#and that's a wrap on 30 days of prodigy!

[divinemissem13]

30 Days of Prodigy - Day 30: Boldly Go

On the bridge of the USS Voyager-A, Commander Tysess stood to attention as the turbolift doors slid open to reveal the ship’s commanding officer. 

“Vice Admiral on the bridge!” he announced, prompting the other officers on the bridge to stop their work and follow suit. 

Kathryn Janeway nodded to her crew as she emerged onto the bridge. “Thank you, Commander, as you were,” she ordered and the bridge immediately became a hive of activity once again. Kathryn loved this part of a mission - the buzz of excitement as everyone went through their final preparations for launch, the anticipation of what would come next, and welcoming her carefully selected crew to their new home. She began her tour of the bridge at the Ops station, just to the left of the ‘lift. 

“Ensign Icheb,” she said warmly, placing a hand on the ex-borg’s shoulder, “it’s good to see you. Welcome aboard.”

Despite the years of history between them - or perhaps because of them -  the young ensign was determined to display the utmost professionalism and so he nodded sharply and replied, “Thank you, Admiral, glad to be here,” and then returned to analyzing the status readings on his screen. “Everything appears on track for an on time launch,” he added. 

One last pat on the shoulder and Kathryn was moving along to greet the rest of the crew. The bridge was a bit more crowded than usual, due to the presence of a large number of trainees who would be joining this mission. She had requested several jump seats be installed along the back wall of the bridge to accommodate observers and she stopped there now to welcome her warrant officers aboard. 

“Well, are you ready for your first official Starfleet mission?” she asked them. 

They all answered at once, their voices overlapping gleefully: 

“Yes, Admiral.” 

“Ready, Admiral!”

“Yes, Vice Admiral Janeway.” 

“Jankom Pog is ready… er, yes, Admiral.” 

and of course, a few chirps from Murf. 

She smiled at the ragtag group, despite herself. They may not be Starfleet officers - yet - but what they lacked in official knowledge and experience, they more than made up for in enthusiasm.

Kathryn continued on her tour, freely offering welcoming smiles to crew members old and new.

She even afforded a tight-lipped smile at her new head of security, the only member of the crew that she had not hand-picked for this mission. Commander La’an Noonien-Singh seemed extremely competent, if a bit cold. But Janeway still resented the fact that Temporal Investigations had seen fit to place one of their own on her bridge. Even if they were going to be dealing with time travel on this mission. And even if she did have a bit of a reputation where such things were concerned.

Finally, Kathryn reached her command chair. She lowered herself down reverently and ran her hands over the arms of the chair before allowing herself to relax into the backrest and cross one knee over the other. 

Commander Tysess stood to the left of her with his hands behind his back and she gestured for him to begin systems checks. (The one thing she really didn’t like about this new class of ships was the fact that the command chair sat all alone in the middle of the bridge. She missed being able to lean over and share the odd observation with her first officer at any time.)

As each station reported in, Kathryn gripped the arms of her chair, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Here we go again, she thought. She opened her eyes and looked towards the tall blond pilot sitting at the conn. “Mr. Paris, is the course laid in?” He was the best pilot she knew, and after her last helmsman turned out to be an undercover saboteur, Kathryn was doubly glad to have Tom Paris at the helm of her ship now.

“Yes ma’am,” he drawled with a cheeky smile. 

“Let’s do it.”

[corset]

Yeah alright real

[boobo13cambridge]

I’ll Take Care of You | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: none just angsty and some passionate kissing

Summary: Kylian is feeling stressed as the news that he will not be extending with PSG comes out. He seeks comfort in you. 

A/N: Hello, everyone! When I got this request I absolutely adored the idea and wanted to get right to it. As always, please leave me feedback and don’t forget to reblog. I would greatly appreciate it. Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

The sun had long set over the city of Paris, casting an ethereal glow upon the Eiffel Tower as its lights illuminated the darkened sky. In the midst of the bustling city, a heavy atmosphere hung over Kylian Mbappé's lavish apartment. The young football prodigy, renowned for his incredible talent on the field, now found himself at a crossroads that weighed heavily on his heart.

Kylian had spent years with Paris Saint-Germain, captivating fans and leaving a lasting mark on the club. Since his arrival in 2017, he had steered his team to five Ligue 1 titles, secured three French Cup titles, and clinched the coveted Player of the Season award on four occasions. Yet, beneath the surface of success, a storm of discontent brewed within him. He felt betrayed by the club. He wasn't happy with the Mercato, he wasn't happy with the coach, and he was even less happy about practically being threatened by the president of the club that he would never be able to leave.  The project that they tried to sell him was all a lie, leaving him consumed by frustration. 

Paris was his home, his people, and his beloved city, and he never desired to depart its embrace. But his relentless ambition gnawed at his conscience, whispering that remaining stagnant would be a betrayal to the dreams of the little boy from Bondy who yearned to conquer all. The time had come to draw a line in the sand; he had reached his breaking point. Enough was enough.

As he lay sprawled on the couch, his gaze fixed upon the sprawling Paris skyline, an overwhelming headache descended upon him. It felt as though the weight of the entire world rested squarely upon his shoulders. The relentless media scrutiny only exacerbated his turmoil, incessantly hurling names at him and peddling baseless stories about his character (as if they even knew him), and practically harassing him on social media. 

He was just so tired.

The young French captain longed for your presence by his side, but fate had conspired against him as you were working until 6 pm that day. Gazing at his iPhone, he saw that it was merely 5:30 pm, and a sense of dejection washed over him. With a heavy heart, he decided to text you, hoping that he could somehow persuade you to leave early.

Kylian: bébé can u leave early?

Kylian: tu me manques 🙁  (I miss you)

You: aww mon bébé 🙁  (aww my baby)

You: ouvre la porte je suis là 😘 (open the door, I'm here)

Surprised and filled with a glimmer of hope, he swiftly rose from the couch, his anticipation mirrored by the chime of the doorbell. A small smile spread on his fatigued face, as he felt a fraction of the weight burdening his shoulders dissipate. 

Opening the door, he felt a sense of relief surge through his body as he saw your smiling face. 

"Surprise, Kyky," you said, winking at him. Kylian didn't know what had come over him, but he felt his eyes welling up with tears as he pulled you inside, enveloping himself around you as he kicked the door closed. His heart weighed heavy, and he struggled to control his sobs, burying his face in your hair.

Surprised, you wrapped your arms around him, gently stroking the back of his head. "Mon bébé, what happened? Are you okay? Talk to me, mon cœur."

Hearing your voice only intensified his tears. He yearned to share his innermost thoughts, to unburden his soul, but he found himself unable to articulate the complexities of his emotions. The past few days had been gruelling for him. People knew him as a confident, self-assured individual, seemingly impervious to the world's judgments. He felt they took advantage of that side of him and perhaps his confidence enraged them. He felt that it was unfair that they used that to vilify him at every given opportunity. This time the footballer just couldn’t take it anymore, he had reached his breaking point.

You were filled with worry. Never before had you witnessed Kylian break down in such a way. Even after the heart-wrenching moments of missing a penalty at the Euro or losing the World Cup in Qatar, his composure had remained intact. However, the recent news of his decision not to renew with PSG had evidently struck a nerve far deeper than anticipated. You knew people wouldn’t take it kindly but you didn’t think it was going to be this bad. 

"Shh, allez mon amour. Ça va bien aller. I'm here for you," you attempted to console him. Gently pulling back, you held his face between your hands.

The sight that greeted you shattered your heart into a million pieces. Kylian's face was flushed, his cheeks stained with tears. Seeing him in such anguish brought tears to your own eyes. "Ky...," you started, softly wiping away his tears with your thumbs. Shaking his head, Kylian pressed his forehead against yours.

"I can't do this anymore, bébé. Je suis tanné, putain," he cried, gripping your hips tightly, seeking solace and grounding himself in your presence.

"Je sais, mon cœur, je sais," you consoled him, gently guiding him to the couch as he lay down, his head buried in your lap. You caressed his head, your other hand soothingly rubbing his back, placing tender kisses upon his head as you whispered words of comfort.

Gradually, Kylian's sobs subsided, and he lifted his head from your stomach, wiping away his tears as you used a tissue to dab at his runny nose. "Let me get you some water, Ky," you attempted to rise, but Kylian shook his head. "Non, stay please... I just want you to hold me."

"Okay, bébé. Anything you want," you said, placing a gentle kiss upon his forehead. "But please, talk to me, Ky."

Kylian was lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, uncertain of where to begin. His emotions and feelings tangled within him, threatening to overwhelm him. It took him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he whispered, his voice laced with vulnerability. "It feels like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. Everyone has a fuckin’ opinion about everything I do. If I stay at PSG, I'm a fuckin’ loser who's ruining his career by staying in a farmer's league. If I leave, I'm a traitor who doesn't care about the club, only about money. I can't catch a break, bébé. No matter what I do, I'm always the bad guy, always painted as the fuckin’ villain in whatever fairytale they cook up every week. I feel suffocated, and on top of it all, I feel like a complete piece of shit for dumping all my feelings on you. I've been a shitty fiancé."

“Mon amour, don't say that. You are not a shitty fiancée and I want you to know that I love you so much. Secondly, I want you to talk about your feelings with me because that's what I'm here for. We're in this together bébé. We're a team, and I’ll always be here for you whenever you need me. As for the media, those assholes are just jealous because you’re this confident young man who’s so incredibly talented. They could never hold a candle to you, mon amour. Besides,  most of them are just a bunch of racist fucks.”

“I feel like no matter what I chose, people will still make me out to be a bad guy.”

"Bébé, you can't control that. At the end of the day, you have to make the best decision for yourself, and I'll be right by your side through it all."

You gently caressed his cheek, trying to smooth the lines of worry etched upon his forehead.

"Are you sure, bébé? I just..."

"Kylian, mon amour, mon cœur, ma vie. You mean the world to me. Your dreams are my dreams, and your happiness is my happiness. Wherever you decide to go, I'll be right there beside you, every step of the way."

Gazing into your eyes, Kylian's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. These past few years, sharing his life with someone as extraordinary as you had transformed him into the luckiest man to walk the earth. With every beat of his heart, he recognized that you were not just a partner, but the missing piece that completed his very being—the woman he had always yearned for in his wildest dreams.

In an instant, he surrendered to the intensity of his emotions, his hand instinctively finding the curve of your neck. With a gentle yet possessive grip, he drew you closer, erasing the space between your bodies. Their warmth melded, and the world around them faded into insignificance as their lips collided in a moment of fiery passion.

Time seemed to stand still as their mouths moved in a fervent dance, their souls entwining amidst the raw fervor of their connection. It was a kiss that transcended words, conveying depths of love that mere language could never capture. In that single act, Kylian poured his heart and soul into the embrace, a testament to the profound love and desire he held for you.

The taste of his lips, the electric touch of his hands, and the fusion of their breaths ignited a blazing fire within both of them. Each kiss carried an unspoken promise—a vow of unwavering devotion, a pledge to traverse any obstacle that lay in their path. In that fleeting moment, the world existed solely for the two of them, bound by an unbreakable bond that defied all logic and reason.

As you broke apart, your noses nuzzled together. "But, you know, now that you've decided to leave once your contract ends, maybe choose a city with better weather, oui? I absolutely refuse to have our future babies be born in a cold, rainy place."

A soft chuckle escaped Kylian's lips, blending relief with joy. "I was only joking, bébé. I'm not actually going to Manchester United or Liverpool. Don't worry your pretty little head, princesse."

"You better have been joking because there's no way you're dragging me to a whole new country and knocking me up in the frigid cold.”

“Oh, please. You love it when I do you raw, princesse.”

“ Oh yeah? I'll fly right back and give birth to your child in Marseille,” you retorted, cheeks turning red.

"Take that back, bébé. You're not allowed to say that. No child of mine is going to be a Marseillais."

Laughter filled the air, a melody of hope and love. In that moment, you both knew that no matter the challenges ahead, your bond with Kylian was unbreakable. Together, you would face the uncertainties of life, drawing strength from the unwavering support and affection you shared.

As the night progressed, you held each other close, finding solace in the arms of the one who mattered most. And in that embrace, you both understood that regardless of where fate led the brilliant Kylian Mbappé, love would be your guiding light through the storm, ensuring that the journey ahead brimmed with hope, adventure, and an unyielding bond that would endure forever.

[nemisuki]

Unexpected Rain

CEO AU | After a long day of work, the man just needed a stroll around the city to clear his mind. That's when he stumbles across a woman, whose life is completely different from his own. When she asks him for some change, he helps her with little to no hesitation. Changing her life for the better and unexpectedly his own. 

᧔o᧓ || gojo satoru x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, fluff, first meeting, soft gojo bc he deserves the world, he is rich asf and that's rlly it, 2.1k word count

Gojo Satoru has always been a successful individual, it's just how it is. Through his looks, he's able to charm anyone. The intimidation factor he holds is incomparable. Cunning, sharp, bold, and intelligent is what he's known for in the business world. He is a one man army, a force to be reckoned with, that no one dares to go against his decisions in his field of work. At 17 known as a prodigy from Jujutsu High School, he's always had it all. To those who know him personally, his character is all over the place. Unpredictable fits him better. 

It was the fall season in Japan, the sky today was a bit gray as it was breezy. Though not where his assistant was ordered to grab his lavish coat to stay warm. Today was nothing but business meetings and phone calls. Yet another dull day for him. 

At first it was entertaining for him, to see the looks of much older business men fall below his increasing status. He was amused to take over the market in such a short time by his growing influence. He had everyone wrapped around his finger, he was a puppeteer. Nonetheless, he's been growing bored as of recently. He had it all. Money, power, fame, properties….. now what? 

After finishing a meeting, despite his assistants telling him he has another one in 30 minutes, he grabs his coat from the hanger and leaves his office without a glance back. Obviously he’ll come back but he wants a much needed break from all this work. Swiftly, he puts on his hood and a face mask to not be recognized in public. Usually he enjoys people asking for autographs and photos, what can he say? He loves the attention. But today he just can't deal with it all. 

For about 15 minutes, he goes strolling around the streets of Japan. The sun is starting to set, he should be heading back to his company's building. But a few more minutes wouldn't hurt. He walks and walks until he sees a woman approaching him with her small cup. He pauses in his stride and notices her appearance. Raggy worn out clothes, dirty white sneakers that are on its last uses, and disheveled hair. 

“Excuse me, but can you please spare any change?” she says softly while shaking the cup in his direction. The sounds of some coins clinking from inside echoes out loud to break the silence after her question. He looks at her face, though she looks frail, she's pretty. Really pretty actually.

Her eyes land on his hand as he reaches into his pocket to take out his wallet, much to her surprise. It's not often people actually hand her money, especially those from higher class. She automatically knows he is from wealth given his expensive attire and the way he carries himself. 

Internally she questions the hood and face mask he's wearing, as if to disguise himself. Though she didn't spend too much thought on it, perhaps he was sick and in his defense it is quite chilly out. 

Y/N notices how full his wallet was, multiple copies of $100 bills taking a comfortable spot in the slots of each compartment. She can feel her heart ache at the sight, a reminder of how good others' lives are. Or maybe it was the anticipation of how much he’ll be kind enough to give her. Though she forces herself to calm down, not to get her hopes up. She will be grateful either way, no matter how much he will give her.

Despite his strong persona, he always gives money away to those in need. I mean how much money does a person need? He's more than satisfied with what he has. So of course he'll give her some. Gojo thinks about how much he should give her. He doesn't go shopping whatsoever even if he wanted to, as if he could given his busy schedule. Usually his assistants do that for him. 

So how much would it be for her to get some warm clothes or food?

He grabs five $100 bills from his wallet and assumes this should be good. He puts them in her cup and tucks his wallet back into his coat pocket. He freezes when he sees some water droplets falling down onto the ground, wanting to curse at the world for raining when he had no umbrella. He looks back up expecting to see rain, yet instead he's hit with the sight of tears dripping down her face. Her eyes are glossy with vulnerability as she looks up at his face. 

“Agh- hey are you okay?!” he says looking down at her much smaller frame. Gojo isn’t used to dealing with people crying, especially those he doesn't know well. Though he is a notorious business man, one thing he needs to improve on is reading others' emotions. 

Y/N sniffles and wipes away her tears that are trickling down her cheek. “S-sorry I just…. this is too much, I never received such a big amount from one person. Are you sure?” she says in disbelief as she stares into his icy blue eyes. She can see the pure white hair covering his forehead, a hair color she's never seen before. His eyes are a whole different mystery, so captivating and unfamiliar to her yet strongly inviting. 

Gojo hears her question and nods towards her, “It's quite alright no need to worry”. Honestly she shouldn't have to, as if losing a mere $500 would affect him. A man of his status had no issue with spending. 

“Thank you so much! You're incredibly kind, this will help me tremendously. Thank you, thank you!” she says bowing slightly to thank him, extremely ecstatic and unable to contain her joy. Tears still fill her eyes at the heavy emotions swirling within her, but she continues wiping them away, her hands shaking as she holds the cup. She couldn't believe she met such a generous person.

“You're welcome. Ah my meeting starts soon, I should be off. Take care okay?” Gojo says as he checks the silver watch on his wrist. Giving her a polite head nod since she wouldn't be able to see his smile behind the mask. It feels a bit embarrassing, it's not often he receives a ‘thank you’ from others…. but it feels nice. He turns around and starts walking back towards the direction of his building. 

She couldn’t let him walk away so casually as if he didn't just do such a generous act. This man was unique compared to everyone else who walked by, he wasn’t rude or told her to fuck off like other people when she was just trying to earn money. To improve the life she was living.

The grip on her cup tightens quickly as he nearly turns the corner. Without a second thought,  she yells out loud before he could leave her sight “U-Um excuse me! What's your name?!” 

Y/N stands completely still as he pauses and turns back around to look at her. Those pretty blue eyes not leaving her face as he seems to be in thought. 

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

Unknowingly to the both of them, a small smile forms on his face though she can't see it due to his face mask, “It’s Gojo”.  

And before she can say anything else, he turns the corner and disappears. Leaving Y/N looking down at the cup of her hand, unable to stop the tears once again. 

“Gojo huh….”

(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ time skip⋆｡𖦹 °✩

Two weeks later he goes on a stroll again in the same area. Once again to avoid the hectic environment that is work. His mind was operating in complete circles so much so that he was unaware he reached that same street as last time. Unable to notice the woman who was eagerly approaching him. 

Y/N smiles brightly as she reaches his side, she was hoping to see him again. Recognizing his hair from anywhere, and his mysterious disguise of a mask and hood. She notices he doesn't seem to be aware of her presence so she taps his arm, “Gojo good afternoon!” 

Gojo tenses, assuming it's some fangirl and prepares himself, he's in no mood for the usual antics. He looks over intending to intimidate the girl, yet is a little shocked to see the girl from back then. Greeting him so warmly with a bright smile. He notices she's wearing new warm clothes, and his body relaxes; he feels glad. She's clearly doing much better physically and it seems mentally. His eyes soften at the warm greeting she's giving him, somehow forgetting everything that was bothering him before. 

He nods to her in acknowledgement and speaks with a hidden smile, “Good afternoon, you seem happy today”. He notices she's no longer holding her cup, it's on a nearby step along with a new bookbag it seems.  

“I just wanted to say thank you again for last time. With the money, I managed to get a new outfit and some belongings. I even found a cheap studio that I can stay at as well!” she says with a cheerful tone and bright eyes. Looking at him as if he's god himself.

For some reason he feels warm at that smile of hers. Now feeling much better after the day he had. He ponders for a moment and decides to ask, “that's amazing that you found a place to stay at, though have you found a job yet?” 

“Ah not yet! I've gone to interviews but I have no phone so they can't even contact me afterwards. It's quite hard but I'm trying” she says with a determined expression as she holds up a fist to show her perseverance. 

The way she can talk easily with glee is incredibly endearing, he feels oddly relaxed with her. Despite only knowing her for such a short time. Her words make him feel a bit worried though, without a phone she’ll have a hard time getting work. Especially in the city. 

Without much thought, he digs through his pocket and takes out a business card. He hands it to her to which she takes it out of curiosity. “Huh- what's this?” she asks him as she reads the words on it. 

“Work for me. I need a new assistant anyways, one of them just got transferred to monitor another one of my buildings” he says so nonchalantly as if it's another tuesday, nearly making her faint. 

“W-What?!” she manages to say as her emotions spike up so much that she can hear her heartbeat in her ears. Also ‘one of his buildings’?! How rich is this guy?! 

“You start tomorrow. Just show them this and they'll let you in. Everyday. 8 AM - 10 PM. I like my coffee in the morning. Extra sweet. Oh and here, buy a phone so I can contact you” Gojo says quickly as he takes out his wallet to once again hand her money, enough to buy her the newest IPhone model. Maybe even 2 given his oblivious knowledge on spending.

“U-Uh- okay-” Her brain is quite literally short circuiting. She's so stunned she doesn't know what to say.

He pulls down his mask and takes off his hood to make her feel more comfortable. He's assuming she doesn't know he's popular in the media, making him feel free to act like his true self. It makes him more confident on this decision, “don't worry you'll do fine. I have other assistants that will teach you everything. I must get going but don't be late, okay! See you tomorrow.”

Gojo lifts his hand and gently pats her head, unable to resist the urge.

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

Her heart feels like it's gonna burst out of her chest. Her face suddenly feeling like it's on fire. It's the first time she's seen his face and she's frozen. Can someone be so perfect? Yes. Because Gojo Satoru exists. 

He can see it. The way she looks up at him with those bright eyes, just makes him feel something so intense he's never felt before. Joy. He wants to protect this girl. Wants to know every little thing.

Before she can say anything, he winks and starts walking down the street. She's about to call out to him, but he looks back first. “Ah hey what's your name? I never got it” he says with a sheepish smile that could make her legs go weak just looking at him.

“Oh.. it’s Y/N” she says suddenly feeling a bit shy at his staring. 

He starts putting his mask and hood back on, hiding that gorgeous smile of his to her disappointment “Y/N huh… got it. See you tomorrow then!” 

Their eyes meet for a brief second. Yet in the midst of the crisp cool air, neither of them felt cold whatsoever. A warm sensation filling each of their bodies, a comfortable feeling. She slowly nods at his words, and he disappears around the corner. 

Neither of them were doing anything that night as they laid in their beds. Yet the two of them had cheesy smiles as they recalled the memory that would lead to them becoming closer. From strangers to co-workers. To workers to friends. And maybe…. even more.

[gdwessel]

RIP Antonio Inoki (2/20/1943 - 10/1/2022) + Katsuya Kitamura (12/14/1985 - 10/12/2022)

[Hello. It’s been a long while since I posted. So here’s a very long pre-amble to this piece, which seems a little out of date by now, but...:

·         I first wrote this the night after Antonio Inoki died. I tried to sell it to various outlets, but nobody bit. FanFyte shut down in September, so I couldn’t sell to them anymore. (If you want to see my complete works for FanFyte, click here.) I’m now doing work for Wrestling Inc., and some of this piece ends up in my debut, where I wrote about Antonio Inoki. I know this is now horribly out of date, but I waited to see if anyone would publish this for coin, and nobody wanted it, so here we are.

·         On that note, a lot of things have been changing, on social media and with myself. On the latter note, I am wrapping up the Strong Style Story incarnation of this blog, and by the first weekend of December will be making this my personal blog. Currently gdwessel.com points to a WordPress I haven’t updated since 2016. It will become this place, which will also become gdwessel.tumblr.com . I hit the wall with writing about puroresu exclusively, and frankly, I don’t want to do it for free anymore. I will still write about wrestling here, along with other things. But there are plenty of outlets these days for reporting and news on Japanese wrestling, many of them doing a better and more immediate job than I could have. Thank you for reading me these many years, and I hope you stick around for the transition to my own blog, where I will also be (hopefully) announcing some other writing projects very soon.

Without further ado…]

 It was reported [October 1, 2022] that Antonio Inoki, born Kanji Inoki, legally named Muhammad Hussein Inoki following a conversion to Shia Islam in 1990, died of systemic transthyretin amyloidosis at the age of 79.

It’s not going to be easy writing about Antonio Inoki, because, well, he’s Antonio Inoki. He was larger than life and seemed immortal. Quite literally, were it not for the fruits of his labors, I would not be here as a fan of puroresu for as long as I have been, let alone writing this eulogy of sorts. Inoki, as founder of New Japan Pro Wrestling, is of course one of the architects of Japanese pro wrestling as we know it today. But there was a lot more to him than that, and NJPW may not even be the one defining trait of his life and career.

Kanji Inoki was born in 1943, the sixth of seven sons, second youngest of 11 children in all. His family were pretty well off into the post-war years, where the death of Inoki’s father (a businessman and politician) whilst Kanji was five would cascade into hard times for the family, and in 1957, the family (including a grandfather who would pass during the journey) would relocate to Brazil. It was there Inoki excelled in athletics, and was scouted by Rikidozan, the Father Of Puroresu, at age 17 to go back to Japan and wrestle for Rikidozan’s Japan Pro Wrestling Alliance promotion, alongside another athletic prodigy, the former Yomiuri Giants pitcher Shohei “Giant” Baba. Inoki was trained by both Rikidozan and Karl Gotch, with other training under the likes of amateur wrestler Isao Yoshiwara and judoka Kiyotaka Otsubo. This would go on to greatly influence the direction Inoki wanted to take pro wrestling. Inoki and Baba both debuted on the same JWA show, 9/30/1960, making Inoki’s official date of death 62 years and one day after his wrestling debut. Eventually he would take on the name Antonio Inoki, as tribute to his time in Brazil, and to wrestler Antonio Rocca.

Inoki would leave JWA twice during his tenure: once in 1966, after being second in the pecking order to Giant Baba following Rikidozan’s murder in 1963, going to the ultimately failed Tokyo Pro Wrestling company. He would return to JWA in 1967, and was sacked in 1971 for trying to organize a takeover of the promotion. This is what would ultimately lead to the founding of New Japan Pro Wrestling, which ran their first show on 3/6/1972 at Tokyo Ota Ward Gymnasium, Inoki facing off against one of his trainers, Karl Gotch, in the tag-team main event of that show. In his way, Inoki would be an innovator of another hallmark of any Japanese wrestling promotion that has some years on them: the talent exodus to form a new company.

Inoki’s tenure as owner, founder and top star in NJPW is pretty well documented. Legendary feuds with the likes of Andre the Giant, Hulk Hogan, Tiger Jeet Singh, Umanosuke Ueda, Masa Saito, Big Van Vader, Riki Choshu, Tatsumi Fujinami… the list goes on and on. Not to mention, the stars that the NJPW Dojo would produce in time: Keiji Muto / The Great Muta, Masahiro Chono, Shinya Hashimoto, Jushin Thunder Liger, Kensuke Sasaki, Hiroshi Hase, Yuji Nagata, Satoshi Kojima, Hiroshi Tanahashi, Shinsuke Nakamura, Katsuyori Shibata. That list is endless too, even though some wrestlers who were reared in the dojo, for example Minoru Suzuki or Mr. Pogo, would make their names outside of NJPW.

What set Inoki apart from other promoters was his innovation and willingness to try other styles of fighting in a wrestling ring, bringing in non-wrestling combat sports participants to wrestle him (and others) in New Japan. In his own way, Inoki was a founding pioneer in what we now call Mixed Martial-Arts combat, made popular by the likes of Pancrase, Ultimate Fighting Championship and PRIDE. Indeed, Inoki’s “strong style” wrestling was an amalgam of pro wrestling and what was known as catch or shoot wrestling. Several of these “different style fights” ended up in shoots, notoriously against Akram Pahalwan in 1976, and against Croatian/Canadian strongman The Great Antonio on 12/6/1977, repeating a feat that Inoki’s sensei Rikidozan undertook on 6/2/1961 -  getting so pissed off against Great Antonio in a match that he started legitimately beating him up.

This commitment to “different style fighting” had its peak in the famous Boxing v. Wrestling match between Inoki and Muhammad Ali on 6/26/1976 at Tokyo Nippon Budokan that ended in a draw, and left Ali with leg injuries as Inoki spent much of the match on the mat kicking at Ali. It did prove Inoki’s concept of different fighting styles in a match could draw, even if we were still over a decade away from the formation of Pancrase and UFC. (The match was also homaged in the movie ROCKY III, with Rocky Balboa taking on Thunderlips, aka Hulk Hogan.) The meeting with Ali would also have a profound effect on Inoki in other ways, which I will relate below.

But as there was a peak, there was also a nadir. Inoki experimented a lot. Not all of it worked. There was the infamous Island Deathmatch against Masa Saito on 10/4/1987, fought on Ganryujima with no audience, and mostly in the dark, that I don’t really recommend. There was a “Nail Floor Deathmatch” (bed of nails match) in February 1978 that I wrote in a piece for FanFyte that sadly didn’t get published before Fanbyte Media shut down FanFyte, maybe I will print that separately here on this dormant blog.

And then there was the 2000s. Well, it would have started in 1997, when Inoki took Olympic champion judoka Naoya Ogawa under his wing to be part of Inoki’s UFO (Universal Fighting-Arts Organization) project that would interact with NJPW, but the peak of “Inokiism” occurred in the 2000s. As MMA was becoming a bigger deal on the world stage, Inoki would bring in more MMA and other martial artists, and indeed have NJPW wrestlers participate in MMA matches outside of NJPW as well. One of the more infamous instances was Yuji Nagata getting completed washed by Mirko Filipovic in 21 seconds at the Inoki Bom-Ba-Ye event on 12/31/2001. This was an era that would see the likes of Tadao Yasuda get elevated to IWGP Heavyweight Champion, and also see Shinsuke Nakamura, a prodigy by any stretch, get pushed to the top of NJPW not two years into his career, mostly on the back of successful MMA bouts himself, in deference to whether or not Nakamura was really ready for the top spot in the promotion. It would also see Keiji Muto and Satoshi Kojima, both stars of NJPW, jump ship to All Japan Pro Wrestling in early 2002 in defiance of the MMA direction NJPW was going in, and see Riki Choshu leave after being relieved of his duties as booker, blamed for the departures. Out of respect, we won’t discuss the infamous three-way IWGP title match between Kazuyuki Fujita v. Brock Lesnar v. Masahiro Chono. Let’s just say it was not good, and the fact remains, Inoki sold his shares of NJPW to videogame company Yuke’s not long after that debacle.

There are those who swear by this era of NJPW, and if it works for them, great. Wrestling offers something for everyone. In hindsight, some of it is not as bad as it seemed at the time… but at the time, it seemed pretty bad. Coinciding with a retraction of business in pro wrestling, after its global peak in the late 1990s, it was brave, but it was not great for business, and in fact, nearly cratered NJPW.

Inoki did sell the company in 2005, and afterwards still attempted to push his philosophy in both Inoki Genome Federation (formed 2007) and later in another company called ISM. IGF folded in 2019 (although Inoki had left it by 2017 to his son-in-law, Simon Inoki), and ISM ran a few shows, but was not a regular promotion.

One part of Inoki’s life and career that is not talked about enough is his political career, begun in 1989 when he was voted into the House Of Councillors under his own Sports & Peace Party banner. I mentioned before that Inoki was greatly affected by his meeting with Muhammad Ali. This extended to his political acts. In 1990, mimicking Ali, he went to Iraq to negotiate the release of Japanese nationals being held hostage in the run-up to the first Gulf War. Inoki was able to see 36 Japanese persons released from Iraq; the upshot of this would be Inoki not only running an NJPW event in Baghdad, but also converting to Shia Islam. This was also a very unofficial visit, not sanctioned by the Diet or the government, but it did help Inoki get re-elected in 1992.

What did not help were similar overtures and visits to North Korea, in the interests of creating peace between Japan and North Korea, a very tense relationship there owing to decades, and centuries, of colonialism, extending into the early 20th century. Of course, Rikidozan was also North Korean by birth, so that surely played into Inoki’s desire to see better relations between the two governments. This culminated in the Pyongyang International Sports and Culture Festival for Peace in Pyongyang, on 4/28/1995 & 4/29/1995, a two-day NJPW card with WCW participation that had great attendance (very likely compulsory), and the only meeting ever between Inoki v. Ric Flair, which Inoki, the only wrestler anyone in the crowd had any energy for, won. (This is also known as Collision in Korea – VICE would cover this in the third season of DARK SIDE OF THE RING, and of course I did a very long podcast about this with the hosts of the Days Of Thunder podcast.)

This did not go over very well with the Japanese public, as well as accusations that Inoki and the SPP were taking bribes, and had involvement with the yakuza. Inoki did not get elected to a third term in 1995, and stayed out of politics until running once more in 2013, this time under the Japan Restoration Party banner, which itself would dissolve in 2014, leaving Inoki as an Independent. He continued his unofficial visits to North Korea, still against the wishes of the government, while publicly declaring his desire for relations between the two nations to improve. He would ultimately retire from politics in 2019. Not long after that, due to illnesses and spinal issues, he would be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life.

None of which belies the fact that Inoki is very much a cultural icon in Japan. People from all walks of life lined up to get slapped by Inoki, his way of transferring his “fighting spirit” to others. He has been pastiched and referenced in very many comedy programs, dramas, manga and anime. (A personal recommendation – GOLOSSEUM by Yasushi Baba, a glorious insanity featuring A LOT of wrestlers against Vladmir Putin in a SF fighting extravaganza.) His large chin gave him an aura of being larger than life, and if someone is wearing a red scarf, chances are it’s an homage to the man. Even if pro wrestling is no longer the mainstream hit it once was in Japan, he occupies a rarified place in Japanese pop culture.

But as with most icons, in the end, Inoki was a man. As with other iconic cultural touchstones like, say, Stan Lee or David Bowie, real life is more complicated than the legends make them out to be. He did great things, he did not-so-great things. For every Andre the Giant, there was a Great Antonio. Not everything Inoki tried was a hit, but also, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. Often, it’s the mistakes that make the successes better. Without the struggles of the company in the mid-2000s, with or without Inoki in charge, you don’t get Hiroshi Tanahashi becoming The Ace. Going to North Korea may have pissed off a lot of people in the government, but mending fences between Japan and the homeland of his beloved mentor was something he was passionate about. Ultimately, that’s what Inoki’s life came down to – his passions. He followed them and tried to make them reality.

Inoki’s life will be celebrated, and his death mourned, all over pro wrestling, all over Japan, all over the world. In a crazy world such as pro wrestling, we will probably never see the likes of him again. He was the right man for the right time, and ran with every idea he had in his head, for good or for ill. He took risks nobody would take today. Ultimately, he changed the world of pro wrestling, and the world of combat sports in general.

 Ichi.

 Ni.

 San.

 DA.

   Not two full weeks later, Katsuya Kitamura died at the far-too-young age of 36, on 10/12/2022. At this writing, it still has not been determined quite why Kitamura, a massive hulk of a man, suddenly needed to go to hospital, where he passed.

Kitamura burst into the NJPW fan consciousness in 2016, his debut coming at the tender age of 31, in the same dojo class as Tomoyuki Oka (Great O-Khan). He was a champion amateur wrestler, who was banned from the 2012 London Olympiad after failing a doping test. He was big. VERY big. He wanted to emulate Bill Goldberg, using his Jackhammer finish in matches, which culminated in Kitamura winning the 2017 Young Lion Cup.

Following that, Kitamura began a 7-match trial series, which most assumed would be the next step before an excursion to the USA, where he had wanted to wrestle superheavyweights. He never finished the trial, his last trial match coming on 2/10/2018 in a loss to Yuji Nagata. His seventh trial match, against Manabu Nakanishi, never took place as Kitamura had suffered a cerebral concussion, to the extent he would have to retire. During his recovery, Kitamura suffered a scooter accident that crushed one of his legs. He would officially leave New Japan on 1/31/2019.

His post-NJPW career saw him attempt bodybuilding, hosting a YouTube series on the subject. He also took part in his only MMA fight, a submission loss to Bobby Ologun at Rizin 32 on 11/20/2021 in Okinawa.

There’s not as much I can say about Kitamura as I did above about Inoki. Kitamura more represents the potential that was there, rather than accomplishments. He was poised to be a massive star in NJPW, the company was clearly banking on it. He would have brought something to New Japan that was lacking at the time, a native wrestler with such physical presence, that could go pound for pound against the giants that typically only seemed to come from visiting wrestlers.

He never got that far. The only T-shirt of Kitamura produced was a bootleg from The Atomic Elbow fanzine. (Yes, I have it!) He never had his big matches against giant American superheavyweights. All those Could Have Beens…

Ultimately, it’s important to remember, that with both Antonio Inoki, and Katsuya Kitamura, is despite accomplishments, or potential, they were people first and foremost. One was one of the most influential figures ever in professional wrestling. The other never got to make it that far.

Both are missed, in their own ways.

[sips-tea-cutely]

Bathing together for the first time

osamu dazai, chūya nakahara

cw: a lil nsfw, implied sh (osamu), maki strayed off topic and ranted…

@your--local--freak

#Osamu Dazai

despite how flirtatious he is usually, i think he’d only do this really later into the relationship (1 1/2 year?) it’s something dazai considers pretty intimate and we all know how dazai is with intimacy…

would be more into showers? honestly, he doesn’t have a bias. it isn’t cause he’s rushing to work or anything it’s just that a shower has more freedom to tug at your waist and maybe even a quickie before work 🫶

the first time would be after a long mission. after meeting him at cafe uzumaki, you noticed how whiny and exhausted the brunette was. “haah… my legs are like spaghetti~… darling, please carry me~” he groans. arriving home, he flops on the dining table while you start to prepare a bath for him— going all out too; bath salts, aromatherapy candles, im so jealous </33

dragging a whiny detective who is, not to mention 5’9 is not an easy task. “i was re- eh? is—is this for me?!” he exclaimed. “well, yea it’s not like im showing you a bath i made for myself…” you whisper sarcastically, stealing a giggle from the detective. “hm, do you know what would make me the happiest? if you[!] joined me <3. don’t blush like that, you’ve seen me naked plenty of times” he teasingly frowned.

getting into the bath with you, he dips his whole body in, almost as if he’s trying to drown himself… just kidding, dear~! quietly snickering, he moves back up so that most of his chest is visible, dozens of scars on his shoulders and a prominent slash on his stomach, despite knowing him for years over, it is now you realize how truly little you know about him.

“darling! did no one tell you it’s rude to stare? my…” he grumbles lightheartedly before laughing. his laughs soon die out though once he realizes you aren’t laughing. imagine the mafia prodigy’s shock when you wrapped yourself tightly around him while lightly tracing the faded wounds collected over the years.

laying his head to rest on the bath’s counter, his senses are filled with the overwhelming scent of lavender while his heart tightens in fear and comfort. nothing like this has ever happened to dazai, what should he do in such a situation like this? despite his fear of being loved, this was just to resplendent to avoid, he needed more of these affections, more from you.

despite how scared of love he is, he wants more, call him greedy, call him selfish— all that matters is that you’ll be there to love him just as he will the same

#Chuuya Nakahara

he’d suggest pretty early in on the relationship (after 2-4 weeks of living together). he’s relatively open to anything romantic since well, it’s you! you’re just too lovely to say no to <3

prefers baths! of course, he wouldn’t turn down showering with you either, considering his line of work, any kind of affection is better than nothing. however, he does find baths together much more romantic especially if some slow jazz is playing

ok in the first bullet, i lied. he didn’t really suggest per se, but was pushed into a corner tbh. he came back home quite late and didn’t hear his 4 different alarms ringing and by the time he woke up— shit, it’s already 10! if he didn’t come in by 11:30, mori would probably kick his ass back and forth </33

ah! you were just preparing for your shift as well, mind if he… slides into your shower? wink wink 🤭🤭

he quickly explained his situation to you and being a lovely s/o, agreed <33. honestly rushed it since he was late and all but it was kinda hot seeing steam rush out of the shower as water poured on you both, his silky hair damp as his slim fingers run through them…

later in the day, he felt rlly bad since he’s a sucker for romance and that was just… not it. during his lunch break he went out to a belgian store near his favorite bar and bought some chocolates as well as a bouquet of white orchids, the flowers of apology (totally didn’t choose a for a family member flower to foreshadow marriage thats so wack….)

‘came back on break. wtf is this [insert picture]’ ‘oh i felt bad abt this morning… might not be able 2 go in during ur break tho ig…’ ‘omg how abt u join me later then and make it up to me? 🥰’ ‘[…] so im thinking ill come home a quarter to 11’

despite the conversation, he really did mean everything. having a dangerous job and not to mention constantly putting you in danger is a red flag, the least he could’ve done was be the ideal boyfriend to you, right? no, it’s time to stop thinking like that. love isn’t walking on eggshells with spikes on them; love is unconditional and loyal, it loves no matter the flaws or imperfections. and, god if that isn’t the most romantic thing in the world… 💖

[constant-creative-chaos]

Dancing with mha characters

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

kiri would ask you out of the blue, you two would probably be hanging out in his dorm one night and he’d just ask

like “baby, dance with me? 🥺”

he’d have his arms around you’re waist ofc, and he’d lay your head against his chest so you can hear his heart beat

he isn’t a good dancer but it’s all good, as long as you’re happy then he’s happy to dance with you

he wouldn’t do much other than sway, considering his poor skills

but he’d definetly him along to the songs

speaking of the songs, he’d probably play really cheesy love songs because he’s like that

laughs everytime either he or you messes up, he finds it amusing

ends up goofing off more towards the end

rating: 100/10, in conclusion, i love kirishima

you sat on kirishima’s bed, stretched out comfortably. your back against his headboard and his head in your lap, your fingers scratching gently against his scalp. he hummed along to the music playing, some song made a few years ago.

the song changed and he looked up at you, excitement flickering in his eyes, “baby, wanna dance with me?”

you stopped scratching his scalp for a moment, thinking about it. you smiled and nodded.

“yeah, i do, kiri,”

you’d have to ask him, like a lot

be persistent!!

it’s not that he doesn’t want to dance with you

it’s just that he has no fucking clue how to dance and doesn’t want to embarrass himself

he’s just s u c h a great dancer and doesn’t want to make you feel bad about your skills

no but he’s struggling,, he has no idea what he’s doing

“katsuki, just put your hands on-” “tch, i know what i’m doing dumbass”

he figures it out eventually, he had one had on your hip and the other holding yours

he buried his head in your neck so you don’t see his blush

he’s practically silent, only speaking to make a remark when you trip

he actually finds it really endearing

rating: katsuki, marry me

“katsuki, you gotta take a break. it isn’t good for you to keep at it like this,” you said rubbing his shoulder.

“yeah and what else would i do?” he grumbled, pushing his hand further down the pencil.

bakugou had been working non-stop on homework since he’d returned to the dorms that day. he had yet to take a break and he needed it, and you were about to force him into relaxing for a bit if he spent another second writing.

a small sigh left him before reaching up and grabbing your hand on his shoulder. He rubbed small shapes with his thumb and apologized.

“if you dance with me then we’ll be even,”

“alright shitty-(feature),” he paused before looking up at you through his eyelashes, “you and dancing.”

boy oh boy, sero and you dance so often

he loves dancing with you and DAMN is he good at it

he’ll dance with you at any point in time, for any reason

he spins you a lot, he’ll even lift you a little if he’s feeling it

it’s super playful

he dips you all the time

baby has the moves and loves teaching you

he’ll dance to any song, especially if you’re with him

he’s always laughing either you or talking to you while you dance together

rating: 10000/10, dancing king, only seventeen 🎶

“Mi sol, when did you get so good at this?”

sero spun you wildly in the spot, twirling you under his hand. you laughed and tumbled into his chest, still seeing the room spin around you. sero pulled back slightly to see you and your unfocused eyes.

“beginners bad luck finally wore off, i guess!”

he smiled down at you, waiting for you to lose the dizzy feeling of turning like that. he enjoyed your smile while you watched the room. but the second you’re eyes focused again he was moving around the room with you again.

“you’d best not drop me, hanta-”

he’d take you out dancing

endeavour payed for dance lessons when he was a kid - he couldn’t have his prodigy dancing like an idiot

this is an endeavour hate page

he took formal dancing lessons and would 100% take a while to loosen up with you

but he holds you very delicately, with one hand on the small of you’re back and the other holding yours

as he loosens up and relaxes he holds you closer to him

and i mean this is shouto todoroki we’re talking about, he’s quiet the whole time

he just watches you with a small smile on his face, cute as fuck-

would teach you to ballroom dance at some point, if you didn’t know

rating: 15/10, he’s a rich boy, he knows his moves

“sho, this is wonderful,” you grinned at him, “really, i appreciate this.”

he returned the smile, taking your hand in his and pulling you forward on to the dance floor. you straightened your clothes out and took his lead. the two of you began moving around the room together, following the rhythme of the song playing.

“you know how to dance formally?” he asked, watching you move with grace.

“i have no clue what i’m doing, i’m just following you,”

you’d ask and he’d: “y-you want to- i mean i’m not a good dancer- are you sure?? why??”

he’s so nervous, just give him some reassurance and he’ll be fine

he is always making sure he isn’t making you uncomfortable

he’d let you pick the music or chose from your playlist

he’d hold you by the hips after asking a few times if that was okay

he isn’t the best but he picks it up pretty quickly

he probably asked iida for dance lessons after this

n e ways, he’d probably be red the whole time

rating: 12/10, his nervousness is actually really endearing

he put his hands on your hips and pulled you toward him, glancing up to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. you wrapped your arms around his neck loosely, moving closer to him. you started swaying to the song playing and he followed your lead. the two of you starting to step around.

“are you sure you’re okay with this,” he tapped his fingers against your hip.

you hummed and rested your head on his shoulder, finding dancing with him comforting, “ ‘s okay, izuku. i promise.”

he kissed you on the crown of your head and continued moving to the music. he started relaxing and fully taking in the moment.

tenya iida, my main man,, he also got dance lessons when he was younger

fuckin rich boy

he short circuited when you asked, just give him a moment

he was probably super excited but kept it under control

he almost certainly played some sort of ballroom music (does that make sense??)

mans full on waltzed with you-

but he’d also do a more casual dance if you wanted

he held you small of your back and waist, he’s very careful not to make you uncomfortable

he’d only be goofy if you guys are just fooling around and making jokes while dancing

other than that he’s pretty quiet

rating: 20/10, tenya please wear some goddamn contacts during training

“y/n, i’m so sorry,” iida flushed deeply, stopping his movements.

despite his time practicing dance and his thought out movements, he’s stepped on your foot. he was apologizing profusely while you just stood and laughed lightly, watching his arm chop down.

“i’m sorry, i should have watched my step and- wait are you laughing?”

“iida, it’s okay. you have nothing to worry about.”

he’d probably just randomly start dancing with you

like you could be dancing around while cleaning and he’d just join you

baby can’t dance, he just can’t

but he acts like he can

would twirl you constantly and he’d try to dip you but fail miserably 😭

electric slide lookin ass

probably just starts his playlist and dances to random songs

he’s so goofy omg-

doesnt stop laughing or teasing you

rating: 30/30, sounds like a vibe

“you’ve been hit by, you’ve been struck by, a smooth criminal!”

denki stood on his toes, head tipped downward, and his hand positioned like he was dipping a fedora. at this point he had crashed into the table and knocked a chair over. this man was to never be trusted near anything fragile.

he took your hand and spun you around him, trying to keep you from the chair on the floor. after he spun you he spun himself, this time tripping over the chair and tumbling into the fridge.

“denki are you okay? are you okay, denki?” you sang along with the song playing.

sunshine man, he would 100% dance with you

but you’d have to ask, the thought just wouldn’t come to his mind

and he is worse than denki

but he has so much fun with it that it doesn’t matter

he spins you and lifts you, it’s so fun

he’s so goofy and playful, not a serious moment

he accidentally activated his quirk while dipping you, that hurt

but he loves dancing with you

and he pokes fun at his own dancing, he finds it really amusing

and he hyped you up so much

rating: 1000000/10, overall a perfect experience

a squeal left your mouth as your feet left the ground, mirio’s hands clutching your waist tightly. you grabbed on to his shoulders to keep yourself steady. he put you back on the ground and continued dancing along to the music. he shimmed his shoulders and bopped his head to the beat. or at least tried.

“i know that you can’t help but watch my horrible dancing but you gotta dance with me, can’t be the only bad dancer here!”

you shook your head and took his hands, shimmying along with him. man was mirio was a bad dancer but he made it so much fun

you’d ask him and he would just not get why you’d wanna dance with him

he wouldn’t object to it, it’s just that he’s sure that he’s a bad dancer and that others are so much better and

would hide his face in your neck and hold you really tightly to him

and he’s so nervous

if he stepped on you he’d let go of you and just stand in a corner for hours

but honestly, he’s actually a really good dancer

if you guys dance more he’ll start goofing off and doing stuff like spinning you

probably doesn’t put on music and if he did it would be off of his chill playlist

rating: 80/10, might be my ideal situation

you and amajiki had barely moved from where you guys started, not that it mattered. you two had been swaying more than dancing, but it was peaceful and relaxing. that’s what mattered. he had he’s arms wrapped tightly around your torso and his head was hidden in your neck. you felt his smile and uneven breathes brushing against your skin.

some old slow song played from your phone, one he chose. both of you were happy with the closeness and intimacy of the moment, but tamaki was happy he just hadn’t stepped on you. god that would have killed him. but he had yet to, and he was thankful.

“thank you, tama,” you smiled gently, “this is nice.”

[dragonotaku-justineverything]

The curiouser and curiouser in me wonders, Ruby and Penny being cute and fluffy?

Inside RWBY’s temporary dorm at Atlas, one small huntress prodigy was snuggling up to her robot girlfriend in her bed, the two of them facing each other, eyes closed, and Penny having her arms wrapped around her. They’d been like this all night, and even after they woke up early about an hour ago. They didn’t talk, just enjoyed the warmth of the blanket, the cool pillow they shared, and each other’s light breathing.

A small burst of buzzes disturbed the peacefulness however, prompting Ruby to pull out her scroll (she really needed to stop sleeping with it in her bed, she might crack the screen eventually) , open her eyes, and look at the screen. She sighed as she saw the time, realizing that her day did need to start soon.  “Penny.”

“Hmm?”

“We should get up. We need to be ready for our meeting with the General soon.”

Penny didn’t open her eyes at all, and didn’t let go of Ruby. “The meeting is at 0800. It’s currently only 7:30 am. It only takes up to 10 minutes to get dressed and combat ready, and another 10 minutes to get to the General’s office. Therefore, we still have ten minutes to spare to do with as we please. And I would like to keep cuddling.”

Ruby looked at Penny’s resting face, and had to admit she didn’t want to get up yet either. Ruby reached behind her and set her scroll down, then put her arm around Penny once again. “You know, next time you could just ask for five more minutes.”

“But I’m not asking for five minutes. I am asking for ten.”

Ruby closed her eyes once more, getting comfortable all over. “Touché, ten minutes it is then.”

Penny smiled, happy she got her way, and leaned her head forwards to gently rest her forehead against Ruby’s. “Sensational.”

[stockholmdolly]

EASY PREY (BEWARE OF THE RED RIDING HOOD)

Imagine a helpless, pregnant girl who's just been yanked from the serenity of her home and shoved into a dirty van. Kidnapped. Alone. Terrified.

Now forget her ...

Picture instead a pregnant girl, manipulative prodigy. She is shoved into a dirty van and, from the first moment of her kidnapping, feels a calm desire for two things: to save her unborn son and to exact merciless revenge.

She is methodical, calculating, scientific in her plotting. A clinical sociopath? Leaving nothing to chance, secure in her timing and practice, she waits for the perfect moment to strike. This is what happens when the victim is just as cold as the captors.

The agents trying to find a kidnapped girl have their own frustrations and desires wrapped into this chilling drama. In the twists of intersecting stories, one is left to ponder. Who is the victim? Who is the aggressor?

Author’s note: We’re in a virtual space, it’s really impossible for me to really know if everyone is +18 so everything you consume in here (not only in my blog) is completely your responsibility. My blog is strictly +18. 

Updates: Every Friday, but if I have time could be earlier. Happy reading😈

CHAPTER 1. 4-5 DAYS OF CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 2. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 3. 16-17 DAYS IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 4. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 5. DAY 20 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 6. NUMEROUS DAYS...THE MONOTONY

CHAPTER 7. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 8. DAY 25 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 9. DAY 30 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 10. DAY 32 IN CAPTIVITY

CHAPTER 11. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 12. DAY OF..

CHAPTER 13. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 14. DAY 33 CONTINUES

CHAPTER 15. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 16. DAY 33 CONTINUES, GO

CHAPTER 17. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 18. DAY 33 CONTINUES, YOU’RE A CRAZY BITCH

CHAPTER 19. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 20. DAY 33 CONTINUES, ASSET #42

CHAPTER 21. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 22. DAY 33 CONTINUES, UNCONSCIOUS BASTARD

CHAPTER 23. JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES / BROCK RUMLOW

CHAPTER 24. POST INCIDENT, HOUR 4

CHAPTER 25. THE TRIAL

CHAPTER 26. CONVERTED PRISONS

[emilyoftheshadows]

Deja Vu

Hi everyone! This is the second part of Deja Vu and while I will say its not as angsty as part 1, it is definitely far from resolved. I hope you guys enjoy!! I linked part 1 down below for those who haven't read it yet :)

Part 1

wordcount//2402

********

Aelin heaved for air as she rounded the corner of the street towards her apartment. Glancing at her watch, she noticed the time and coerced her body into a brisk jog to finish her afternoon run. Arobynn had clearly stated that she was needed in the office at 1:00 pm sharp. For what, who knew but him.

The man was utter filth and Aelin was completely aware of every leering gaze he threw her way. The way he shifted towards her whenever she walked into a room, the gleam of some sort of promise lingering in his gray eyes. Yet, Aelin could not give 2 fucks. She was becoming his prodigy, and she embraced the infinite work he piled on her month after month. While her title was still Hamel Hotel’s Brand Manager, she practically ran the company itself now. If she was being quite honest with herself, she hated her job most days and thought about quitting at least 3 times a week.

But every time she felt like pulling her hair out from the stress of dealing with incompetent colleagues and a boss who eye fucked her every second of every day, Aelin reminded herself that the alternative was way worse.

It had been almost a year since she ended it with Rowan, but it felt more like a lifetime. Only 6 months ago she had been crippled by heartbreak and rage, blinded by her own emotions and unable to see a future for herself. Unable to even think beyond the next hour, completely focused on her breathing. How she only had to breathe through the waterfall of tears cascading down her face, for one more minute. And then another, and another, until she could sit up and wipe away the fog wrapped around her brain.

But now, her heart was encased in an iron-clad box with no key. Because as she had laid across her floor all those months ago, sniveling snot like she was 5 years old, Aelin had had an epiphany. Not just pertaining to Rowan, but to romance in general. All the ice-cream dates and movie marathons, sunset picnics and belting songs in the car, have all been done before. Nothing about her and Rowan was special. All the great romantic tropes were being used by everyone else on this godforsaken planet at any given time.

Once Aelin let this new reality sink in, she had decided to never let herself become so undone by a man who couldn't give her an original love story. No one would ever have the power to crush her heart into pieces except herself, and Aelin would be damned if she let the same person in twice. With her new promise, Aelin had thrown herself into her work, filling her days so full that there was no time to think. No time to reminiscence or let her regrets see the light of day. She woke up early and ended late, passing out every night from pure exhaustion. Her tactics were less than stellar, but Aelin never thought of her green-eyed bird boy anymore, and that was all she needed.

She trudged up the stairs of her apartment, practically slamming her body into the door from lack of energy and not enough water. Entering the living room, Aelin threw her clothes off haphazardly, naked by the time she got to the shower. After a quick rinse, she flew back to her room to paint makeup on her face and find a suitable outfit.

It was standard for the women in the office to dress to Arobynn’s tastes, meaning fairly low necklines and silhouette framing outfits. The thought was disgusting, but Aelin wasn’t below using her looks to earn a place higher than Brand Manager. As much as she hated to admit it, if Aelin kept working to the bone, she truly believed Arobynn would give her the raise she so wanted. The raise she deserved for fucks sakes. With a glance in the mirror and a nod of approval to her reflection, Aelin was ready to go into battle once again.

----

Arobynn was ecstatic for his own standards, smiling with genuine excitement as she entered his office. Rifthold had a stunning downtown area, filled with sky-high buildings and classic architecture mixed with modern features, the Hamel Hotel in town being at its center.

Arobynn’s office was extravagant to a point of gaudiness, revolting Aelin every time she stepped inside. He glanced at her chest as she sat down, pleased with her choice of blouse today if the smirk on his face was any indication. The seat sank with her as she settled into the plush surface, settling her legs in a crossed position, ever the professional businesswoman.

“Darling, I see that we were running a bit late today, but that’s no matter now.” Aelin glanced down at herself, trying to find the source of such a comment. As her eyes dragged up her own body, Aelin saw the mistake that gave her away. Her blouse buttons were askew, the buttons incorrectly aligned creating an odd, sagging neckline. Well, no wonder he was staring at her chest earlier, the black bra peeking through the gaps in her shirt. Fidgeting with her shirt as she noticed the mistake, Aelin dropped her hands and quickly resigned to fix it later. Of course Arobynn would notice the tiny, careless mistake in her appearance. But with his mind on other matters, Arobynn was already moving on barely noticing her squirming.

“I have exciting news for us, Aelin. The kind that could put Hamel Hotels in the spotlight.” With a quick turn of his laptop, he presented her with the picture of a young man, about her own age. He was pale, but not alarmingly so. His hair was tousled and dark, the pieces framing a boyish looking face. The smile on his face seemed innocent enough until you looked into those sapphire eyes, a hint of trouble managing to show itself. In a short summary, the man was gorgeous.

“This boy right here is Dorian Havilliard, a nobody from some town called Rifthold down south. Apparently, he has made quite a name for himself on the online writing world, becoming internet famous for erotic writing, among other genres.” With that word, erotic, Aelin could’ve sworn his eyes darkened ever so slightly while glancing her way. Brushing away the wave of nausea assaulting her senses, Aelin focused back into reality.

“ He looks charming enough sir, but what use is he to Hamel Hotels?”

“Havilliard is making his debut into the publishing world this weekend at a lower level author’s convention in Terrasen at one of our Hamel Hotel properties. If we can introduce ourselves and graciously offer him Hamel Hotel’s finest amenities, I am convinced that we can get him to host all of his future events with our hotel. Dorian is young, naïve, and will be flattered by our offers. I will make sure of it.” Arobynn was unbecoming, his hands erratically gesturing back and forth between the computer and Aelin. His gray eyes were crazed, the prospect of such business and money to the Hotel’s as enticing as a woman at night.

“That’s a brilliant idea Mr. Hamel. I can leave as soon as you would like, and I assure you I can get the job done.” Only the best of her saccharine smiles was painted on Aelin’s face. She presented nothing less to the man who controlled her future. Besides, it would be nice to get out of Rifthold for once. The city was gorgeous, but a change in scenery from the hustle of downtown sounded relaxing. Yes, Terrasen with its rolling hills and sunny atmosphere would be welcome.

“As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm Ms. Galathynius, this matter is too important for you to handle alone. This evening, we will be taking my private plane to Terrasen so I can assist you in the convincing of Mr. Havilliard. Our suite is being readied as we speak. The driver will pick you up at your apartment around 5:30.” With a wave of his hand, Arobynn dismissed her from the room, already focused on his laptop once more.

With a short “yes, sir” in response, Aelin made to leave the office. But as she opened the doors to exit, Arobynn stopped her short.

“And Miss Galathynius, remember we are trying to persuade this young man to work with us in the future. Dress accordingly.” Aelin turned back around quickly, hiding the surprise on her face. Arobynn had always displayed questionable morals, but he was becoming bolder in his comments. In his admiration too.

It was only later when she was packing her clothes that she realized his wording. Our suite is being readied. Not his. Aelin’s stomach roiled with anxiety at having to spend the night so close to the monster that was her boss.

But as her hands shook with the effort to continue folding her clothes, and her throat dried up to where she couldn’t find the ability to swallow her nerves, Aelin reached down to that empty pit within herself. The same wave of calm that had encased her 6 months ago protected her now, and she continued to sort her items into the luggage in front of her.

The driver came at 5:30 on the dot. She boarded the plane, and listened to Arobynn ramble about his genius and plans for the next day. They landed in Terrasen, surrounded by luscious green landscapes and rays of the golden hour shining around them.

Yet, Aelin felt nothing.

-------

Rowan was one edge, constantly glancing at the dark haired young man sitting next to him. Dorian Havilliard was a genius with pen and paper, that much was certain. Even Rowan had enjoyed the young authors short stories, the smut not completely welcome but admittedly well written.

The man himself was a completely different story. Although he was only 2 years below Rowans 24, Dorian was a fucking wildcard. They had only been at the hotel for 30 minutes and he had already gotten himself lost in the booze and women down near the bar.

Rowan had seen the young man’s nerves, how his hands shook when Maeve detailed his debut with The Cadre as his publishing team and the speech he would have to give earlier that week. Maeve was an intimidating woman and if Rowan had been in his spot when he first started with The Cadre, he would be pissing himself too.

Despite this level of understanding, Dorian’s antics were still unacceptable. All eyes were on him this weekend, the word spreading that he would be attending the convention thanks to a leak. Whether that leak came from The Cadre themselves was neither her nor there. Dorian’s books will fly off the shelves, but they needed people invested in him first. And that meant PR. A shit ton of PR to be more specific. And what better way to do it when the countries authors were all gathered in one convention hall for the weekend.

The whole team came out to Terrasen, all of them concerned for how they were going to corral Dorian for the whole event. Maeve joined as well, ready to micromanage The Cadre and network the hell out of these authors. And because Maeve came, that meant Lyria followed.

Rowan and Lyria had fallen into a comfortable relationship. After all that pain a year ago, Rowan felt okay to date now. Lyria’s company wasn’t unwelcome and the situationship had slowly evolved into a relationship. There wasn’t any passion or burning love for one another, at least on Rowan’s side, but their companionship was a nice presence in his life.

Although he would never acknowledge it, Rowan was scared to love with his entire soul like he had with Aelin. The more he opened his heart, the more opportunity there was for someone to come and crush it to pieces. If he had to experience that misery again, Rowan would never recover. He barely had last time, and he still wasn’t back to who he used to be. Back to how happy he used to be.

Shaking away his thoughts Rowan turned to Dorian, only to find an empty chair next to him. That tricky bastard. With a shove of his seat, Rowan reached into his pocket unlocking his phone. He texted a quick help to The Cadre and a separate message to Lyria, asking them to start the manhunt.

Rowan scanned every face in the bar, unsuccessful in his search. Walking towards the lobby, Rowan almost shoved an elderly woman to the ground in his rush. As he turned to help the lady steady herself, Rowan apologized profusely for his mistake. The woman waved him away carelessly, hobbling towards a man who he assumed was her husband.

Straightening himself once again, Rowan started walking with determination only to be stopped dead in his tracks. Because only feet away from was Aelin Galathynius.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, and Rowan took the time to admire her appearance. Her hair was clasped behind her head, golden pieces falling to the sides of her face. Her outfit was business professional, but more revealing than most outfits he had seen so far with a low cut blouse and slimming black pencil skirt with matching black heels. As he made his way up her body, the sight of her ocean blue eyes took his breath away once again. Rowan didn’t think he would ever grow used to Aelin’s brilliant presence, attracting glances from men and women alike.

But as he looked closer at her, those beautiful eyes didn’t have the same fire they did a year ago. In fact, there was no emotion at all shown on her features. Nothing at all. Out of every moment of heartbreak and sorrow she had caused him, the sight of her utterly devoid of feeling was the most painful thing Rowan had ever experienced.

After eons, Aelin finally turned his way. As she made eye contact with him, Rowan finally saw something flicker in her eyes. Surprise. They continued to look at one another, stuck in a world of their own making. Rowan couldn’t find it in his heart to break their connection, damn the consequences. And as they stood frozen in a fantasy, for the first time in a year, Rowan truly smiled.

Tag list

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading

@live-the-fangirl-life

@swankii-art-teacher

@courtofjurdan

[divinemissem13]

30 Days of Prodigy, day 17: Admiral Janeway

Admiral Janeway sighs with relief as she steps into her quarters at the end of another long day. She kicks off her boots and shrugs off her admiral’s jacket, leaving a pile of Starfleet armor on the floor to be dealt with later, and pads over to the replicator where she orders a glass of red wine.

All day long, she is Admiral Janeway: fearless, hopeful, and unshakeable.

But alone in her quarters at night, she can just be Kathryn.

This has become her nightly ritual, on this long journey to rescue Chakotay. She sheds her armor and then Kathryn curls up on the couch with a glass of wine, wrapped in the tribal blanket he gave to her years ago, back on the first USS Voyager.

She imagines it still smells like him. It probably doesn’t.

She looks out at the stars as she sips her wine and she talks to him. She doesn’t say anything of consequence. She tells him about her day. She tells him about the antics that the Hellions (which is how she refers to the former crew of the USS Protostar and their shadow, Miral Paris) have gotten up to. She tells him about the class 4 nebula that they flew past and that maybe they’ll stop to study it further on the way back, but there’s just no time now for such frivolities. Besides, she thinks he would enjoy studying the nebula too.

Truthfully, she is fairly certain that the only reason he cares at all about studying nebulas is because he likes to watch her watching it.

When she has run out of new stories to tell, she begins recounting old ones.

She ends, as she always does, with the story of the Angry Warrior who found peace. Only then does she allow a tear to slide down her cheek.

She stands, still clutching the empty wine glass and wrapped in the blanket, and she presses her palm to the glass. He’s out there somewhere, waiting for her. The stars twinkle encouragingly as she silently pleads for them to guide her to him.

Then, just like every night, she folds the blanket carefully over the back of the couch. She recycles her wine glass and she picks up the pieces of her uniform from the floor and puts them in the refresher for tomorrow.

Tonight, she puts on a long, quilted nightgown. She wears it because it is chilly in her quarters.

But also because, for some unfathomable reason, it is his favorite.

She slides between the cool, desolate sheets and orders the lights off. Before she darkens the viewport, she turns onto her side to look out once more at the vast field of twinkling lights and she completes the ritual.

“Good night, Chakotay. I’ll see you soon,” she whispers to the stars.

[littlefreya]

The Way to Hell - Part 13

Summary: Post Mi6, Alternate Canon. August escaped Ethan Hunt with his face intact and just won himself the title of being the most dangerous man on earth. Brooding as he is, August is unwilling to back down on his murderous agenda he plots to continue where he was stopped.

Series Completed: Previous Chapter | | Chapters Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: August Walker x OFC (Ingvild) 🖤

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Mentions of sexual encounters, child neglect, betrayal, hinted physical abuse,  foul language and lots of angst.   

A/N: I thought chapter 13 will be the last one, but I didn’t want to rush the ending or have a chapter too long. So for those of you still waiting, hang in tight! Many thanks to @agniavateira​ who’s my muse and my editor, to @raspberrydreamclouds​ for this amazing cover and to those who’s been asking me about the chapter, means a lot to me. I am going into my usual Way to Hell posting panic attack. So bye for now.

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it or parts of the source material and claiming it as your own*

Please comment, review and reblog.  💖

Title: Paradise lost

There cannot be peace before first a great suffering.  There cannot be love without first a great tragedy.

~*~

Opaline droplets of sweat form on his forehead. In his ears, a constant buzzing rings wretchedly as if an angry hornet is caged inside his skull. What was long buried abruptly awakens, stabbing at the back of his head. Red flashes sear through his eyes while images of Ingvild dissolving to ashes play in his mind, her bloodsoaked feathers crumbling to the ground.

“Why did you go?” August mutters under his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He crumples the little yellow note with sheer frustration before throwing it on the bed. 

‘I told her not to go, I commanded her!’

The air in the room grows thick like the pit of a stygian forest. Tentacle-like branches appear behind his eyes creeping closer, clutching his limbs. Even though lost and abandoned in the thicket of his mind, her angelic scent still lingers on his skin, impossible to wash off. Sniffing at his biceps, he inhales the mixture of their union on his flesh;  what begins as euphoric mirth quickly meets the sharp edge of rage and hatred.

She’s gone and it gnaws at the dark matter of his brain. 

He hates it. 

Hates her for being absent.

Frowning deeply, August reaches a rigid hand for his clothes, forcing himself to get dressed. The very first memory of her hinges on his mind: An icy woman with silver-moon eyes who refused his pursuit. 

‘Did you think the two of you are going to ride toward the sunset together? That’s not you.’

Letting out heavy gasps, he shakes his head. “She’ll be fine,” he whispers dismissively, pulling on his trousers and hastily buckling his belt. 

The new world order awaits, so close he can feel the fresh sun sitting on his open palm. It is his vision, his legacy: bigger than whatever it is Ingvild and him have together. 

There was no her in his plan, to begin with. 

The Devil never had a queen. 

‘You know what they’ll do to her…’

Another ray of daytime terror cuts through his thoughts: her wings plucked from her back, threads of flesh tearing from her naked body. Her screams die in silence.  

“She chose to leave, I asked her not to!” August yells into the empty room, frowning at no one but himself as he grabs the used shirt which hangs from the tall mirror. Turning to his reflection, he tenses at the sight of his body. Crimson valleys lead down his back, courtesy of her claws branding deep into soft tissue and toned muscles.

‘Do you know what is the probability of finding someone like her? A woman who wants to see the world burn with you? Who believes in your cause of building a new one?’

August swallows hard and combs his fingers through his hair with haste, attempting to act normal through the intensifying drumming in his ears. Being completely methodical, he pulls his long trench coat over his shoulders and collects his belongings into his black duffle bag on the bed. With a heavy painful breath, he forces his thoughts away, zipping the bag with urgency and reciting in his mind everything necessary for his trip. Time is scarce, the end and the new beginning are nigh; the smart thing to do is to forget her, erase her existence from the chambers of his heart. 

He doesn’t have one anyway. 

His hand secures the gun in its holster and harsh fingers lace around the black straps of his bag as he stretches himself straight, ready to leave this bedroom. That’s when his eyes fall again to the crumpled yellow note. 

‘You’ll never see her in Kashmir, you’ll never see her again.’ 

~*~

‘Amazing,’ the silver-haired wolf muses while scratching his bristly jaw. For 13 years the evil spawn’s eyes remained exactly as they were the day he picked her from the orphanage. Grey crystal orbs so naive, clueless, and oh so hungry for validation. A child desperate to prove herself worthy to someone, anyone. 

It was her single flaw and his greatest advantage.

Even now in the bloom of adulthood, the pale, scrawny thing standing before him is nothing but a lost little girl who wants someone to hold her bony hand. 

‘How can someone be so smart yet at the same time so blind?’

The cheap motel room smells like mildew and rotten wood. Speckles of dust float between the handler and his prodigy, cascading over his glance that seems rather alien and naked as glass. It pierces through her muscles - this sudden sense of peculiarity and estrangement.     

She chews the inside of her cheeks and sways slightly on her spot, arms hanging loose at her side. Ingvild lifts her chin to look at Liam, her eyes round with what can only be guilt. It makes her look like a child who broke an antique vase. 

“Thank you for answering my call,” she begins, wrapping her fist around a disposable phone before throwing it on the tidy bed.

Liam scoffs and shakes his head, ridicule spreading on his face. “You’ve gotten yourself into trouble over a boy, child?” He stares up and down the young woman, noticing the obvious change in her posture.

‘So, she truly is a woman now; how did I not see this one coming with her constant chatter about how handsome he is when I handed her the dossier?’

“Please don’t tell me you need money to get an abortion.” 

Ingvild frowns with disgust and shakes her head right away. “Never. No, it’s not what I’m here for.”

Displeased as always, Liam emits his usual grunt. He slowly shakes his head at his asset while running his fingers through his lanky grey hair. This is not how he imagined this mission to end. Her lack of emotions was a key element; Ingvild could have had a few good years running several missions for him, but what tipped the scale was for her to run into the wrong psychopath.

“Then tell me Ingvild, why should I listen to a failed assassin such as yourself? You’ve been weird about this mission since day one. Acting discreet, irresponsible, and reckless,” the old man’s Adam's apple bobs up and down in his throat as he speaks. Taking a small stride, he moves closer to get a better look of her diamond irises. So sharp and so strange, they’ve always irked him. As a child she downright looked like something out of a horror movie. 

“You’ve had 445 successful missions, not even 30 years old. Yet here you are a failure, and for what? For a boy?”

Shame traps her tongue and her glance drops to the floor. Failure stings like a rod of hot iron piercing her beating heart. Yet her mind races to the night at the pit where August finally claimed her, the memory of his lips sets glowing embers through her veins. On her skin remains the evidence of his embrace. Microscopic cells, tinted by his DNA. 

She doesn’t want this feeling to go away. 

Liam clears his throat, tearing her away from memories that turn from tar to honey the longer she dwells on them.

“You know why your mother gave you away, Ingi?” Liam asks, giving her a ghastly sardonic smile while cocking one eyebrow.

‘Liam never smiles.’ 

A small frown sets creases above her freckled nose. “I asked you many times before and you always said you don’t know.”

The Dane scoffs at her, his smile widening, exposing cigarette-and-coffee-stained teeth. The rot around his gums makes her curl her nose slightly and flinch as he leans closer. 

“You were a rape baby.”

The words send a pang through her muscles, like stepping on glass. She shakes her head with protest and steps back, yet Liam nods knowingly, standing in front of her.

“You’re lying.”

His small hazel eyes burn holes through her skull, his smile sinister and impish. “Your father was a savage, a rapist. He left your poor mother half-dead and impregnated in the forest you love so much. Who knows, maybe that’s why you kept going there as a child, reconnecting with your true nature.” 

Refusing to listen, she shies from his piercing glare. Liam reaches a coarse hand to cup her jaw, forcing her face back to his. “Your mother hated you. Your very existence reminds her of the most terrible thing that ever happened to her.”

For a child with such a limited emotional range, Liam finds that the muscles of her face are capable of stretching thoughtfully with spite. Pent up hatred creases her brow, her silver eyes turning to hot, molten gold. She bites on her tongue, keeping a vow of silence but he can read her face just the way an assassin would. 

“Nothing but a mistake, disowned by your own mother. So why would this man, this... mass murdering psychopath love you?” Liam shifts her head from side to side, inspecting the healing cuts and bruises that decorates her pale skin. “He saw an opportunity and seized it, used you…”

He pauses, moving away from a stare colder than icy lake water, “just like they will.”

Ingvild parts her lips with wonder, glaring at the person she knew all her life with disbelief. In the glossy reflection of Liam’s honey-brown eyes, she sees several black, long rifles pointed at her head.

Liam curls his thin lips with an utter lack of remorse and shrugs indifferently.

“She’s yours.”

*~*~

If colours had sound then the pale blinding white would be a continuous high-frequency hum. The tunes and shades of death. Like angry flies feasting on a corpse. 

‘Is this Valhalla?’

A small groan escapes her mouth, her eyes hurting from the sickly radiance of the narrow fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Her wrists feel numb as they’re pulled behind her back in restraints. 

“No,” she opens her mouth to speak, her throat burning, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Definitely not Valhalla...” 

‘You need to be a hero to enter Valhalla, stupid girl.’

Stupid didn’t even begin to describe it. August would never let her hear the end of it.

Loud, angry steps tap on the white marble floor, growing louder as the person approaching enters the room. Ingvild blinks, peering at the silhouette when a smile of comfort paints her drowsy face. Like a god, her lover strides toward her with his usual confidence. His ocean-blue eyes beam at her sight, his palm spread open to embrace his tiny Valkyrie. She chuckles at the mischievous, charming grin on his face as it reminds her the day they first met. 

Oh, she wishes to nibble his stupid chin right now and brush her fingers along his thick moustache.

But as she blinks again, large brown almond-shaped eyes replace the ocean-blue. A panther of a woman stands before her: confident, strong, and impossibly beautiful. Her dark, succulent lips are pressed together and concern shines through as she observes the small woman who has her arms cuffed behind her back and her feet shackled to the metal legs of the chair. 

With her head still heavy, the assassin turns her face from side to side. She quickly observes the armed guards at the entrance, the tall, greying agent standing nonchalantly against the wall awaiting orders, and lastly the sickly-looking, lean man who is positioned at the fore of a metal desk with his fingers laced together. Anticipation is written all over his line-riddled face. 

“Erica Sloane,” Ingvild calls knowingly, the ghost of a wicked smile dancing on her chapped lips as she turns her head to face the CIA director. Dressed in a black power suit and crimson pumps, the director is drenched with big dick energy.

“August told me so much about you, but he didn’t mention how fuckable you are.” Ingvild drawls, fluttering her lashes as she scans her from head to toe. 

Tilting her head, Erica grabs a white plastic chair and places it in front of Ingvild. She then takes a seat, crossing her long smooth legs together. Kindness and motherly concern pours from her dark eyes, expressions Ingvild never received from anyone in her life.

“Poor child, I imagine August Walker filled your head with many stories.”

“No…” Ingvild swallows, trying to dampen her sore throat. Noticing her struggle, Erica snaps her fingers and the greying agent rushes to bring her a plastic cup of water like a loyal dog. Focusing on the translucent beads around the cup, Ingvild flicks her tongue over her lips. “August was too busy filling other parts of me.”

The intrepid woman begins to laugh at her own joke, her voice dragging groggily while Erica rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“I imagine so.” She answers and then carefully tilts the cup to Ingvild’s lips, offering the drink to the girl who sips with desperation as if she walked the desert. “August was my best agent,” she explains, watching the stream of water that rolls down Ingvild’s chin as she gulps with an incredible thirst, “a really proficient assassin, ranked high in every mission I sent him to. My golden boy. Even though that shit-eating attitude of him was something else...”

Withdrawing the cup, she looks into Ingvild’s cold silvery stare. “Those snarky, arrogant remarks and him going through the whole department like a fox in a hen coop I could overlook. But that fucker had us all fooled, Ingvild, as he fooled you.”

Ingvild flutters her dark lashes and tips her chin up. Her defined cheekbones sharpen even more as a snake-like arrogance poisons her face. “August told me what you did,” she utters sincerely, while Erica commands the agent to refill the plastic cup. Loathing melts her beautiful sullen glaciers as she focuses on Erica. 

The CIA director narrows her eyes at her in return, and curls her lips downward as disdain fills her mouth. “I am not the one who made Walker murder Agent Hartmann, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You deceived him,” Ingvild retorts calmly and sucks in her bottom lip, collecting the remaining droplets of water onto her tongue. “That’s what you and your little agencies do to people like us. Set up traps for predators and pretend to act surprised as they eat the bait.”

Holding the cup, Erica stares at the young woman thoughtfully, the burning hatred in her eyes reminding her so much of Agent Walker: An entitled spoiled brat, thinking he can wind the world to the direction only he sought to be right. 

“You can’t blame a predator for following its nature, and you can’t expect him to behave otherwise.” 

“Is that how you see yourself?” Erica asks, moving the cup away, though she can see the thirst on Ingvild’s gaping bottom lip. “August poisoned your mind but I assure you, you are not the monster he is. You never had the choice that he did.”

Erica’s voice suddenly becomes soft, and her big brown eyes become round with care that only a parent can express. But the only form of parent Ingvild ever had was Liam, and he was never much of a father, was he? It took less than a few hours for him to give her away. 

She wonders how long it took for her real mother.

Her gaze drops, peering at Erica’s shiny crimson shoes as they counter the lifelessness of the floor like blood in the snow. Memories whisk her away again, a man in pursuit of a woman deep in an icy forest. She should have died that night and yet here she is, shackled to a chair. The voice of the man who saved her echoes through her head with a fair warning: ‘Liam never gave a flying fuck about you.’

Sharp as a needle, it pricks her heart.

“I know what Icarus did. Moulding you into the perfect assassin, depriving you of the childhood and the life you deserved.” Erica’s voice cuts into her trail of thoughts, making her raise her gaze back to the beautiful woman. “Now, I don’t know what twisted fantasies August may have offered but I can assure you, they are empty just like him. You read his file, you know what he’s capable of. Looking at your scars and bruises I assume he hurts you for his own sick pleasure, taking advantage of a woman who only wants to be loved.”

‘She doesn’t know him like I do, the way he drank my lips and called me his angel, the way his fingertips beat the warm blood in my arteries.’ Ingvild shuts her eyes, soaking in the remnants of his touch as it still ghosts across her body.

Erica’s kind, tepid hand wraps around the young woman’s jaw, lifting her pale face with the cautiousness of a human tending a wild creature. Grey and dark-brown collide at the seams as they share a silent stare.    

“If you’ll give us his location, we can arrange for your freedom and protection.”  

Ingvild breaks away from Erica’s grip, pushing herself back in the chair as much as she can. The screech of metal against marble makes the guards cringe. Slow and cold, a sardonic chuckle begins to burst from Ingvild’s lungs. The laughter echoes off the walls while she shakes her head with disbelief. 

“Do I look like a dumb bitch to you? Even if this was true, do you think I’m willing to be a slave to another government? Kept ignorant and tabbed? I’d rather rot in this cell while my beautiful monster dismantles your old world order.”

Drops of water splash at her face as Erica squashes the plastic cup in front of her, sulking with fury. Her eyebrows knit together and she purses her lips as if this young woman is something sour on her tongue. 

Evidently, Liam was right; the girl is far too gone, living in the little fantasy world August built for her. 

“If you think he ever cared about you for a split second, then you are a dumb bitch. No matter how this plays out, you and August are never going to end up happily ever after.” Erica spits, holding her finger at Ingvild’s childlike frown. “He’s never going to come for you. You were nothing but a toy, a plaything for him to pass the time.”

Ingvild scoffs and rolls her eyes, refusing to let these words cut into the beating muscle in her chest. 

`Stick and stones may break my bones...’

Solid, slender fingers wrap around her jaw, squeezing around her cheeks like a big spider. She is met with Erica’s long lashes, while those deep brown eyes slice into her soul. 

“You might think you know him, but I’ve worked with August long enough to know that he never loved anything other than his precious ego. So I would consider this as your final chance little girl, because if you don’t talk right now - this nice fellow here...” Erica pauses and gestures her head to the scrawny man who begins to hum a blissful tune while cracking his knuckles. Twisted excitement shines through his beady eyes as he glances at the set of sharp surgical tools lying on the desk.

“He’s going to make you sing like the precious bird you are.”

Fear shies from Ingvild’s stoic, icy face. The well-lubricated gears in the labyrinth of her head begin to work, observing the possible escape options and scanning every cavity, crease, and man in Erica’s lovely torture chamber.  

The door suddenly bursts open. A man in his mid thirties with bright red hair and a freckle-covered face rushes in, huffing heavily. His pink skin glistens with sweat, the strands of his fiery hair sticking on his large forehead while his hand holds onto his chest with distress. 

“Sloane, there is something you need to see…” he opens his mouth breathlessly.

“Not now!” Sloane snaps at him, looking at Ingvild with contempt. There is nothing she wishes more than to avoid torturing a young woman, especially someone as misguided as this poor porcelain doll. All she needs is to make her see the truth, that August never cared for her, that she was just another pawn in his grand scheme. 

“Director, I am sorry, but you really need to come and see this.” 

Agitated, Erica snaps in her chair to look at him. “What is it, Agent Louis?”

“It’s John Lark’s manifesto, ma’am…” he sighs, shoulders slumping, “it’s… it’s everywhere.”

A shivering hiss escapes her mouth. The shiver that graces the rail of her spine is like a shower of icy water, making her slowly rise from her chair. August’s harmful “poetry” is released into the air like toxic gas, contaminating every fragile little mind in an already unstable world.  

“Do you like my little surprise?” Ingvild asks, making the baffled woman turn to gaze at her. There’s a malicious little smile dancing across her eyes, her brows lifting with an arrogance that strongly resembles Agent Walker. 

Swallowing hard, the CIA woman takes a step back, tugging her jacket straight and looking at the torturer who lifts a small hammer between his pliable fingers. 

“Break her, until she talks.” 

The harsh tapping of her heels dies down and her silhouette becomes smaller until it disappears behind the shutting door. 

“Pretty girl...” The man’s voice is brittle and thin as he is, every word ending with a slight snake-like hiss. He moves to scrutinise her from head to toe, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip with a prying nature. 

“You know August used to mock me…”

“I can see why,” she spits out, looking back at him with both fearlessness and utter disrespect. She killed men bigger than him, hell, August’s kneaded her to submission and his torture was nothing but sweet. 

She can take him on, she can take all of them on.

The lean man beams at her, holding up the small shiny hammer and running his finger over the rim pervertedly. The dead skin around his nails rouses disgust in her gut, yet she rolls her eyes and fakes a yawn.

He chuckles at her theatrics and kneels in front of her with one unstable hand pressing onto her thigh. His revolting fingers scratch gently at her denim, making her shiver. If August knew another man was laying his finger on her… 

But August is not here.

“Well… shall we begin, little bird?”

***

‘When this world ends and the new one begins, what will be of your little Valkyrie? Merely bones and rotting flesh laid in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere and mourned by no one. Won’t you be jealous of the insects feasting on her narcotic tissue?’

Cold air seeps through his nose as sharp bullets of hail hit the ground with the fury of angry gods, shattering onto the ruins of an old bridge with a loud, clattering noise. Sheltered from the rage of the heavens, August stands beneath the wreckage, facing the men who came to make the final exchange. 

Blue and green ferns have grown over the decaying surroundings, climbing over rusted metal. Nature reclaiming its place over man’s occupied space. Justice and beauty in decadence and rot. 

‘Memento mori.’

“The plutonium,”  August demands, his thick brows shadowing his eyes in a battle to remain composed. Those same parasitic visions of sheer terror burden him like a daytime nightmare: pale as porcelain, she sinks to the bottom of a lake thick with blood. His hand reaches out for her, fingers trying to grasp whatever he can but she slips away. 

‘How far do you think Erica will go this time?’ 

A rogue droplet of sweat glides languidly down his temple, crossing over a bulging tendon. Unfortunately quite apparent to the three men who scrutinise him with wonder: two well-paid bodyguards and a slimy-looking slug, wearing a dark business suit that does nothing but emphasize his fragile masculinity. 

“The money first!” The businessman whines, attempting to make a tough face.

‘A cock and two balls.’ August jests and does his best to remain indifferent while anxiety threatens to claw its ugly talons in his throat. The seller’s receding hairline is thick with dandruff, his dull green eyes attempt to mimic confidence, as a beta male would do when facing a pure alpha, trying to compensate for lost dignity.  

‘I don’t have time for this,’ August huffs, his chest puffing and the immense shoulders stretching even wider, exhuming his natural overpowering dominance. His patience runs brittle as a dry twig. A restless throb thunders between his ears like a scab, latched inside his brain. 

The slug pries his mouth open to speak, yet his voice becomes dull as if the world just went underwater.

‘Do you think she’ll go as far as to let her men touch her? You know, not just the usual torture they put interrogated suspects through, but the type of touch only you are allowed to.’

‘She doesn’t have the balls, she won’t do that to another woman.’ 

‘Won’t she? It’s personal this time. Erica knows what you are capable of. And your Ingvild, she’s an apostle too now, an enemy of the world…’

Fever burns at his sweaty forehead and his lungs gradually collapse. Visions he can’t even bring himself to imagine attempt force their way into his mind. The yapping of the man who stands in front of him goes on and on; while August can feel himself speak in response, the words spouting from his lips are on autopilot. 

All he can think of is her, stripped naked, torn to shreds by dark shadows.   

‘She holds back a lot, but when she slips, aren’t her screams so beautiful? Her pleasant little voice, stretching so melodically, like skin over bone, thin and light.’

“Shut up!”

All eyes lift to August in silent bewilderment. His fists tighten, nails digging into his coarse palms as the will to rip someone to shreds beats through his blood. These men will be no more than a casualty. 

“Do you know who I am?” He asks in a deep, menacing tone, his hand but a second from reaching his holster. By measured calculation, he already anticipates how quickly he would shoot them one by one without so much of a scratch on his cheek.

“I’m John, fucking, Lark. My apostles are awaiting orders this very instance,” he reaches for his phone, ignoring the flinch in their posture as he draws it from his pocket and shakes it in his hand on display, “and you want to stand here in this shit weather and measure dicks? Spoiler alert,” he takes a stride in front of the little man, careless of his bodyguards who reach for their weapons, “mine is far bigger.”   

The seller peers at him silently, noticing the icy crust of rage in August’s glare. His pale eyes cut like diamonds while the shadow of his brooding figure falls upon the small man’s face. 

“You will get your money once I get to see the plutonium and confirm it’s authenticity,” August calls out assertively, each word distinguished, each syllable emphasised and sharp as a blade. Death is no longer an enemy to August Walker but an old friend, and those trolls under the bridge are a mere joke to the inferno he’s been basking at his entire life.

‘Limb by limb, feather by feather, while you waste your time...’

‘She wanted me here, she wanted me to secure the plutonium. If I don’t do this, it will all be for nothing.’

‘So now you are doing this for her?’

Not saying another word, the seller nods and snaps his fingers. Agitation is evident on his face yet the violence emanating from August forces him to bite down his pride. One of his henchmen approaches with a suitcase and opens it up to show August the orbs.

Thunder rips through the sky and the hail turns into a symphony of wrath. Icicles break across the construction site above, splashing water everywhere around them. Staring at the platinum spheres, August sees his own reflection dulled by the dirty silver curve. 

A dormant thing. But when set into motion, ever so deadly. 

He presses the beryllium rod to test the authenticity of the material and a sigh of relief pipes itself through his nose at the sound of the radioactive note on his testing device. Celebration blooms in his weary heart but the festivity is deemed achingly empty and dies out right away. 

‘Stop thinking about her, she’s gone. Focus on the cause, you’re almost there, just keep pushing through the doors.’ 

~*~

The blizzard melted into shy rain. The soft little drops dampen his hair, perming his large curls with the assistance of the cool winter breeze. Standing with the suitcase on the side of the rural road, August awaits his ride taking him to the helipad to proceed to Kashmir. It has been so long since he last met his true colleagues, since his departure from Lane in Norway. Avoiding any risks, contact was kept only necessary for the last stages of their tasks.

Doom’s day.

Securing the plutonium should have brought him relief, yet his chest continues to sink into his spine as if it’s being filled with coals. August Walker threaded through life alone, yet this sudden solitude is suddenly harrowing, making him feel like a gutted fish. Looking to his empty side he the ghost of her appears, giving him a bratty smirk. 

“Go away,” he chides, refusing to think of her. Of that stupid mouth talking back, tormenting him with sweet saccharine and cinnamon-like kisses. In his reminiscences, the softness of her lips still hinges. Tenderness meeting the bristle of his neck as she lay gentle wet markings up his coarse jaw. 

His fingers press to his mouth trying to harness the memory. 

A large car drives into the side of the road, speeding up and braking right next to his legs, missing August’s foot by an inch. Frowning at the careless driver, he grunts and brushes his hair before opening the passenger door.

“Took you awhile,” he grunts as he slips into the seat and peers at the driver. A bulky man in his early 40s with dark short cropped curls and thin lips. He shoots August a glance and turns back to the steering wheel.  

“Not my bad, you made a fucking mess, Lark.” The man answers and begins driving right away, careless of the fact that August didn’t put his seatbelt on and that he is holding radioactive material. 

Throwing the seatbelt over himself and fastening it, August growls and carefully secures the case on the side of the driver seat, his index finger remaining on the brim. He gently caresses the hard black leather. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

The driver peers at him oddly before looking down the road, driving fast and passing a large log truck. “Releasing the manifesto. MI6 and the CIA are all over the place,” he says and turns the radio on, letting August hear the news on his own. “I get why you did it now, it’s brilliant to cause another distraction but you’ve made shit a bit harder with those cunts running around. They tracked it back from London and have been surveying the entire area.”

“I didn’t release the... “ 

August stills, his muscles shriveling up as realisation quickly hits him. 

‘Oh angel, what have you done?’

Drawing out his mobile phone, August immediately begins to search the newsite, his eyes an ocean of panic, fluttering back and forth. It’s everywhere, news about an anarchist manifesto, spreading like a virus through every social media outlet, leaked by codename “Jane Lark”. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, reading his own written word as he goes through an article posted on the BBC’s newsite. But she changed the last verse, added a little piece of her own:  

“Valkyries mounted onto beasts,  We will ride eternal to the sun. The blazes will sear us but we will not back down,  United by our cause of just war, Unflinching we will scour the earth, Until humanity comes together in tranquil and harmony.”

‘She loves you, you see? The way she lets you bleed her, use her, spill all your pain inside her. The way she held onto you just a night ago, your name falling from her lips, her body pressing into yours to take all of you. She’s the only one. The only woman who did and ever will. 

And you left her to die.’

________________________________

Disclaimer: I don’t own Mission Impossible and August Walker

[mxpseudonym]

Hii can you write something with tommy finding out that reader is like a genius or was a prodigy at something idk and has just been really humble and shy about it bc she's just kind and everyone's like wot the fook. please! if you want to lol :)

Warnings: guns!

A/N: This ended up being gender-neutral and made y/n a baddie with excellent aim. Hope you enjoy!

Mud squelched against your boots as you walked into Charlie's yard. You were given the task of alerting Tommy 30 minutes before his meeting in the Garrison. You left a bit early, knowing that the Peaky boys had been rowdy that day, and even as grown men, you were sure they were off challenging each other to something stupid. Sure enough, the sound of gunshots ringing through the air got louder as you reached your destination. 

"That's our Finn!" Arthur whooped while putting his youngest brother in a headlock and burying his fist in his curling locks. 

"Ah, Arthur, piss off!"

Finn tried to shove him off to no avail. Tommy only glanced at the scene before turning to look at the wooden crates stack and the broken glass below. For the first time in a while, the Shelby brothers and Isiah had a little free time and a little room to breathe. It was Arthur's idea to use that time to give Finn an impromptu shooting lesson. 

It seemed like just yesterday, Polly was scolding John for letting Finn play with a loaded gun. Those days were over. However, Finn was now shooting with confidence and pretty good aim. Any sign that Arthur was sad he wasn't needed was nowhere to be found. 

"You've been holding back on me, Finn!" Isiah punched the youngest Shelby much too hard in the arm. "Who taught you that? I bet it was John, right? With all those kids, he probably has good aim- ah!"

Punch returned. 

"I don't want to hear that about my brother," Finn scoffed, wincing at the images attempting to form in his mind. 

"Oi, Finn lad, I see your lessons are paying off," you called from your safe distance away from the weaponry. You received a warm welcome, though Tommy wanted answers. 

"Lessons? Whose been teaching him?"

"Me," you said with a shrug as if it were obvious.

"You?" Arthur choked on the liquor he was sneaking from his pocket flask. 

"Y/n's really good, Tommy," Finn assured while giving you a grateful smile. 

"Is that right?" Tommy looked you over with a smirk but still let his eyebrows furrow with uncertainty. You, the kind and quiet bookkeeper better known for keeping the Garrison's books straight were a sharpshooter?

You rolled your eyes and held your hand out for Finn's gun. It was warm in your hand and a little heavy. You grinned as you noted it was the exact type you recommended him. He still earned a light smack to the back of the head, however.

"Didn't I tell you to always put the safety back on when you're done? Don't go waving this around," you scolded. Finn grumbled as you made your way away from the small crowd. "Mr. Shelby,"

"Yeah?" Tommy crossed his arms as he watched you check your bullets then assess the three remaining bottles on the crate. You raised the pistol and cleared your obstacles with precision even from your distance and off-center angle. 

"Your meeting starts in half an hour."

"Y/n's a tough one!" John laughed loudly.

"Didn't know you could hold your own like that, y/n!" Arthur clapped your shoulder and tried to ruffle your hair, only to get smacked away.

"Can I get lessons, y/n?" Isiah gapped at you, making you laugh. 

"Only if your dad says yes. Now, Mr. Shelby?" You turned to see Tommy lighting a cigarette.

"I heard you," he said with a nod. On your way back to the Garrison, he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "You've been holding out on me, Y/n. How's about you come work for me?"

"I already work for you."

"You know what I mean, real work. Dirty work."

"Sure thing, Mr. Shelby."

[alarriefantasy]

Hi! I hope you are having a good day so far! Do you have some fics you can recommend where one of them is a photographer? It’s a bonus if there’s smut but it’s not a must :D thank you so much! <3

Here you go, darling! I hope you’re having a good day too by the way! 

                                          Photography Fics

Omega Shoe Repair by musketrois (B_kate)

Words: 6k

“Can I help you with anything?” The worker asked.

Heat spread across Harry’s cheeks as he realized he had been silently staring.

“Yes!” Harry scrambled to find the words he needed when all he wanted to do was continue admiring his surroundings, the man included.

The man’s smile didn’t falter as Harry gathered himself, continuing, “I had some questions.”

Harry walked closer and placed his warm hands on the edge of the counter. “My favorite pair of boots need resoled but I wanted to check if you’d be willing to do that for me.”

or Harry needs to get his favorite pair of boots fixed.

I Long For You by PinkSeelie

Words: 6k

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

Don't Unplug Me Or Shut Me Down by slashter

Words: 7k

Basically, Louis is a self-proclaimed nerd who fixes things and Harry seems too perfect to keep breaking as many things as he does.

Roses Are Red by underthesunlight 

Words: 8k

or the one where Harry dreams about writing and Louis is just out there, wearing flower-crowns and being awfully inspiring.

say that you can see me (i'll speak up i swear) by coffeelouis (streamtpwk)

Words: 20k

[or, the liberal arts COLLEGE AU where Harry knows Louis as the best friend of the boy he has been hopelessly in love with for years now and Louis knows Harry as the boy he wished would look away from Zayn long enough to notice him.]

We keep this love in a photograph. by saccharinesea

Words: 22k

When 23-year-old Louis finally finds a job as a photographer for the new Burberry charity fashion campaign after the roughest year of his life, he feels like his life has a meaning again.

When America's sweetheart Harry Styles understands that he needs to clear his image after scandalous pictures involving drugs, male strippers and radio host Nick Grimshaw, he will do anything to start from scratch.

Whipped Cream by writingstylinson

Words: 24k

[Harry is a deaf photographer in charge of taking Lottie's wedding pictures. Louis is determined for Harry to be his plus one.]

hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss by icedwaters

Words: 27k

(or louis is a 22 year old photographer in his third year of uni, and harry is his 19 year old cat-loving neighbor.)

blind from this sweet, sweet craving by missandrogyny

Words: 31k

There are definitely worse ways to spend the weekend than pretending to be engaged to his best friend.

You're the Light by allwaswell16 

Words: 31k

Before beginning a new graduate school in the fall, Louis Tomlinson decides to spend the summer working in Chicago as an editor’s assistant for the Chicago Tribune newspaper and staying with his old college roommate. What he finds on his first day of work is a tall, gorgeous editor named Harry who has the most beautiful green eyes he’s ever seen—and who also happens to be his new boss.

feels like home to me by tippytoetomlinstyles

Words: 34k

or the one where Harry is the quarterback who wants to be a photographer, Louis is the piano prodigy who like being a wallflower, and it's a roller coaster of a life but they're along for the ride.

Just Breathe by LittleLostPieces

Words: 35k

As a photographer, 18-year-old Harry loves a good snapshot, a well-preserved moment in time. He also likes kids an awful lot, has always wanted to raise a family with a loving and supportive partner of his own. Meeting Louis, a 25-year-old father of two, after a night out seems like the perfect realization of all of Harry's dreams really.

Louis, however, knows that one photograph can't begin to tell an accurate story of parenthood, of the joys and challenges of constantly living with wonderful, yet sometimes incredibly odd and frustrating, little humans. He's already had a partner who couldn't handle the pressures, one who left Louis with a mountain of doubt that anyone else will ever want to join his cracked family.

Falling in love is as easy as releasing the shutter. Developing the entire picture may take a little more time and effort than either of them expected.

I Would Take a Whisper (If That's All You Had To Give) by FallingLikeThis 

Words: 40k

Louis is a photographer. Harry is a boy who wears flower crowns. Sounds like a match made in heaven, right? Louis thinks so, too. Unfortunately, Harry has a boyfriend. Can Louis steal his heart despite the fact that it's already supposed to be taken?

Hidden Gardens by pinky_heaven19

Words: 41k

OR the one where Louis owns a pub and Harry is a photographer who needs his help for a project. Louis is grumpy, Harry is not. Louis has a secret. There is some pining and a lot of fluff.

We'll Be Seamless by dinosaursmate

Words: 52k

Louis spends all his spare time scrolling arty nude blogs on Tumblr but amongst them all, Green is his favourite.

baby we could be enough (i'll make this feel like home) by orphan_account

Words: 52k

[harry is a photographer who's trying to find his place. louis is a single father with a smile that feels like home.]

Every Story Has Its Scars, Ours Is a Brand New Start by Rearviewdreamer 

Words: 62k

Life as a devoted husband and an amazing father turned out to be a little different than Louis had expected. Everyone tells him it doesn't have to be that way; that he's worth more and that he's so much stronger than any one person trying to keep him down. It's all just words though until he meets the one person who makes him truly believe it.

Picking Up The Pieces by Halos_Boat

Words: 72k

Harry just signed his second set of divorce papers. He felt like his life was over, like he had nothing left.

Then he meets Louis.

to lure a hummingbird (you had me moonstruck) by brokenbeaks

Words: 81k

Or: An enemies-to-lovers fic where Harry and Louis are neighbours who are forced to get along due to the inconvenience (or convenience) of a broken lift.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Words: 84k

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Where You Lay by HamPalpert

Words: 86k

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles. Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process.

We The Fireworks by happilylarreh (AfterJenny)

Words: 103k

The AU where Louis needs saving and Harry wants to save him but doesn’t want to admit that maybe he needs saving a little bit too.

Now In A Minute by thealmightyavocado

Words: 150k

Or the 13 going on 30 au that should have been done years ago.

He kissed my lips, I taste your mouth by MrsStylinson

Words: 290k

When Louis moves into the flat next to Harry's, neither of them thinks it will change their lives. Louis is stuck in a relationship with his controlling and overly possessive boyfriend who he loves too much to break up with. Harry is content, seeking refuge from the snobby world he grew up in and forging a new path for himself. He does happen to have a habit of wanting to fix people though and when he meets Louis, the gorgeous man with a prat of a boyfriend, he finds himself trying to do just that. While Harry tries to avoid getting tangled in a messy situation, Louis tries to deny that there's a niggling voice in the back of his head that prefers Harry to his own boyfriend. While both determinedly refuse to let change come, they fail to notice that exact force wrapping around them and pulling them tighter together until there just might be no escape from the feelings brewing within.

♡ credit to the owner of the manip

♡ past themed recs here

[shinsengumi-archives]

Okita Souji [SHQ]

also known as Souzi, Soushi or Soji

Born in Tenpou 13 (1844) (some say Tenpou15), died Meiji 1 (1868), May 30 (Unsure of the converted date; may be July19).

Hometown: Shirakawa

Style: Tennen Rishin Ryuu

Swords: Kikuichimonji Norimune (might be unlikely because it had the status of a national treasure), Kaga Kiyomitsu (both katana)

Original name: Okita (some say Harumasa) Soujirou

Soujirou was born into a samurai family in Shirakawa, the oldest son of Okita Katsujirou (or Shuujirou? the translator is unclear). His parents having died when he was little, he was raised by his older sister (Omitsu) and her husband (Rintaro). Rintaro was originally from the Inoue family (related to Inoue Genzaburou), and was adopted into the Okita family upon his marriage.

At nine years of age, Okita began kenjutsu at Shieikan. There, he was close friends with Kondou, Hijikata, and Inoue (and later Harada, Toudou, Yamanami, and Nagakura). It is said that they were almost like brothers.

It was also discovered that he had a great talent for kenjutsu (a prodigy). By his teens, he had mastered all the techniques of Tennen Rishin Ryuu, and in Bunkyuu 1 at age eighteen, he began teaching it himself. Equally skilled with he shinai, bokken/bokutou, and katana, he attained Menkyo Kaiden status at a young age. It is said that he loved children a lot, and rumor has it that he was very good-looking (perhaps this is according to the standards of the time, or perhaps due to popular fiction).

In Bunkyuu 3 (1863), he left for Kyoto with Kondou and the others to join the Roushitai. After its disbanding, he became the captain of the first unit of the Roushigumi (later Shinsengumi) and Fukuchou Jokin (Vice-Commander's Assistant). He was said to be one of the top three swordsmen of the group, together with Saitou Hajime and Nagakura Shinpachi. Others argue that he was the best. His signature attack was the Sandanzuki ("three-piece thrust"), an attack derived from an invention of Hijikata's (the Hirazuki).

Okita later contracted tuberculosis (some say he did during the early days of the group, but others say it must have been later). His illness was discovered during the Ikedaya affair when he coughed up blood (coughing up blood is a sign of very advanced stages of TB it would be unlikely he survived this long after Ikedaya, perhaps this was added later for dramatic purposes). Kondou and Hijikata elected to keep Okita's illness a secret from the troops, in order to keep their morale up. Doctor Matsumoto Ryoujun treated him, and he did use Ishida Sanyaku (Hijikata family medicine) and the Sato family medicine to ease his illness. By Keiou 3, his condition had become so bad that he had to be left behind in Edo. There, he spent the rest of his days in a hospital. He inquired after Kondou constantly, since he was never told of his execution. It is also said that Okita tried to kill a black cat. He died May 30 (converted date?), Meiji 1 (1868), without witness.

*There is also something on Okita's page at http://toshizo.com/name that mentions someone confessed love to him in Bunkyuu 2, and he declined saying "Because I am still in training." This may be an error from the translating software, but it could also be true.

A Note on Okita's Sword by Shimazu Masayoshi

The Kiku-ichimon-ji Norimune is reputed to be the sword Okita used. However, it is HIGHLY unlikely that that was his sword, mainly owing to the fact that "Kiku-ichimonji," or "Chrysanthemum-crest," is the crest of the Emperor, and the swordsmith Norimune, having been in attendance to Emperor Go-Toba, was allowed to stamp the tang of his blades (the part the handle wraps around) with the Imperial crest. Therefore, the sword, even in the pre-Meiji era, had the status of a national treasure. So it's highly unlikely that Okita, a man who was the son of a low-ranking ashigaru (ashigaru were foot soldiers who are considered by some to have not even had full samurai rank), would have such a sword.

However, http://www.toshizo.com/nozoku/index.html lists a more likely candidate for Okita's favorite sword-- the Kaga Kiyomitsu. You can see a picture of what I believe is a replica here- http://www2.taiyo-planet.co.jp/konc/konc-shohin/japan/kit/img/kit-027a-ko.jpg, and it's possible to buy it here http://www2.taiyo-planet.co.jp/konc/konc-shohin/japan/kit/kit-027a.htm. Even says he used it at Ikedaya.

His Final Resting Place Okita's ashes are at Zempukuji Temple located in Akasaka Tokyo.

[tsukkiscake]

what goes on || tsukki x reader || ch. 11

✰ previous || next 

✰ masterlist!

✰ taglist open!

✰ wordcount: 3.3k

During your middle school years, you were always in advanced classes. This meant being in class with some of the same kids every year. Tsukishima Kei was one of them. You guys had been in the same class for all of middle school. At the end of your last semester of middle school, you hear Tsukishima and another one of your classmates, Yamaguchi Tadashi, discussing their plans to attend Karasuno High School. Looks like another year of Tsukishima for you. This year, you were determined to become at least his friend. This was proving to be a lot harder than you originally intended.

Chapter Eleven: Adore You

It was finally the first day of the Inter-High Tournament. You woke up with fond memories of the night before when Tsukki had come over. You smiled and glanced out your window at the street painted blue with an early morning glow. You stretched your arms and yawned, not wanting to get out of your comfy bed but knowing you had a train to catch soon. 

You climbed out of bed and dragged yourself to the bathroom to begin getting ready. You went through your usual morning routine but decided to change up your hair for the day. You opted for a half-up-half-down hairstyle with little clips adorning your hair. You took one final glance in the mirror, happy with how you looked.

Though the summer heat was in full force, the evenings and early mornings in Sendai could get chilly, so you opted to wear a pair of high-waisted, blue paperbag shorts with a white t-shirt. You grabbed a cardigan to wear in case the cool air was too much. You grabbed the bag of clothes you had packed the night before, along with your phone, headphones, and wallet. You pulled up your messages with Ichiko and sent a short message telling her you were about to leave for Sendai. 

Ichiko had promised to meet you at the train station and walk you to the Sendai City Gymnasium, however, she couldn’t stay for the matches due to having piano lessons on Saturdays. You walked out of your room and to the kitchen, grabbing the bentos you had made the previous night to bring today. You made two, one for breakfast on the train and one for lunch at the gym. You tucked them neatly into your bag and grabbed your house keys before getting ready to leave. You slipped on your white trainers and left the house, locking the door behind you. 

Your train was due to leave in forty-five minutes and you were a twenty minute walk from the station. You put on your headphones and shuffled your favorite mix to get ready for the day ahead. 

You arrived at the station with plenty of time to spare, but it was too early for many of the shops to be open so you pulled out your phone and decided to send Tsukki a goodmorning/good luck text. 

New Message

To: tsukki

good morning tsukki! be sure to eat a healthy breakfast! i’m rooting for you today! 

You took a photo of yourself doing peace signs to send with the text message. You smiled at your phone screen and sent the message before mindlessly scrolling through different apps, waiting for the train to come. You sat contently as Adore You by Harry Styles rang through your headphones. 

Honey

I'd walk through fire for you

Just let me adore you

___________________________________

After the forty-five minute train ride, which you fell asleep on, you were in Sendai. It was currently 8:30 in the morning and the matches weren’t due to begin for a couple of hours. You looked around the Sendai station, searching for any signs of Ichiko. You had texted her before leaving but never got a response, hopefully she remembered the time of your train. 

After searching for a couple of minutes, you were about ready to give up and walk to the gymnasium on your own, but you saw Ichiko running at you at full force. Her hair was in a messy bun and it looked like she was still in pajamas. 

You laughed slightly as you removed your headphones to greet her. 

“Did you just wake up?”

Ichiko kneeled over, hands on her knees as she took heavy breaths. “Yes, you should’ve CALLED me when you were getting close to Sendai, you know how I always oversleep,” Ichiko whined and stood up straight, regaining her composure only momentarily before tackling you in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again, I missed you.” 

You laughed and returned her hug. “I’m glad to see you too, it would’ve been better if you had been on time to the station but it’s okay, I’ll forgive you, because I love you,” you smiled as Ichiko finally released her grip on you. 

She smiled and poked your cheek, a gesture you guys had started when you were both young that never went away. “I love you too, (Y/N)-chan,” she looped her arm through yours and began to walk you in the direction of the gymnasium. “I’m starving, do you want to get something to eat before I drop you off at the gym?” Ichiko asked. 

“I had a bento on the train, but I could go for some tea!” You smiled at her and she smiled back. 

“Great! I know this adorable little cafe on the way to the gym that serves tea and breakfast,” she laughed and sped up her walking pace, essentially dragging you alongside her. 

“Okay, okay, don’t tug my arm off Ichi-chan.” 

___________________________________

You and Ichiko were sitting outside of a small book cafe, you had ordered a hot green tea while Ichiko ordered two pastries as well as a smoothie. You were sipping your tea while Ichiko slurped down her smoothie, watching the people of Sendai walk by. It was so nice being in a cityscape. Everything near your house was just the boring old countryside.

“So which boy on the volleyball team do you like?” Ichiko asked. 

You felt your cheeks heat up immediately at her question. “W-why do you think I like any of them?” You wanted the question to come out as offended and strong, but it came out sounding embarrassed and shocked, like she knew something you didn’t want her to. You didn’t like anyone on the volleyball team, but for some reason your thoughts wandered to how you and Tsukki had hung out last night. 

“Why else would you come all the way to Sendai for a volleyball game? It’s not even an interesting sport to watch,” Ichiko scoffed and laughed. She figured she had struck a nerve with her question. 

“For your information, volleyball is very fun to watch. This isn’t my first time watching the team, plus I help out at practices sometimes,” you tried your best to avoid her initial question. 

“Stop avoiding my question (Y/N)-chan, I know you too well for you to try,” she laughed again. 

“I don’t like anyone on the team, I’m just friends with them. Two of the first year players are in my class at school, that’s how I got to know the team,” you shrug, trying to be nonchalant. 

“Hmmm, okay. But I don’t believe you. Guess I’ll have to figure it out at tomorrow’s match, if they make it that far,” Ichiko took a bite out of her chocolate pastry. 

“You’re coming to the match tomorrow?” You asked, not expecting Ichiko to want to come. She just said volleyball was boring and her schedule was usually extremely busy. 

“Well, duh. I gotta meet this boy you’re in love with and I wanna spend more time with you!” She laughed and shoved your shoulder. “If you’re here to watch volleyball games, I’ll be there with you. Other than today of course, my parents won’t let me skip piano even though I don’t need lessons anymore,” she sighed with exasperation. 

“Your parents don’t want you to forget you’re a prodigy,” you laughed. Ichiko had been an extremely talented piano player when you met her and she only got better through grade school. You watched her win awards and play recitals all over the country. “Also I’m not in love with anyone on the team, I just told you that,” you sighed with frustration, but you could never stay mad at Ichiko. She was just too lovable. 

“We’ll see,” she laughed and finished her second pastry. “Come on, I’ll walk you to the gym before I go to my lessons,” Ichiko stood up, dusted the crumbs off of her pajamas and offered a hand to you. “Lets go, (Y/N)-chan.” 

You smiled up at her and grabbed her hand. You guys walked like that, hand-in-hand, for the majority of the way to the gymnasium. You noticed some funny looks from passersby, but didn’t mind. Ichiko made you feel like everything was okay, and you didn’t want to let go. 

You guys approached the gym and she finally let go of your hand. 

“Okay, okay, do you have an estimated time of when you’ll be done? I’ll try my best to come pick you up so you don’t get lost,” Ichiko smiled at you. 

“I’m not really sure, I think the afternoon games start at 1:30 so if our team gets to the second game they should be done around 3:30 or 4:00 I think. I’ll text you updates,” you smiled back at Ichiko. Being around her made you forget the loss of your mom. It made you feel like a child again. 

“Hmm, okay I’ll try to be here at 3:00 and if they’re still playing, I can stay and watch with you. Now I gotta run, I’ll be late to piano if I don’t. I love you, (Y/N)-chan. Root for your team for me!” Ichiko wrapped you in a bear hug before running off the way you had come.

You watched her leave before approaching the gymnasium. There were so many teams milling around the outside of the gym, your eyes began to scan the crowds for a certain lanky, blonde male. 

Once you spotted Tsukki, standing out above the crowd, even in a sea of tall boys, you smiled and began to walk towards the team. Hinata was the first to notice you. 

“(Y/N)!” Hinata yelled and ran over to you, jumping like a maniac. 

You laughed and patted his orange hair. “Hi, Hinata. It’s good to see you too.”

The rest of the team began to approach you as well. You smiled at everyone and greeted them. 

“Thank you for the treats, (Y/N), the entire team appreciated them. But how come you weren’t able to give them to use yourself? Yamaguchi said you weren’t in school for the day either,” Daichi gave you his concerned dad look. You smiled at his kindness. 

“I wasn’t feeling too well yesterday, I think I stayed up too late baking,” you laughed and quickly glanced at Tsukki. You were glad he hadn’t told anyone about your argument yesterday. 

“Well we all really liked the melon bread, especially Tanaka, he kept raving about it,” Daichi laughed. 

You glanced over at Tanaka and saw his cheeks were pink. “Melon bread is my favorite food and it was a nice treat, what about it?” He yelled and you laughed. 

“I’m glad you liked it Tanaka-senpai. I’ll be sure to make extra for you next time,” you smiled at him and he looked like his brain had short circuited. 

Daichi laughed and gave you another small smile. “Alright everyone, let’s get inside and get checked in. The first match is in forty-five minutes.” 

You watched as Nishinoya and Ennoshita pushed a broken Tanaka towards the doors and Hinata and Kageyama tried to race. As everyone else began to walk towards the doors, you caught up with Tsukki and tried to walk next to him, his long legs allowed for lengthy strides, however, and you struggled to match his pace. 

“Will you slow down you idiot bean pole? I’m trying to walk with you,” you huffed. 

“I don’t walk next to runts,” Tsukki said, as he slowed his strides to match your pace. 

“Whatever, softie. You love to walk with me,” you smirked in victory up at him. He glared down at you, but his eyes were soft. 

“Whatever,” he huffed. 

You smiled and walked with him in a comfortable silence. While Ichiko made you feel like a child without any problems, Tsukki made you feel like you weren’t alone in dealing with them. Being around him made the burden feel so much lighter, as if the load was being shared by the two of you. 

“You better win today, I’m counting on being able to come see matches today and tomorrow. My friend Ichi-chan might even come so you guys gotta be good,” you shoved him slightly as the two of you walked behind the rest of the team. 

“Well now that I know some random friend of yours is coming, we’ve gotta win huh?” He shoved you back, harder, making you stumble as you walked. 

“Hey! I just thought I’d give you more reasons to want to win, no need to shove me,” you huffed and turned your nose up at him. “If you’re gonna be like that, maybe I’ll just root for the opposing team and hope they beat you guys into a pulp so I can go hangout with my friend for the day,” you let out a dramatic sigh before laughing. 

“Whatever, I don’t care what you do,” he stated, before looking at you with kind eyes. You noticed that in public, Tsukki only seemed to smile with his eyes, not letting the uninterested look on his face change all that much. 

“Sure you don’t,” you smiled and almost walked into Nishinoya who had stopped short in front of you. You glanced around Nishinoya, trying to get a view of what made the team stop. Up ahead, in teal and white tracksuits was a school you didn’t know about. “Who’s that?” You whispered to Tsukki. 

“Aoba Johsai High School. One of Kageyama’s upperclassmen is on that team and he’s apparently a really good setter. We played a practice match against them and won but I think we won because Oikawa, the good setter, wasn’t there for the majority of the game.” 

“Oh, so you guys are like rivals?” You asked him. 

“I guess you could say that. But they’re almost always the second best in the prefecture. They have a way better team than we do, I don’t know if we can beat them and Oikawa,” Tsukki said, looking over the crowd towards the other team. 

“Well you don’t know if you’ll lose until the final ball touches the ground,” you nudged him softly. “Don’t get all scared now, you guys are gonna kill it.” 

“I’m not scared, there’s no need to be. What happens will happen,” Tsukki shrugged. 

“You should be more enthusiastic than that Mr. Apathetic,” you sighed and shook your head at Tsukki’s disinterested attitude. Daichi clapped his hands to get the team's attention. 

“Okay guys! Official warm-ups start in 30 minutes, I want everyone stretched and loose, ready for the first game. Remember, focus on the opponent at hand before you start worrying about the next opponent!” Daichi pulled everyone into a huddle for a pre-warm-up chant. You stepped back, not wanting to intrude on their team traditions. 

You watched as everyone put their heads together and yelled “Karasuno, FIGHT!” 

___________________________________

The second set against Tokonami High School was currently underway and you were watching intently. You cheered each time Karasuno scored and gave them waves when the boys glanced up at you. Tsukki had been adamantly avoiding your gaze which made you feel frustrated, but you still continued to cheer extra hard for him. You watched as Karasuno increased their lead against Tokonami. 

You admired the boys of the volleyball team, they gave one hundred percent effort in each of their plays. 

Before you knew it, the second set was wrapping up with Karasuno winning 25 to 14. It was before noon, so you knew the boys had some time to cool down and eat lunch before their next game at 1:30. You smiled down at the team before grabbing your things and running down to meet them in the gym lobby. 

You jumped off the last stair and began running through the crowds of people to the doors to the court. You stopped and watched the boys walk through the doors, an air of victory surrounding them. You smiled to yourself and you could just tell how proud they were. 

You walked over to them with the widest smile on your face. Nishinoya and Tanaka were there to greet you first. The two boys jumped towards you to give you high-fives. You used both hands to give each of them a high-five while praising them on a game well played. 

“You guys were so awesome, you did so well!” You gave them a big smile and they both looked ready to pass out from receiving praise from you. They smiled sheepishly at one another and wandered off. 

You greeted and gave congratulations to each player. After having attended so many practices, you were getting used to all of the team members and they were all getting used to you. Tsukki and Yamaguchi were the last two to walk through the gym doors and you gave Yamaguchi a high-five and congratulated him, even though he hadn’t played in the game. 

You stood in front of Tsukki, looking up at him, and gave him the biggest smile you could muster. 

“Good job, Tsukki. I’m proud of you,” you gave him a thumbs up. 

He scoffed and walked around you. “I don’t need praise from a runt,” even though his words were laced with their usual coldness, he put a hand on top of your head and ruffled your hair slightly. 

You giggled softly at how he ruffled your hair. “Fine, if you don’t want praise, I’ll make sure to tell everyone, except you, that they played well,” you turned your nose up at him and began to walk towards Kageyama and Hinata, who were having some random competition in the middle of the walkway. 

Tsukki stopped you by putting his hand back on your head. “I was kidding, you loser,” he said. He leaned down so his mouth was close to your ear and whispered, “Don’t stop. You help me play better.” 

You could feel your cheeks heating up at his words. You couldn’t manage to form any words so you just nodded and mumbled something incoherent. 

Why did Tsukki have that effect on you? Why was he able to scramble all of your thoughts with a simple seven words? 

Tsukki removed his hand and began to walk towards his team, leaving you frozen. You shook your head, trying to get rid of the lingering feeling of Tsukki’s breath against your ear. 

You sighed and then took quick steps in order to catch up to Tsukki. You walked by his side silently. Thoughts of Ichiko’s questions about who you liked on the volleyball team suddenly filled your mind. You glanced up at Tsukki and thought about how he made you feel versus the rest of the team. 

Everything with Tsukki could be so complicated though. Just yesterday morning he was upset with you but by the end of the day he was at your house eating dinner with you. You thought about the emotional rollercoaster your friendship was with Tsukki. It made you smile, though, thinking of the moments you two had shared. 

But that didn’t mean you liked him. Tsukki just knew how to press your buttons in the right way. That’s the type of person Tsukki was, he loved to press the buttons of the people around him. 

You sighed, frustrated by your feelings. You definitely didn’t like Tsukki. 

Right? 

✰ I AM SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR SO LONG I HAVE BEEN SO BUSY AND HAVE HAD NO MOTIVATION IM SO SORRY ⊙﹏⊙

✰ but here’s a nice long chapter for your enjoyment 😌

✰ thank you so much for 167 followers on here and over 1200 hits on ao3 im so soft i’m so glad you guys like the story so much,,, again im so sorry for not updating for so long i’ve been in a not so good head place recently and this story was not my top priority for the meantime 

✰ taglist: @mitiyou @goopycookie @freyafolkvangr @miracleboy420 (saw your user changed!) @akaashislefttoe @animeanxiety @ysasian @childoftheplanets  @flouffyy @cjs-weeb-corner @montys-chaos @loser-keiji @phantomabiding @totorosleaff​ @vianey2527 @winunk @smuttyanimeslut (saw your user changed!) @amberisnotcrazy @burnmyart @mindofess @bunny-on-crack @fern-writes-ig @korean-bbq @slippinglasses 

✰‘what goes on’ playlist!

✰ let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist!