Darkling x Reader) [Part 5]

The Darkling makes a decision.

Tagged: @don-daygamerz, @weallhaveadestiny, @kaqua, @sinful-wxrld, @ashdab2611, @ultarviolence, @chodingcreature, @demonenotturno, @crowssixof, @mxacegrey, @dreamlandcreations, @s-r-reads, @byulsrecs, @peleksstuff, @seraferna, @imtherain, @vex-et-soleil, @rayrlupin, @peakyispunk, @itsyaspwr, @adajoemaya, @b1bbles, @rockintensse, @adharanotfound, @allinestarr

Warnings: mention of blood, body horror

Gif Source: ethanhunt

Shock and fear broke the Darkling’s iron composure, his hands instinctively drawing together to perform the Cut. You didn’t so much as flinch, staring at him with eerie, unblinking eyes as though trying to drive the force of your conviction into his skull.

He didn’t complete the movement, leaving the Cut unfinished and melting back into the shadows.

“Now,” you said, your voice low, as though you were struggling to restrain it, “while you waste time coming to the right decision, I will go on ahead and clear the fort of Fjerdans.”

Without so much as a backward glance, you pivoted sharply on your heel and stalked off in the direction of Ulensk. The horses had bolted during the fray, long since gone and out of sight.

The Darkling watched your back until you disappeared behind the trees, once again entertaining the idea of slicing you in half not only for your insolence but for the fear you instilled in him. The feeling was shockingly cold, shriveling his insides and freezing his lungs. His breath tore raggedly from his chest.

If Baghra were there, she would say, “You cannot afford to make an enemy of this woman. Either kill her or bring her into the fold.”

Neither option was preferable to his fear-clouded mind. You knew who he actually was, but rather than flinch and fear him, you had placed the Black Heretic on some kind of pedestal. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would had been like if you had been there during the creation of the Fold. Instead of Baghra’s “What have you done?” you might have stared at the black shadow unfolding across the land with wonder in your eyes and said what the Darkling had most needed to hear in that moment: “Beautiful.”

The thought of it sent a thrill through him. He didn’t have to be General Kirigan in front of you. He didn’t have to temper his words or feign scorn for his “ancestor.” He didn’t have to hide his true plans, centuries in the making, to keep the Grisha from fearing his vision of the future before it had come to pass.

Shouts rose up in the distance, followed immediately by screams.

The Darkling listened to the swelling sounds of violence and death. For a brief moment, as high-pitched screams rent the quiet of the woods, he heard something harmonious in the sound. What had you said that first day? A symphony of their bones…

Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he did need a fanatic, someone utterly devoted to him and his cause. Someone who would do anything without asking why, who would destroy and silence for him while he maintained the aloof composure of a general above it all, his boogeyman operating in the shadows behind him.

The Darkling set off toward the fort, following your footsteps in the snow.

He arrived to find you dispatching one last Fjerdan. The man, fueled by terror and adrenaline, threw himself pell-mell at you. You lunged forward, your hand slapping across his bearded face, and yanked the skeleton from his flesh. Gore splattered over your kefta as the body separated from its bones, a sickening, vile sound splitting the silence. Tossing the skeleton aside with one hand, you wiped your palms on your kefta and turned to face the Darkling.

He surveyed the carnage in mute fascination. “Is this what the other Fjerdans looked like that first day we met?”

“It was more…artful,” you answered, waving your hand about in a vague gesture. “Staged to achieve maximum shock and awe, as they say.”

“You know the value of spectacle.”

“I know the importance of dramatic delivery,” you countered.

“Is that all?” The Darkling stepped around a corpse. “Do you know the value of discretion? Of subtlety?”

“I am capable of it, although I don’t prefer it.”

“You don’t mind being the subject of fear and hatred? You don’t mind the whispers they will speak of you?”

“One doesn’t develop this kind of skill and worry about what others will say. If anything, if they don’t fear and hate me, I will consider myself a failure.”

“Even among Grisha?”

“I am not here for the Grisha.”

The Darkling fixed his gaze on you. You met his stare without flinching once more, letting him bear the weight of your full gaze.

“In four hundred years, you are unlike any Grisha I have ever seen,” he said. The words slipped past his lips unbidden, a truth he didn’t bother twisting or concealing.

“That is the point.”

A faint smile tugged on his lips despite himself. Shaking his head, he schooled his expression into a stern mask. “I don’t deal well with insubordinates.”

“Then don’t give me any orders for me to react to with insubordination.”

“I need to know that I can trust you to do what I ask and how I want it.”

Wiping your hands together again, dried blood flaking off your palms, you countered, “I’m not allowed to have disagreements? To suggest alternatives? Isn’t that what proper counsel does?”

The Darkling frowned. “Now you aim to be one of my strategists? What happened to being my shadow?”

“In some cultures, the shadow is believed to be one’s second self. Or one’s demon. Either way, I have a voice, and I didn’t come all this way to be silenced when you need my expertise most.”

“And why do I need your expertise most now?”

“Can’t you feel it?” You inhaled deeply, as though you could taste it on the air. “The change? Something is coming, and you need to be ready.”

Unease slithered through his guts. “What’s coming?”

A beatific smile split your face. “Your chance for more power.”

A sharp thrill shot up the Darkling’s spine, compounded by the unnerving expression on your face. For a moment, you were darkly beautiful, terrifying and awe-inspiring.

The Darkling slowly stepped forward and extended his hand to you. Eyebrow arching, you slipped your hand in his, your palm rough and your fingers strong as they clasped for a shake.

“Call me Aleksander.”

#The Darkling x Reader #The Darkling #The Darkling imagine #Aleksander Morozova x Reader #Aleksander Morozova #Aleksander Morozova imagine #General Kirigan x Reader #General Kirigan #General Kirigan imagine #Ben Barnes x Reader #Ben Barnes #Ben Barnes imagine #Shadow and Bone #Shadow & Bone

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lesmisletters-daily · 24 days ago

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The System Of Denials

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.7.10

The moment for closing the debate had arrived. The President had the accused stand up, and addressed to him the customary question, “Have you anything to add to your defence?”

The man did not appear to understand, as he stood there, twisting in his hands a terrible cap which he had.

The President repeated the question.

This time the man heard it. He seemed to understand. He made a motion like a man who is just waking up, cast his eyes about him, stared at the audience, the gendarmes, his counsel, the jury, the court, laid his monstrous fist on the rim of woodwork in front of his bench, took another look, and all at once, fixing his glance upon the district-attorney, he began to speak. It was like an eruption. It seemed, from the manner in which the words escaped from his mouth,—incoherent, impetuous, pell-mell, tumbling over each other,—as though they were all pressing forward to issue forth at once. He said:—

“This is what I have to say. That I have been a wheelwright in Paris, and that it was with Monsieur Baloup. It is a hard trade. In the wheelwright’s trade one works always in the open air, in courtyards, under sheds when the masters are good, never in closed workshops, because space is required, you see. In winter one gets so cold that one beats one’s arms together to warm one’s self; but the masters don’t like it; they say it wastes time. Handling iron when there is ice between the paving-stones is hard work. That wears a man out quickly. One is old while he is still quite young in that trade. At forty a man is done for. I was fifty-three. I was in a bad state. And then, workmen are so mean! When a man is no longer young, they call him nothing but an old bird, old beast! I was not earning more than thirty sous a day. They paid me as little as possible. The masters took advantage of my age—and then I had my daughter, who was a laundress at the river. She earned a little also. It sufficed for us two. She had trouble, also; all day long up to her waist in a tub, in rain, in snow. When the wind cuts your face, when it freezes, it is all the same; you must still wash. There are people who have not much linen, and wait until late; if you do not wash, you lose your custom. The planks are badly joined, and water drops on you from everywhere; you have your petticoats all damp above and below. That penetrates. She has also worked at the laundry of the Enfants-Rouges, where the water comes through faucets. You are not in the tub there; you wash at the faucet in front of you, and rinse in a basin behind you. As it is enclosed, you are not so cold; but there is that hot steam, which is terrible, and which ruins your eyes. She came home at seven o’clock in the evening, and went to bed at once, she was so tired. Her husband beat her. She is dead. We have not been very happy. She was a good girl, who did not go to the ball, and who was very peaceable. I remember one Shrove-Tuesday when she went to bed at eight o’clock. There, I am telling the truth; you have only to ask. Ah, yes! how stupid I am! Paris is a gulf. Who knows Father Champmathieu there? But M. Baloup does, I tell you. Go see at M. Baloup’s; and after all, I don’t know what is wanted of me.”

The man ceased speaking, and remained standing. He had said these things in a loud, rapid, hoarse voice, with a sort of irritated and savage ingenuousness. Once he paused to salute some one in the crowd. The sort of affirmations which he seemed to fling out before him at random came like hiccoughs, and to each he added the gesture of a wood-cutter who is splitting wood. When he had finished, the audience burst into a laugh. He stared at the public, and, perceiving that they were laughing, and not understanding why, he began to laugh himself.

It was inauspicious.

The President, an attentive and benevolent man, raised his voice.

He reminded “the gentlemen of the jury” that “the sieur Baloup, formerly a master-wheelwright, with whom the accused stated that he had served, had been summoned in vain. He had become bankrupt, and was not to be found.” Then turning to the accused, he enjoined him to listen to what he was about to say, and added: “You are in a position where reflection is necessary. The gravest presumptions rest upon you, and may induce vital results. Prisoner, in your own interests, I summon you for the last time to explain yourself clearly on two points. In the first place, did you or did you not climb the wall of the Pierron orchard, break the branch, and steal the apples; that is to say, commit the crime of breaking in and theft? In the second place, are you the discharged convict, Jean Valjean—yes or no?”

The prisoner shook his head with a capable air, like a man who has thoroughly understood, and who knows what answer he is going to make. He opened his mouth, turned towards the President, and said:—

“In the first place—”

Then he stared at his cap, stared at the ceiling, and held his peace.

“Prisoner,” said the district-attorney, in a severe voice; “pay attention. You are not answering anything that has been asked of you. Your embarrassment condemns you. It is evident that your name is not Champmathieu; that you are the convict, Jean Valjean, concealed first under the name of Jean Mathieu, which was the name of his mother; that you went to Auvergne; that you were born at Faverolles, where you were a pruner of trees. It is evident that you have been guilty of entering, and of the theft of ripe apples from the Pierron orchard. The gentlemen of the jury will form their own opinion.”

The prisoner had finally resumed his seat; he arose abruptly when the district-attorney had finished, and exclaimed:—

“You are very wicked; that you are! This what I wanted to say; I could not find words for it at first. I have stolen nothing. I am a man who does not have something to eat every day. I was coming from Ailly; I was walking through the country after a shower, which had made the whole country yellow: even the ponds were overflowed, and nothing sprang from the sand any more but the little blades of grass at the wayside. I found a broken branch with apples on the ground; I picked up the branch without knowing that it would get me into trouble. I have been in prison, and they have been dragging me about for the last three months; more than that I cannot say; people talk against me, they tell me, ‘Answer!’ The gendarme, who is a good fellow, nudges my elbow, and says to me in a low voice, ‘Come, answer!’ I don’t know how to explain; I have no education; I am a poor man; that is where they wrong me, because they do not see this. I have not stolen; I picked up from the ground things that were lying there. You say, Jean Valjean, Jean Mathieu! I don’t know those persons; they are villagers. I worked for M. Baloup, Boulevard de l’Hôpital; my name is Champmathieu. You are very clever to tell me where I was born; I don’t know myself: it’s not everybody who has a house in which to come into the world; that would be too convenient. I think that my father and mother were people who strolled along the highways; I know nothing different. When I was a child, they called me young fellow; now they call me old Fellow; those are my baptismal names; take that as you like. I have been in Auvergne; I have been at Faverolles. Pardi. Well! can’t a man have been in Auvergne, or at Faverolles, without having been in the galleys? I tell you that I have not stolen, and that I am Father Champmathieu; I have been with M. Baloup; I have had a settled residence. You worry me with your nonsense, there! Why is everybody pursuing me so furiously?”

The district-attorney had remained standing; he addressed the President:—

“Monsieur le Président, in view of the confused but exceedingly clever denials of the prisoner, who would like to pass himself off as an idiot, but who will not succeed in so doing,—we shall attend to that,—we demand that it shall please you and that it shall please the court to summon once more into this place the convicts Brevet, Cochepaille, and Chenildieu, and Police-Inspector Javert, and question them for the last time as to the identity of the prisoner with the convict Jean Valjean.”

“I would remind the district-attorney,” said the President, “that Police-Inspector Javert, recalled by his duties to the capital of a neighboring arrondissement, left the court-room and the town as soon as he had made his deposition; we have accorded him permission, with the consent of the district-attorney and of the counsel for the prisoner.”

“That is true, Mr. President,” responded the district-attorney. “In the absence of sieur Javert, I think it my duty to remind the gentlemen of the jury of what he said here a few hours ago. Javert is an estimable man, who does honor by his rigorous and strict probity to inferior but important functions. These are the terms of his deposition: ‘I do not even stand in need of circumstantial proofs and moral presumptions to give the lie to the prisoner’s denial. I recognize him perfectly. The name of this man is not Champmathieu; he is an ex-convict named Jean Valjean, and is very vicious and much to be feared. It is only with extreme regret that he was released at the expiration of his term. He underwent nineteen years of penal servitude for theft. He made five or six attempts to escape. Besides the theft from Little Gervais, and from the Pierron orchard, I suspect him of a theft committed in the house of His Grace the late Bishop of D—— I often saw him at the time when I was adjutant of the galley-guard at the prison in Toulon. I repeat that I recognize him perfectly.’”

This extremely precise statement appeared to produce a vivid impression on the public and on the jury. The district-attorney concluded by insisting, that in default of Javert, the three witnesses Brevet, Chenildieu, and Cochepaille should be heard once more and solemnly interrogated.

The President transmitted the order to an usher, and, a moment later, the door of the witnesses’ room opened. The usher, accompanied by a gendarme ready to lend him armed assistance, introduced the convict Brevet. The audience was in suspense; and all breasts heaved as though they had contained but one soul.

The ex-convict Brevet wore the black and gray waistcoat of the central prisons. Brevet was a person sixty years of age, who had a sort of business man’s face, and the air of a rascal. The two sometimes go together. In prison, whither fresh misdeeds had led him, he had become something in the nature of a turnkey. He was a man of whom his superiors said, “He tries to make himself of use.” The chaplains bore good testimony as to his religious habits. It must not be forgotten that this passed under the Restoration.

“Brevet,” said the President, “you have undergone an ignominious sentence, and you cannot take an oath.”

Brevet dropped his eyes.

“Nevertheless,” continued the President, “even in the man whom the law has degraded, there may remain, when the divine mercy permits it, a sentiment of honor and of equity. It is to this sentiment that I appeal at this decisive hour. If it still exists in you,—and I hope it does,—reflect before replying to me: consider on the one hand, this man, whom a word from you may ruin; on the other hand, justice, which a word from you may enlighten. The instant is solemn; there is still time to retract if you think you have been mistaken. Rise, prisoner. Brevet, take a good look at the accused, recall your souvenirs, and tell us on your soul and conscience, if you persist in recognizing this man as your former companion in the galleys, Jean Valjean?”

Brevet looked at the prisoner, then turned towards the court.

“Yes, Mr. President, I was the first to recognize him, and I stick to it; that man is Jean Valjean, who entered at Toulon in 1796, and left in 1815. I left a year later. He has the air of a brute now; but it must be because age has brutalized him; he was sly at the galleys: I recognize him positively.”

“Take your seat,” said the President. “Prisoner, remain standing.”

Chenildieu was brought in, a prisoner for life, as was indicated by his red cassock and his green cap. He was serving out his sentence at the galleys of Toulon, whence he had been brought for this case. He was a small man of about fifty, brisk, wrinkled, frail, yellow, brazen-faced, feverish, who had a sort of sickly feebleness about all his limbs and his whole person, and an immense force in his glance. His companions in the galleys had nicknamed him I-deny-God (Je-nie Dieu, Chenildieu).

The President addressed him in nearly the same words which he had used to Brevet. At the moment when he reminded him of his infamy which deprived him of the right to take an oath, Chenildieu raised his head and looked the crowd in the face. The President invited him to reflection, and asked him as he had asked Brevet, if he persisted in recognition of the prisoner.

Chenildieu burst out laughing.

“Pardieu, as if I didn’t recognize him! We were attached to the same chain for five years. So you are sulking, old fellow?”

“Go take your seat,” said the President.

The usher brought in Cochepaille. He was another convict for life, who had come from the galleys, and was dressed in red, like Chenildieu, was a peasant from Lourdes, and a half-bear of the Pyrenees. He had guarded the flocks among the mountains, and from a shepherd he had slipped into a brigand. Cochepaille was no less savage and seemed even more stupid than the prisoner. He was one of those wretched men whom nature has sketched out for wild beasts, and on whom society puts the finishing touches as convicts in the galleys.

The President tried to touch him with some grave and pathetic words, and asked him, as he had asked the other two, if he persisted, without hesitation or trouble, in recognizing the man who was standing before him.

“He is Jean Valjean,” said Cochepaille. “He was even called Jean-the-Screw, because he was so strong.”

Each of these affirmations from these three men, evidently sincere and in good faith, had raised in the audience a murmur of bad augury for the prisoner,—a murmur which increased and lasted longer each time that a fresh declaration was added to the proceeding.

The prisoner had listened to them, with that astounded face which was, according to the accusation, his principal means of defence; at the first, the gendarmes, his neighbors, had heard him mutter between his teeth: “Ah, well, he’s a nice one!” after the second, he said, a little louder, with an air that was almost that of satisfaction, “Good!” at the third, he cried, “Famous!”

The President addressed him:—

“Have you heard, prisoner? What have you to say?”

He replied:—

“I say, ‘Famous!’”

An uproar broke out among the audience, and was communicated to the jury; it was evident that the man was lost.

“Ushers,” said the President, “enforce silence! I am going to sum up the arguments.”

At that moment there was a movement just beside the President; a voice was heard crying:—

“Brevet! Chenildieu! Cochepaille! look here!”

All who heard that voice were chilled, so lamentable and terrible was it; all eyes were turned to the point whence it had proceeded. A man, placed among the privileged spectators who were seated behind the court, had just risen, had pushed open the half-door which separated the tribunal from the audience, and was standing in the middle of the hall; the President, the district-attorney, M. Bamatabois, twenty persons, recognized him, and exclaimed in concert:—

“M. Madeleine!”

#lm 1.7.10

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whatstruthgottodowithit · 10 months ago

Text

Love In Trouble [Part One]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler,

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2576

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

Notes: The first couple chapters are a bit slow going but we'll meet Lori and Elvis soon I promise. Looking to post every other week with this one :) Enjoy

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Ever since he was a little boy Austin Butler had loved the sun. There was just something about it; the way it shined basking everything it covered in a golden hue or how everyone seemed a little happier whenever it was out. He supposed it was because it made him feel like he was at home in California, a place he had been missing quite a bit recently, the clunky fit of her new job and his run down flat making him yearn for palm trees and ocean breeze. He’d even take his old partner at this rate, a curmudgeonly old man knocking on the door of retirement and not one to care about a young detective trying to find his feet in a new precinct. Though if there was one thing he desperately missed about home it was the fact that the Californian heat couldn’t wreak half as much havoc on a dead body like the balmy air of Memphis did.

After working in homicide for so long he’d figured he’d gotten used to all the smells that a ripe cadaver could hold but in this tiny apartment with no air conditioner and the contending June temperatures he was proved wrong. He held his breath as he ducked under the police tape cursing himself for having eaten not so long ago as his turkey sandwich did cartwheels inside him. Then again he supposed it could be worse he could be the guy splayed out on the floor in front of him lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes still staring out glassy and cold. Austin sighed.

Even though his entire job was murder it somehow never got any easier. The number of dead bodies he’d seen didn’t take that sickly feeling away whenever he was confronted by his latest victim. Though admittedly he wondered if that was less to do with a life being snuffed out too soon or the fact he knew that at some point he’d have to take this news to their friends and family and rip their world apart. It was a grief he’d known himself, one that never got easier no matter how much time or distance you shoved between yourself and it.

Given that the coroner had yet to arrive it meant that the crime scene was technically still closed and so he was careful to keep his distance when he bent down beside the body, wrinkling his nose at the fresh waft of decomposition. The guy was young, no more than early twenties if he’d had to guess, and attractive too in a boyish sort of way. Though they were lifeless now he could tell his pale blue eyes were striking and had no doubt once complimented the guy’s skin tone even if it was now waxy and pallid. In fact the only detracting feature was the bullet wound to his temple which he had no doubt looked better on this side than the one that had landed face down, spewing blood onto the beige carpet and turning it a deep shade of brown.

‘There’s gunpowder on his face,’ his partner, Detective John Melling, said as he appeared from nowhere, his errand to find the manager of the place apparently done with.

‘Yeah I know, a close shot,’ Austin said, pulling up from where he was crouched and trying to ignore the way his slacks stuck to the back of his knees as if glued there by sweat, ‘which means that bullet is probably somewhere in that bookshelf.’

‘Good luck with that one,’ John snorted. Austin rolled his eyes. He liked John. He was a good detective, smart and good with families, but he, like most of the other detectives in Shelby County, had yet to make his mind up about the newcomer from California. And so he treated him as the rest did, with caution, until he proved his worth which in this instance meant finding a bullet amongst a backdrop of wood and wall.

As John moved away to rifle through the man’s mail Austin moved around the room, stopping first at the bookshelves. He could see the path it had taken, ripping a novel in half as it hurried to its final destination only that looked to be out of reach and so he made a note to circle back to it. After that he moseyed on looking for his first impression, one that was building bit by bit until he spotted an older bald man standing by the uniformed officer at the police tape.

‘Can I help you?’ Austin asked the man who had been staring at the body as if in a trance. Austin moved to block his view, feeling a sudden urge to protect his victim as if he was now exposed as if he hadn’t already been ogling the guy himself.

‘Uh, no, I er,’ the man mumbled. John barely looked up from the stack of envelopes as he said, ‘he’s the one who called it in. Landlord.’

‘Oh,’ Austin said, moving towards the man so that they were just separated by the doorframe and police tape. Again the landlord’s eyes flitted back to the body, his colour paling as he suppressed a dry heave. Austin cleared his throat, diverting his attention as he asked, ‘you see anything uh?’

‘Geoff, Geoff Halton,’ the landlord said, ‘and uh no. Like I told your friend I was just coming to collect the rent.’

‘When’s that due?’ Austin asked.

‘First of the month,’ Geoff replied. Austin raised an eyebrow.

‘And you waited,’ he paused, checking his watch for the date, ‘what five days to come and ask for it? That doesn’t sound like any landlord I’ve ever had.’

‘Well he’s never normally late so I gave him a few extra days,’ Geoff said as he pulled a crinkled-up handkerchief from the pocket of his slacks so that he could dab his sweaty brow, the perspiration nothing to do with the outside temperature. Austin knew he was being unfair that the likelihood of this weathered middle aged man having anything to do with this was low but he had always found putting the first responder under pressure to be a good technique. In their desperation to prove their innocence they offered up more evidence which looking around the bare bones of this guy’s apartment couldn’t be a bad thing.

‘Five’s a lot of days,’ Austin countered.

‘Like I said he’s never been any trouble and I’d rather have one good tenant a day or two behind once in a while than a nightmare one on time. But when he still didn’t swing by my office I thought something might be up,’ Geoff replied.

‘So when he didn’t pay up you came around?’ Austin asked, receiving a nod in return.

‘I knocked but there was no answer,’ Geoff replied.

‘Did you let yourself in?’ Austin asked, his eyes surveying the wood of the door for any scuffs or marks. If he had done it was likely that any prints on the door handle would be useless.

‘I have the master key,’ Geoff said, adding in protest when he saw Austin deflate, ‘but I only ever use it for emergencies! And when I came in I could smell, well, that. I saw him lying there and I knew there ain’t no use checkin’ he was still alive so I called you guys.’

‘Do you know his name?’ Austin asked, suddenly realising he’d been poking around in this man’s life without even knowing his most basic detail.

‘Tony,’ Geoff replied.

‘Tony what?’ Austin pressed.

‘Bowen,’ John replied, holding up an envelope as Austin looked his way before turning his attention back to the landlord.

‘Did he live here alone?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Geoff replied.

‘Any relatives?’ Austin pressed, the mugginess of the room making this feel harder than he’d anticipated it to be.

‘I’d have to check his file to see who he listed,’ Geoff said, ‘we’re not exactly close.’

‘Obviously the man’s been laying in your building dead as a doornail for five days,’ Austin countered, his sniping coming out before he had a chance to stop it. Geoff seemed bolstered by his tartness, straightening up from the nervous pathetic puddle he’d been and growing irritated as he said hotly, ‘what I meant was I don’t know much about him. He keeps to himself; he keeps his nose clean and that’s as much as I need to know.’

‘Not too clean evidently,’ John countered, finally moving away from the stack of unopened post. Austin could feel him looking around, surveying the scene, and feeling as though they’d probably pressed about as much out of Geoff that was useful he decided to cut him loose in favour of asking his partner his opinions.

‘Go with officer Bryant here and find those papers. We’re gonna need a next of kin to notify,’ Austin said, not waiting for a response before he turned his back on the man. John raised an eyebrow but waited until the pair of them were left alone with just Tony for company who admittedly didn’t make much of an effort to join in.

‘You were a little sharp with him don’t you think?’ John asked, perching on the edge of a sofa arm.

‘It gets them to the point,’ Austin said dismissively, ‘and considering he wasn’t much help that’s a good thing.’

‘Yeah? Let me guess the room’s telling you more than the eye witness is,’ John said, his scepticism poking through. That was another thing he was still getting used to, the reliance people of the south had on human nature. Over the dozen or so cases they’d worked together he’d been astounded to realise just how much word and character spoke when clear cut facts were staring people in the face. In fact ‘they’re good folks’ was a narrative he was sure he’d never get on board with. Still he didn’t bother to argue the point but rather present the facts themselves showing how even without speaking the room had said more than the landlord had.

‘Maybe. He’s a single guy right?’ Austin asked.

‘Looks like,’ John said, glancing around, ‘he could have a girl though.’

‘One that doesn’t get in contact or check up on him for more than five days?’ Austin asked, raising an eyebrow. As John shrugged and nodded in agreement he continued, ‘from the looks of this apartment I’d say he’s a single guy living alone and his landlord doesn’t know his next of kin which means he either doesn’t have one or they’re infrequently in touch or at the very least they don’t come here to see him.’

‘Right,’ John replied.

‘So why are there two glasses of half-drunken scotch on the coffee table?’ Austin asked, watching as John noted the two whiskey glasses in front of him.

‘So there was someone here,’ John replied.

‘But his mail is unopened and the pizza box on the counter is full, an uneaten pizza just sitting there,’ Austin continued making John’s eyes drift past him to the De Roma’s pizza box sitting on the kitchen worktop, the bottom of the cardboard darkened by the grease that had been soaking into it as the pizza lay uneaten.

‘So what?’ John asked.

‘I think he came home with the pizza and mail in hand but he was distracted by someone coming over. It mustn’t have been planned otherwise they’d just eat the pizza together. If it happened after he’d been home for a while the pizza would be gone and his mail opened,’ Austin said.

‘He opens the door for the guy who’s gonna put a bullet in his skull and asks him if he wants a night cap?’ John said sceptically.

‘Maybe the person came to talk and Tony felt like he had to,’ Austin replied.

‘But if it was about something worth killing the guy for I can’t imagine it was a polite chat. And apart from the dead guy the apartment looks in pretty good condition to me,’ John said, glancing around the room. He was right apart from the unsightly corpse in the centre of the room; the rest of it was relatively tidy. Granted it wasn’t very large with the room split into a living and kitchen area but there was no clutter, apart from the bookshelf there wasn’t much personality to any of it. It actually resembled Austin’s current apartment, devoid of personality though his was due to lack of time to make it his own given the fact he was new in town and always working. Though at this point that felt slightly better. He may have not had a chance to put a fresh lick of paint on his walls but he also hadn’t had a chance to make enemies like Tony apparently had. Austin was thinking about that, wondering what had made the guy sit down with the person who would end his life.

Had he known what was coming or why they were there? Or had he been blindsided by it all?

‘Is that his file?’ John asked, snapping his partner out of his trance as the landlord reappeared at the door along with their officer. Apparently Austin’s attitude had left no love lost as he nodded but didn’t say anything, offering the small manilla folder over the tape as if signalling both his compliance and reluctance at the same time. Austin rolled his eyes but watched as John took the folder from him before he quickly scurried out of view.

‘What have we got?’ Austin asked as John threw the folder down on the tiled counter with a splat before he started to sift through it. If he was being honest with himself he wanted to read through it himself but knew it was probably better to give him the lead here. John’s eyes flitted across the pages. From what Austin could see there were a few info pages, copies of receipts and rent stubs but nothing much else.

‘Says here Grandma’s next of kin but it looks like she lives in Florida,’ John murmured as he read through the sheet, ‘lease agreement was signed over a year ago and he works at, oh.’

‘What is it?’ Austin asked craning his neck to try and spy what he had spotted. Though as his partner looked up, a beaten expression falling across his face he started to worry.

‘He works at Kings,’ John said with a sigh.

‘So?’ Austin said. He’d heard of the place. A little club on Beale Street, a home of good music and the hotshots of Memphis though he had yet to scope out the joint for himself. What he had heard though did not warrant the reaction John was giving, one that signalled their job had just gotten a little harder. Then again as a native Memphian maybe there was something Austin didn’t know yet. After all there wasn’t a club or bar on his patch when he worked the beat he didn’t know inside out. He knew which places were known for trouble and those he could rely on for a tip here or there. And from the look John was giving him he was sure Kings wasn’t one of those he could hit up for some friendly police cooperation.

‘So if he works there then chances are this is something to do with them,’ John said.

‘Who?’ Austin asked.

‘The Memphis Mafia.’

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